Black Light: Rescued

by Livia Grant

  She pushed to her feet and shouted, "Everyone out! Now!" The crew at the other end of the trailer bolted to the door as if they'd been shot out of a cannon. When Ricky looked lost, she added, "You too, Ricky. Out."

  His relief was palpable. He followed the hair stylist out and closed the door behind him.

  Khloe took a deep breath before turning back to face the Kaplans.

  Bernie didn't wait for her to speak, jumping on the attack first. "We only did what you pay us to do. It's that simple."

  Khloe’s body vibrated with energy she was so angry. "There is nothing simple about this! I have a lunatic stalking me. The messages are coming faster and getting more aggressive." A new thought came to her in her rant at them. "In the three days since the break-in, you've left me voicemails and text messages. Dozens of them between the two of you."

  "Yes, and you were rude enough to ignore them all," Natalie countered.

  "Funny, out of all of those messages, not a single damn one asked how I was doing. Not once did you say you were sorry for all I was going through or offer to help me get to safety. No offers to send over new clothes or personal items since everything I owned was now part of a criminal investigation. No flowers, card or hell, not even an email to let me know you were worried about me and hoped I was feeling better after my ordeal." Khloe was on a roll. Her uncharacteristic rant had effectively stunned the Kaplans into silence, allowing her to continue. "I'm just a Goddamn paycheck to you. You'd run me over with your car and then back up and run over me again if you thought it would get more publicity and a bigger pay day."

  Her words had hit home, yet the crusty old couple was too jaded to take her concerns seriously. "You're being melodramatic and emotional. Are you PMSing?"

  "Are you fucking kidding me? Did you just ask me if I had my period?"

  Bernie visibly blanched, "Okay, I might have taken that a little too far. All I meant was you are being overly emotional."

  For the first time in her life, Khloe wanted to reach out and slap someone. Not someone. Bernie Kaplan. Her ears were ringing from the effort it took for her to keep from losing her shit.

  "Get out. I don't want you here."

  Natalie tried to smooth things over for her husband. "Let's not overreact. Bernie didn't mean anything by his insensitive comment. We really do need to prep you for this afternoon's interview."

  "There is no interview this afternoon. I'm not going to use the illegal stalking by some crazed lunatic as a publicity stunt." An inkling of doubt made her add, "And if I find out either of you have had anything to do with these threats, not only will I fire you, but you can bet your ass I'll be giving interviews then to every news outlet that will listen to make sure they know what kind of bullshit you would go to for your clients."

  "Why... I never..." Natalie was speechless.

  Trevor's voice cut through the space. She'd missed him coming into the trailer. "You heard Khloe. She needs some privacy now."

  Her eyes met his and she saw his approval for how she'd handled her agent and his wife.

  The older couple headed to the exit, addressing Trevor as they left. "The ABC crew will be setting up in the front office of the studio at noon. You need to have Khloe prepped and ready for filming at one. They're sending Robin Roberts. This is a big deal, Trevor."

  He didn't answer Natalie at first, but finally let her know, "Khloe and I will discuss it. We'll do whatever she decides."

  The couple huffed out, slamming the door behind them and leaving Khloe and Trevor alone.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  She tried to lighten things up, not wanting to worry him. "Oh sure. Never been better." She took a long swig of her bottled water, trying to calm her rattled nerves.

  "Apollo and Paul are asking for you. They want to get started." He hesitated, before adding, "I can tell them you aren't feeling well and that you need to leave."

  The idea was so tempting, yet she had spent three days holed up in a hotel room, and it hadn't really helped her feel any safer so she knew spending the day barricaded in her LA rental wouldn't help. No. The only thing that would really help was the police catching the asshole responsible for terrorizing her.

  "Thanks. It's tempting, but I'll pull it together. Thanks for backing me up with them this time."

