Infamous

by Alyson Noel

  “A word of caution,” he said, breaking the spell. “Be careful where you tread.”

  She followed him to the door. He couldn’t leave like that—she had no idea what he meant.

  “Your girl’s not all that she seems.”

  “Which girl—who’re you talking about? I need you to explain.”

  He was halfway out the door when he said, “Thought I already did.”

  At first, she wasn’t sure what he was referring to. But then she remembered the night at the studio, when she’d received the text with Madison’s birth certificate. She could’ve sworn she’d heard the telltale swoosh of someone sending a message just seconds before she’d received it. Had James sent it?

  She yanked the sash of her robe, pulling it tighter, and raced for the elevator bank. “Was it you?”

  James regarded her as though he had no idea what she was talking about.

  The doors began to slide shut, so she thrust her hand between them to keep them from closing. “That text—the birth certificate—was it you? Are you the one who sent it?”

  Their gazes held. Trena watched the corner of his lips twitch as he uncurled her fingers from the doors and let them slide shut.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  LOVE LIES BLEEDING

  Mateo Luna stood in the entry of Valentina’s hospital room, gaping at the incomprehensible scene unfolding before him.

  On one side of his little sister’s bed—dressed in a body-skimming, pink strapless sundress—was Heather Rollins. On the other side—wearing one of her signature shapeless housedresses—was his mother. The startling sight left Mateo feeling like he’d wandered into an alternate universe.

  “There you are!” Heather’s brown eyes flashed. She gave a little wave of her hand, as though she’d been waiting for him.

  As though they’d discussed this ahead of time.

  As though she had any right to be there hanging with his family without his consent.

  Mateo froze, trying to make sense of how this could’ve happened.

  “I’m sorry,” Heather gushed. “I know I should’ve waited for you, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I just had to share the good news!”

  Mateo made an uncertain approach. He had no idea what Heather was referring to, though one thing was clear: the meeting wasn’t nearly as disastrous as he’d imagined it would be. While they couldn’t have been more different on the outside, there was no denying his mom and Heather looked perfectly happy to be sharing each other’s company.

  When his gaze met Valentina’s, he forced an encouraging grin. While he’d grown used to the jolt of seeing her looking so pale and weak, nothing could’ve prepared him for the heartbreak of seeing that her hair had been shorn all the way down to her scalp. The once shiny, wavy dark mane she’d been so proud of was now replaced with an array of glimmering stars and moons—an entire constellation of gold and silver temporary tattoos.

  “What’s the good news?” he asked. Leaning in to kiss his sister’s cheek, he noticed the purple butterfly tattoo that matched the one Heather wore on her face.

  “She’s being moved!” His mom’s voice rose with excitement.

  “I hope you’re not mad.” Heather shot him a tentative glance. “But I know it’s what you’ve been wanting, so I pulled a few strings and got your sister transferred to a hospital that specializes in childhood cancer. She’ll get the best care possible, and she’ll be back at school in no time.” From over the sheet, she playfully tweaked Valentina’s big toe, and Mateo was chagrined to watch his little sister laugh delightedly in response.

  How was it possible for something to feel so wrong and yet clearly make everyone so happy?

  “Why would Mateo be mad?” His mother frowned. “This is what we’ve wanted all along.”

  Mateo stood silently, unsure how to respond. When Heather had mentioned she wanted to meet his mom, he hadn’t taken her seriously. He guessed this was Heather’s way of taking matters into her own hands. Sure he felt manipulated, but in light of the relief on his mother’s face and the hope and adoration on Valentina’s, how could he possibly complain?

  Realizing his mother was still waiting, he forced a neutral expression and said, “I’m not mad.”

  “You sure?” Heather cocked her head to the side and twisted a random blond curl around her index finger.

  “Nothing but the best for my princess.” Mateo brushed the back of his hand across Valentina’s cheek.

  “So, the rumors are true then?” Valentina narrowed her gaze. “You two really are a couple?”

  Mateo cringed under the glare of his little sister’s laser-eyed stare. One moment she was a sickly little girl fighting for her life, and the next she was a savvy preteen obsessed with tabloid magazines. “You really need to get more age-appropriate reading material.”

  Valentina was about to respond when the nurse entered the room and declared visiting hours were over.

  “Your family is great,” Heather said, as they headed for the elevator bank.

  Mateo gave a distracted nod. He felt simultaneously annoyed with her and indebted to her, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  “But despite your game face, I can tell you’re mad.”

  “I’m not mad,” he repeated, but the words came too quickly to be believed.

  “Well, I’ve seen your happy face, and that’s definitely not it.”

  The elevator doors slid open, and he waited for the car to empty before he and Heather slipped in. “Maybe a bit frustrated.” He punched the L button and paused as the car began its descent. “Also, confused.”

  “About what?” Heather began to pout. Then, reading his expression, she pulled her bottom lip back into place.

  “Everything.” Mateo moved into the lobby and stopped under a large skylight. With the sun shining down from overhead, leaving Heather haloed with light, Mateo was sure he’d never seen her looking more beautiful. But nothing was ever quite what it seemed, including her. Especially her.

