by Ronica Black
“I told you I don’t want to go. I hate these damn things,” she said to her wife, Veronica.
“You’re going,” Veronica replied, not really wanting to talk about it. Shawn was never happy when it came to public appearances, and it was evident in her voice and always evident in her attitude.
“Rory has a fever; I should be at home with her and Kiley. We should be at home with our kids.” Frustration strained Shawn’s throat as she watched the buildings go by, gray and dreary with the New York rain. She was desperate for Veronica to hear her, but she knew she wouldn’t listen. She never had before.
Veronica sat in silence as she stared out the vast window of their stretch limousine. Shawn watched her with growing anger, hating that her own wants and wishes were never put first. Veronica met her stern gaze.
“It’s one little benefit, Shawn. I think you can handle doing this for me for just a couple of hours.” Her voice was patronizing, her look blank and unconcerned.
“A couple of hours?” Shawn asked with excitement, but careful not to yell. She never yelled and she wasn’t about to start now. She prided herself on always being the calm and levelheaded one. Veronica was the one who walked the wide range of emotions, not her.
God, she hated these kinds of engagements, and they were never just a couple of hours. The benefits, the people, the fans, they always required more than your time. They demanded your life.
“I don’t want to hear this,” Veronica said shaking her head, as if Shawn’s words were annoying. “We’re obligated, you know that.”
“When’s it going to be enough, V?” Shawn clenched her hands together in her lap, so tired, so frustrated, so damn fed up. “When the kids are moved out and married? Then will it be enough?” She sighed, her voice wavering with emotion. Veronica had a demanding career, and lately she had been spending much of her time away from home. It seemed she saw more of Veronica in the magazines than she did in their home.
“It’s work. It’s my job. It’s what pays for our home, our vehicles, our life.” Veronica glared at her, the look that always was a warning. Then, just as quickly as it had spawned, the look was gone, replaced by surprise as her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her expensive tailored suit pocket. “It’s Clair, I’ll call her back. She put these new hair extensions in, what do you think?”
“Don’t do that, V,” Shawn said, swallowing back her tears of fury.
“Do what?” Veronica fingered her hair.
“Change the subject, like what I say doesn’t matter.”
Veronica sighed, dropping her hand away from her hair. “What were you saying?”
Shawn wrung her hands and spoke, trying her best to remain calm. “Don’t act like you have to do this. Like we’re living paycheck to paycheck. You’ve made millions of dollars in the span of your fifteen-year career. We’re set for life and you know it.” She knew it wasn’t about the money and she hated when Veronica pretended like it was. The plain and simple fact was that she craved the attention, craved the limelight. She couldn’t live without it. And she had sacrificed her marriage and family in order to keep it.
“Jesus, Shawn,” Veronica whispered with anger. “What the hell do you want from me?” Her emotions were quickly getting the better of her, as they always did, and Shawn braced herself for the wrath of her temper.
“Don’t yell.” Shawn kept her voice low, not wanting the driver to hear. The last thing she wanted was to read about this squabble in a tabloid magazine.
They sat in silence and both acknowledged the presence of the driver. The divider was up but they both knew from unfortunate past experiences that he could still hear if they raised their voices.
Shawn eased the tension in her hands and watched Veronica’s profile. Her skin was like cream, her sculpted cheekbones brushed with the crimson of her harnessed temper. Shawn sighed again, calming her shaky breaths. She hated it when Veronica yelled and she didn’t want to fight with her right now. She didn’t want to fight with her ever. But fighting was one thing they did well, and lately they had been doing a lot of it. She met Veronica’s dark eyes and spoke calmly. “I want you to tell me that this will all stop soon. That you’ll come home and stay home.” Please tell me you will. Tell me there’s hope for us after all.
Veronica stared out the window at the many faces on the street blurring with the rain. The limousine slowed and they passed a line of police officers who directed the vehicle up alongside the red carpet.
