No Strings Attached (51 page)

“I don't get it, exactly,” Lindsay mused. “Why would she run away? Why not just say thanks but no thanks, I'm not interested in your movie?”

“I'm guessing she figured we wouldn't let up on her, we'd pressure her. And I'm also guessing that running from scary situations has kept her alive all these years.”

“How can you compare our offer to make her a movie star with scary street situations? That's ridiculous.”

“To you, maybe. Who knows what goes on in her head,” Sara pointed out.

They had no luck finding any pedestrians at all along the winding, palm-tree-lined Sunset Boulevard, so they headed east toward the shopping district. They wound up and down the side streets, checking coffee shops, bookstores, any place Naomi might've gone into. No luck.

“What about turning onto Hollywood Boulevard,” Lindsay suggested, “where you first found her?”

They rode in silence for a while. Every so often, Lindsay's cell phone rang: Jared asking for an update.

Hollywood Boulevard was crowded, commuters coming home from work, shoppers out and about—tourists, skinheads, the usual carnival of weirdos, beggars. No Naomi.

Out of nowhere, Lindsay blurted, “I'm not going to try and force her to do this movie. I owe her, Sara. I owe her everything. If she wants to stay underground, I owe her that, too. But I'd like to give her money, at the very least, so she can do what she wants. And I want to her to know that she always …”

Silently, Sara finished the sentence:
that Naomi always has friends. People to turn to. Always.
Sara reached over and squeezed Lindsay's shoulder. “I know. Me, too.”

They passed Big Al's Tattoo Parlor, Bondage Babes
Leather 'N' Thongs, Off-Track Betting, take-out places. “Where would she go?” Lindsay said for the eighteenth time.

“She'd go where she feels safe,” Sara said.

“Oh, my God!” Lindsay exclaimed. “We're such duh-heads. We should have thought of it right away!”

In the middle of traffic, in a completely illegal move, accompanied by the outraged horns and curses of dozens of cars, Lindsay slammed on the brakes and made a U-turn.

Naomi was sitting at the property's edge, several feet from where the pool had once been.

Lindsay had managed to squeeze the car between the huge yellow-and-black CAT construction trucks, which took up half the winding street in front of 5905 Chula Vista Lane. It was nearing sunset and the workers had gone for the day, but the big cleanup trucks had remained.

Without exchanging a word, the girls threaded their way around back. The quake had caused an upheaval in the yard, Uncle Rob's property now ended in a minicliff. Naomi was on it, her legs pretzeled under her; she leaned back on her arms for support. She stared out into the valley.

Naomi didn't seem the least bit surprised to see Sara and Lindsay, who settled on either side of her.

For a few peaceful moments, no one spoke. The valley spread out below them, the hills all around, and the sun, a big
red rubber ball floating in the sky, brushed the top of the mountains.

Lindsay murmured, “Awesome view.”

Naomi nodded in agreement.

“It's so great that Rusty is getting the house rehabbed,” Lindsay noted, “so when Rob gets back, he won't have to deal with the mess.”

Sara gazed at the sky. “Nature caused the earthquake, but look what nature gives us. Nothing can take away the glory of this landscape.”

“These past two weeks,” Naomi said quietly, “at Jared's house? It's the first time in my entire life I ever had my own room. But I was happiest in this place, in the basement. Funny, huh?”

“No, not at all,” Sara said. “I feel completely out of place at the Larson mansion.”

Lindsay whipped around. “Really? Not me. I feel right at home there.”

“Will you live there some day?” Naomi asked Lindsay.

“Oh, I don't know. I'm not thinking that far ahead.”

“But you'll end up with Jared, right?” Sara asked. “You love him.”

“You two are made for each other,” Naomi put in.

Lindsay had no quip. She seemed to mull whether she should say anything. Finally, she said, “Remember that night
in the hot tub, you guys asked what I saw in Jared? I didn't tell you everything. I love him because, at the end of the day, he'd do anything for me. He's crazy about me. He accepts me even when I'm selfish, and snobby, and—”

“You? Selfish? Come on!” Sara jabbed her, and they all laughed.

“Jared has seen me at my worst. And he loves me anyway.”

“Then why do you sound so mournful?” Naomi asked.

