“I’m impressed,” Gwen said, and then went into fan-girl mode. “It must be amazing to be around all these stars all the time. I could only dream of such a life.”
Hastings acted nonchalant. “To be honest, it’s always refreshing to get back to Rockfield, where I find the people to be more real.”
It sounded like a prepared statement he’d like her to print in the story. “Did you ever get the bug to be an actor yourself? You do have the leading-man looks.” She figured if you’re going to lay it on, you might as well lay it on thick.
He chuckled. “I’m afraid those days are long gone. But from what I saw of my brother’s lifestyle, I wouldn’t have been interested.”
Gwen had done her research on the Hastings children, including Woodrow’s older brother, by one year, Joe Hastings Jr. The bio on his IMDb page said he was a onetime “heartthrob” who starred in a few westerns in the 1960s, before his career fell completely off the map. He was probably best known for an affair he had with married starlet Mary Wadman, whom he would later marry himself.
“And when you say lifestyle, you’re referring to …”
“Drugs and alcohol. It’s ingrained in the culture, and I’ve seen it ruin too many careers and lives of young actors, my brother included. They don’t live in the real world, so they think there will be no real-world consequences.”
“Is your brother okay now?”
“Addiction isn’t curable. He’s supposedly clean, but who knows. He lives in California with my mother, and he runs a drug rehab center out there—which is like the inmates running the asylum, if you ask me.”
Gwen was surprised by one thing he said. “Don’t take this wrong, but I had figured that your mother had passed on.”
He smiled. “She’s ninety-six and as ornery as ever. She moved to a family home in Monterrey after my father died, and Nap and Louisa now live in the house in Malibu. I split time between coasts, so it’s nice to have a family presence in both places.”
It sure seemed good to be a Hastings, Gwen thought. Yet none of them seemed happy, and there appeared to be a lot of ill-will between the brothers. The family dynamic was interesting, if not a little sad, but she needed to move the questioning in the direction of Thomas Archibald, and she was struggling to find her opening.
“How about you?” Hastings turned it around on her.
“What about me?”
“Did you ever want to become an actress? You’re as beautiful as any one of them in this room.”
“It’s not really my element,” Gwen said with a blush. Although, she was becoming a much better actor by the moment. “I did once have the lead in a Samerauk Elementary School production.”
“I’m sure you brought the house down.”
“The reviews from my family were mostly positive … but my mother tends to be on the critical side.”
He shook his head with a knowing grin. “Mothers. Just so you know—they don’t change as they get older.”
They took another glass of champagne, and Gwen noticed another celebrity heading their way.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled.
Chapter 51
Gwen stood like a statue as I approached her. I kissed her on the cheek, and she smelled great—no more barnyard perfume.
With gritted teeth, she whispered sweet nothings in my ear, “I thought I told you to stay away?”
“No—you said that I couldn’t stop you. And you were right,” I whispered back.
I switched my attention to Hastings, who looked mighty surprised to see me … which was sort of the point.
“JP … um … to what do we owe the pleasure?”
I shrugged. “I had to come into the city this afternoon to tend to an emergency. And I figured as long as I’m here, why not do something fun tonight? An old friend invited me to come with her to the premiere, so it worked out well.”
He followed my gaze across the room to Lauren Bowden. She had on the same black dress with plunging neckline that she wore to Byron’s fundraiser last winter. But then again, maybe she has a whole closet of black mini-dresses, like I have dark suits.
Gwen gave me a look as if to say, “Really!?”
“So what was the emergency?” Hastings asked me.
“Excuse me?”
“You said that you came into the city this afternoon because of an emergency.”
“Oh, yeah—there was a break-in at the brownstone I own up by 116th Street. I recently had a key stolen, and the police have this way to track if someone uses the stolen key. Technology is just crazy these days … blows my mind … but to make a long story short, someone tried to get in today using the key, and the police alerted me.”
“Did you catch the intruder?” Hastings asked, not as confident as he was a few seconds ago. I had a feeling his popcorn wasn’t going to go down very smoothly during the movie.
“It was strange—nobody was inside, and nothing was taken, as far as I could tell. But luckily the surveillance system will provide video of the intruder, and the audio might give us an idea of their intent. But it may take a few days to go over the tapes—not exactly a top priority for the police with all that’s going on in the city.”
The twisted skin on Hastings’ face told me I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do. Gwen is a believer that the best way to pry answers from someone is to make them comfortable. I’m the opposite—I think when people are off-balance, they often fall down.
Of course, none of these theatrics would be necessary if I would have been able to catch the second man to enter my place.
Carter and I had staked it out—the minute he stepped out the door, we were ready to pounce. There was no escape. That was, until I heard the clanging of the fire escape that was located on the other side of the building. Great minds think alike, as do paranoid ones.
By the time Carter and I made it around the corner, the man was already in a waiting car, and sped away. We weren’t going to catch him on foot, and no cabs were in sight.
So we went to Plan-B. Carter returned inside with the oysters and pharmacy items, to resume their romantic interlude, as if nothing had happened. I made a mental note to schedule an emergency session for the cleaning crew tomorrow.