“I can’t promise that. You know I can’t.”
Shawn bit her lower lip and tried to fight back the tears that were biting at her throat. So there it is. This is how things are going to be. She stared at her hands, her body burning with the need to lash out in hurt and anger. Why couldn’t Veronica just walk away from all the glitz and glamour? Why couldn’t they just turn around and go home? She didn’t understand. She never would.
“I won’t do any more of these benefits,” Shawn said as the door opened directly next to her. If Veronica wouldn’t give for her, then she would stop giving as well. But inside she held little hope, knowing that little would faze Veronica. Nothing would stop her. Not even the loss of Shawn’s support.
“Fine,” Veronica replied, her voice stern.
Shawn climbed from the vehicle, fists clenched at her side. Veronica ran one last practiced hand through her hair before stepping out into the cold drizzle after Shawn.
Bright flashes assaulted her as the dozens of photographers began snapping photos. She and Shawn were America’s famous lesbian couple. Veronica the successful actress, Shawn the beautiful, doting wife.
That was an image Veronica wasn’t about to let slip away. She waved at the crowd as her large bodyguard Monty approached from the car behind. He was flanked by two more security personnel she’d not taken the trouble to get to know. Monty shut the limousine door behind her and opened a black umbrella but she shook her head, refusing it. She wanted nothing impeding her grand entrance.
“Veronica, over here!” photographers yelled immediately, drawing her into their world, snapping photo after photo. She stood proudly, posing from side to side.
“You look great! Who are you wearing?” Their flashbulbs lit them up in a startling lightning storm. She moved further along, smiling and waving, leading Shawn gently by the hand. Her security moved with them, keeping their immediate path clear. Her public relations person wasn’t there to guide her, so she began readying herself for the quick interview stops up ahead. She smiled again, enjoying the fact that she would be able to pick and choose which networks she spoke to and which she would snub.
The enormous cluster of fans began to scream as she neared. “I love you, Veronica!” Young girls screamed, waving their arms, holding up homemade signs lettered in glitter.
“I love you too!” she yelled back, blowing a kiss. The crowd laughed and cheered, thrilled at her attention. She left the carpet, touched by the young fans, and approached a few kids who stood behind the police barrier. They squealed with delight and jumped up and down as she shook their hands. Their hands felt small, cold and damp from the rain. She smiled once more and pulled away. The shouts continued to come from every angle as she waved at the crowd.
The noise filled her ears as the excited faces of the fans filled her mind. Adrenaline surged through her pleasurably, causing a warm rush through her veins. This was her mantra, her drug, her addiction. And she would be damned if she was going to give it up. These people needed her almost as much as she needed them. It was her calling, it was who she was.
Glowing from her high, she looked to Shawn, who stood waiting for her graciously on the carpet as she always did. She met her gaze briefly and knew that Shawn was silently reminding her that they were not done talking. Shawn was still upset. But she stood smiling, a plastic yet dazzling smile. Veronica smiled back and by all appearances they looked like the happiest, most beautiful couple on the planet. Veronica blew another kiss to the crowd and took a step toward Shawn. She grabbed her hand,
ready to accompany her inside.
As they turned to walk down the red carpet together, a loud pop rang out. Instantly, Veronica felt Monty slam into her, tackling her to the ground, knocking the wind completely out of her. The crowd screamed as people panicked and tried to run. She looked to her empty hand where only seconds before Shawn’s had been.
Frantic, she searched and found Shawn on the ground next to her, her blond head contrasting sharply with the lush red of the carpet. Her sparkling eyes were wide and frightened, focused on Veronica like a trapped animal. A spot of dark red pooled on her shoulder, drowning more and more of the sequins of her dress with every passing second.
Veronica cried out for security to cover Shawn, but the other guards were surrounding her solely, completely focused on her rather than Shawn. Monty was yelling, trying desperately to shield both Shawn and Veronica with his body as he tried to direct the other two guards. In seconds that seemed like an eternity, several more security guards rushed to them and Monty moved to Shawn.