“Because …” She took a breath, “Because I hurt him once before. And I could hurt him again. At least I think I could. If something came up and, say, Jared wasn't in a position to help me, career-wise? I could leave him. I could do that.”

Sara glared at her. “You're full of shit, Lindsay.”

Naomi and Lindsay gasped.

“You … you … cursed!” Naomi stammered.

“Well, I'm tired of hearing Lindsay talk trash about herself. You do, you know! You make jokes out of everything, pretend to be heartless and selfish, and, okay, I'll grant that in some ways you are. But when it matters, you've got a heart of gold, girl. You really do.”

A tear streaked down Lindsay's cheek. “If you ever tell, I'll kill you.”

“Your secret's safe with me. Now, go on and tell Naomi what you came to say.” Sara smiled knowingly.

Lindsay sniffed. “I'm sorry we freaked you out, Naomi.
You don't have to read for the movie; you can forget about it, if that's what you want. You don't have to tell us why. But—”

“No buts,” Sara scolded mildly.

“Just let me finish, okay?”

Lindsay looked into Naomi's eyes. “Here's the thing. Whatever's going on in your head, whatever you need—for whatever reason—we can help you.”

Sara said, “We became like a family this summer, Naomi. All of us. And family help one another. If you need money, if you need to stay under the radar—whatever you need, we're there for you.”

“You don't have to be alone again. Ever.” Lindsay and Sara leaned in and hugged her.

You'd expect huge, gloppy tears to fall from those ginormous anime eyes. When Naomi cried, they did.

“What's the word from our guys in the Midwest?” Jared asked
Lindsay, who'd just shut her cell phone. The pair were lazing in Jared's backyard on a balmy Saturday afternoon, with Linz looking exceptionally luscious in her metallic bikini—so “in,” as she advised him, and so perfect with her copper hair, golden brown eyes, and faded rusty freckles.

A stab of pain shot through him. Lindsay would be leaving soon for the location shoot in Oklahoma for
The Outsiders
. After much haggling, the movie studio decided to remain faithful to the original, in setting at least. She'd be gone for three months, and though Jared would visit as often as possible, he missed her already. He'd be busy, doing double-duty. As part of the big Larson compromise, Jared had agreed to
really go back to school, to take classes, and to work part-time at Galaxy.

From her lounge chair, Lindsay leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Nick's at college. He joined a fraternity—and big surprise, he's already got a girlfriend. He thinks he's gonna be a business major. I think we convinced him he could open a chain of fitness centers one day. I'd invest in him.”

Jared laughed. “I bet you would, cutie-pie. And with all the money you're gonna make on
The Outsiders
and the plans I have for your career, you'll have lots of money to invest.”

“Bet on it,” she said dreamily.

“And Eliot, our neurotic-genius friend?”

“Emergency El is doing fantastic,” she reported. “I got an e-mail. That school in Chicago is like his dream environment. He's even got—are ya sitting down?—a girlfriend!”

Jared punched his fist in the air. “Yessss! Awesome!”

“I texted him; he's gonna send a picture. I told him we could probably all get together over Christmas. I mean, I'll be in Oklahoma—how far could that be from Chicago and Michigan?”

Jared chortled. “That's my Linz. Don't ever change, baby, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I think you just made fun of me.”

He reached over and cupped her chin. “Never. I'd never make fun of you.” The kiss was tender, and sweet, and lingering.

“Mr. Jared, a delivery came for you.” Desiree's voice wafted from the French doors. She held up a large manila envelope.

Jared knew what it was—he'd asked Amanda to please send it over on Saturday so he could surprise Lindsay before the rest of the showbiz community saw it on Monday. He opened it in front of her.

Lindsay's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God, Jared! That's … that's … where did you? When will this come out?”

They were staring at a poster, the first draft of what would eventually be used on billboards, magazines, and in TV ads to advertise
The Outsiders
. The final version wouldn't be released for many months, but Jared and Amanda had fought for the wording on it, and Jared wanted Lindsay to see it.

The poster pictured the seven male stars standing shoulder to shoulder—including Mark Oliver, the young actor Lindsay'd met in the park—their names listed beneath the photograph. On the side, in her own spotlight, was a profile of Lindsay's sparkling face, with the words, “And starring Lindsay Pierce as Cherry.”

