“And if you don’t get along with the rest of the team, that’s a hard limit for all of us.”
“Oh, I get along with everyone. I swear I do.” Her eyes are as clear and bright blue as the sky on a spring day.
“Do you do drugs?”
“No.”
“You will have to submit to a drug test when we get to LA. Are you good with that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Grab your things and let’s go.” I can see Misha and Emily taking this one under their wings.
“I ain’t got ...” When she notices my expression, she quickly says, “I don’t have noth ... anything but my purse here.”
“Okay.”
We walk up front where Gino still has Mr. Manager in his clutches. “Nice work, my friend,” I say. Then I hand Gino a huge roll of bills. He nods as Helen and I walk past. “Oh, you can let him go. I have everything I need.”
“Thanks, boss. See you next time.”
I hail a cab and direct him to where the helicopter waits to take us to Westchester County Airport. It’s where the jet is waiting to fly us back to LA.
By the time we arrive, everyone’s on board. When we get inside, I introduce Helen around. The look on Midnight’s face is priceless. I take a seat next to her.
“Who the hell is she?” she asks.
“Don’t worry about her. She needed a job.”
“What the hell? Do you take in strays or something?”
“Something like that. It’s fine.” I pat her arm. “She was very helpful in identifying the man who brought you into the hotel. Once we’re on the plane, we’ll get more information.”
As soon as we arrive at the airport, a car drives us directly to the waiting plane. Before we know it, we’re LA bound.
Chapter Eight—Midnight
Who is this person Harrison dragged along? Helen Reddy? Is she in costume for a Suicide Squad party? What the hell? Is he going to pick up the Joker and Deadshot too? Maybe I need a costume. I’m as fucked up as any of those characters, only I don’t have a superpower to fit in. Wait ... I can fuck like a champ. And blow jobs ... no one can out-suck me. I probably could slide right in with that group of misfits.
“What’s that look all about?” Harrison asks, still sitting next to me.
“What look?” I don’t dare confess my thoughts to the man. Besides, I need to pull myself together here.
“I’m not quite sure I can put a name on it.”
Switching topics, sort of, I ask, “Tell me about Helen over there.” I reach in my purse for a handful of gummy bears and pop one in my mouth. He eyes me with curiosity.
“She was a huge help in getting the security tapes from the hotel. The manager was not cooperative. I had to offer her a job because after we left, I’m sure he would’ve fired her.”
“And a move to LA comes with her employment package?”
He laughs at my question. “Yeah, it does. But we got the name and credit card info of one of the guys who hurt you. Before the end of the week, I’ll have everything I need on why they picked you.”
“Will you know why he’s stalking me?” I chew on another gummy bear.
“Can I have one of those?” Harrison asks. I hand him a green one, my least favorite. He holds it up and says, “Wow. You’re really generous with these things.”
“I don’t do drugs. I do gummies. It’s why I don’t share them.” It’s not intended as a comical statement but he smiles anyway.
“So, go on,” I prod.
“Yeah. I’ll let you know what we find and to your question, we will find out why he targeted you. If there was some kind of deep motive, we’ll figure it out.”
“How?”
“I have ways.”
He’s not forthcoming on what his ways are and I don’t really want to know. He can beat the shit out of those creeps for what they did. I would, however, want to look them in the eye and find out for myself. It doesn’t look as though I’ll get the chance.
He’s silent for a few and then adds, “Emily says the first responses to your statement are coming in and they are more favorable than we expected. You should check your Twitter account. People are showing you all kinds of love, Midnight.”
“Great. Thanks.” My emotionless response has him sitting up straighter in his seat.
“You need to respond to some of them while you can. Maybe say you’re flying back to the West Coast and are so humbled by all the love. Hashtag rehab so they know you’re all in.”
I glare at him. “I’m all in. A good way to put it.”
“You should have a better attitude.”
“Yeah, like I should be happy someone drugged and raped me and now I have to go to rehab.”
