When he’d gone out, Cameron turned to his sister. “So …”
“So?”
“Let’s see.” He counted on his fingers. “Only thirteen years. Dat’s da kine quick for TJ Kanakanui.”
She pushed his arm.
“Guess he’ll be over for dinner tonight.”
“Maybe.”
Like it wasn’t a foregone conclusion. Once TJ got moving, his inertia was an unstoppable force. “What are you making?”
“Spam musubi.”
“Ah, break da mout!”
Nica laughed. “He wants to smuggle some to Hanah.”
Fried Spam on sticky rice wrapped in nori seaweed was an island tradition, but somehow the hospital hadn’t put it on the menu. A serious oversight.
She slipped a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“And risk TJ’s wrath?”
Nica tipped her head. “Have you ever seen him angry?”
“Once. When I blew up his lunchbox.” That hadn’t been pretty. “And a minute ago when I interrupted.”
“He wasn’t angry. Just … surprised.”
Cameron sobered. “I’m glad he’ll be there tonight. I had wanted him to keep an eye on Gentry, but I’d rather he watched over you. The tabloids are making a big deal out of this.”
“Why would they care about me?”
“Because you had Gentry in your home.” He rested his hands on his hips. “And you haven’t had the most normal life the last few years.
If they connect you with some of those people …”
“Those people needed compassion and care. You know I couldn’t turn them away.”
“These hounds are not concerned with the facts, only the sensational impact.”
She shook her head. “Poor Gentry. I can’t imagine.”
“I hope you never have to.”
It hurt to see Uncle Rob looking so vulnerable. Part of her wished she’d let Mom come. Or that she could reach Aunt Allegra. Or that she knew which of her friends she could still trust, that she didn’t have to watch every word, every glance. And she wished other people’s lives weren’t damaged by contact with hers. She left her uncle and found Cameron, TJ, and Nica all together in the waiting room.
Nica stood up and hugged her. “How are you?”
“All right. Uncle Rob hasn’t stirred, but that’s probably good.” She turned to TJ where he sat, hands planted on his brawny thighs. “How’s your grandmother?”
“She’s okay.” He rubbed his thighs. “You remember what happened yet? I need to make a report.”
She shook her head. “Things are coming back, but nothing to do with the accident.”
Cameron must be right that she’d blocked the worst parts. Sitting with her uncle, she had thought about Troy. He’d joined the troupe at thirteen, a precocious, angry foster kid. He’d been the most consistent of them all, never missing a rehearsal, gaining skills and confidence, and shedding his belligerence. By fifteen he’d gained a special position, more apprentice than student. All that she remembered, but she couldn’t remember what had gone wrong.
Cameron met her gaze. “It’s all in there. Just needs a way out.”
That was what frightened her. Would she remember something she’d done? A mistake on the trail with Uncle Rob, in the troupe with Troy? Words or actions that had devastating results?
Reading the articles had shocked and depressed her. The reporters had embellished his smallest suggestion, twisted and pumped it up. Then there had been an investigation. Legal authorities had taken it seriously. And she recalled none of it. She shook her head. “The whole world knows more than I do.”
Nica sat down beside her. “The pressure must be awful. Everyone watching, speculating. No wonder celebrities cut themselves off.”
Gentry shrugged. “It’s a reverse process, really. Friends betray you; peers want to know why you and not them. Everyone else just wants a piece of the action. I’m a commodity.” She smiled into Nica’s soft gray eyes. “For a few days, I got to feel what it was like before. Thank you.”
Nica squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you came.”
Cameron moved to the chair on her other side. “The two gaps could be related. If you deal with the first, the rest might come.”
She turned. “You think this accident has something to do with Troy?”
“Think of what you know and go from there.”
She shook her head. “I only know what I read this morning.”
“Try.”
“I am.” Or was she fighting it with all she had?
Nica stood up and put a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. She said, “I have to go back to work,” but the current that passed between them was a plea for gentleness. Gentry read it as clearly as if Nica had said it aloud. When had she become party to their inner communication?
TJ got to his feet and walked Nica out with reverence. Another revelation.
She was more attuned to their realities than her own. Why couldn’t she remember?
Cameron leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about Troy.”
She looked away. “I don’t want to.”
“Was he upset that you left the troupe for Steel ?”
She felt the gears shift and lock into place. “Yes,” she whispered as the details rushed in.
“Did you know how he felt about you?”
“I knew he was crushing. But he was fifteen! He’d been part of the program for two years and rightly believed he held a special position. I thought he understood what kind.”
“Who else knew how he felt?”
“It’s a small troupe. New kids come in when their needs are matched with the program, but we had a semipermanent core who’d gotten pretty close. I’d say we all were aware of his fixation, but no one took it seriously. No one thought anything physical happened.”
“What about the pictures?”
She scowled. “The shots in the tabloids were taken during rehearsals, a stage kiss. It only looks real.”
“Who took the pictures?”
