by Sam Cameron
The tape split while Robin was sealing a package. Stupid cheap stuff. She was digging another roll from the drawer when the overhead bell rang again and a new customer said, “Excuse me. Robin?”
She knew that voice. Robin gazed in surprise at Karen Francine, who was standing in the doorway uncertainly. Today she was wearing white shorts, a pink V-neck blouse, and sunglasses that probably cost more than Robin made in a month. Her hair was braided loosely and hung over one creamy shoulder.
“Hi,” Robin said dumbly. “You’re here.”
“Can we talk in private?” Karen asked.
Robin led her to Mrs. Anderson’s colorful, cluttered office. The walls were covered with vintage travel posters of Cuba, where Mrs. Anderson had been born, and piles of books covered every inch of flat surface. Robin cleared off a chair for Karen and asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
Karen slid her sunglasses off. “No, I’m fine. I’m sorry to bother you. I need someone on my side.”
“That’s me,” Robin promised. She was elated that Karen had driven up from Key West to talk to her. “What’s going on?”
Karen took a deep breath, “Nothing. Nothing’s going on. That’s what’s driving me crazy. Juliet is gone. Michael’s still sticking to his story about the stomach flu. He’s rearranged the shooting schedule, but he hasn’t said anything else. Liam’s holed up in his trailer all the time, and I don’t know what to do.”
“I understand.” Robin pulled up a second chair and sat. Karen’s pale, slim legs were only inches from her own. “Have you thought about calling the FBI?”
“I can’t,” Karen said. “The note said not to call anyone. What if they find out? If they hurt her?”
Behind Karen was a glass window separating the office from the front counter. Mrs. Carter, the cat lady, was standing with a pile of books, ready to check out. She rang the silver desk bell and tapped her fingers impatiently.
Robin ignored the bell. “What about your parents?”
“Our parents would just make it worse.” Karen pulled a tissue from her purse and sniffed into it. “You’ve probably read the stories.”
Of course Robin had. Lawsuits, counter-lawsuits, accusations, calls to 911, reconciliations, more fights. Every kind of drama possible, and even some Lindsay Lohan’s family hadn’t dreamed up yet. In the early days of her career, when Juliet was still doing movies for Disney, her parents had been her business managers. That had all ended in alcoholism and embezzlement and Juliet’s legal emancipation from them.
“What about her lawyer?” Robin asked. “I’ve seen her on the news.”
“She’s in a hospital in Mexico, getting plastic surgery,” Karen said. “Don’t you understand? I’m all alone dealing with this.”
Robin promised, “You’re not alone.”
The silver bell rang again. The burly biker guy was at the counter now, too, checking messages on his phone and looking impatient. Where was Sean? How long did it take to make gourmet coffee?
“Do you really think Juliet is in jeopardy?” Robin asked. “That it’s not some hoax?”
Karen sniffed again. “I know people will think it is. Juliet’s been a under a lot of pressure. It’s not easy, living in the spotlight since you were nine years old.”
Mrs. Fournier joined the other customers at the counter. She had two pink books in her hand, and Robin could see her asking the biker’s opinion about which one she should buy. Maybe bikers watched Oprah, too.
The office door opened. Sean started to ask, “Hey, have you seen the filters?” and then stopped at the sight of Karen Francine.
“What’s going on?” he asked instead. “How’s Liam?”
Robin gave him a hard look. “There are customers waiting.”
“It’s your turn,” Sean said.
“Go take care of them,” she said more sharply. “We’re fine right here.”
Sean’s face went red. “Fine,” he growled, and let the door slam behind him.
Robin took a deep breath. Time to concentrate. “Okay, I believe you. Juliet’s in danger. Can you tell me more about the ransom note? How you found it?”
Karen nodded and tried to steady herself. She reached out and took Robin’s hand. The soft, unexpected touch of her warm palm made Robin want to do a happy dance, but she kept herself still.