“Damn, I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. What I should’ve said was you should be happy they’re buying the story.”
I huff out, “The story about being abused isn’t a story. It’s the truth. I don’t want someone’s love for what I went through.” This conversation needs to end. My glass walls are about to shatter and I’m in the wrong place for that to happen.
He gives no response, of which I’m grateful. Several minutes pass before he moves to sit by Helen. She’s chomping on bubble gum like I am gummy bears. I signal the flight attendant and ask for water. Since I eat so many of these things, I’m conscious of drinking lots of water to get the sugar out of my mouth. The last thing I want is a bunch of cavities. I laugh. I could be any man’s dream—the toothless blow job giver.
Leaning my head back in the cushy seat, I close my eyes and am surprised when Harrison jiggles my arm.
“Hey, we’re here.”
“Where?”
“LA. Where else?”
“So soon?”
“You snored the whole flight.”
I swipe my hand across my mouth and sure enough, it comes back wet from drool. Nice, Midnight. I’m sure it was a pretty sight.
Everyone moves to grab their belongings, except for Harley, I mean, Helen. She beebops out of her seat and practically dances to the door, acting like the happiest person on earth. And why the hell shouldn’t she be? Harrison just rescued her from a shit job, gave her a new one, and is moving her to LA, all expenses paid. I’d be happy as fuck too. And she doesn’t have to go to rehab.
Harrison is the last one off the plane. He stays behind, thanking everyone. It’s easy to see why everyone enjoys working for him because he does show his gratitude. I’m sure they are well compensated too.
We pile into the waiting limo and everyone gets dropped off, except for Harrison and me. I guess he’s my escort to the rehab facility. By this time, I want to crawl out of my skin. The dread of going to this place is unbearable.
When we arrive, they are expecting us. And this place is posh. I can’t imagine how much I’ll be in debt after this.
We get a brief tour, at Harrison’s insistence. The take-charge guy in him emerges, and everyone jumps at his requests. When we get to my room, I realize I never went home to unpack and repack.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
“My things. We never stopped at my place for me to switch them out. I don’t have any clothes, other than what I took to New York.”
He slides a hand over his squared jaw, which is covered in scruff. I ignore the tightening of my stomach muscles because for once, I’m not angry or bitter as I glance at him. He exudes a raw sexuality that I respond to. Why now of all times?
“I can get Emily or Misha to run by and grab some things for you.”
“Guess that’ll have to do.”
The person checking me in says, “You’ll only need casual things while you’re here. We have yoga classes and other exercise groups you can join. You’ll need those types of clothes too.”
“Running shoes,” I say. “I don’t have anything like this. Maybe I need to run home and do this and then come back.”
“Um, I’m sorry. Once you’re here, you’re here,” the check-in person says.
“Excuse me, what’s you
r name again?” I ask.
“Melody.” She smiles.
“Can’t you make an exception just once?” I ask sweetly.
“I’m sorry, but we never do that here.”
My temper flares and I want to punch her, but what good will that do? Probably land me in solitary confinement.
“Midnight, I promise Misha or Emily will handle this,” Harrison says in a soothing voice. The problem is, I don’t want two strangers rifling through the contents of my drawers, or my apartment for that matter. It’s more than a little unsettling. But what other choice do I have?
“Yeah, fine.”
Merry Melody chirps away about how lucky I am they had a spot open and then she talks up the room I’ve been assigned. It is nice, I’ll grant her that. But for the undisclosed price tag, I should probably be back at The Plaza.
We tour the rest of the facility, and my knees almost buckle when we get to the group therapy room. I have no idea why this comes as such a shock, but it does. How the fuck will I get through this? Acting 510—the truest test of how good I am. Maybe it’ll propel me to the top of the list of contenders for the envied Oscar. Doubtful, but a girl might as well dream.
Harrison leaves me to my new home for the next thirty days and I scurry back to my little cave. Tomorrow begins a new life for me, bright and early at 6:00 a.m. This should prove interesting, to say the least.
