“I can handle myself,” Justin argued.
Ryan stared at him for a long moment. “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want.”
“I will,” Justin said. “I don’t need—”
“Got pizza,” Rick interrupted. “And other necessities.” He started unloading snacks onto the plastic chairs behind our lane. “Here.” He handed Justin one of the large cups of soda he’d brought back.
Justin took a swig, then spit the mouthful of soda out on the floor. “That was Pepsi. You know I hate Pepsi.”
“I said Coke when I ordered,” Rick said.
“If you did, why did I just have Pepsi in my mouth?” Justin demanded. Loudly. “Why do I even bother letting you hang around me?” He swept out his arm and knocked all the food and the other sodas onto the floor.
Flash, flash, flash.
The paparazzi were on it.
“Get away from me!” Justin shouted at them. He snatched up a bowling ball and heaved it in their direction. It didn’t even get close. Justin let out a growl of frustration.
“This is what we’re talking about!” William’s voice rang through the bowling alley. He’d brought a megaphone with him. “Offensive, disgusting, repulsive behavior. His fans all over the world will see him acting this way—thanks to you.” He pointed at the paparazzi. “And they’ll think it’s okay. They’ll—”
“Would you just shut up?” Justin yelled. “This is my life. Mine.”
“No, it isn’t. You’re a role model for millions of teens,” William cried.
Justin grabbed another bowling ball off the closest rack—and charged at William. Bowling ball versus human flesh and bones. Not a contest I wanted to see. Justin could kill William if he smashed that ball into William’s head.
I took off after Justin, Frank right behind me.
I managed to grab the back of Justin’s shirt and jerked it as hard as I could. Justin stumbled back a step, and the bowling ball slipped off his fingers. He didn’t bother to try and retrieve it. He yanked out of my grasp, strode up to William, and slammed his fist into William’s face.
Caro let out a shriek of fury. She leaped on Justin’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Flash, flash, flash.
The paparazzi got busy.
I tried to pry Caro off of Justin. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the Cleen Teens smacking Elijah with a protest sign.
“Watch the camera!” Elijah shouted.
“You’re a parasite! All of you. Don’t you care what you’re doing to the teens of America?” The CT smacked Elijah again.
And it was on. Total war between the Cleen Teens and the photographers. While Justin still fought to get to William.
Frank stepped between them and took a punch from William for his trouble. I gave Caro another tug, and she tumbled off Justin’s back. Immediately she sprang to her feet.
“Get the car!” I called to Rick. “And Justin!” Rick waved to show he’d heard, dodging a chair thrown by the red-haired girl.
“Why didn’t you get Justin what he wanted?” she shrieked.
She picked up another plastic chair. Rick dropped to his knees to avoid it, then started to crawl toward the door.
I grabbed one of Justin’s arms. Frank grabbed the other. We each picked up a chair with our free hand and used them to clear a path through the war zone. We hustled him out the back.
“Get off me!” Justin yelled. “I’m not done in there!”
Rick pulled the SUV up beside us. Ryan slid open the side door. Frank and I shoved Justin in, then jumped in next to him.
“Go!” I shouted to Rick.
• • •
“Justin, you are not to leave this room unless it’s to go to work!” Sydney announced when we walked into Justin’s suite. She had obviously already heard about the Bowl-O-Rama brawl.
Justin threw himself down in the closest recliner. “Who do you think you are?” he asked Syd. “You work for me. Maybe when I was three, I didn’t know that. But I know now. I do what I want, and I’m going to keep on doing what I want. You don’t like it—quit.”
Sydney sank down on the sofa. Ryan sat down next to her. He had a nice black eye on the way. I didn’t know if someone had hit him because they thought he was Justin or because they knew he was Ryan and didn’t like the way he’d yelled at Justin.
“I’ll got get some ice from the kitchen,” said Rick. He looked eager to get away.
“Something’s got to change, Justin,” Sydney told him.