“Juliet and Liam went out to dinner on Sunday night. Some restaurant called Angelo’s. They had old things to discuss. I stayed in our bungalow. When they came back, I could see they’d both been drinking. They’re not supposed to—they’re not legal yet—but it’s not hard to get booze when you’re famous.”
“What about Liam’s rehab?” Robin asked.
“He says it’s normal for people to fall off the wagon,” Karen said.
Sounded like Liam was back to his old tricks. Robin asked, “What were they fighting about?”
Karen dropped her gaze. “I can’t tell you. It’s Juliet’s private business. Liam’s, too. Personal stuff. You know they’ve been working together ever since they were little. In lots of ways, he’s like the brother we never had.”
Robin didn’t comment. That Disney sitcom had started before either one of them hit puberty. The pictures were still everywhere on the Web: sweet little Liam and Juliet. Wholesome, All-American, perfect for media consumption. Later, after Juliet blossomed and Liam turned into Junior Most Sexiest Man Alive, there’d been rumors of them dating. Those had never seemed to last.
Maybe Hollywood was indeed weird, because in Robin’s experience, most people didn’t date their brothers.
Karen said, “Finally, I asked Liam to leave before someone called the police.”
“Was he violent?” Robin asked.
“No, nothing like that,” Karen replied quickly. “He’s not violent when he drinks. Never violent. After he left, I went to my bedroom and Juliet went to hers. The next morning, she was gone. Her sheets were wrinkled, but she wasn’t in the bungalow at all. I thought she’d gone to her makeup call, but when I called over there, they said she wasn’t there.”
Robin checked the window behind Karen. Sean was still ringing up the customers and looking very unhappy about it.
“What time was this?” Robin asked.
Karen looked at Mrs. Anderson’s clock on the wall. “About eight o’clock. I was worried because Juliet hadn’t taken her vitamins. I keep them with me so I can keep track for her nutritionist. I called Liam, but he wasn’t answering, so I went to his trailer. He wasn’t there. I looked all over before I came back and found the note on Juliet’s pillow.”
Robin squeezed Karen’s hand encouragingly. She still couldn’t believe she was holding hands with her right here, right now.
“Did you miss seeing the note the first time, or did someone slip in while you were out?” Robin asked.
“I don’t know,” Karen confessed.
The customers outside were gone. Sean was glaring through the window at Robin. She shook her head at him. She didn’t want him interrupting them.
“What did it say exactly? Do you remember?”
“I wrote the words down for myself after Michael took the note.” Karen pulled a folded piece of Lagoon Resort stationery from her purse. “It said, ‘We have JF. Stay silent or she’ll pay. We’ll tell you where to send money.’”
Robin looked at the words. “Was it handwritten or typed?”
“Handwritten in big block letters. All capitals and black ink.” Karen took a deep breath. “Is that enough? Do you think you can help find Juliet?”
There was absolutely no clue in the note that Robin could use—no hidden words, no subtext, no hint of where Juliet could be.
“Yes,” Robin said. “I can help.”
Karen smiled for the first time since arriving at the Bookmine. It wasn’t a big smile, but Robin was glad to see it all the same.
“Let me give you my cell phone number,” Karen said. “Anything I can do to help, just tell me.”
She pulled her hand free in orde
r to write the number on a piece of scrap paper. Robin’s fingers tingled from the loss of contact. They stood side by side in the small office, and Robin was acutely aware of how nice Karen smelled, how clear and radiant her skin was. They stood at almost the same height, and Robin couldn’t stop looking at Karen’s pink lips.
“I’ll do everything I can,” Robin promised.
“Thank you,” Karen said softly and gave Robin a quick, soft kiss on the lips. Her eyes shone with gratitude. “You’re my hero.”
The earth stopped spinning.
The angels sang down from heaven.
Karen had just kissed her.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Karen said and walked out.
Chapter Six
After Karen left, the store filled up with customers. One mother let her two small kids run amuck in the aisles, pulling books from the shelves with their grimy little hands. A grizzled old sea salt with food flecks in his beard wanted a book by “that author, you know who I mean, he writes mysteries.” A sunburned tourist staying at the RV park wanted a romance she hadn’t read before, as if Robin magically knew all the books she’d already read.
