Remember Me

by L'Amour, Nelle

  “What, Daddy?”

  “It’s about me and Kayla.”

  Just the mention of her name sickens me. A shiver spirals down my back, turning my spinal chord into an iced-over river. His fiancée, the bitch, is still in the mix.

  The smile on my little girl’s face falls off. She knits her brows as Finn strokes her hair.

  “Baby girl, Kayla and I broke up this morning.”

  My eyes stay on my wide-eyed daughter as I register the news. They broke up? Is that where Finn disappeared to earlier?

  “Daddy, does that mean you’re not going to marry her?”

  Finn nods. “Yup.”

  “Hooray!” shouts an ecstatic Maddie. “And does that mean you’re marrying Scarlet because you kissed her?”

  I feel myself blush. I gulp a breath waiting for Finn to answer.

  Finn winks at her. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Our little girl bobs her head. “Uh-huh.”

  “Promise?”

  She gives him a pinky-up. “I promise, Daddy.”

  “I already married her.”

  Maddie’s eyes pop. “You did?”

  Finn’s sapphire eyes twinkle. “Uh-huh.”

  “No way!”

  “Way! I’ll prove it to you. Sk . . . Scarlet, tell her.”

  “It’s true, my sweetness.” I lift my left hand, showing her my ring. Finn follows suit, able to hold her up with one arm. “We have matching wedding bands.”

  Maddie’s jaw drops. Her eyes grow wider, then challenging. She gazes up at Finn. “Why doesn’t Scarlet have a big diamond ring like Kayla’s?”

  Finn grins. “Because I want to buy her a bigger one! One with three diamonds—one for each of us. And I want you to help me pick it out.”

  “Coolio! I have excellent taste!” She strokes his stubble “Are you guys having a wedding?”

  “Yes. But after my show. And you’re going to be the flower girl.”

  “Yay!” shouts Maddie. “I’m gonna get to wear a fancy dress!”

  Then, she looks my way with a smile as wide as the sky, her face as bright as sunshine. “Scarlet, does this mean I can call you Mommy?”

  Mommy. The word spins around my head like a pinwheel in the wind. How long I’ve waited to hear it! Many times thinking I never would. Tears of pure joy brim in my eyes. “Yes, my sweet girl. I’d like that.”

  She stretches her arms toward me and I take her from Finn. Curling herself around me, she gives me a delicious hug. My heart is melting like a candle, dripping with love.

  She tugs at the locket around my neck. For a moment, I wonder if my curious little girl’s going to question why it’s in my possession, but to my relief, she doesn’t.

  “Mommy, can I tell you a secret?”

  “Of course.”

  “Guess what I wished for on my birthday!”

  She whispers in my ear. “That you would marry my daddy.”

  My heart is about to burst with happiness.

  My unicorn!

  CHAPTER 52

  The next six weeks of my life are the happiest I can ever remember. Finn, Maddie, and I become a family. At last, again. Only one other person knows we’re married. Rosita. Our wonderful, live-in housekeeper couldn’t be more ecstatic for us, thrilled that Kayla’s out of Finn’s personal life. It’s mostly because of this vindictive “mala mujer” that we have to keep our secret. For all intents and purposes, to the outside world I’m simply Maddie’s teacher. It works as I’m still homeschooling her. For now, until after Finn’s one-man show, we have to play things safely as Kayla is a loose cannon who can destroy his career with as little as a single phone call.

  Finn told me the details of his breakup with Kayla. It was long coming. Besides her contempt for our incredible little girl, the bitch was still doing drugs, and I finally shared the dirt I found online about her coked-out past. With me back in his life, Finn didn’t need another reason to dump her, but the topper was she was having an affair. To my utter shock, with my former boss, Conquest Broadcasting news chief, Jim Hartley. Confession: I gasped.

