Infamous

by Alyson Noel

It was round, wrapped in tissue, but from what Trena could tell, it had all the familiar qualities of a hoop earring. She looked at the girl, stunned to realize that despite what she’d written in her text, she wanted nothing in return other than her solemn promise to keep her secret safe from her parents.

  “Thank you,” Trena said. “This helps.”

  “I erased the account I sent the video from. You can’t trace it back to me. Just so you know.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. You have nothing to worry about. Again, you have my word.”

  A second later the girl stood. “Okay, well—good luck,” she said, clearly eager to leave.

  Trena knew she should’ve left it at that, but for some reason she said, “That’s it? We’re good here?” She was used to people always working an angle. The fact that this had gone down so easily seemed sort of suspicious.

  The girl faced her with a frown. “Nobody knows about this but you. My friend never even noticed the girl in the background with the earring. And I never told her I went back to see if it was still there. So if the cops knock at my door, I’ll know it’s because of you. But you promised you’d keep me out of it, and that’s all I’m looking for. So—yeah, we’re good.”

  She shot Trena a tight grin and quickly moved away. Trena was just about to head into Starbucks to get a chai latte for the road, when Detective Larsen approached.

  No such thing as a coincidence, she mumbled under her breath. To Larsen, she said, “Walking the Road to Hollywood?”

  He shot her a blank look.

  She motioned toward the very ground where he stood.

  Ignoring it, he looked at her and said, “Who was that? One of your sources?”

  Trena drew her gaze toward his. “Seems a little young to be a source, don’t you think?”

  “That depends. What were you discussing?”

  “Babysitting tips.” Trena didn’t so much as blink.

  Larsen regarded her closely. “Coulda swore I saw her hand you something.”

  “Am I under surveillance?”

  “Mind telling me what it was?”

  “Sure, show me a search warrant and it’s all yours.” She knew Larsen liked to provoke, but she refused to play along. She turned on her heel, only to feel his fingers catching at her arm. Whirling on him in anger, she jerked free of his grip. “Pretty sure you don’t want to do that,” she said.

  “Do what?” He flashed his palms and adopted an innocent expression.

  “Get between me and my chai latte,” she spat. “Never mind that unwanted advance.”

  “Advance?” He laughed. “That’s how you’re going to spin it?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. It was entirely possible that at this moment she actually hated this man more than she’d ever hated anyone. Including her lying, cheating ex-fiancé Marcus. “Clearly this is not a random meet-cute.” She frowned. “So get to the point. What do you want?”

  “I want to know how you knew about the trailer.”

  Trena tilted her head in a way that sent a spray of curls spilling across her forehead. “And here I thought you were going to deliver my thank-you card in person. You know, the one that says, ‘Dear Ms. Moretti, thanks for doing my job for me.’” She was pushing it, but she was tired of the way he manipulated her into kowtowing to him.

  “Question stands.” He kept a straight face.

  “I did my homework.” She shrugged. “News flash—studying pays off.”

  “What’d you take from the trailer?”

  “Pretty sure you found the watch. If I was going to take anything, don’t you think it would’ve been that?”

  “Just know I’m watching you.” He pointed a stubby freckled finger at her.

  “You and the rest of the nation, every Sunday, eight p.m. sharp.” She forced her lips into a wide grin.

  She wasn’t sure how he’d respond, but the way he rested his gaze on hers left her more chilled than any words could.

  “Enjoy your chai.” He turned on his heel and went on his way. “Until we meet again,” he called over his shoulder.

  Trena stared after him. Once he’d disappeared, she poked through the tissue and peeked inside the small package Lucky had given her. Sure enough, it was a single gold-and-turquoise hoop earring, just like the one in the video. Just like the one Madison wore on the night she’d gone missing.

  Of course, there was little hope of proving it actually belonged to Madison. So many people had touched it, it was doubtful any good prints could be lifted. Still, Trena considered it one more piece in the puzzle. Besides, she knew in her gut it belonged to Madison, just like she knew the girl caught on video was Madison in disguise.