She was quiet a full beat. “Helen.” She swallowed. “She took candid shots all the time for publicity posters and the Web site.”
“Those shots were on the Web site?”
She looked away. “No.”
“So the rags got them from her?”
Gentry stared into her hands. “I don’t know.”
“Then what?”
“Then it all got crazy. The investigation, the press. I was forbidden contact with Troy, so I couldn’t even ask him what happened. I was so worried.” The ache gripped her stomach afresh.
“About what?”
“The pressure was eating me alive. I couldn’t imagine how bad it must be for him.”
“You’re not thinking in context. An attention-hungry adolescent at the center of all that publicity, claiming an affair with an actor who’d suddenly become a star. Someone he’d idolized, dreamed of.”
Her throat ached. “His walls were covered with pictures. I don’t know where he got them all.”
Cameron digested that. “Then what?”
“The investigator found holes in his story. I think it got bigger than he could handle. He … took some pills.”
“Kids do that.”
She shot her gaze up. “Kids—”
“He was manipulating the situation. Trust me, Gentry, I deal with this stuff all the time.”
It stunned her to think Troy could have done that for effect, but Cameron looked so sure.
She sat back. “They never pressed charges, but the publicity had gotten so out of control my agent arranged an interview with Oprah to tell my side.”
“I saw you.”
“You did?”
He nodded. “Then what?”
She frowned. “Then … Uncle Rob and I planned an escape.”
“To Kauai?”
She shrugged. “I remembered that piece earlier this morning. We joked about needing something big, like Antarctica.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
She crossed her arms. “No, I …”
“I need to know when you remember something.”
She raised her chin, confused and piqued. “For your investigation?”
He frowned. “I can’t help you if—”
“I don’t need your help, Cameron. My uncle’s found. That’s all that matters.”
His gaze ran over her like sandpaper. “What happened matters.”
She sank back and closed her eyes. “I don’t remember.”
His sigh was audible. Silence spread, but it wasn’t warm and comfortable. Finally he said, “So what’s next. The new script?”
She remained reclined but opened her eyes. “It looks that way.”
He rested his palms on his knees. “If you don’t like publicity, why take the part? That’ll just bring it on.”
“I need to work. Helen and I decided it would hurt the troupe right now if I’m involved.” Helen’s words had sliced her to the core. “ These are at-risk kids. They need people they can trust.”
Cameron frowned. “The allegations were proven false.”
“The allegations were not proven; insufficient evidence to charge me with a crime.”
“Innocent until proven guilty.”
“In court, not public opinion.” Pain found her voice. “My actions, my interaction must have led Troy to believe, or at least desire, a relationship beyond his maturity.” She looked into Cameron’s eyes. “Until I know what I could have done differently …”
“You’re not responsible for other people’s choices.”
“I was responsible for every kid in that program.” And the loss of their respect left a hollow she wasn’t sure she’d ever fill.
He didn’t tell her she’d never control the effect she had on others. Part of him wanted to shake her and say if she set herself up as a target, she’d get shot. Part of him wanted to shoot. But the scariest part wanted to take her home and keep her safe.
He’d seen the innocence, moments before she recognized his attraction in front of her uncle’s closet. He believed she hadn’t realized the extent of Troy’s infatuation. He also believed Darla’s assertion that when Gentry Fox walked down the street, every man fantasized. The industry would devour her. He swallowed the knot in his throat.
“I’m going to check some things out. Will you be okay here?”
Gentry nodded. “Darla’s arranging a press conference.”
Just the mention of that woman heated his blood. “Don’t leave the hospital.”
The look she gave him was pure Jade. She’d do what she needed to, and he could try to keep up. He went out to his truck at the far end of the lot. Tucked into his windshield was a business card with Big bucks for the inside scoop penciled on the back. Two others had been tossed to the ground, probably by each successive hound. He wanted to grind them into the parking lot, but he picked them up and slipped them into his pocket to burn later.
He drove to the rental company at the Lihue airport and traced down dead ends until hunger sent him to Bubba’s for burgers and fries, and then he went back to the hospital. He’d spent two hours without Gentry and it felt like days. As he laid the food out, she eyed his offering with alarm. Burgers with raw onions, fries in a paper boat.
“It’s a staple.” He held a paper-wrapped burger to her. “Bubba’s grease in your pores makes you buoyant.” He unwrapped his. “Be thankful I didn’t get you the signature shorts.”
She raised her brows.
“ ‘Bubba’s. We relish your buns.’ ”
Her glare pinned him to the wall. Good. He could handle antagonism.
“How’s your uncle?” He took a chunk out of his burger.
“I think he looks better.”
He chewed on both the burger and her answer. She’d been consistently positive, but he wasn’t getting that vibe from the staff. “I’ve been working on the Jeep he rented. Can you remember anything about it?”
“Like …”
“Where it might be.” He took another bite. The onions bit back.
