InHap*pily Ever After (Incidental Happenstance) (17 page)

            “Jesus Christ!
This is being blown totally out of proportion, Ben, and you know it. They’re
trying to throw the book at me because I’m famous and my case will get them on
television. You know, couples break up every day, and lots of them have a
little help from a third party. Just plead temporary insanity and be done with
it already, so I can go the fuck home.” Her eyes narrowed and her voice dropped
a couple decibels as she leaned closer to the screen.  “I don’t know how much
longer I can stay in this place, Ben. The people here are downright mean to
me—I mean they’re really fucking rude. The food sucks, they won’t let me make
phone calls…”

            “You’re in
jail
,
Miss Valentine, not at Club Med, and when you do get home, you’ll be headed for
a place much like that one. Look at me.” He waited until she finished rolling
her eyes and he had her attention. “Insanity isn’t even close to being an
option, and, unfortunately for you, you can’t plead stupid. Not only will there
be federal charges, but others as well. The parent company of
Person to
Person
is furious that you’ve made a mockery of their magazine…”

            “Yeah right,
because everything in the tabloids is the stone cold truth,” she said
sarcastically.

            “What you gave
them were stone cold lies, and they need to save face. Be prepared that they
will do that at your expense, both in the media and the courtroom; and don’t
forget that both Mr. Miller and Miss Hastings could sue for personal damages as
well. I have to tell you emphatically that you don’t have much of a leg to
stand on here; legally, that is.  The evidence against you is overwhelming;
they have the photo albums, all the letters you took, the pictures you altered;
they have the hacker you hired to mess with Miller’s computer…and believe me,
he’s talking up a storm; the witness statement from the producer of the movie;
and the prosecutor’s been talking to your former assistant who’s already
singing like a canary…”

            “I knew that
bitch would turn on me. She was the one who did most of it, you know, not me.”

            Now it was
Ben’s turn to roll his eyes. “You know I’ve looked at this from every possible
angle, and no matter how many ways I turn it, there’s going to be a price to
pay. You didn’t even try to cover your tracks—you made memory albums out of
your crimes, for chrissakes, and those’ll be on display in the courtroom if we
take this to trial. My advice to you, and what I’ll be focusing most of my
attention on, is putting together a plea bargain. You’ll probably pay some
hefty fines, but I think maybe we can keep the jail time to a minimum.”

            “More jail
time—are you kidding me? For doctoring a couple pictures and taking a few
letters?”

            Ben nodded.
“That’s not how the prosecutor’s going to see it, and it sure as hell isn’t the
way Mr. Miller sees it. He and his lady friend have been all over the
television, the radio, the magazines—social media’s going crazy—and they’re not
exactly singing your praises,” he said sympathetically.

            “Oh, I’m sure
his little babysitter’s got all kinds of things to say about me. Lies—all of
them.”

            “Miss Hastings
has been playing this thing just right, and hasn’t said one negative thing
directly against you.  I know it doesn’t seem fair, but even though they
haven’t been dragging your name through the mud, you are firmly entrenched as
the villain in this situation. I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but you
need to accept the fact that this could go on for quite a while longer before
it’s all settled.”

            Penelope
glared at him, and he could almost feel the daggers piercing him from across
the ocean. “That’s the best you can do? That’s what I’m paying you for? To tell
me to sit back and accept this?” She stepped back and swept her arm across the
bland room. 

            Ben pressed his
lips together and nodded. “That’s why I’m going to shoot for a plea bargain. If
this is dragged through the media, it’ll be a flipping free-for-all. I’m sorry,
but it’s the truth of the matter, and it wouldn’t be right for me to give you
false hope.”

            “False hope?”
she said weakly.  “Ben, I really need to talk to Dylan. I know he said he
didn’t want to talk to me, but goddamn it, we were on the verge of something
wonderful before all this happened. If I could just have a few minutes with
him, I know I could make him see.”

            Ben shook his
head, exasperated. “Absolutely, positively, no way. You need to forget that
kind of thinking right now.  Under no circumstances are you to make any attempt
to contact him, and I’m telling you this not only as your attorney, but as
someone who’s known you for a lot of years and wants what’s best for you.” He
felt a twinge of pain in his heart when he watched her eyes well up, but she
needed to hear it. “He’s in love with her, Penelope, and he’s not coming back
to save you.”

            “How could he
just leave like that? Without even giving me a chance to explain?” The puddles
at the rims of her eyes overflowed, and a single tear slid down each cheek.

            He could see
by her empty stare that he’d lost her; that it was pointless to continue this
discussion right now. He was also starting to see glimmers of a potential
defense, one that might lessen the punishment she’d have to serve and that
might get her some sympathy from the public. “I’m going to get to work on this
right now, Penelope, and I’ll get you home as soon as I possibly can. You keep
out of trouble, and I’ll be in touch as soon as I know something.”

            As soon as her
face disappeared from his screen, he leaned back in his chair and chewed
absently on the end of his pen. Damn, she really believed that she and Miller
had something going on; quite the opposite of what he’d said in the seemingly
endless interviews over the past few days. What had Angela said about her
former boss? He sifted through the file until he found the dialogue from her
initial interview. Obsessed; freak show; unwilling to consider any other
outcome than the one she’d written for herself. 

           
Crime of
passion,
he jotted on his note pad
.
Well, crimes, in this instance,
but all orbiting around the same nucleus—her obsession with Miller and the
belief that she could make him fall in love with her. If he played it right, he
might be able to swing it so that her time was spent in one of those cushy
Hollywood psych hospitals instead of prison. The feds had much bigger things to
worry about than a desperate actress with a pathetic crush. It wasn’t national
security or anything; and aside from the happy couple, no one else was really
hurt by the whole thing. He pulled the pen from his mouth, wiped the end of it
on the back of his tie, and started jotting some notes.