  With my attempted murder still unsolved, the investigative journalist in me longs to confront Jim . . . ask him what he knows about it. Find out if he knows what story I was working on. If the two were linked. Finn, however, is insistent I stay away from him. Especially because he’s involved with Kayla. With his big solo show at the Zander Gallery around the corner, he can’t afford to get her worked up. Given her spiteful, mercurial disposition, she could make everything he’s worked for fall apart. Besides, Detective Billings talked with my ex-boss during his investigation and it led nowhere. Deep inside my heart, I know there’s something more. Something Jim didn’t tell him. But for now, I have to let it go.

  Instead, I funnel my time and energy into catching up with motherhood. Taking Maddie shopping, baking cookies together, visiting museums, collecting shells on the beach, going for mother-daughter mani-pedis, even planning our trip to Paris. All the things I could have missed out on. I love every minute of our time together. And I love her so much.

  I haven’t, however, told her about my past. About who I really am. Though she’s super precocious for her age, she’s way too young to understand what happened to me. Or what I went through. And I certainly don’t want her to know that someone tried to kill me. And that person’s still out there. It doesn’t matter to me if I’m Scarlet or Skye. The only name that means something to me is “Mommy.” Every time she says it, my heart balloons with joy, an emotion I can’t put into words.

  Finn and I quickly fall into a daily routine. Waking up early. Making delicious love in our bed or the shower. Breakfast with Maddie. Finn goes to his studio. I instruct Maddie in her classroom. We break together for lunch. More of the same. Dinner together. A bit of television for Maddie while I plan her daily lessons and Finn goes back to his studio. At eight, I put Maddie to bed with a goodnight story and await Finn to return so we can make more glorious love. Some nights I visit him in his studio. With his show fast approaching, he’s been working later and later. I bring him a snack and watch him paint. I love to watch him in action. And the action is not limited to a canvas. On more than one occasion, he’s feverishly disrobed me and fucked me on the floor or on his drafting table. Getting a little kinky with his paintbrushes. Arousing me with them. Painting words of love on my body. My masterful husband claiming me over and over again. MINE painted on my torso in bold scarlet red. YOURS imprinted on my brain, loving him so hard.

  Two nights away from his show, Finn staggers into our bedroom and collapses on the edge of the bed. Still half-awake, I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s almost two a.m. I roll over onto my back and sit up.

  “Baby, it’s so late. Are you all right?”

  My husband exhales a long, drawn out breath. “Yeah. I did a few last minute touchups on some canvases I’m sending over to the gallery tomorrow. I’m really stressed.”

  Crawling behind him, I massage his shoulders. I can feel his knots. Those tight little balls of tension. I dig deeper with my fingers, squeezing and kneading. He groans. My poor husband needs more than a massage. I slip off the bed.

  “Where are you going, baby?” he asks.

  “Nowhere but here.” I get down on my knees and slide his paint-stained sweats to his ankles. Before I can blink an eye at the size of his manhood, I wordlessly fold a hand around its thick base and mold my mouth around its majestic crown.

  He hisses. “Jesus, baby.”

  Gripping the base, I begin to run my mouth up and down his velvety shaft, feeling it swell in my mouth. Savoring both the feel and taste of it as it fills the hollows of my cheeks. Salty and sweet. So delicious. So divine. So used to his size, I can take him all the way—just the way he loves it. Picking up my pace, I squeeze the base harder, making small pumping movements with my hand that synchronize with my pilgrimages up and down his glorious length. On my next journey up, I sneak a peek at his face. His neck arched back, it’s one of contorted bliss.
Any stress he was harboring has left this planet. Making my way back down, I hear him panting.

  “Baby, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” his voice a gravelly blend of desperation and need. His huge, drenched cock vibrates against my cheeks, and as he grunts, I feel his hot release shoot down my throat. Swallowing, I blink my eyes open and gaze up at him.

  With his paint-flecked hands, he cups my head. As his hooded eyes meet mine, a slow, sexy smile spreads across his lush lips.

  “Jesus, Skye. That was amazing. I love you so fucking much.” Removing his clothes, he crawls into bed with me and reaches for the remote.

  “You want to watch TV?” I ask as he clicks it. “Seriously?”

  “Just for a bit. I’ll keep it low so you can go to sleep.”