Screams continued to come from the crowd as people tried to run for cover. Chaos erupted around Veronica and her heart thudded madly in her chest. She watched as men and women tripped over one another in order to get away. Helpless and trapped by the bodies of the security guards, Veronica reached out and grabbed Shawn’s hand. It felt cool, bringing a sob to her throat. Now it meant something more than her apparent indifference. Now it meant something dangerous. More men arrived, surrounding them in a protective tight circle as they yelled, fingers pressed to their earpieces.
Veronica breathlessly tried to reassure Shawn. “It’s okay, Shawn. It’s okay.” She held Shawn’s gaze, shuddering at the terrified look on her face. Shawn looked scared to death, her lower lip trembling. Monty pressed on her shoulder, trying to control the bleeding, screaming for an ambulance.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Veronica said again.
As she repeated the words over and over, she thought back to Shawn’s simple request. If she would’ve listened to her, this wouldn’t have happened. If they had stayed home, everything would be okay. But she hadn’t listened. Instead, she had put her family in danger by exposing them to the public. And now Shawn had been shot.
She clenched her eyes shut as one of the security guards repositioned himself atop her, still determined to keep her down.
She looked back at Shawn, helpless.
She had paid the ultimate price for fame. She had paid with her family.
Why couldn’t she stop?
Chapter Two
Lafayette, Louisiana
“Ninety-nine, one hundred!” Kennedy Scott declared as she crept through the lush green of the Louisiana lawn. She grinned as she heard the giggles of her young nephews coming from behind a tree.
“I see you!” she shouted as the boys sprang from behind the large trunk. She dove dramatically, purposely missing them as they shrieked by her with glee.
“Auntie Kenny, come get me!” Luke shouted, running as fast as he could in his denim overalls.
“Yeah, come get us, slowpoke!” Landon mocked, a playful grin on his face. Luke stopped running ahead of him, and the two collided. Both boys tumbled and then crawled their way back to a stand, full of excited giggles.
Kennedy stalked toward them, back hunched, fingers out like claws. “I’m going to get both of you and when I do, Poppy’s going to cook you with the crabs!”
“Agh!” the boys shrieked and then giggled as she ran along after them, picking them up and slinging them over her shoulders in victory.
“Instead of a crab boil we’re going to have a Landon and Luke boil!” She carried them toward the barbecue in the backyard where the large boiler sat.
“No, Auntie Kenny, don’t cook us!”
“Don’t cook you? Why not?”
“’Cuz we’re yumans, that’s why!”
“Yumans?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, yumans are good!”
“No!”
Laughing harder, she flipped them over and eased them to the ground.
“Then how about if I just tickle you!”
“Yeah!”
She couldn’t help but laugh, their hearty giggles contagious. They were rolling on the lawn when the back door to the house opened up.
“Kennedy!” Keri stood holding the phone.
Landon and Luke saw their advantage and jumped on her upper body, smothering her with tickles and mock elbow jabs in return.
“What is it?” she called out as best she could from beneath the boys.
“It’s the phone for you.” Keri approached and held out the phone. Kennedy looked up in surprise and the boys stopped their roughhousing, sensing the change in her.
“It can’t be for me, I’m on vacation.” She frowned, resting her arms along her knees, catching her breath. It was why her cell phone was switched off and her apartment was empty and gathering dust. She was needed here.
“He said it’s urgent.”
Kennedy pushed herself up, noting that Keri appeared equally concerned. Kennedy took the phone carefully as if it were fragile.
“Scott.”
“Kennedy, it’s Allen.”
She tensed, knowing immediately it was very serious, something that would be impossible to ignore. “I’m on vacation, Allen.” He was her longtime friend and mentor and she knew he wouldn’t call unless it was urgent. Still, she hoped for some reason he had made a mistake. That maybe her reminding him of her much-needed time off would somehow change his mind.