  “The word ‘everything’ makes for a pretty big umbrella, don’t you think?”

  Mateo shifted uncertainly. He’d never been any good at this sort of thing. Funny to think how he’d dated Layla for two years—a girl with no fear of confrontation—and yet, he couldn’t remember a single time when she’d made him feel as uncomfortable as Heather currently did. Not even at the very end of their relationship had he felt so much unease. Layla spoke her mind freely, and Mateo had appreciated her honesty.

  Heather was just the opposite—rarely, if ever, authentic. Mateo always walked away from their encounters feeling like he’d been used to further her agenda. It was the way he felt now. And yet, because of her, Valentina would gain access to the very best doctors. He had no right to protest.

  “I thought you’d be happy about the transfer. I thought that’s what you wanted. So when Ira mentioned he had a connection to the board of directors—”

  “Ira?” Mateo’s voice hardened, his gaze locked on hers. It was the worst thing she could’ve said, and the look of regret that washed over her face told him she knew it.

  She lifted a hand as though she could somehow stop what she’d started, but it was too late for that. “Listen,” she said. “I know how you feel about him, but you can’t deny—”

  Mateo turned on his heel and pushed through the glass doors that led outside. “You asked Ira for help?” He stopped and faced her. He didn’t know what upset him more—that Heather would betray him like that, or that Ira had succeeded in helping Valentina in a way Mateo couldn’t. “I can’t believe you did that.” He ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “You know how I feel about him.”

  “So you are mad.”

  “I’m not mad, I’m just—” Indebted to Ira Redman! He couldn’t bring himself to put a voice to it. “Why do you have a picture of Layla and Tommy kissing?” It came from out of nowhere, and yet, once it was out, he found he didn’t regret it.

  “Did you go thro
ugh my belongings?” She spoke with an edge that surprised him. If anything, he’d expected her to play defense. Then again, everyone had a shadow side they kept under wraps. Maybe Mateo had just glimpsed hers.

  Technically, in his search for paper and a pen he had gone through a few of her things, but he wasn’t snooping. He wasn’t hunting for anything incriminating, and it had nothing to do with whatever she was implying. If he hadn’t found the sexy pic, he would’ve written the good-bye note and been done with it.

  But then maybe Valentina wouldn’t be getting the transfer she so desperately needed.

  He met Heather’s gaze. “No, I . . .” The words faded. There was no good way to explain. “Just tell me, are you the one who sent it?”

  Without hesitation she said, “What if I did? Would that be so terrible?”

  Again, her answer caught him off guard. He’d expected her to deflect, or possibly even lie. His mind reeled back to the first time they’d met. She’d acted aggressively flirty despite his insistence that he’d been looking for Layla. At the time, he hadn’t paid it much notice. In retrospect, maybe he should have. Whether or not it was terrible was more complex than she wanted to pretend.

  “Why would you do that? Do you have any idea how hurtful that was?”

  “More hurtful than living a lie?” Heather’s features were hard, her voice indignant. “I thought you deserved to know the truth. I thought you deserved better than that. And yeah, I admit, I liked you. I still do.”

  Mateo sighed and closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the world and everything in it. When he opened them again, Heather was still standing before him, looking so impossibly beautiful, he felt a twinge of regret for what would come next. “Thanks for your help with Valentina. I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful. I have a lot on my mind, and you took me by surprise.”

  She gave a quick nod. “You don’t have to explain.”

  Without warning, she leaned in and pressed her lips softly to his. Her kiss was warm. Lush. Hinting at the promise of all she had to offer.

  Mateo leaned into the moment. Willfully ignoring the warning bells sounding in his head, he clasped her tightly against him. What could it hurt to just . . .

  Before he could finish the thought, he withdrew.

  “It’s okay.” Her voice was choked and tight as she fought to blink away the flash of pain in her gaze. “Turns out, you were right to be suspicious. Ira’s willingness to help wasn’t entirely altruistic.”

  Mateo stilled. He did not like where this was going.

  “Trena’s devoting an entire episode to Ira’s ‘meteoric rise.’” She hooked air quotes around the phrase and rolled her eyes. “His words, not mine. Anyway, I convinced him I could get you to take part if he made a few calls on Valentina’s behalf.”

  Mateo was seething but did his best not to show it.

  “I’ll explain to Ira. I’ll—” She started to reach for his arm, but reading the look on his face, she dropped her hand to her side. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll still get the transfer. Ira’s a shark, but he’s not Satan. He really does have a heart.”

  “You sure about that?” Of all the things he wanted to say, that didn’t come anywhere near the top of the list. But it was the only thing he wouldn’t live to regret.

  “I’ll fix it. Promise.”

  “When are they filming?” he asked.

  “At RED, tomorrow night.” She scrunched her brow as though it pained her. “But seriously, you don’t have to come. I told you I’d fix it and I will. Say what you want about me, but I always keep my word.”

  Mateo was too angry to respond. If he didn’t show, he ran the risk of Ira seeking revenge by blocking Valentina’s transfer. If he did go, he’d get sucked further into the sort of Hollywood hype he abhorred. He had no choice but to go through with it, and it left him angry in a way he’d never felt before. There went another piece of his soul. Who said Ira wasn’t Satan?