  The shadow of guilt crossed his face before he replied, "They conned me into hiding the fact that Dean was going to be in New York last week and I regret it. They also conned me into keeping some of the threats from you, but that was a mistake, too." He took another few steps closer to her before stopping so close she could reach out and touch him. "I am so sorry, Khloe. I don't ever want you to doubt where my loyalties lay. I'd do anything for you."

  For a minute, Trevor's monologue was heartwarming, but as he took another step closer into her personal space, she saw a look in his eyes that shouldn't be there.

  Sexual attraction.

  She was in his arms the next second as he pulled her into a tight hug. When she tilted her head to ask him what he was doing, he leaned in and planted his lips on hers in a kind of kiss they'd never shared before. Before she could jerk away, she felt him tightening his embrace until their bodies were flush against each other, making it impossible for her to miss his erection.

  She yanked away from him, twisting out of his arms until she was able to take a step back, putting distance between them again.

  "What the hell was that?" His kiss had been passionate enough that her lips felt swollen. She lifted her fingers up to touch them, subconsciously trying to wipe away his touch.

  "Khloe... Surely you have to know I care for you. Very much."

  Her ears were ringing.

  "Trevor... "

  He stuttered his way through his declaration, "These last few weeks, when you've been in danger, I've had to face my feelings. The thought of something happening to you on my watch. Well, I couldn't deal with that. These last few days, being with you 24/7, well... it's shown me what I want."

  "What you want?"

  "You, Khloe. Well, us really."

  "Trevor..."

  "I know I'm surprising you, and maybe my timing sucks, but..."

  "Stop. Please." She turned away from him, pacing to the other side of the room to put distance between them so she could think.

  She didn't need this. Trevor was one of the only steady people in her life and now he was ruining it. Unwanted tears sprung to her eyes. She fought to hide them, but by the time he stepped up behind her, she felt drops overflowing, spilling down her cheeks.

  "Talk to me. Please. Tell me I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life," he pleaded.

  Only she couldn't say that to him, because he had.

  Khloe took a deep breath and turned to face him. She flinched away from him when he reached out to swoosh her tears away. Surprise was replaced with sadness in his brown eyes. She hadn't even said a word, but he knew her answer. He could read her like a book.

  Would dating Trevor be that bad? He'd be the first man she'd go out with since Chase whom she felt actually cared about the real her. Not her public persona. Yet as she thought about the kiss they'd shared, she knew there was no way it would work. She cared about Trevor, but he was like a brother to her. A substitute for her own brother, Milek, whom she missed like crazy.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "So am I. I don't suppose we could pretend the last ten minutes didn't happen. Maybe just go back to the way things were?"

  Damn it was tempting. "I'm not sure..."

  "I insist. At least until we catch this asshole who is after you. I won't trust your safety to anyone else." He paused before adding. "You need me right now. No one else can protect you like I can."

  Her pulse spiked. The only way she'd gotten through the last few days since the break-in was because she knew Trevor would give his life for her. He did make her feel safe. He was right. The thought of him not protecting her right now scared the shit out of her.

  "Are you sure you can han
dle it?"

  His smile was wan as he answered, "Not being able to protect you right now is the only thing I couldn't handle. I promise. I can keep it professional if that's the way you want it."

  She didn't miss his hopeful inflection. "It's the way it needs to be."

  They stood silently until it turned awkward.

  "I'll go out and tell the crew to come in and get started."

  She nodded. "Thanks, but I'd like a few minutes alone first. Ask them to give me five."

  "You got it." He paused, like he wanted to say something more, but then decided against it, turning and heading out into the sun, closing the door softly behind him.

  The silence of the trailer was a welcome change. She'd had almost no time alone since the break-in to think, and God did she need to think. Everything was closing in on her and she felt like she might suffocate if she didn't relieve some of the stress weighing on her.