This should be a private conversation, I thought. But there was no way Frank and I could leave Justin alone. Not after he’d done everything he could to enrage his stalker.
I looked away, and something caught my attention. Part of the strip of light coming under the front door from the hall was blocked. I tensed. Somebody was right outside.
Justin’s stalker?
Next Time It Will Be You
Joe nudged me and jerked his chin toward the door to the suite. I looked over and felt like someone had just run an ice-cold finger down my spine. An envelope was being pushed under the door. The stalker was right outside!
I bolted for the door, jerked it open, and rushed into the hall. Two steps away stood—Belinda. “Don’t move!” I ordered her.
Joe snatched up the envelope, ripped it open, and began to read the letter inside aloud. “You tricked me. You made me feel special. But I’m just one of a million girls who love you. I know that now. What you did was so wrong. You deserve to die a slow and painful death, Justin Carraway.”
Belinda tossed her hair back. She looked defiant and scared and sad all at the same time. “I’m not sorry I wrote it. I meant every word.”
“You signed the letter,” Joe said, stepping out into the hall with us. He handed it to me so I could look at it. Belinda’s name was clearly written at the bottom, and the handwriting was different from the other letters.
“Of course I signed it,” Belinda declared. She gave a harsh laugh. “If I didn’t, he might never have figured out who sent it. He probably gets letters like this from girls all the time.”
Justin joined us, leaving the door to the suite open. “Belinda, baby, you are special. Look at you,” he said.
“So special you were practically making out with another girl right in front of me,” Belinda snapped.
Justin laughed. “Come on, it wasn’t like that. She asked me to help her with her approach. She was a fan. I didn’t want to say no. I figured you wouldn’t mind if I took a few minutes.”
Sydney came out into the hall. “Are you insane, Justin? Are you actually flirting with your stalker?”
“She’s not a stalker. She’s a friend,” said Justin. “She didn’t write the other letters. If she did, she wouldn’t have signed this one.”
“What other letters?” Belinda asked.
Justin looked over at Sydney. “See?”
“Of course she’s going to say that,” Sydney told Justin.
Justin ignored her. “It’s still early, Belinda. We can still hang. Let’s go out. I heard about this club—Three Monkeys. It’s supposed to rock.”
Sydney opened her mouth. “Don’t say anything,” Justin warned her.
I had to say something. “Look, I agree Belinda didn’t write the other letters,” I told Justin. “But the person who did write the letters is out there. And if they know what happened at the bowling alley, they aren’t going to be happy. I don’t think it’s safe for you to go out.”
Ryan joined the big hallway group. “It’s not. It’s not safe, Justin.”
Justin grinned at Belinda. “I’m going to go check out Three Monkeys. You coming?”
Belinda didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask about the letters again. “Absolutely,” she answered.
“You guys want to come, come. As long as you’re coming to have fun, not babysit,” Justin said. He leaned back into the suite. “Rick. You’re coming, right? I need my Party King.”
“I’m there.” Rick stepped o
ut into the hall.
Justin slapped him on the back. “Sorry. I had trouble locating the mute button at the bowling alley. Coke, Pepsi, whatever. I’ll drink camel spit if you serve it up.”
Rick laughed. “I just might.”
“Who else is in?” Justin asked.
“I’m staying. I guess I need to make some calls. Do some damage control,” Sydney said. “How would you feel about doing something like a public service announcement? Might get a little goodwill going with that Cleen Teen group at least.”
“Whatever you want. You’re the pro. Best in the biz. And that’s what I need, since I have so much trouble being a good boy,” said Justin.
“I’m just going to say one more thing. Not as your publicist. As somebody who has known you most of your life. Someone who cares about you. Be careful.” Sydney turned and headed toward her room.
“I’m still cute, right?” Justin yelled after her.
She looked over her shoulder at him. I could tell she was trying not to smile. “Yeah. So cute.”