  She was out there . . . somewhere.

  Trena popped the package back in her bag and headed into Starbucks. She was due for a walk-through at RED for the feature she’d promised Ira. While she wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of promoting him, she knew that a favor granted was a favor banked. She just hoped it wouldn’t backfire like it just had with Larsen.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  HEART OF GLASS

  Madison drove Tommy’s car to the coast, all the way to Santa Monica Beach, where she found a place to park and headed out toward the sand. She preferred Malibu, but it was too far a drive and she still had so many loose ends to attend to.

  With her future looming uncertainly, she was desperately in need of some guidance. The calming rhythm of the waves with their continuous rush and retreat always helped to remind her just how small and insignificant she was in the big scheme of things.

  In just eighteen years, Madison had managed to live two distinctly different lives. Like dramatic before and after shots, one bore little resemblance to the other, and yet, the past would not be defeated. Madison felt just as lost, alone, and unsure as she had a decade ago. She had a gun in her bag and she knew how to use it, but she no longer had Paul to shield her from the aftermath.

  She walked along the shoreline, enjoying the feel of her toes sinking into the sand. The small pebbles slipped inside the bandage that covered her ankle, causing the grains to rub against her skin, abrading her flesh, but Madison paid it no notice. For all she knew, this could turn out to be the last time she enjoyed a pleasure so simple. She had a plan, sure, but there was no way of knowing if it would actually work.

  Her first trip to the ocean, she was eight years old on her way to meet her new family in Connecticut. Paul’s mom, Eileen, had taken her, and Paul had caught up with them during the latter part of the journey. Madison remembered the way they’d led her down to the water—how she’d shrieked and squealed in delight when the small swells raced up to cover her feet, before retreating and leaving a froth of bubbles behind.

  She also remembered overhearing bits of their conversation when they thought she wasn’t listening. How worried they’d been about her ability to adjust to her new, upper-crust world.

  Or at least Eileen had been worried. She’d even waged a good argument to keep Madison behind in West Virginia, but Paul wouldn’t hear of it. “She’s not like us,” he’d said. “She’ll be fine wherever she lands. Holding her back would only delay the inevitable.”

  At the time, Madison had taken his statement about her not being like them to mean she was special, maybe even superior.

  But over the last few months she’d done enough reflecting to conclude Paul hadn’t meant that at all. He’d been referring to the moment Madison had pressed the piece of burning wood to her flesh—how her tears weren’t the result of losing her parents, but from the sheer joy of being released from that life.

  Paul had watched her with a conflicted look of admiration and fear. When he’d referred to her as different, he didn’t just mean she didn’t feel things the same way other people did. Paul had gone so far as to question if she felt much of anything at all.

  She knew why he’d think that, but she wasn’t heartless, not even close. Sure she may have used people from time to time to get what she needed, but she felt terrible
about what she’d done to Tommy. She felt even worse about having suspected Paul of plotting against her, especially after having discovered the truth.

  She wasn’t a sociopath. It wasn’t that simple. In her professional life, she easily conveyed a wide range of emotions and was often lauded for her ability to summon whatever response a director required. In her personal life, it took a lot for her to trust anyone enough to feel empathy. Funny how the price of being famous was the same as living a lie—requiring her to keep everyone at arm’s length, and never run the risk of exposing herself.

  Despite what Tommy might think once he realized what she’d done, she knew in her heart she cared deeply for him. Still, driven by her own desperate need to save herself and the life she’d created, she’d crossed a line Tommy would never forgive, and it wasn’t like she could blame him.

  A small child ran past, flying a kite and laughing gleefully as he stared up at the sky. Madison dipped her toes deeper into the tide and watched as the water rushed over her ankles and soaked through her bandage.

  It’s time.