“I know and I’m sorry. Sorry for having to call you at your sister’s. But this, I think you should hear me out on this one.”
She sighed. “Go ahead.”
“Have you seen the news? It’s all over the news.”
“Why don’t you just tell me? I’d rather hear it from you,” she said, her anxiety growing.
“It’s Veronica Ryan.”
“The actress?” She turned away from her nephews, who swung happily on their swing set. Her trained mind immediately raced to possible scenarios.
“Yes,” Allen said. “Her lover was shot yesterday evening.”
“And?” It was terrible news, but she knew he wasn’t yet to his point. And all she wanted to do was to return to her nephews, to pretend like he’d never called.
“She’s received threats.”
“The threats came before the shooting?” Where was her security? Why was she even out in public?
“The threats had been coming by mail,” Allen explained. “But they weren’t discovered until this morning.”
Suddenly, her mind whirled and her mouth grew dry. Letters. Unwelcome and strange. An attempt on a life. The situation in Seattle came rushing back. She had almost lost her family to an obsessed fan. And now it was happening again, to some other family. It always would. It would never end. As long as there was fame, there would be the possibility of trouble, a fan with nothing else to live for.
“What’s this have to do with me?” She knew, but she held out hope that maybe Allen only wanted a phone consult from her. She’d left the FBI over a year ago to go out on her own. But even that had seemed to be too much. “You know I’m not working right now. I just can’t do it. Not now.”
“She wants the best.”
“I’m on vacation.” Another scenario came to her mind. Children taken from their beds, stripped from their bicycles, their tiny bodies found in ditches.
She thought of Luke and Landon. I can’t do it. Not now. I can’t leave them.
“I know, but damn it, Kennedy, her wife was shot. She’s scared for her kids.”
Kennedy gazed at her nephews. They swung happily on their swing set, cheeks red and cherubic from the rough play, grass staining their knees, purple Kool-Aid marking their upper lips. God, how she loved them.
“Find someone else. There are plenty of others who—”
“She’s asked around, Kennedy. Everyone tells her you’re the best. The Bureau is in on this, but she wants you too.�
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Kennedy shoved her hand deep into her jeans pocket. She looked to her sister, who was listening intently, a look of anguish on her face.
“Listen, Kennedy, this is big, huge. After this you can really name your own price, make more money—”
“It’s not about money, Allen. It’s about…” Family, protecting them, keeping the evil in the world away from them. Evil that she knew all too well. Evil that would forever haunt her dreams “My time,” she finally finished, unable and unwilling to explain further.
“Kennedy, they’re terrified. I know you and your family know how that feels. All they want is an evaluation. A simple profile and your suggestions.”
“Where?”
“New York.”
“I’ll think about it.” As she said the words, Keri turned and walked silently back into the house, leaving the door open behind her.
“Veronica Ryan has already sent her jet to Lafayette Regional. So whenever you’re ready.”
“I said I’ll think about.”
But Allen knew her too well. Her empathy continuously beat out her reason.
“And, Kennedy? You’re doing the right thing by helping her.”
She heard the click as the call disconnected, then, whispering, “Tell that to my family,” headed inside after Keri.
“I didn’t say I would go,” Kennedy offered softly. But Keri kept wiping the kitchen counter, taking out her frustration on the dish rag.
“It’s not fair, Kennedy,” she finally said. “Up until…recently…you’ve never taken any time for yourself. You’ve been a slave to the Bureau, working case after case. I mean, I know it’s your job and God knows you’ve got a gift for it. But I’m glad you quit. It was too much. The things you’ve seen, it was getting to you. I thought you going out on your own would make things easier on you, but…nothing’s changed. You’re still alone and distant, a shell of who you once were.”
Keri tossed the dish rag in the sink and sighed, her lower lip trembling. “And I’m still…” She looked away, her voice strained and weak. “Scared.”
