Black Light: Rescued

by Livia Grant

  "Sure kid. I'll see she gets it." After he took the sweet treat from Peter, he turned to head towards the door, pressing ANSWER on his phone.

  "Helms here."

  Chapter 24

  "So, Khloe. I think you need to tell your fans who the mystery man was last week in Hollywood. You know. The hunk who rode up on the Harley and whisked you away on the back of his bike, beaded evening gown and all. It was so romantic." The reporter shoved her microphone in front of Khloe expectantly.

  Khloe's feet were killing her as she stepped into the last of the dozen media booths set up in the grand lobby of the Landmark Theater. She'd been answering entertainment reporters' questions for over an hour now and she was done. Every ounce of patience was gone, and she desperately needed to sit somewhere quiet and regroup. Instead, she had to answer the hard questions.

  "Sorry, Paula. There is no mystery. Things were getting a bit rowdy and my security detail arranged to have me whisked out of the fray. It's all rather boring, actually."

  Khloe had had to put her acting skills to good use on the red carpet tonight. Hiding her breakup with Dean had been hard enough after they'd sat apart at the screening, but concealing the fact that she was being stalked and now denying she had any feelings for the mystery man who had swept her off her feet in Hollywood made for a tiring trifecta of deceit. Only time would tell how acceptable a job she was doing at fooling the press.

  Ricky and Trevor were waiting for her as she extricated herself from the figurative grip of the last invasive reporter.

  "I can no longer feel my feet," she grumbled under her breath as she leaned on her security guard's offered arm for support.

  "You should have worn flats. No one can even see your feet in that gown anyway."

  "Men. Everyone knows you don't wear flats to a gala event."

  "Women. Everyone knows they care more about appearances than comfort."

  Ricky piped in to support her. "I'm a man and even I'm not wearing flats."

  Trevor bantered back. "Yeah, well you bat for the other team so..."

  "Guys. Really?" Khloe scolded.

  The men at least had the decency to look sheepish. Khloe would love to debate with them, but she was too damn tired. Lack of sleep, the stress of the stalker, much too little food and most importantly, Ryder's pending departure, were adding up to her feeling woozy on her feet.

  "Where are Bernie and Natalie? They were supposed to be with me as I did the interviews today to help run interference with the press."

  When Trevor didn't answer, she looked up the several inches until their eyes met. She didn't know how to interpret the anger she saw in his gaze.

  "Seems they took off early for the hotel."

  "Let me get this straight. My agent and my publicist left the D.C. opening of my newest movie without even being seen with me?"

  Trevor added, "Pretty much. I think they were peeved at being seated on the sidelines."

  "Actually, I think Ryder scared them away. They really don't like him," Ricky added.

  When Khloe stumbled on her long dress, Trevor caught her, stopping her from falling flat on her face.

  "I want to leave," she begged through clenched teeth, a forced smile on her face.

  "But..." Ricky started to argue, but Trevor gratefully agreed.

  "It's fine. You've completed everything on the agenda. I texted to have your limo brought around. Let's move towards the door and say our goodbyes."

  She asked softly, "Where is Ryder?"

  "He got some new information and is talking with the police." Trevor looked nervous as he added, "He'll meet us later."

  "I don't want to leave without him," Khloe argued.

  Trevor reassured her, "He said you'd say that. He also told me to tell you he'll keep his promise. Not sure what that means, but he said you'd know."

  Ryder was reminding her of his promise not to disappear without saying goodbye, but in the end what would it matter? He would still be leaving. Still be saying goodbye and taking her heart with him.

  Unwanted tears pricked at her eyes, and she fought to keep from letting it turn into a full-blown bawling session. Not this close to the press corps still interviewing other key players from Dirty Business.

  I have to at least make it to the car before I lose it.

  By the time the limo pulled up fifteen minutes later, Khloe was ready to drop. She needed to start working out again. She'd been too busy, and she hated feeling fragile. She pushed down the nagging inner voice telling her she'd feel stronger if only she ate better.

  Trevor had been texting the entire fifteen minutes as they made their way to the exit. Even now, he waited to open the door until he'd sent another reply, which was mildly annoying for a woman desperate to get off her feet.

  Khloe let Ricky get in first before following, allowing herself to sink into the middle of the plush leather back seat of the limousine. Only once Trevor was seated and the door slammed closed did she realize that the Kaplans were already seated on the bench seat across from her, facing the back of the car.

  "There you are. I was looking for you inside. You were supposed to help run interference for my interviews."

  "Oh, so now you want us nearby, yet you couldn't be bothered to save us seats next to you for the premier," Natalie groused.

  Khloe tried to keep a straight face as she replied, "I'm not sure what the mix up was." She paused, pinning her publicist with a glare before adding, "Perhaps it was the same mix up that had Dean invited to the New York premier."

  Bernie attacked Khloe with his now familiar negative lecture. "Don't get cute with us, young lady. You know damn well everything we've done for you has been with one thing in mind–– your success. It's bad enough that you refuse to acknowledge how much we've helped your career, but now you and that hoodlum of yours attack our good name and reputation. I have half a mind to drop you as a client."

