Trouble Me (22 page)

W
E
S
URVIVED
T
HE
B
ABY
S
HOWER
, and now, a week later, I have to survive The Ivy.

Jeremy and The Ivy. You’d think Mr. Hip Agent Guy would have nothing to do with such a Hollywood cliché. The Ivy was the place to be seen probably twenty years ago. And the inside looks like Laura Ashley threw up. Stars who want to be sure
US
or
People
get a good shot of their toned asses in their yoga pants sit out on the terrace, in full view of the street and God and everybody.

I don’t want to sit outside, and when J texts, I tell him as much. He says okay, probably because of Tucker’s high alert. I suspect Tucker will pass along the letter Kelly got at the shower to law enforcement, and his vigilance has notched back up. Jeremy respects that. He can tell when Tucker is worried.

And The Ivy, besides being so frilly, is so high visibility, he couldn’t have thought it was a good idea. It had to have been someone else’s.

I see the someone else as Janus and I pull up to the front of the restaurant. Amanda. Jeremy is so very close to snagging her as a client. After seeing her on the run in the hills, I haven’t seen or heard anything more from her. I wish she’d hurry up and sign with him. He asked about the trouble with her, asked what my “comfort level” was if he took her on as a client. I told him it was fine. There’s no reason for my troubles with an ex to keep him from a major deal. Once he had my okay, he’s been relentless. He’s like a nervous little dog, all yippy and trembling. He might even pee a little on the carpet when he sees her next.

As Janus lets me off out front, I chuckle to myself at that thought.

“What’s so funny?” Amanda stands on the picket fence-lined patio.

“I’m hysterical. You missed it.”

She puts a cheek out to me, to be air-kissed. A photographer on the sidewalk snaps away behind us. I ignore both of them. She probably called him and told him we’d be here. “Was the joke at my expense?”

“Surprisingly, no. All Jeremy this time. Where is he?”

She points a long shiny nail inside.

“You’re not having lunch with us, are you?”

“Oh, God no. My two favorite men, it’s tempting, but I just had Jeremy drop some papers to my lawyer. My lawyer and I were here for brunch. Jeremy wasn’t invited.”

“I’m not one of your ‘men.’”

“Whatever.” She tosses her head like she doesn’t care. The photographer snaps her picture. Another paparazzo parks his scooter at the curb, pulls out his long lens, ready to join in. “And tell Jeremy to stop texting me—it makes him smell desperate. I don’t do desperate.”

I nod and get inside, done with the photographers and Amanda. Poor Jeremy. I hope she doesn’t get her claws into him in any way other than business. He hasn’t earned hearts and flowers, but he deserves at least a couple steps up from female praying mantis biting his head off.

I weave through the floral arrangements and wicker chairs and people trying to wave me down and find Jeremy sitting at a table covered in a pineapple tablecloth, pineapple plates, and pitchers full of petunias and geraniums. He sneezes.

“Sit down, for Christ’s sake, before I go into anaphylactic shock. I need a Benadryl.”

“Amanda’s playing cat and mouse with you. You don’t need her as a client this bad. Since when do you meet her lawyer here to drop off paperwork? You’re not her errand boy.”

“I know.” He yanks a red and white checked pillow from behind his back and tosses it on the ground.

“But what?”

“I had a very big carrot to dangle, and I’m not talking about my own generous anatomy.”

“You need to quit with the overcompensating talk. We’ve talked about this before. You’ve clearly got an inferiority complex.”

“I’m blowing off that burn. I have a four-page spread and cover for her in a certain fashion mag if she signs with me.”

“Which one?” He’s good. She might take that bait.

He looks for a napkin to write on. The only one he comes up with has big roses on it. He gives up and leans forward. “Editor likes sunglasses. A lot. Might have a movie about her, one with devils and fashion brands.”

“Anna Wintour.
Vogue
. I get it.”

He looks around. “Hey, let’s not let the bob-haired cat out of the bag.”

“You’re too paranoid.” I look desperately for a waiter. I need an iced tea and something to eat.

“Speaking of paranoid, what’s new at Casa Pettigrew?”

“Kelly got a letter.”

“What?”

“Someone sent her a letter, sent it to the house, which means someone knows we’re staying there.”

“That’s definitely stalky. What’d it say?”

“It was pretty bizarre. I think the message was to keep a close watch on me. It mentioned temptation. And the letter was clear that the author doesn’t think Kelly is worthy of me.”

“Was it threatening?”