Justin was really good at turning people around when they were mad. If the stalker actually got close enough to talk to him, Justin might end up with a new buddy or girlfriend.
Not that I was planning on testing that theory.
• • •
“We get on the dance floor, and we all start dancing like monkeys,” Justin said. “I want to hear some oohh-oohhs.”
“First we have to get inside the club. With no ID. At least no ID that will help,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Justin told me. “You’re in my posse now. Just give me one second.” He trotted across the Three Monkeys parking lot and had a fast convo with the bouncer at the door.
Thirty seconds later we were inside. Dancing like monkeys. I wondered how long it would take for word to spread of Justin’s location. Had the bouncer already made a call? Had one of the other people on the dance floor gotten off a text message? Did Justin’s stalker already know where he was?
I glanced around the club. It wasn’t any better than the bowling alley for keeping watch over Justin. It was even a little worse. At least the balcony was roped off for repair.
Joe danced his way over to me. He was getting into the monkey thing, scratching his pits. “We have suspect at four o’clock,” he said.
I turned my head in that direction. The crowd was thick, so I didn’t see her for a second. Then I spotted her. Emily.
She was moving toward us. Fast. Her face was twisted with anger.
Joe and I both automatically moved to put ourselves between Justin and Emily.
“Emily! Hi!” Joe called out. “Wanna dance?”
“More welcoming committee?” Emily asked him. “You’re really devoted. Guess I’m not important enough to be taken out.”
“That’s not it. You—,” Joe began.
Emily didn’t let him finish. She strode past us and got right in Justin’s face. Joe and I stayed close.
“I thought you dumped her.” Emily jerked her head toward Belinda.
Justin kept dancing. “Belinda? No way. She’s special to me.”
Emily turned to Belinda. “Just so you know, there’s somebody special everywhere we shoot.”
“What do you care?” Justin asked. “You want me dead, right?”
“Right. Totally right.” She shoved her way between Justin and Belinda, stumbling as she maneuvered through the crowd toward the door.
“Em, wait!” Ryan called. He hurried after her.
“She’s just bitter because it didn’t work out with us,” Justin told Belinda. “Come on. Let’s dance.” He grabbed her and dropped her into a dramatic dip.
“I think you have to be a movie star to pull that move off,” I said to Joe. Then I realized he was on his cell and had his finger plugging his other ear.
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Okay, thanks,” he said. “Frank and I are going to get something to drink,” he called to Belinda, Justin, and Rick. “Anyone want anything?”
He got no’s from all of them. “What’s going on?” I asked when we reached a slightly quieter spot over by the coat check.
“That was Vijay. You’re never going to guess what he found out about the Justin Time site,” Joe told me. “It’s owned by Justin.”
“That makes no sense. Justin Time sells stolen stuff. If Justin wanted to sell memorabilia of his, he could just . . . sell it,” I said.
“I know.” Joe looked thoughtful.
I scanned the club as we talked, my gaze skipping back to Justin every few moments. I noted that Belinda wasn’t dancing with him anymore, although four other girls were spinning around him. Which could be why Belinda wasn’t dancing with him anymore. “Let’s get back over there. Maybe we can find a chance to feel him out a little about the stolen stuff.”
“We need to hit the bar for sodas first, since that was our excuse for cutting out.” Joe led the way over. I kept doing my scan as he tried to flag down the bartender. I didn’t see Emily or Ryan anywhere around. Maybe he’d caught up with her and they’d decided to talk outside.
Joe waved both arms over his head. The bartender didn’t move toward him. But Justin spotted the motion and headed over. “Let me,” he volunteered. He didn’t have to signal at all. The bartender walked right over to him.
“That dude was here before me,” Justin said, pointing his thumb at Joe.
“You didn’t see Belinda go by, did you?” Justin asked as Joe ordered.
“Nope,” I told him. “Think she’s off writing another letter wishing you dead?”
Justin’s brow furrowed. “Why would she be?”
“Uh, you started dancing with four other girls—at once,” I reminded him.