As for me, I needed to get to Gwen. How could I get into the movie premiere on such short notice? And then I thought of the fire escape that the man just used to elude us. I remembered during our dating days, how Lauren would incessantly try to get me to, “remove that appalling eyesore, John Peter.” To which I would say, “Then how will I be able to escape you?” She thought I was kidding.
Lauren was my solution—if there was a trendy event in this city that all the cool kids were attending, Lauren would be there with bells on, and probably not much else.
But getting her to bring me as her date hit some unexpected turbulence—I figured she’d jump at the chance, for the “I told you so” potential of it alone—and I was forced to agree to an interview on my brother’s death in exchange.
She offered me a tux that she claimed I’d left behind at her place following our breakup. I couldn’t recall leaving anything there, before, after, or during our relationship. This tux also had too snug of a fit to be mine—I was fairly certain who the owner was.
“Are you sure this is alright with Cliff … us going together?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be, John Peter? He was just going to attend with me out of professional courtesy. He fully understood the change in circumstances.”
Some would say that ever since Cliff Sutcliffe took over GNZ, the network had been more focused on movie premieres, and things of that nature, transforming the one-time gold standard in the news industry to what he liked to call newsertainment. I’d been one of his biggest critics, and he was the final straw in my decision to leave the network, but I still felt a little guilty—I was wearing the man’s tux, for goodness sake.
After my brief encounter with Gwen and Hastings, I returned to my date, and we took our seat
in the deluxe, single-screen movie theater. The Ziegfeld Theater was one of the last large-scale movie palaces built in the U.S. and seated about a thousand. In this reporter’s opinion, it was one of New York’s most underrated landmarks.
The movie itself was mildly entertaining—a heartwarming thriller called “Painless.” I recalled Gwen reading the book on our trip to Rhode Island this past summer. Modino was good as the lead, but the young actress who played the little girl who couldn’t feel pain stole the show.
Lauren came away impressed, but more so with herself. “I had many opportunities to go into acting, but I decided to pursue more serious pursuits,” she informed me as we left the theater.
“When will you being doing that?”
She flashed her most condescending look. “You’re so cute when your jealous, my little Brontosaurus.”
That had been her pet name for me, based on her assessment that I was a dinosaur in the news industry. She was right, and thankfully I was able to go extinct. On the other hand, I still have no explanation for why she continues to call me John Peter.
We moved to the after-party at a nearby and very well-known jazz club called Clyde’s Place. It wasn’t exactly one of those dim and lonely jazz clubs where you’d kick back and drown your sadness in Coltrane. It looked like a combination of a theme park and a Greek amphitheater, with a wall-to-ceiling glass window that offered a great view of Columbus Circle and Central Park. I kept my distance from Gwen, but maintained a close eye on her and Hastings. Lauren was too busy schmoozing, flirting with, and stalking celebrities to notice. I had to give Hastings credit—he took my best punch, his legs buckled, but he appeared to have shaken off my bluff and had found his footing.
The music slowed, as the band played the Miles Davis classic “It Never Entered My Mind.” Many couples took to the dance floor, including, to my dismay, Gwen and Hastings. When I saw them dancing cheek to cheek, I began to have Stephen Dubois flashbacks, and my fists clenched.
Lauren surprisingly returned to my side, and tracked my stare to Gwen. “I told you she was just using you to move up the ladder, but you never listen.”
If I don’t listen, then why does she keep talking to me?
She flashed me one of her angelic smiles. “You do know it’s impolite not to ask a lady to dance, John Peter.”
She was right. So I walked directly to Hastings and tapped him on the shoulder. “Would you mind if I cut in?”
He looked like he did mind, but etiquette won out.
I took my position, left hand around Gwen’s waist, our right hands clasped to the side. I pulled her as close as I could. I started to feel Miles as we grooved slowly. “What do you say we get out of here?” I said.
“Are you kidding? That bluff you pulled before was brilliant. His demeanor changed on the spot, and he didn’t say a word the entire movie. Now it’s my turn to finish the job—he’s ripe for the picking.”
“He’s not a grapefruit, and he might be a murderer … a desperate one at that.”
“The plan is for him to drive me back to Rockfield tonight, and I don’t see any reason to divert from that. It will give me plenty of time to get the answers we need.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Gwen. Why don’t we go home together?”
She had that determined look in her eyes, and I knew my words were useless at this point. “There’s a reason he chose me to be here tonight, and it’s because he wants to tell his story. And I’m going to let him do it.”
As if on cue, Hastings was now the one cutting in. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but it’s time for us to leave, Gwen.”
She flashed me a look that said she’d be fine, even if I wasn’t so sure, and headed to the ladies room to freshen up before they departed. That left me alone with Hastings.
“I hope you weren’t offended by my bringing Gwen here tonight,” he broke the ice.
Any guy would be at least a little perturbed by this, so I said in a huff, “She’s a big girl, she can do whatever she wants.”