Usually Robin would get annoyed at dumb requests, and have to work hard to suppress her impatience.
Today, however, she’d been kissed. By a genuine Hollywood celebrity’s sister.
She checked to make sure her feet were still on the ground.
Because, honestly, she didn’t need a calendar or diary or special list to remind her of all the girl kisses in her life. There’d been exactly four, beginning with Ella Clarke that long-ago day under the bleachers and ending with Karen in Mrs. Anderson’s office.
Robin’s love life was a sad, pitiful saga of nothingness.
But not anymore. Today, maybe, was the day when everything in her life changed. Karen had kissed her all on her own, had put her soft lips on Robin’s, had given her that sweet smile.
And then left, her hips swaying, trust and affection in one last look over her shoulder.
Robin wanted to boast to Sean about it, but he was being prissy and melodramatic.
“You don’t need my assistance,” he said when Robin asked him to answer the ringing phone. “I’m just the hired help.”
Mrs. Anderson arrived around noon in her shiny red convertible. Her gold and green floral dress fluttered around her as she reached into the trunk for a box of books. Robin was busy ringing up a customer and said, “Mrs. A. needs you.”
Sean arched his eyebrows. “At least someone does.”
Drama queen. And all because she’d made him tend to customers while she talked to Karen. At least he went to the parking lot and helped Mrs. Anderson carry in the box. The heat from outside blasted through the front door when they opened it. Mrs. Anderson was laughing about something.
“—so that’ll teach me not to trust the GPS,” she said. “Hi, Robin. How are things going?”
“Fine.” Robin handed a Pirate Days flyer to her customer and recited the dumb slogan the Chamber of Commerce wanted everyone to say. “Be sure to come back this weekend for fun and food on the high seas, sir.”
The customer looked at the brochure on his way out the door. “Pirates! Aye!”
Mrs. Anderson sat on the stool behind Robin. “I hope it hasn’t been too busy. No, scratch that, I hope we’ve made tons of money today.”
“We’ve made a lot,” Robin admitted. “Can we take tomorrow off?”
Sean asked, “What?”
Mrs. Anderson didn’t look happy. “Both of you? Why?”
“It’s kind of personal,” Robin said.
Sean said, “It’s not personal for me. I don’t need the day off at all.”
Robin wanted to kick him. “It’s extremely important and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to.”
Mrs. Anderson’s gaze went from Robin to Sean and back again. Slowly, she said, “You know I’m short staffed while Denny’s recuperating.”
“I could get my cousin Lewis to help,” Robin said. “Just because he’s antisocial and hates people doesn’t mean he can’t work with the public.”
Sean made a sour face. “Yes, it does. I hate Lewis.”
Mrs. Anderson rose from her stool. “You know it’s going to be busy the rest of this week because of Pirate Days, Robin. But if you can’t avoid it, go call Lewis. We’ll struggle through somehow.”
Once Mrs. Anderson was busy in her office, Robin said to Sean, “Stop being all sulky. Don’t you want to see Liam again?”
“Why should I?” Sean dramatically thumped a pile of books on the counter. “So you can order me around like the hired help in front of him?”
“I don’t order you around like the hired help,” Robin said. “Stop watching Downton Abbey.”
“Said just like the lord of a manor,” he huffed.
For the rest of the afternoon, he gave her the silent treatment. Robin gave it right back to him. When a rude customer clogged up the men’s room and he had to go clean it up, she tried not to gloat. Sean made a great production out of donning gloves, putting on a surgical mask, and dumping bleach into a bucket. He told Mrs. Anderson that he should get hazardous duty pay.
“I’ll note it in your performance review,” Mrs. Anderson said.
By the time they closed the store at five o’clock, Sean was still in a foul mood. He didn’t even wait around for Robin to give him a ride home, but instead said he was going with Mrs. Anderson to go visit Denny at the Andersons’ newly restored house. A tree had fallen on it during the most recent storm, but the roof and walls were all fixed up now. Robin said, “Do whatever you want,” and Sean said, “I will,” and Mrs. Anderson asked, “What are you two fighting about? You’re usually as thick as thieves.”