            Penelope
recognized the wheezing and the heavy shuffle of the guard coming down the
corridor. His name was Eddie, she thought, and he was the only person in this
whole damn place who didn’t snicker at her every time he walked by; in fact, he
seemed to go out of his way to be nice to her. He was a hideous creature; short
and stocky with a shock of bright red hair that stuck out from his head in
untamable clumps and pock marks all over his blotchy, pinched face. He was
also, she realized, exactly what she needed to get a message out to her fans
and to make a plea to Dylan. She turned on some tears as he came around the
corner and prepared quickly for her next act.

            “Ma’am? Are
you OK? Aren’t you gonna to go to dinner?”

            “Please, just
leave me alone. Why do you have to be so mean to me?”

            Eddie winced.
He was one of the only people in this place who wasn’t badmouthing the actress.
Everyone else seemed to think that it was hilarious how she went from the top of
the world to the bottom of the barrel in just a few short days, but he could
see where she was coming from. It wasn’t like she was a criminal—she’d been in
love with someone and had gone to some desperate measures to get him to return
her feelings. The way his co-workers were talking, you’d think she offed the
other chick or something. Eddie knew all too well what it was like not to have
someone return your affections; he’d been there more times than he could count.
Why couldn’t anyone see that she was just a beautiful, misunderstood woman who
needed a friend? He could be that friend to her, if only she’d let him.

            “I’m really
sorry,” he said softly. “About everything. I don’t think you’re a horrible
person. You really loved him, didn’t you?”

            Penelope sat
up and wiped her face. “I still do,” she whispered back, putting all the
pathetic whine she could muster into her voice. “No one understands what I’m
going through; no one cares about my side of the story.”

            “I do,” he
said, coming around the corner into her view. “I know exactly how you feel.”

            She looked up
at him and forced a grim smile. “You do?”

            He hovered
outside the door of her cell and fidgeted nervously. “I really do. I wish there
was something I could do to help you, Miss Valentine.”

            “Oh please,
call me Penelope,” she said sweetly.

            “Um, OK,
Penelope. I’m Eddie.”

            “I know.”

            “You know my
name?”

            “Of course I
do, Eddie. How could I not know the name of the only decent human being in this
whole place? You’ve always been nice to me, and I appreciate that more than I
can tell you. I’m afraid I haven’t always been as nice to you, and I’m sorry
about that. I just don’t know what I’m doing here and I’m so confused, you
know? I’m so far away from home and I have no contact with the outside world
while they make a mockery of me without giving me a chance to defend myself.”
She stood up and took his hands in her own, smiling up at him with all the
gratitude she could summon. He stiffened at her touch, but recovered and smiled
back at her warmly.
God, even his teeth are offensive
, she thought, but
she managed to keep the smile on her face.

            “It’s not
right the way they treat you. I keep telling them.”

            “Would you
really help me, Eddie? Because there’s something I really need to do, and I
can’t do it on my own.” She batted her eyelashes at him and gave him her best
doe-eyed look. “I’d be forever grateful to you.”

            Eddie took a
step back and began wringing his hands. Even without makeup she was a stunning
woman, he thought, and even though he knew she’d never give him a passing
glance on a regular day, the way that she was looking at him now made him want
to turn the whole world upside-down for her. He looked around nervously, very
aware that he could get into some serious trouble and maybe even lose his job
if he did anything against the rules.

            “Oh Eddie, I’m
not going to ask you to bust me out or anything,” she smiled, laying her hand
on his arm. “I’m not even going to ask you to take out Madeline for me,
although that would seriously make my day.”

            Eddie guffawed
like a braying mule. “Oh, she’s such a bitch, isn’t she?” he whispered.

            “That she is,”
Penelope agreed, pressing her palms together as if in prayer and leaning close
enough to get a good whiff of the man’s BO.

            “What do you
want me to do?” he asked.

            “I need to get
my message out there, Eddie, that’s all. I need to tell my fans that I’m still
the person they’ve always known and thank them for sticking by me. I need to
tell my own story, and get a message to Dylan.” She pressed her lips together
and looked at him from drooped lids. “I have to say I’m sorry, Eddie,” she
choked, fresh tears spilling from her eyes, “for the pain I’ve caused my
family, my fans, and especially Dylan. Even if he hates me, I still want him to
be happy, and I need him to know that.”

            She took one
look at the indecision on his face, and knew she had to ramp up her game. He
could get into some serious trouble for helping her, obviously, but even though
his bottom line didn’t matter to her one bit, hers was dependent on having an
ally. If he gave her get what she needed, she’d make sure he stayed out of it.

            “No one would
ever know,” she whispered, stepping toward him and laying the palm of her hand
on his repulsive cheek. She wasn’t sure if any amount of soap would wash off
the grease and disgust, but she was willing to chance it. She saw his eyes
widen for a second, then he leaned into her hand and his face softened.

            “What do you
need?”

            Ten minutes
later, she sat in a stinking janitor closet with his cell phone in her hand.
She hit the record button, and started to speak.

            “Hello my
wonderful fans,” she whispered. “I want to thank you all for standing by me
through this horrible ordeal—you are the reason I wake up every morning in this
God-forsaken place. I’m heartbroken by the lies and exaggerations you’re being
told and I need to tell you my side of the story…”