  The words rang in her head as though they were whispered from across the ether. But Madison recognized the sound of her own inner voice telling her it was time to finally confront the person who’d kidnapped her.

  It had taken a while to piece it together. But while Tommy had been breaking into the Vesper, Madison took advantage of his absence to use his laptop to follow a hunch. She’d spent the previous night investigating the lead, making sure she was right. Though her findings had surprised her, in retrospect she realized she should’ve known all along.

  She waded in farther, allowing the waves to break against her shins and wet the hem of her dress before she slowly made her way back toward her car. Stopping to unwrap the now soggy dressing that covered her ankle, she paused near a trash can to dispose of it and send a quick text from her phone.

  Sorry I ran. I know who’s behind this. I’ll explain when I see you.

  Faster than expected, she received a reply.

  Where & when. You decide. Just glad you’re OK.

  A moment later Madison replied:

  Griffith Park—view of the Hollywood Sign.

  After all, what could be more symbolic than a place that honored both kinds of stars?

  She took a steadying breath and patted the side of her bag, seeking assurance her gun was still there. Then, with a quick tap of the key fob, she unlocked Tommy’s car and settled in.

  She’d just fastened her seat belt and was starting the engine, when she caught a trace of a sweet yet slightly cloying scent.

  Startled, she turned just as someone rose up from the backseat and smashed a cloth hard against her face.

  Her fingers tore at the rag, trying to rip it away. But the chloroform worked quickly, rendering her helpless against it.

  Last thing she remembered was staring helplessly into the rearview mirror and meeting her attacker’s gaze.

  “You!” She struggled to speak but didn’t get very far before the whole world faded away.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  WHITE ROOM

  Aster and Ryan sat in a car across from RED and stared at the building. From the outside, it wasn’t all that impressive. Aster wondered if the inside would be any better.

  “Last time I was here, it was mostly sawdust and jackhammers.” She glanced at Ryan. “Hard to believe it’s opening already.”

  “A soft opening,” Ryan said, reminding her of the language Ira had used when they were leaving her lawyer’s office and Ira had invited them to stop by.

  Aster’s first instinct was to decline. But Ryan, sensing her hesitation, squeezed her fingers with his, prompting her to switch gears and say, “Sounds fun, what time?”

  Ira seemed pleased and had given them firm instructions to be there at six forty-five sharp. Not a moment later.

  “Is it time yet?” She glanced between her watch and her phone.

  “Almost. You ready?” Ryan looked at her.

  “Is no a valid answer?”

  She figured she must look as frightened and unsettled as she felt, because next thing she knew, Ryan cupped a hand to each of her cheeks and kissed her with such reverence, she veered dangerously close to a full-on ugly cry.

  “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” He acted as though if he said it enough times with enough force, the universe would respond by granting his wish. Just yesterday she would’ve believed it, but now, with Madison on the run, she was no longer sure.

  “If nothing else, you have uncontestable photographic proof she’s alive. You couldn’t have possibly killed her.”

  “Do you think Ira knows?”

  Ryan squinted.

  “I mean, the way he kept looking at me today when we were with the lawyers. I had trouble focusing on what they were saying, and I’m pretty sure he could tell.”

  “Seems normal to have a hard time focusing when you’re worried about going to jail.”

  She paused to consider. “Still, I felt like he was onto me.” She leaned her head back against the neck rest and stared through the sunroof. “I’m so conflicted. I don’t know what to do. I feel like everyone’s playing me, and yet I still kept Madison’s secret. Do you think I should’ve said something while I had the chance? Or am I just being paranoid?”

  “I think Ira has a way of unsettling people,” Ryan said, his voice patient and kind. “It’s his superpower and he knows it. It’s the true secret behind his success.” He let that sink in. “Madison will show up eventually. She can’t stay hidden forever.”

  Aster wasn’t sure she agreed. “Can’t she?”