Chapter Nine—Harrison
The week after Midnight checks into rehab, I’m sitting in my office when Misha and Leland walk in. I can tell by their frowns this won’t be a happy-dance kind of visit.
Misha doesn’t mince words. “Ward is filing a suit against Alta.”
“Ward?”
“Holt Ward, Midnight’s costar in the film,” she explains.
“Why?”
“He says the delay will cost him another role in a different film.”
“And what do you say?” I ask.
“I call bullshit. Midnight said he didn’t want her as a costar from the beginning. He’s using this as an out. The bad thing is Alta’s hands are tied.”
I gesture to the door, indicating for Leland to close it. I have an open-door policy here but in this case, we need privacy. When we’re away from prying ears, I ask, “What do we have on him?”
Leland groans. “He’s squeaky clean. I’ve tried to dig up something, but it’s a blank slate.”
“No one is a blank slate.”
Misha laughs. “You are.”
She’s right. The only thing anyone can find on me are a few speeding tickets and that I rent the occasional porn flick. “Okay. Then we’ll manufacture something.”
“What do you want?” Leland asks.
“Something so damaging, it would ruin any chances of him acting again.”
Leland is quiet for so long, I figure I’ve lost him. Then he says, “Connections to the Russian mob.”
Misha’s head snaps toward him. “No fucking way. If the Mafia gets wind of that, we’re all six feet under.”
“How would they?” Leland asks. “Why the hell would he leak that, because we certainly wouldn’t?”
“What if he comes forward and says it’s not true? Then we’re forced to come out with more information. I’d rather do something like he’s gay or into cocaine. Then if he calls us and we fire off some bogus pics, we won’t have Vladimir Kolikov breathing down our necks.”
“Who the hell is Vladimir Kolikov?” Leland asks.
Misha pins him with a chilling glare. “You don’t want to know.”
I hold up my hand. “Okay, no Russian mob. Misha’s right. That’s way too dangerous and someone could get killed. Personally, I think him being gay would only land him more fans and that’s not an unfavorable thing anyway. We need to go with something else. Like maybe linking his name with human trafficking.”
Misha snaps her fingers and a demonic glint hits her eyes. “That’s it. That would put him in one fuck of a hot seat. Rashid could set up a phony website to threaten him with and if he won’t back down, then we go in with the big guns. Rashid can hack into that site they’ve been targeting and make it look like his name is on there. It would totally put him in the spotlight.”
“What’s the website?” I ask.
Leland names it and I tell them it’s a go. “Who wants to contact Mr. Ward?”
“I think you should do it,” Misha says to me.
“Fine. I’ll call Rashid and have him get everything set up, and then Mr. Holt Ward will be getting a sweet little call from me.”
This Midnight Drake case is getting more complicated every day. We found Trent Dexter. Gino grabbed him and took him to an undisclosed place for questioning. He was very cooperative after Gino explained some things to him that involved more than a few jabs with Gino’s oversized fists.
According to Trent, he spotted Midnight at the club that night and recognized her from her films and TV roles. He was with his friend and they’d been scouting the place for someone to persuade to spend the night with them. Their idea of persuasion, compared to everyone else’s, is wildly different. Trent drugged Midnight and took her to the hotel where his friend met them out front. That’s when their fun began.
The bad part is the videos they uploaded on Midnight’s phone aren’t the end of it. They also filmed the whole episode on camera but cropped out her face. Then they did more editing—getting rid of them shooting her up with heroin—and uploaded it to a porn site where it’s been downloaded over fifty thousand times. Each time someone streams, it costs $5.99, so these fuckers cashed in on this.
We’re stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. If we report this as a crime, Midnight’s career is fucked. If we sue, her career is fucked. We pulled the film, but who knows how many people have it on their hard drives and uploaded it to pirate sites? It could be in the millions. I want to cut that fucker’s dick off. It was a good thing Gino went instead of me. Then again, according to Gino, after he was finished with him, Trent won’t be doing this to anyone else.