“Kind of. Tucker hasn’t decided if he’s going to pass it along to the FBI or not.”

“Whatever he decides, keep me posted.”

“I will. So, why did I have to be here?”

“I didn’t care where we ate, and I was already meeting her here. No offense, but you’re a done deal. I don’t go back for seconds on meals I’ve already had, so impressing you with some hip restaurant wasn’t a priority.”

“I’m your client. Not a conquest. And we’ve been together for nine years, so you’re more old married man than one-night-stand material. You like to think you’re all sex and danger and trampolines, but you’re one step away from twin beds.”

“This metaphor is all sorts of used up.” Jeremy looks in danger of sneezing again for a moment. “I don’t get why Amanda was still out front when you got here, though. We were all finished. She could have left.”

“That’s weird.” I nod. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Kind of. She does get an odd look when she mentions you.”

“Odd?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s waiting for you to get tired of Miss Idaho Home. Thinks you’ll end up back in her bed.”

“But you know I’m never doing that.”

“I know that, but she doesn’t. I don’t know. Amanda’s always been a little crazy. She drove that one producer’s car into the swimming pool when he dumped her, remember that?”

“I guess. I don’t like this conversation. You’re telling me she’s nuts and that she hung around waiting for me to show up today. I don’t think that feels right. And you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I still think she’s capable of all this shit someone’s been doing to my family. Maybe I should go.”

“I think you should tell Tucker again what you think about her. And not give her one inkling that you might suspect her, so stay put. She could still be out there.”

He may have a point. I don’t get up.

“While she preens and poses for whatever slimeball with a camera is out on the curb, let’s talk about your little indie
Leave No Trace
movie. How’s the shoot going?”

I’m formulating an answer when the fire alarm goes off. “Saved by the bell.” I hop up, happy to be done.

“We’re not through with this discussion. I want you to work this movie into two more after we’re done with
Flat Rock
. At least three of the exec producers you could get a commit out of. You gotta make hay while the sun shines, my friend.”

“Weird. Someone else said that to me not too long ago. I get it, J. I do.”

We move to the fire exit, and we’re about to walk out when Jeremy grabs me.

“Don’t.” He pulls me away from the door and shows me his phone. There’s a text from Tucker.

Come to the house. There’s been a break-in.

“What the hell?” I check my phone. Tucker’s text pops on my screen too.

“We’ll take my car. Let’s go out the back way.” Jeremy leads us out through the kitchen to the back alley.

“I don’t like any of this, Jeremy. Someone’s put a target on my back.”

“Tucker’ll get to the bottom of it. He needs to send that letter to the FBI.”

We make it to his car. Janus runs up behind us. “You two need to get in and clear the area.”

“Now what?”

“Fire alarm was pulled from a pull station at the front of the building. I left the car to check on the situation. It was a false pull, so I went back to the car.”

“And what?” Jeremy has the driver’s door open.

Janus puts a hand on his shoulder. His lips are set in a firm line. “And the tires were slashed.”

“Jesus. Jeremy, let Janus drive.”

Jeremy hands him the keys. He doesn’t say a word. He’s never at a loss for words. He is now.

I break out in a cold sweat.

F
IVE
M
INUTES
A
G
O
, everything was normal.

The boys and I piled out of the car, Tucker handing the boys bags of groceries to carry to the front door. I was thinking about texting Mari to ask her to go on a walk with me. We’ve been trying to get together since she moved out here.

“Listen, I still say you shouldn’t drink your calories,” Tucker counseled Hunter. They’ve been lifting together, and Hunter listens to his advice. He chooses lean chicken and has been known to actually touch a green bean because of Tucker’s influence.

“I’ve decided I can’t let go of pop. I just can’t do it, Tucker. Let me have this one thing.” Hunter used his melodrama voice.

I put my key out, but the door swung open.

“Tucker.” I tried to keep my voice flat. The boys were right there with us.

He looked at me and looked at the lock. “There’s a key broken off in the lock.”

“What?” Beau looked at Tucker.

“Andrew must’ve accidentally broken his key off in the lock,” Tucker continued without missing a beat. “I’ll call the locksmith in a second. Or I know, why don’t you and the boys call from the car?”

“Sure. We’ll leave the groceries with you.” I handed him my bag.

“I can just go put them in the kitchen.” Beau made a move to the door, but Tucker grabbed him by the arm. “It’s okay, kiddo. I’ll do it.”

In the most innocuous five minutes, the world turns upside down.