“I didn’t start dancing with them. They started dancing with me. And only after Belinda left,” Justin answered. “She was just going to the bathroom.”
“Probably a line,” I said. “Hey, I meant to tell you. I was helping my aunt try to sell some stuff on eBay this afternoon. A couple of Wizard of Oz collectible plates. I couldn’t believe how much movie memorabilia sells for. Do you keep anything from the movies you’ve been in—costumes or anything? You could make a fortune.”
“I kind of already have,” Justin answered.
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” I said.
Joe returned with the drinks. “I have a sworn statement that this is Coke,” he told Justin as he handed him one of the glasses. “I figured you might be thirsty by now. I’d be thirsty if I was dancing with four girls at a time.”
Justin tried to suck down some soda through the tiny blue plastic straw in his drink. “It’s like these things were designed for hummingbirds.” He jerked the straw out of the soda, then grinned at me. “You want it?” he asked me.
I must have given him a “for what” look.
“To sell on eBay,” he explained.
“I was telling Justin about Aunt Trudy selling her Wizard of Oz plates,” I told Joe to bring him up to speed.
“You could make a ton of cash,” Joe told Justin. “Every time you drink a soda, you save the straw. Ka-ching.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said. But I guess the acting thing is working out okay for Justin. He’s managing to scrape by,” I said.
“Maybe I should mention it to Ryan. I think he has a box of junk from Five Times Five.” Justin took a swig of soda. “Not that he needs money either.”
“It’s pretty cool of you, buying him a Maserati and all that,” I said. “If Joe became a millionaire, I’d be lucky to get a phone call.”
“Don’t say that, bro,” Joe protested. “You know I’d call you on your birthday and Christmas. That’s two calls a year.”
Justin laughed, but then his expression turned serious. “What I give Ryan, it’s not like a gift. I owe it to him.”
That was worth following up on. “You’ve lost that many hands of poker?” I asked.
“It’s just . . . we used to be one person, as far as business was concerned. If i
t was still like when we were kids, he’d be getting half of what I get paid for every movie,” Justin answered. “He should still get something.” He grinned. “Not half. I am the talented one. But something.”
Justin drained his soda. “Why isn’t Belinda back by now? How long does it take to go to the bathroom?”
“Girl bathroom time is like dog years,” Joe told him. “For every one minute in guy bathroom time, it’s seven minutes of girl bathroom time.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. A dog year doesn’t actually last seven times longer than a human year,” I told him.
“You see what I’m dealing with here?” Joe asked Justin. “It’s like living with Mr. Spock. That isn’t logical, Captain.”
“She has been gone a while,” I said. What Joe calls his Spidey sense started humming inside me. “Maybe we should look around for her.”
“I’ll go back where we were, in case she looks for me there,” said Justin.
“Try not to be dancing with more than four girls when we find her,” Joe advised.
Justin gave a half salute and disappeared into the crowd.
“We may as well check the bathroom line first,” I told Joe. “I think it’s back that way, around the corner from the coat check.”
The two of us hurried in that direction. As we passed by the main entrance, I saw Caro, William, and a couple of other Teen Cleeners. William flashed a card at the bouncer. A fake ID? That was so not Cleen.
The paparazzi couldn’t be far behind, and unlike the CTs, they were old enough to get into the club with their actual IDs.
“This is definitely where the ladies’ room is,” Joe said when we rounded the corner. A line of at least ten women stretched down the hall. None of them was Belinda.
“Should we split up and do a search?” I asked.
“We haven’t finished looking here,” Joe answered. He walked to the head of the line. I followed him. “Will you lean in and yell the name Belinda?” he asked the woman closest to the door. “I’m worried my girlfriend is sick.”
“Sure.” She pushed the door open a little. “Is there a Belinda anywhere in there?” She got only no’s. “Sorry,” she told Joe. “Maybe outside. If I was sick, I’d want to get some air.”
Double Trouble Page 8