She dragged a fry through the ketchup. “My best guess is we drove as far as the vehicle could go and hiked from there. Normal M.O. for Uncle Rob.” She sectioned the fry into her mouth.
“So it’s parked somewhere mauka, but you don’t know where?”
“That’s my guess. I can’t say for sure.”
“Close your eyes.” That served two purposes; giving his heart a rest from their impact and shutting out her distractions. “Try to picture flying in to the island.”
“I—”
“Just imagine it. A little improv.” Maybe keying into her creative side would cause answers to surface. “You land in Lihue, rent the Jeep.”
Concentration furrowed her brows.
“What color is it?”
“Red.”
His pulse quickened. The paperwork had listed red. “Where did you go from there?”
“North.”
Interesting. “What next?”
“We found a locals’ hangout.”
“Why?”
“Because Uncle Rob never takes a beaten path. He always wants the most obscure adventure, so he finds the people who know those kinds of places.”
“Who did he talk to?”
She stayed silent so long he must have stumped her imagination. She opened her eyes.
He couldn’t read the expression. “Nothing?”
“A dragon.”
“Dragon.”
“I pictured a long black-and-red dragon.”
He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Medieval or Oriental?”
She licked a drop of ketchup from her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
“Like on a temple?”
She frowned. “Maybe.”
“Come on, Gentry. Don’t quit now. Did you talk to someone at a Hindu temple or—”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He settled back. “Okay. Eat your burger.”
“Do I have to?”
“You could wait for the Spam musubi Nica’s smuggling in to TJ’s grandma.”
“Spam?”
“Da kine ham in da can? Slap it on da sticky rice, wrap da buggah wit seaweed. Broke da mout.” He leaned back with a grin.
“That’s amazing.”
“What?”
“How you go in and out of it.”
“Offering me a job in show biz?”
She laughed. “Right now, I wouldn’t do that for my worst enemy.”
“And I don’t qualify?”
She tipped her head. “Worst … no.”
Oh man, he had it bad. He grabbed his burger and stood. “Anything else you need?”
“You’re leaving?”
“Got a dragon to slay.”
She folded her fingers together. “Hadn’t pegged you for a knight.”
“Not even with the beard?”
She melted his flesh with her gaze—like Nimue to Merlin, who foresaw his own death and went for it anyway.
No wonder her debut had packed a punch. It wasn’t even a romantic role, yet something had come through. Something he needed to extract himself from immediately. “Eat.”
She took a bite of her Bubba burger and looked less than impressed.
“They’re better right off the grill, before they congeal. Fries are good for a day or two, though.”
“Nice to know.” She smiled.
He could get used to that smile. He and every man on the planet.
EIGHTEEN
A brown hen and four speckled chicks skittered out of his way as Cameron crossed the parking lot and climbed into the truck. As he keyed the ignition, his cell rang. “Pierce.”
“Gentry Fox? Four years without a date and now Gentry Fox?”
He felt as though his teeth had just bitten down on chalk. “It’s not—”
“You? Under the headline ‘Fox and Lover’?”
He’d expected harassment, but not from th
e woman whose voice he hadn’t heard in four years. He activated the window and let in some air. “What do you want, Myra?”
“Is it true?”
He flipped through all the possible reasons she might want to know. His chest tightened. His fingers itched to disconnect. His heart, thankfully, had been ground to a dust of disillusionment. “I can’t imagine why that’s any of your business.”
“You don’t have to get angry.”
The British accent he’d once found so alluring now sounded stilted. But she was right; anger was a choice. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. Because he’d once loved this woman, and some pitiless part of him always would, he didn’t hang up.
“Do you want to hear what I have to say?” Her voice broke just enough to trigger guilt.
“I’m listening.”
“I think it’s good that you’ve … found someone.”
“Gentry’s a friend. I helped find her uncle.”
“A friend.”
He should have said client, considering how loosely Myra defined friend. But technically he’d been neither retained nor paid. And for some warped reason he felt compelled to be honest. “That’s right.”
“The article—”
“Is there a point to this?”
She huffed. “Same old Cameron.”
“You said I’d never change.”
“Yes, but I …”
Sweat dampened the base of his neck. He needed to get moving, let the wind blow, find some way to breathe that didn’t feel toxic. How could the sound of her voice thousands of miles away still have a physical effect on him?
“Cameron … do you miss me?”
Anger and confusion hit him in the stomach. Miss her? The last thing she’d said to him was, “That’s it, then,” at the divorce table. As far as he knew that had been it for her. He’d walked around eviscerated, unable to think, to feel anything but the suppurating wound until shock and numbness had scarred him over. Now, when he’d spent one week with someone else, Myra wanted to know if he missed her.
He pried his sweaty fingers from the steering wheel. What he might have missed, what he’d thought he had with her, were the things she’d thrown in his face. “What does that mean, two becoming one? Explain the physiology of that. You know what I think? You’re a dependent freak, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not your bloody sister.”
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