  “Trust me,” Ryan said. “She won’t want to. She’s addicted to the spotlight, and right now, she’s more famous than ever.” He reached across the console and gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “So, you ready?”

  Aster faced him. More than anything she wanted to reply: Do I have a choice? Or: Hell no! Or: Please do not make me go in there! But in order to prove to Ira he had no reason to suspect her of anything, she needed to get out of the car and join his stupid party or soft opening or whatever this was.

  She flipped down the mirrored visor and checked her hair and makeup. She looked all right, she guessed. At the start of the summer she’d been obsessed with her looks; now, she barely gave it much thought.

  “I’m all in.” She slipped free of the car, watching as Ryan came around to meet her.

  His lips eased into a grin as his gaze slowly took her in. “When this is over . . . when all this is over . . .” He was standing so close she could feel the heat emanating between them. “I’m going to take you away somewhere amazing. And we’re never once leaving our bed.”

  “Then it doesn’t really matter where we’ll be, does it?” she teased. “I mean, if we’re just going to stay in bed the whole time.”

  He kissed her once, deeply, passionately. When he pulled away, he said, “Fine. We’ll slip out for the occasional meal, but the rest of the time . . .”

  He slung an arm around her waist and led her toward the entrance. James was working the door, which came as a surprise. If it was a soft opening that no one knew about, then why did Ira need James?

  Then again, Ira never missed an opportunity to make a dramatic display, and it was hard to find a more impressive bouncer than James, who was so handsome Aster was sure he had a hundred better options than working for Ira.

  James looked them over, nodded wordlessly, then opened the door and ushered them inside.

  The room was dimly lit and done up entirely in white. The only color came from hidden projectors that first cast the space in spots of gray that left it looking shadowed and haunted, before transforming it to a deep, bloody red that made it look like a particularly grisly crime scene.

  Ryan hesitated, trying to make sense of it. “I’ll say one thing, Ira sure knows how to make a dramatic impact.”

  “But where is everyone?” Aster whispered. Except for them, the room was empty. She turned to
ask James, but the door was shut. “On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be?”

  One look at Ryan’s troubled gaze provided the answer. Still, he tried to ease her alarm by saying, “I’m sure they’re around here somewhere. Let’s take a look. See what this place is all about.”

  Aster grasped his hand tightly in hers and walked alongside him to an area that consisted of a long white hallway flanked by a series of doors on either side.

  “This reminds me of a hypnosis session I did once.”

  Aster glanced at him nervously.

  “Whatever door you pick is supposed to reveal some hidden part of yourself that gives you better insight into how to conduct your life, or provide guidance, or something like that. It was a while ago.”

  “Well, it’s freaking me out,” Aster whispered. “Why would Ira build this? Who would actually pay to come here?”

  “Plenty of people,” Ryan laughed. “Anyway, we’re here. What’s the worst that can happen?” Seeing the look on her face, he said, “You’re with me, and I’m not going anywhere. So, go ahead, pick a door, any door. Which one is calling to you?”

  Aster gathered her courage and approached the second door on the left. But when she tried the knob, the door was locked. “Did that happen in your hypnosis session?” She frowned.

  Ryan looked a bit shaken, but tried not to show it. “When at first you don’t succeed . . .”

  Aster screwed up her nerve and tried the door across from it. The knob turned, the door swung open. Tentatively, she stepped inside.

  “I’m not sure I get it.” She squinted at what appeared to be a big, white box of a room. “What is this supposed to be? What is this place?”

  She turned to Ryan, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “Ryan!” she cried, only to have her words echo right back as the door slammed shut, locking her inside.

  THIRTY-SIX

  WHERE HAVE ALL THE GOOD TIMES GONE

  “Hello?” Layla stepped deeper inside the club and looked all around. The way her footsteps echoed on the white concrete floors gave her the chills. It wasn’t like she’d expected a crowd, but the absolute emptiness of the place left her wondering just what exactly she’d agreed to.