He looked to Lauren in the distance, who was in full flirtation with Brett Modino. “It’s not like you came here empty-handed. I could tell that Gwen wasn’t happy about your choice in dates.”
“I was going to bring Jill Leezy, hoping to really piss you off,” I said, feeling my blood pressure rising. My jealousy was coming off a lot more natural than I thought, and I wasn’t really sure that I was acting at this point.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Nobody compares to Gwen, so what’s the point in trying to make you jealous? You’ve got the best girl in the place—ace always beats a queen.”
“She is something special, I’ll agree with you on that.”
“Just make sure she makes it home safe and sound, okay?”
He smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry—I’m going to take really good care of her.”
Chapter 52
I left Clyde’s Place with Lauren by my side. I had hoped that Brett Modino might have taken her off my hands, but his were already full, literally, with a Victoria’s Secret model. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on Lauren’s mind. “Brett is a really nice guy, much different than the media makes him out to be. I know what that feels like.”
I reminded her, “Men can be quite nice and accommodating when trying to get a woman into bed.”
“You can be so cynical, John Peter. And if I recall correctly, you were once the one trying to get me there.”
“And it looks like he’s trying to do it again,” a voice erupted from behind us.
We turned to see Cliff Sutcliffe. But this wasn’t the young wunderkind, former boss of mine, in his perfect-fitting empty suit. This was a disheveled man with pissed-off eyes and, based on the stench, pretty drunk.
“Clifford!?” Lauren called out with surprise. “What pray tell are you doing here?”
“I’ve sat and watched as you’ve been with jerk after jerk, Lauren—from JP to Tino Fernandez, and everyone in between. And I’m not going to sit back and let you walk away from what we have!”
I was starting to think that Cliff never received that “just professional courtesy” memo. But at least he didn’t preface his words with “no offense” before he ripped me—I really hate that.
“Oh, Clifford,” Lauren said.
He stared back at her—at least as well as he could focus at the moment. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to stand his ground and fight for the one he loves, and I love you, Lauren Bowden … I don’t care who knows!”
Ah crap—I was too tired for this, but there was no turning back now, so we might as well get it over with.
Cliff faced me, and actually put up his dukes. At a rail-thin five-foot-nine with glasses, he wasn’t exactly Carter when it came to intimidation. I went over my options. I could pummel him, turning him into a martyr, but I knew how Lauren worked—she runs to the winner. So that’s what had to happen here.
I rushed at Cliff and swung wildly, missing by at least a foot. And in doing so, I left him the obvious opening in my mid-section … which of course he missed with his first punch.
I waited in the same position as he re-loaded, and this time he landed a shot to my ribs. I was pretty sure it hurt him more than it did me, but I crumpled to the pavement in supposed pain. It was my best World Cup soccer move.
He stood over me, bursting with testosterone. “I hope you learned your lesson, JP—if you want Lauren, you’re going to have a fight on your hands.”
Lauren ran to her winner. She wrapped her arms around him and exclaimed, “I am done with jerks, Clifford. I promise.”
No offense taken. I honestly couldn’t think of two people who were more perfect for each other.
I picked myself up off the ground, and walked to the garage where I’d parked my Jeep this morning, near Chayton’s law office. It wasn’t far from Clyde’s Place, and it was a beautiful night for a stroll. It also gave me an opportunity to try to sort through some of what had happened since
Archibald’s car was pulled out of the river.
But my mind kept going back to Gwen. I had backed Hastings into a corner, making him into the most dangerous type of creature. But I’d done so with the belief that Gwen and I would be leaving together. And now I was regretting that move.
I drove straight home, and waited for her. And waited. And waited some more. “C’mon, Gwen where are you?” I asked the empty room.
And then I got my answer. The text read: Change of plans. Staying over in the city tonight. See you in the morning.
Chapter 53
Gwen’s first editor at the New York Globe used to say that New York apartments weren’t judged by the interior, but by the view they had. If so, Woodrow’s 53rd floor apartment had to be one of the best.
“I hope you don’t mind that I kept you out—it’s a tradition to have a late night breakfast with Louisa and Nap when they’re in town, before they head back on the red-eye.”
“Not a problem at all. It was enjoyable,” she said.
There was some truth to her reply—she was in no hurry to get home until she got her answers.
But Nap and Louisa were anything but enjoyable. In fact, they freaked her out. They stared at her the entire time with their empty, piercing eyes. They looked like a couple of psychos who might bludgeon her to death at any moment with the silverware.
“I just hope that JP will understand you staying over. He didn’t seem too happy with me tonight—not that I could blame him. If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”
“He didn’t come because he was jealous, if that’s what you’re referring to,” she said demurely.
“Then why the surprise appearance? If he wanted an invite, I certainly would have offered him one.”
Game on. “He had information about the Archibald case for the story we’re working on, and needed to speak to me right away about it.”
“And you couldn’t have done this over the phone?”
“Obviously you don’t know JP very well—he’s totally paranoid. He practically spent a year’s salary on that surveillance system in his brownstone … and he doesn’t even live there.”
Psycho Hill (JP Warner Book 3) Page 21