  The last thing I am after giving him an Olympic medal blowjob is sleepy. My eyes dart to the big screen TV on the wall in front of us. I recognize the show that’s playing. Criminal Justice, New York. An old rerun from one of the early seasons.

  Finn wraps an arm around me. He knows how much I dislike this show though I’ve never told him the reason why. I banish the thought of the monster behind it to the back of my mind.

  “Do you want to watch something else, baby?” Finn asks.

  “No, it’s fine. Leave it on.”

  My eyes stayed glued to the screen. A gun is being held to the head of rookie DA, Meghan Jones. I recognize the actress playing Meghan immediately. A young Nicole Farrell in her breakout role that catapulted her to stardom. “Put the gun down and save your life,” she tells her captor, a deranged rapist. Something comes over me. I stir in the bed, sitting up straighter.

  “Nicole Farrell,” I murmur, my body tensing.

  “What about her?” asks Finn.

  My heart palps. My head pounds. It feels as if someone’s drilling a hole in it.

  Oh my God. A memory is breaking through.

  CHAPTER 53

  Journalists are sleuths. All of us. Nancy Drews at heart in search of finding clues and solving the mystery. Uncovering the truth. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I’m no different.

  Nicole Farrell. Seeing her on Criminal Justice is a trigger. A palpable force is trying to knock down the door to my brain, kicking at it like a ruthless FBI agent. Open up!

  “What are you doing?” asks Finn as I grab my cell phone off the night table. “You need to call someone at this ungodly hour?”

  My heart is galloping, my adrenaline flowing. Every nerve in my body buzzes as I google her.

  “I need to track down Nicole Farrell.”

  “At two o’clock in the morning?”

  “Yes. I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t.”

  “Huh?”

  “Finn, she has something to do with that night.”

  “What!? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m one hundred percent positive. Make that two hundred.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters as I hastily thumb the letters of her name. Then, he tells me he’s sure she was at my memorial service. This only reconfirms my hunch.

  If it were business hours, I’d simply call SAG—the Screen Actors Guild—and find out her agent or manager. But because their offices won’t be open until the morning, I type in the following: Nicole Farrell Contact Information. With bated breath, I await the search results. Thank God, they show up quickly. I click the top one. Bingo!

  “Any luck?” asks Finn.

  “Yes. I’ll call her agent first thing in the morning.” In my mind, I begin to formulate a plan that will land me a meeting with her. Celebrity access isn’t easy, something I learned in my reporter days.

  Finn strokes my hair. “Skye, baby, look at me.” Still clutching my phone, I turn to face him. “I’m worried about you.”

  “My love, I have no choice. I need to find out who did this to me. The person who almost cost me my life and took me away from you and Maddie.”

  The sound of the television drifts into my ears and I turn my head to the screen. Criminal Justice is still on. Meghan bravely confronts her assailant, now arraigned.

  “Justice will be served, you monster.”

  Her words resonate in my head. I’m going to find my sick monster and when I do, I’m going to take him to his grave.

  “What can I do?” asks Finn, breaking into my raging thoughts.

  “Baby, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep, so let’s just make love.”

  CHAPTER 54

  “Mommy, are we going to the Country Mart today after you vote?” Maddie tugs at the tail of my nightshirt as I pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee. I barely slept, my mind preoccupied with getting in touch with Nicole Farrell. The caffeine and my adrenaline work wonders to get me going.

  “I’m not sure, sweetie.” It pains me to say these words as I pivot toward the kitchen island, my mug in one hand, my cell phone in the other. Maddie’s frown pains me further.

  Clad in her pajamas and holding Kangy, she follows me to the island. “But you promised.”

  It’s Election Day, an official school holiday, so we have the day off though most businesses and retailers are open. The Malibu Country Mart, a small charming shopping center with upscale boutiques, restaurants, and a children’s play area, is one of Maddie’s favorite places, and she’s been looking forward to our mother-daughter outing. Guilt gnaws at my conscience, adding to my anxiety.