  As if fate wanted to say 'fuck you' to her need for silence, she heard her cell phone ringing in her leather bag on the counter. She let it go to voicemail as she paced the small space, trying to think through all she had on her plate. A ding alerted her to a voicemail message. Within seconds, the alert for an incoming text rang next.

  "Jesus, it better not be the Kaplans." She wrestled her phone from her purse and her heart lurched when she found it was Chase Cartwright trying to reach her. There'd been a time when hearing from her ex, Chase, would have brightened her day, but since Valentine's Day, she couldn't think of Chase without remembering the dangerous game of Valentine Roulette he'd conned her into playing. How disastrous it had been.

  Okay, the event itself hadn't been disastrous, but the aftermath of having to walk away from the man who'd turned out to be her sexual soul mate was draining her. She should have moved on by now, yet she felt stuck, unable to forget how Ryder Helms had mastered her perfectly for exactly three hours and then walked out of her life without a backward glance, leaving her to wonder if it had all been some figment of her imagination.

  Message from Chase:

  I heard about your stalker. Am worried about you. Check in when you can and let us know if there is anything Jaxson, Emma and I can do to help.

  XOCC

  As tempting as it was, she didn't think it was a good idea to ask them to get in touch with Ryder for her and tell him... what? What the fuck would she say to him right now even if he were here? He'd made it clear he had no room in his life for a silly actress. Ryder Helms was a dead end for her.

  Message to Chase:

  Thanks, but I'll be okay. Police investigating and have beefed up security. My love to you, Jaxson and Emma.

  XOKM

  Her five minutes had flown by. The knock at the door followed by six hustling people invading her trailer assured her that her meditation time was over, and it was time to get down to work. Sandra, the costume designer, worked to get Khloe poured into the full leathers she'd be wearing for that day's filming schedule. She'd been having fun playing the daughter of the leader of a motorcycle gang.

  Hair was next. Randy, her stylist, worked his magic to create the messy up-do for today's scene with her long locks.

  "Working with you is like a dream, Ms. Monroe," he flattered her. "Your hair is the perfect base for all of my special creations. I'll stick around the set in case you need a touchup later."

  "Thanks, Randy."

  It was Cathy's turn next to start on her makeup. The award-winning makeup artist stepped in front of Khloe, blocking her view of the hairstylist in the mirror. "I need to get started because we're running out of time. Mr. Lancer wants you on the set in five minutes, and we're never going to make that."

  For several minutes, both professionals prepped Khloe until Randy was finished. "All done! I can't wait to show you the back." He stepped around her to the long counter that held all of the supplies. Randy spent several minutes rummaging through the drawers and cabinets. Finally, Cathy prodded him.

  "What are you looking for?"

  "The big hand-held mirror so I can show her what the back looks like."

  Cathy helped with a suggestion. "I think I saw it in the bottom drawer."

  Randy leaned down, opening the drawer and reaching out for the long-handled mirror and then handing it to Khloe while swiveling the chair sideways so she could angle it to see her hair.

  Only when Khloe's eyes focused on the reflection in front of her, it was the message scribbled on the glass with what she hoped was red lipstick and not blood that she saw.

  Her reflexes were sluggish, not immediately recognizing it for the threat that it was. But when she did, her blood-curdling scream coincided with her releasing her grip on the offending accessory. The handle had become like a proverbial hot-potato. She flung the threat away from her, crashing it into the huge mirror, shattering it into a web of cracks.

  Run. I need to get the fuck out of here.

  Khloe shot out of the plush chair, pushing her way through the crowd of studio employees standing in a dazed confusion, unsure why she was screaming.

  Even in her panicked state, Khloe suspected she was overreacting. She was surrounded by people she knew. People she trusted. Yet she felt so violated. Like in her NYC apartment, this bastard was slowly ruining the places she'd previously felt safe by proving he had access.

  She met Trevor at the door. Having heard her screaming, he was rushing in as she was rushing out. She flung herself into his arms, hanging on for dear life while crying out, "He was here! Get me out of here!"