  A few months ago, the threat of losing the backing of Hollywood's oldest powerhouse duo would have been one of the worst-case scenarios Khloe could have come up with. It was a testament to how much had recently changed for her when her first thought of never seeing the Kaplans again was of relief. Still, she couldn't afford to be reckless. She'd start looking for their replacement, but until then, she'd have to play nice.

  "Don't be dramatic, Bernie. You need me, like I need you. You're in the middle of negotiations on that script the studio sent over a few weeks ago."

  She watched as the older man puffed out his chest in an exaggerated show of arrogance that made her want to laugh.

  "I am about to get you a three-hundred percent pay raise, young lady and don't forget it."

  Trevor flinched next to her as he uncharacteristically jumped in to defend her. "Every additional penny Khloe gets for her next film is the result of her hard work and talent and nothing else. You're getting rich off her. In fact, I have it on good authority the initial package offered had a higher base pay for Khloe, until someone negotiated a bigger commission percentage off the top with the studio."

  Bernie's double chin shook as he nodded like some bobble-head figure stuck to a dashboard. She'd never seen his face turn that shade of reddish-purple before.

  "How dare you even insinuate such a thing? Why are you even speaking anyway? Bodyguards are meant to be seen and not heard."

  Trevor broke into an angry grin. "Seems you're a bit paranoid there, Bernie. I didn't name any names."

  Impossibly, the elder Kaplan's face grew a shade darker. It looked like he might spectacularly pop like an overinflated balloon.

  Natalie patted her husband's knee softly as if to calm him as she rebutted. "You don't know what you're talking about."

  Khloe had never seen Trevor so aggressive with anyone, let alone the Kaplans before.

  He didn't let up. "I trust my sources. They've brought me some good intel recently."

  "And what sources would that be?" Natalie did the talking for the duo.

  "The private detectives we hired to get to
the bottom of Khloe's stalker case. They've dug up a number of interesting tidbits."

  Where Bernie's face remained the ugly purple, Khloe couldn't help but notice Natalie's complexion turning chalky white in the limo's interior lighting. Her sixth sense was piqued as Trevor's hand fell on her leg, squeezing her gently through her gown.

  Natalie stammered, "We didn't authorize any private detectives."

  "And why is that, exactly? I mean, not that we needed your permission, but I would have thought it would be the first thing you'd do to protect your paycheck." Trevor's grip on her thigh tightened as Khloe internalized what he'd said.

  Khloe confronted her agent. "Wait a minute. Bernie, you told me that the studio was going to hire private detectives to work the case to keep it on the down-low from the press."

  It was Trevor who responded, not the older man sitting across from her. "The studio did authorize it. They even cut a twenty-five thousand dollar retainer check they were told was needed to secure the very best security firm in L.A."

  Khloe relaxed slightly. She'd panicked, surely misunderstanding Trevor's words. For a second there, she'd thought the Kaplans had lied to her. Then she replayed Trevor's words again in her head, and the uneasy flutter in her tummy turned to a full-blown churn.

  "So if the studio paid for an investigation, why did you say you didn't authorize it? And what exactly have they dug up?" Khloe pinned Natalie with her glare, recognizing Bernie had gone mute.

  The older woman across from her went on the attack. "Investigations like this take time. Unlike your nosy bodyguard here and that heathen of a man you've been degrading yourself with, Missy, we don't interfere and try to tell the professionals how to do their job. I trust that they'll call me as soon as they have a lead or other important information they need to share."

  Trevor leaned forward so far that Natalie shrunk back, leaning against her husband as she listened to the bodyguard's response.

  "I've been pressing you for updates for days. Until today, I was annoyed by your apathy, but things are falling into place. It's a good thing I wasn't holding my breath waiting for an update since it will never come, will it, Natalie?"

  "How dare you! You're an employee. I'm Mrs. Kaplan."

  Trevor's bark of a laugh filled the otherwise quiet car. "That's rich. I think you have your priorities a little out of whack there, lady. You have a few bigger things to worry about than what I call you. The only reason I haven't gone to the police with what I know already is that, as you've pointed out, I'm much more than a bodyguard to Khloe. First and foremost, I think of her as my friend, which is why I'm confronting you here, in the privacy of the limo."

  "Trevor, why does it feel like I'm the only one here who doesn't have a fucking clue what you guys are talking about?"

  Ricky spoke under his breath. "You aren't the only one who's clueless."

  Trevor pressed on, addressing the Kaplans. "Are you going to tell her, or am I?"

  Bernie finally found his voice again as he growled. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but you're fired. When we get to the Marriott, you have ten minutes to get your things from the suite and then you're gone."

  Khloe's heart raced. She hated conflict, which was just one of the many unique qualities that set her apart from most of her Hollywood peers who thrived on stirring up trouble and demanding things of the people around them. There was no way she was going to sit on the sidelines of this battle, though.

  "Trevor is my employee, not yours. He isn't going anywhere except where I go." She paused, feeling the clamp of her friend's grip on her thigh before confronting the older couple. "You have exactly thirty seconds to start telling me whatever the hell secret it is that you've been keeping from me or it will be you who has ten minutes to clear your things out of our suite when we get back to the Marriott."