My conversation with Rashid is brief. He assures me it will only take him a few minutes to give me what I need to scare the shit out of Holt Ward. He delivers it about an hour later, and it almost scares the shit out of me.
“Are you sure this is fake?” I ask.
He laughs. Rashid is the best. “Yeah, boss. When it comes to the cyber world, you can’t beat me.”
He’s right about that. When this is all said and done, Holt Ward will be hiring me to clean the shit I stirred up. A hearty laugh roars out of me.
Misha is walking past my office and veers inside to find out what’s so funny. When I tell her, she laughs right along with me.
“It’ll serve the asshole right. Midnight’s been through enough as it is. She doesn’t need his bullshit to go along with it.”
“Let’s see how this pans out.” I take a screenshot of the website and then make the call to Holt’s agent, asking for his number. He tries to give me the runaround, but when I explain how urgent it is and that if I don’t personally speak to Holt about this matter, he can expect to be fired, he rattles off the number immediately.
Holt answers his phone and I calmly say, “Mr. Ward, my name is Harrison Kirkland, and in about two seconds you will receive a photo from me via text. I hope this persuades you to drop your lawsuit against Alta and Midnight Drake regarding your contract in the film you two were cast in. If you have any questions, feel free to call me.” I end the call and wait for him to call me back.
Holt Ward doesn’t disappoint. When I answer, he tries to rip me a new one. I lean back in my chair and listen patiently as he rants about how I can’t do this and that I’m framing him, blah, blah, blah.
When he finally runs out of steam, I say, “It took you long enough to shut your fucking mouth. One, I’m not framing you. It’s not my problem you have an affinity for buying and selling women, especially those who are under eighteen. Two, if you don’t drop the lawsuit, this shit will go broad, and by that, I mean my
firm will release it to every media outlet in the entertainment industry. Any questions?”
“You can’t do this! I haven’t been involved in anything like this. I don’t know where you found this, but it’s phony.”
“Prove it, Mr. Ward. It looks legit to me. I even clicked on the links. It’s a pity too. I would’ve expected better from you.”
“Dammit, it’s not mine!” he yells. I have to hold the phone away from my ear, he’s so loud.
“Sure looks like it to me. Aside from that, this trafficking site may be on the Feds’ radar. Your name wouldn’t be on it if you were clean. Drop the lawsuit and I can make this all go away. You can even hire me if you want. But my first priority is Midnight Drake. I want you back on the film with her, and I want Alta happy again. Am I clear?”
I hear his heavy breathing on the line. Finally, he says, “Fine. I’ll make the call. But clean this shit up, will you?”
“Not a problem. Expect a bill from my firm.”
It’s my turn to end the call and after I do, I toss my phone on the desk and chuckle. The asshole just lost a wad of money by fucking with my client and he became my client in the process.
I buzz Helen and ask her to send Misha and Leland in. When I relay how the call went, they high-five me. I wait for the call from Alta—which comes about an hour later—to have Rashid pull the dummy site down. It was never active to begin with, so there was no concern there. If you didn’t have the web address, there was no way you could’ve found it. When he’s finished cleaning everything up, I have Helen send Holt a pricey bill.
Now we have Midnight back on board. When I’m on the phone with Alta, they tell me their fan division is fielding more correspondence than ever for her. Everyone wants to know how she’s doing. It’s great to hear our plan is working. Which reminds me, I need to get her phone back to her, if it’s allowed.
I’d love an opportunity to talk to her. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. She was so worried about being stuck there for a month so I wonder how she’s doing.
The next day, I check with the facility and ask about her ability to have a phone. They say she can have visitors on the weekend, but no phones are allowed until her final week. I decide to pay her a visit on Saturday to fill her in on what’s happening.
I'll Be Waiting (The Vault Book 2) Page 20