  To his credit, Trevor didn't stop to try to rationalize with her. Instead, he turned and jumped from the steps to the pavement below before taking off running as if the boogieman were chasing them.

  Khloe clung to him like a monkey to her mother, letting him weave through the trailers, trucks and cars in the lot towards her waiting SUV.

  Michael must have seen them coming because he pulled out and met them in the middle of the driveway.

  Only when both she and Trevor were in the backseat did he take off again, slamming his foot on the gas to rush towards the exit of the studio grounds.

  "You're safe now, Khloe," her bodyguard reassured her.

  She wanted to believe him, but knowing that her stalker was close enough to her to gain entry to both her home in NYC and her private trailer in California rocked her to her core. She was grateful she hadn't been hurt... yet. But it was clear anyone could get to her at anytime if they were determined enough.

  Chapter 7

  "Please take a seat, Ms. Monroe. We'd like to start."

  They'd saved her a seat at the head of the mammoth table situated in the boardroom of the producer's upscale offices in the heart of Burbank. The problem was there was only one and she needed two.

  "We need a chair for Trevor."

  Bernie who had saved her the lone seat spoke up, "There are seats around the wall for support personnel," waving his hand in the general direction where a line of skimpily-dressed personal assistants sat waiting to jump to their male-executive's beck and call.

  "Trevor isn't support personnel. He'll need a seat at the table." When not one of the dozen men around the table moved to assist her, she turned to the row of assistants to add, "Can one of you bring in another chair?"

  The woman closest to her looked at her boss sitting at the long table before she'd help. It made Khloe want to laugh wondering if she could take a piss without permission.

  Once they were all seated, Edward Rivera, the executive producer for both Dirty Business and Smuggled Dreams opened the meeting. Khloe took a minute to glance around the table of over a dozen people. The only women who got to sit at the 'big boy' table were Natalie and herself. She didn't recognize most of the people present and that made her nervous.

  "Thanks for coming in, Khloe. I know it was difficult for you to leave your apartment."

  She caught the exasperation in his tone. After all, he had two major box-office projects in motion with Khloe as the female lead. Considering one of those films was
set for its grand opening the following night and the second was in the middle of production, he had a lot riding on Khloe's ability to pull it together.

  She was grateful that he'd been a big supporter of hers. Rivera had taken a chance when he'd chosen her over more seasoned talent with Dirty Business. She'd been awarded the even juicier role in Smuggled Dreams because she'd exceeded his expectations in the first film.

  Well that, and the fact that she was 'low drama' as he liked to call her. She could sense his impatience with her now that she was squarely sitting in the 'high drama' category.

  "I've asked everyone to come to this joint planning session so we can nail down plans for tomorrow's opening of Dirty Business as well as the shoot schedule for Khloe's scenes for Smuggled."

  She was furious when he launched into a review of an already printed schedule straight away without any discussion of the main topic she'd come for. Glancing around the table, she noticed everyone was focused at the paper in front of them, refusing to make eye contact with her.

  Fuckers. Not one of them would stick their neck out with the powerful producer.

  "Excuse me, Edward," she interrupted, waiting for him to stop talking before continuing. "But I think we've skipped a major topic that has to come first." She was proud of how steady she kept her voice. Their eyes met despite the distance between them. "I came today for an update on the police investigation into my stalker case and how it will impact the projects. They go hand in hand."

  All eyes in the room looked at the financier. She got the impression they all knew something she didn't know and he'd been elected their spokesperson.

  "I'm afraid the investigation hasn't concluded yet. The stalker is still at large."

  "I'm aware of that. Or at least I would hope the police, or someone, would advise me otherwise had he been captured. Did they get any fingerprints from my trailer? Or how about the security footage. People can't waltz on the lot without credentials."

  "Precisely, so it does narrow the suspects, but..." He paused before adding, "Our investigators haven't drawn any conclusions yet."