  “I know, baby girl, but I may have an important meeting.”

  “Who are you meeting with?”

  “Um, an old friend.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Nicole.”

  “That’s pretty. Can’t I come with you?”

  “Sorry, sweetie. Not this time.” I inwardly shudder at the thought of my daughter finding out the truth about me from another. The terrifying truth that terrifies me.

  The tantalizing aroma of pancakes wafts in the air. Rosita hovers over the stove, fixing them for breakfast. Setting both my coffee and phone on the counter, I hop onto a stool. Maddie follows suit, taking a seat opposite me, Kangy in her lap.

  Still frowning, she plants her elbows on the counter and sinks her head between her fists. The tips of her long braids dust the surface, her big, sad puppy-like eyes on me, making me feel guiltier than I already do. Averting her gaze, I take a sip of my steamy hot brew and glance down at my phone. The time: nine a.m. At last. ICM is officially open, but I bet Nicole’s agent’s assistant has been there for an hour. If not more. I know their type. Same as in a newsroom. Ambitious brown-nosers who dream of making it to the top. I know because I was one too.

  “Why do you keep looking at the time, Mommy?” asks my perceptive daughter. “We don’t have school today. It’s Election Day!”

  Before I can respond, Rosita brings us each a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes, along with a side of mixed berries.

  “Eat, mis amores!” Smiling, she points to the maple syrup and butter already on the counter. While Maddie grabs the jar of golden syrup and drizzles it all over her pancakes, I grab my phone and google ICM. The agency’s phone number instantly pops up on my screen. I hop off my stool and pad toward the sliding doors that lead to the patio.

  “Where are you going?” shouts Maddie. “Your pancakes are going to get cold!”

  “I’ll be right back,” I reply, the phone pressed to my ear. It rings, and as I head outdoors, someone picks up. The nasal female voice is sing-songy, reminiscent of a commercial jingle.

  “ICM.”

  “Can you please connect me to Kate Howard’s office.” Kate is Nicole’s agent.

  “Hold on please.”

  The phone rings again and on the second ring, an effeminate male voice answers.

  “Kate Howard’s office.”

  My heart begins to race as I adjust the phone to my ear. “Hi. Is she in?”

  “She’s unavailable.” Fuck. Cryptic assistant-speak, meaning she doesn’t want to be bothered or she’s not there. Pacing, I take a steeling breath.

  “When will s
he be back in her office?”

  “She’s on vacation until next Monday.”

  Fuck again. That means she’s unreachable unless there’s an emergency.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  I’m relieved the assistant isn’t being a jerk.

  “Yes. And by the way, what is your name?”

  “Gene.”

  “Like in Gene Kelly?” I could have said Gene Hackman or Gene Simmons, but my gut told me this Gene was a fan of old musicals.

  “Yeah.” I can hear a smile in his voice. Score one for me.

  “Gene, I need you or Ms. Howard to get an important message to your client, Nicole Farrell.”

  The voice on the other end grows suspicious. “Who is this?”

  “My name is Scarlet Callahan. Please let Ms. Farrell know that I’m a close friend of Skye Collins.”

  “The newscaster who died a few years ago? The one she was going to do an interview with?”

  “Yes. Please let Ms. Farrell know who I am and tell her to call or text me. It’s urgent.”

  Silence. My pulse kicks up a notch, unsure if the assistant is going to be cooperative or tell me to piss off.

  “What’s your cell phone number?”

  A flood of relief sweeps through me as I spew it out. He repeats it back to me.

  “Yes. And, Gene, I can’t emphasize enough how urgent this is.” About to say, “It’s a matter of life or death,” I instead add, “And I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

  “Sure. I’ll contact her right away and ask her to get in touch with you.”

  A smile forms on my lips. “Thanks, Gene. You’ve been awesome. I hope big things happen to you.”

  The call ends. Now it’s time to play the waiting game.

  When I return to the kitchen, Finn is there, freshly showered, wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt. Holding a mug of coffee, he paces the room, his cell phone to his ear. Tension lines his forehead.