  “I know I crossed some boundaries, and I probably came on a little too strong and too fast. I just hope we can stay friends?”

  Mateo couldn’t even imagine such a thing. But she was waiting for his reassurance, so the least he could do was nod in agreement. Surely she’d realize the promise was empty.

  “I know this’ll probably sound silly,” she said. “But I have a thing about being the first to walk away. So—” She was halfway to the parking structure when she said, “For what it’s worth, I really did like you. For the short time we were together, I could forget everything and just feel happy for a change.”

  Mateo watched her go, wondering what she’d meant. It was a strange thing to say for a girl as famous and successful as her.

  Once she was gone, he typed a message to Layla.

  Just solved the mystery of the anonymous text → Heather Rollins.

  His index finger hovered above the send arrow, but he hit delete instead.

  Summer was nearly over. A new season was about to begin. And still there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about Layla a minimum of three times. But now that he’d ended things with Heather, it was clearly time to move forward, not back. The sooner he stopped finding excuses to be in touch with Layla, the sooner he could forge a new life without her.

  One by one, he watched the words vanish. Then he slipped his phone into his pocket and headed back to his family.

  TWENTY-NINE

  GIRLS ON FILM

  Tommy stood before the side door of the Vesper, jiggling the key in his palm as he continued to volley the pros, cons, and possible risks back and forth in his head.

  Ira had given him the code, which meant Tommy was free to come and go as he pleased. In fact, since Tommy fully intended to check out the progress being made on the VIP room, he figured he was acting well within the confines of his job description. There was nothing for Ira to get upset about.

  And yet, none of that would matter if Ira caught him breaking into his office. Tommy didn’t even want to think about how Ira might choose to handle such a breach.

  He tightened his fist, causing the hard edge of the key card to cut into his palm. It would be a shame not to use one of the few tools he’d been given to help nudge the investigation along.

  Without another thought, he tapped the card against the reader and slipped inside. Once the door closed behind him, the alarm began shrieking.

  He punched a sequence of numbers onto the keypad. If Ira had changed the security code, Tommy was screwed.

  With each individual tap, the buttons let out a chirp. By the time Tommy completed the sequence, the shrieking stopped and he audibly exhaled.

  “So far so good,” he whispered out loud. He wasn’t in the habit of talking to himself, though in that particular case it helped lessen the tension.

  He moved toward the stairs leading to Ira’s office and the VIP room beyond. When his foot hit the bottom step, he heard music drifting from one of the second-floor rooms. He wasn’t alone like he’d thought.

  On any other day, someone blasting music wouldn’t be cause for alarm.

  But on any other day, Tommy never would’ve attempted what he was planning to do.

  The Vesper was closed until nine, and Layla had assured Tommy her dad was spending the day with a woman he’d recently started seeing. Was it possible H.D. had decided to bring her by the club to impress her with his work in progress?

  Tommy shot a wary look toward the top of the stairs. He didn’t know which was worse—catching Layla’s dad getting intimate with his new girlfriend or having Ira catch him breaking into his office and immediately seeing right through any excuse Tommy tried to sell him.

  Whoever was up there had purposely locked themselves inside. Yet they’d also blasted the music so loud it drowned out the alarm. It was entirely possible they still thought they were alone.

  Tommy continued up the stairs. At the top of the landing he noticed the door to the VIP room was slightly ajar. If he edged up close enough, he might be able to get a glimpse insid
e. But that also put him at risk of being seen.

  The song switched to the Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” which was exactly the kind of music H.D. listened to when he worked. In the background, Tommy could just make out a series of dull thumping sounds that . . . if it really was Layla’s dad and his new girlfriend . . .

  Then again, it was just as likely the mural was ready and Ira had hired a crew to move the furniture back into place. It all made perfect sense, except—why would they have alarmed the place?

  There were a thousand different ways this could blow up in his face, but despite having every reason to leave and few to stay, he made for Ira’s office anyway.

  He tried the card on the door, but not surprisingly, it didn’t work.

  Luckily, it didn’t need to. The door was unlocked.

  Ira’s office being left unlocked could only mean one thing—Ira was in the VIP room.

  It was as good an excuse as any for Tommy to bolt while he could. Under the circumstances, no one could blame him for playing it safe.

  The music and thumping continued, and against his better judgment, Tommy pushed the door open and quickly slipped inside.

  With its dark walls and notable lack of windows, it was the drabbest of all Ira’s offices. Unlike the ones he kept at Jewel and Night for Night, it hadn’t received the usual ego makeover. There wasn’t a single framed magazine cover or newspaper article.

  Still, this was where Tommy had seen the picture of the cartoon cat, and he was determined to bring it back to his friends, along with any other incriminating piece of evidence he might find.

  He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and got to work. The desk was covered in neat stacks of papers that left Tommy wishing he’d brought along help. But they’d all agreed to work separately so they could cover more ground, chase different leads, and not risk the wrath of whoever was watching. Still, it would’ve been nice to have company. Tackling the corner nearest the door, Tommy went to work. He moved quickly, methodically. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked by anything not directly connected to the case.