  Natalie shouted, "You little bitch. After all we've done for you. The risks we've taken to get you the publicity you need to move into the highest echelon of celebrity."

  "What risks? I'm the one getting the threats! I'm the one whose life has been turned upside down by one of the kooks your publicity stunts has fleshed out. Don't think I don't know that you've been planting tidbits about the stalker case with your press contacts. Almost every single interviewer today asked me about it, and they all seemed to have information that I know we didn't release to the wider press corps. You know I didn't want any part of using the criminal case to get negative publicity."

  "You are so naive. There is no such thing as negative publicity. Do you have any idea how hard it is these days to compete with the glut of information online? How impossible it is to get a story trending on Twitter and Facebook? I apologize for nothing I've done in the name of doing my job of promoting you."

  "I never asked for an apology. I'll settle for the truth."

  "You don't want the truth. You want the impossible. You want to just magically wake up and be America's Sweetheart."

  "You don't know the first thing about me, Natalie. Do I want to make it big? Sure. I'll give you that. But I don't want to be known for wearing the most exclusive gown or making the biggest splash when I enter a room. Those may be nice perks, but what's always been most important to me is that I get quality roles. That I continue to hone my craft and become a sought-after actress. And not because I'll make more money, but because producers and directors want my talent."

  Bernie found his voice. "Wake up, Khloe. Hollywood and New York City are full of talented artists, just like you. You know what most of them are doing? Waiting tables. It takes a lot more than talent to make it in show business and you know it. If you'd get your head out of your ass, you'd see how good Natalie and I are at making superstars."

  Trevor cut her off as she opened her mouth to reply. "I'd like to ask a few questions about just how low you would stoop to make those so-called superstars? Let's start with Robby Goldberg. Care to share how you got that asshole into the limelight? I mean it's not like he has an ounce of the talent that Khloe does."

  It was Natalie's chest that puffed out proudly this time. "Exactly, and yet we were responsible for his being nominated for a People's Choice award last year. The fans love him."

  Trevor scoffed. "The fans don't love him. They pity him. They feel sorry for him."

  "Whatever. The only thing that matters is he's getting more offers now than he can possibly handle. He's a household name."

  Khloe's brain raced to remember as much as she could about the low-talent, highly-sought-after actor who'd come out of nowhere in the last few years. The only thing she could remember about him was that his son was sick with some terminal disease.

  "Whatever happened to his young son? Did he pull through? What was his illness again?" The questions spilled from her mouth as they popped into her head.

  They should be easy questions for the actor's agent and publicist to answer, yet the Kaplans sat silently, each refusing to look her in the eye. Her uneasy tummy churned again with an odd sense of dread that she didn't understand.

  It was Trevor who answered her. "It was supposedly leukemia, wasn't it? The last press release was that he had been miraculously cured. I remember seeing Robby making all of the morning news programs to talk about the miracle of how God had cured his baby, shedding his crocodile tears. I have to hand it to him. He did at least put on a believable performance there, if not on the big screen."

  She was missing something. Why would Trevor be so angry that a young child was cured? She replayed his words. Supposedly. Crocodile tears.

  Khloe's uneasy feeling escalated. She hated the thought that had popped into her brain. Before she could ask a question, Trevor barged forward with what she could clearly now see was less of a conversation and more of an interrogation of the older couple sitting across from them.

  "If you don't want to talk about Robby, then maybe you'll share your overwhelming success with launching Justin Lange's career after he suffered the loss of his wife in that horrific car accident in the Hollywood
Hills. It was so unfortunate that she was killed in that single car accident, and yet Justin was able to walk away unscathed. You have to hand it to him. I'm not sure how he was able to pull it all together to make the rounds with every entertainment news program to talk about his terrible loss. Then again, I rewatched some of his interviews recently. I was amazed by his ability to overcome his grief and talk about his upcoming movie projects instead."

  The Kaplans and Trevor were in a visual showdown as they sat silently glaring at each other.

  "What are you trying to say, Trevor?" Khloe prodded her friend for answers that it felt like he was withholding from her.

  Trevor never took his eyes off the Kaplans as he replied. "I don't need to say anything. Justin's dead wife has been doing all of the talking with the Mexican authorities after she was tracked down by the insurance agency's private investigator. Seems they got an anonymous tip that she might still be alive. Looks like she'd been blackmailing Justin for more cash to keep the secret that her accident had been a publicity stunt."

  Natalie Kaplan's eyes widened so far it looked like they might fall out of her head. In contrast, Bernie slumped to the side, leaning against the interior of the limo as he closed his eyes and clutched at his chest.

  Khloe's brain struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together. She turned their words around, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to come up with something... anything that wasn't as incriminating as the accusations being leveled.

  She shook her head as she pressed for answers. "I don't understand. You manufactured a child's illness? Why would anyone do that? And the accident?" Khloe turned the facts around, examining them from every angle before pressing forward. "You faked a woman's death without a care to how it would affect her family? I mean what kind of people would..." Her voice stopped abruptly as her brain pieced the final puzzle pieces together. The answer came out in a whisper. "My God... you did this to me."