“Nothing,” Robin said.
“That’s what she says,” Sean huffed, but wouldn’t elaborate.
Back at home, Robin’s mom was putting out vegetables and vegan dip for Ladies’ Poker Night. “There’s some lasagna in the oven for you,” she said.
“I have to go back down to Key West,” Robin announced. “Last minute sort of thing.”
Mom leaned against the kitchen counter and asked, thoughtfully, “Does this have to do with why Ginny’s upset with you?”
“Who says she’s upset?” Robin asked.
“She does. But she won’t tell me why.”
Robin chewed on the end of a carrot stick and tried to be circumspect. “She says she wants to kiss a boy. I told her she’s too young.”
“Well, that’s true.” Mom checked on the lasagna. “Does she have anyone in mind?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
Mom sighed. “I’ll talk to her. What’s in Key West that you have to take off all of a sudden? Is it still Juliet?”
“I know someone who might get me on the set for real,” Robin said, thinking about Karen.
“Well, take lots of pictures. Is Sean going with you?”
“No.” Robin ignored the sour twist in her stomach. “He’s in a bad mood.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Where are you sleeping tonight?”
“Lina’s.”
“Okay.” Mom kissed her forehead. “Don’t get too star struck.”
Robin grabbed her backpack, threw in some clean underwear, and then paused at the edge of her closet. Normally she wore shorts and T-shirts. Why bother with anything else? She worked in a dusty bookstore or hung out with friends who dressed the same way. Fancy clothes were society’s way of imposing limits. Slavish adherence to fashion showed weakness of mind.
But maybe for Karen she should make more of an effort.
Like a blouse, maybe. But nothing as silly as a skirt.
Robin shoved more clothes into her backpack, swiped some carrots and celery from the kitchen, and got into her car. The sun was still two hours away from setting. She wanted to get on the highway, but first she swung by the Fisher Key Resort. Steven Anderson was in the lifeguard chair, watching the last guests of the day soaking up every harmful ray o
f radiation they could get. He was suntanned and bare-chested, and a gaggle of teenage girls was admiring him from a cluster of lounge chairs.
Robin honestly didn’t see the appeal of the male form. Too hard, too square, too hairy. But she’d learned not to question it.
“You want me to what?” Steven asked, after Robin explained her problem. He cocked his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to follow a twelve-year-old around.”
“I didn’t ask you to follow her around,” Robin said, exasperated. “Just find out who gave her the card. She goes to day camp at the community center every day, so it’s probably someone there.”
Steven rubbed the back of his neck. “And you can’t handle this yourself because…?”
“I have to go to down to Key West.”
He grinned. “Oh, yeah. I hear you’re stalking Juliet Francine.”
If only he knew. Robin squared her shoulders. “I’m not stalking anyone. Are you going to help or not? After all the times I’ve helped you—”
“Of course I’ll help,” he said. “Don’t get pissy. I’ll figure out your sister’s secret admirer, and I won’t even charge you for it.”
Robin’s last stop before leaving Fisher Key was to fill her tank at the Gas’n’Go. Denny Anderson and Brian Vandermark were there, but the process of pumping gas into Brian’s car had been interrupted by kissing. Hot, heavy, kissing, with Brian pressing Denny against the front hood. Brian’s hand was in Denny’s hair and Denny was rubbing Brian’s back through his white Polo shirt. They looked tousled and rumpled and flushed.
“Take it inside,” Robin grumbled.
Neither of them even noticed her. Robin pumped her gas, went inside to buy a bottle of water, and came back out to find them still leaning against the car. The overt groping had stopped, but their heads were bent close together. Traffic zipped by on the Overseas Highway behind them, but they might as well have been on their own little deserted island.
“I thought you were recuperating,” Robin said to Denny.
“I’m totally recuperating,” Denny replied. His cheeks were pink, and his lips looked chapped. “Not a single iota of exertion going on.”