She gulped. “You did this for me.”

“Well …” Jared tried to hide his grin. “It was really your agent, Amanda, who did the heavy lifting. But, yeah—as the son of the owner of Galaxy, I put my two cents in. C'mere, you.” He held his arms out.

Lindsay joined him on the chaise lounge, tucked herself under his arm.

“And you know, Ms. Pierce,” Jared said, “this is only the beginning. Galaxy and I have big plans for the likes of you.”

Through her tears, she giggled. “Tell me again.”

“We're gonna pitch
Leave It to Lindsay
, a half-hour TV series, and it's all you. It's you being single and funny and free in L.A. It's you being clueless and brilliant at the same time, it's you being self-centered and intensely generous. It's you and your coterie of friends—it's
I Love Lucy
meets
Sex and the City
. You should be planning that Lindsay Pierce doll now.”

“And the perfume,” she sniffed. “Everyone has a scent.”

“Okay, you two, get a room!” Sara sashayed into the backyard, wearing capris and a snazzy V-neck top accessorized with a golden cross necklace.

Lindsay bolted upright and gave Sara a huge smile. “Wuzzup, Saint Sara?”

Jared looked from his girlfriend to Sara. A strange feeling overtook him. He had the distinct feeling Lindsay knew why Sara was there. Which intensified when Lindsay, who never could contain her excitement, suddenly shot off the lounge chair and started prancing about, circling him.

Sara laughed and pulled something out of the Hermès Birkin bag that Lindsay had pressed on her. She'd only agreed
because in her new job—while still auditioning for acting roles—she was always toting around scripts and papers.

Sara had not gone back to Texarcana, not gone back to Donald. She'd decided, after much deliberation, to stay in L.A., to continue trying to find acting gigs and to work with Naomi. Once the formerly homeless girl accepted them as true friends, as family, she'd opened up. Told them about her missing sister, her fears of finding Annie, or of not finding Annie.

Lindsay had offered to help. Jared's family had the resources to be discreet, to be sure no harm came to anyone, no unwanted publicity. They hadn't found Annie Foster yet, but they had earned Naomi's trust. In short order, that trust had led her to audition, finally, for the role of Moxie in
Hide in Plain Sight
.

The newbie actress needed a manager, someone to protect her, look out for her interests. They created that job for Sara at Galaxy.

“Well, come on!” Jared was getting antsy. “What are you and Lindsay up to?”

Slowly, just to mess with him, Sara extracted a rolled-up poster from her bag and gave it to Jared. “Unroll it.”

Jared did not enjoy being stealthed. Warily, he slipped off the rubber band and unfurled the poster.

“It's a first draft,” Sara warned. “It's not final.”

“But the wording is!” Lindsay squealed.

It was Jared's turn to tear up. McSmoothy became McMush. The poster was for
Hide in Plain Sight
. And it wasn't the billing, “Introducing Naomi Foster as Moxie,” that moved him to tears. It was the top billing:

“A Rusty and Jared Larson Production.”

Later that night, Lindsay and Jared were still outdoors; hadn't
moved from the chaise lounge. They had one more surprise visitor.

“Uncle Rob!” Jared exclaimed. “You're back! You're … here!”

Indeed he was. The tall, craggy, forever-hippie Robert Larson, Jared's favorite family member, loped into the backyard. He'd be bunking here at the mansion, he told them, until his own house at 5905 Chula Vista Lane was fully operational again. He stretched out on the chaise next to the couple and turned to Jared.

“So, nephew, how was your summer?”

Jared shrugged. “Oh, you know, nothing exciting. Same old, same old …”

Lindsay began to giggle. The giggle became a guffaw, which morphed into peals and peals of staccato laughter, bouncing off the canyon walls and through the valleys, around the hills, drifting into the perfect California night.

Randi Reisfeld is the author of numerous original series and
novels for teens, including three
New York Times
bestsellers. Her series with HB Gilmour, T*Witches, is the basis for two popular Disney Channel TV movies. Her trilogy Starlet also reflects her lifelong obsession with all things Hollywood. Randi lives in Washington Township, New Jersey. Visit her on the web at
www.randireisfeld.com
.