Tucker texts three people right in a row. One of them is sure to be a cop. Tucker looks over him at me. I know. He’s going to sweep the house.

There might be someone in the house.

“Let’s go wait in the car, guys. Tucker might even be able to fix it without calling a locksmith.”

The boys aren’t dumb. Hunter takes one of the bags. “What’s going on?”

I swallow, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. “It’s probably nothing. Let Tucker do his job, Hunter.”

I put a hand on Beau’s shoulder and steer them both back to the car. We get in, and I wait at the wheel, looking at Tucker.

After a moment, he turns around and jogs to the car. “I’ve got someone coming. Why don’t you all go get a snack?”

I’m not leaving him here, not until there’s someone to help. “We’ll wait until someone comes to give you a hand with the lock.”

Tucker grits his teeth. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Then don’t go in until someone else gets here.”

“Kelly, don’t be stubborn. You know that I know what I’m doing.”

We don’t have to bicker any longer, because a police cruiser pulls up.

“Now will you go?”

“Where’s Andrew?”

“He’s with Jeremy. They’re finishing up lunch. Go down the street and get something to eat.”

I start the car. “Text me.”

He pulls out his phone, and suddenly he takes my arm. “Scratch that. Wait here for a second.”

He walks over to the cruiser. The officer gets out, and the two of them look at Tucker’s phone, then the house, then at us.

“What’s going on, Mom? Is everything okay?” Beau asks.

“I don’t know. Everything’s fine, I think.”

Tucker comes over. “I want you to drive to the police station on Rexford. Straight shot down the hill into town. Ten minutes. Can you find it from here?”

“And do what?”

“Pull into the parking garage. There’ll be an officer waiting for you. You don’t have to do anything; I just need you to wait for me there.”

“Where’s Andrew?”

“He’s fine. He and Jeremy and Janus are together. I’ll have Andrew give you a call in a while.”

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going on, Tucker.”

“Neither do I, Kelly. If I knew what was up, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Now please go.”

I pull the car out of the drive and head to the gate of the subdivision. As we pull through the gates, another police car pulls in behind us.

“We have an escort, Mom.” Hunter looks behind us nervously.

“It’s all going to be fine. You know Tucker. He’s being cautious. It’s his job.”

No one argues with me. Both boys are quiet. I appreciate that we’re all keeping our worrying to ourselves. Because Tucker is cautious, but none of us are dumb—something is wrong.

I keep my hands on the wheel and continue to check the rearview for the police car for the whole drive.

My phone buzzes. It’s Andrew.

“Hunter, grab that, would you?” I can’t talk to him right now without bursting into tears.

“Hey, Andrew, it’s Hunter. Yeah, Mom’s driving. Tucker sent us to the police station. We’re almost there.”

He listens for a moment.

“I’ll tell her. See you soon.” He puts the phone down.

“What? What did he say?”

“He’s headed to the house, but he wants you to call him when you’re at the station. When you can talk.”

At last we get there, and the cruiser behind us wheels around in front. An officer at the parking garage entrance waves. I drive by, and he nods at me as I pass.

Inside, the driver of the car waves me into a spot next to him. I park, and the boys get out.

A young, clean-shaven officer approaches us. “Ms. Reynolds?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to have you come this way, ma’am.”

I hate being called ma’am. Beau takes my hand, and we walk through the doors into the station.

“Can you please wait here?” The young policeman leads us to a small conference room with one window in the door. Maybe it’s an interrogation room. I don’t know. I’ve never actually been in a police station.

Hunter and Beau won’t sit at the table. They pace around, looking out the window.

“Call Andrew, Mom.”

I want to, I really do, but I don’t want to call in front of the boys. What’s going on, I have no idea, but I want a second to process it before I pass it along to them. I have no poker face. I’m no actor, and whatever I hear on the phone, they’ll both see in my expression.

“I’m going to go find someone and see what’s up. You two wait here for me, you promise?” I give them the mom stare.

A tall woman with long, blond hair pokes her head in the door. “Kelly Reynolds?”

“Yes?”

“Phone call for you. You want to take it at my desk? I can wait here with your sons.” She whisks me out of the room and points to a desk, closing the door on my boys at the same time.

“Thanks.”

“I’m Sergeant Ridley. I’ll wait with them, and then I can give you an update when you’re done. Line two. Just press the red blinking light.” She smiles through perfectly peachy lips.

I watch her walk back to the room where Hunter and Beau are, and I pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“You okay?”

It’s Andrew.

“We’re fine. What’s going on? Are you at the house?”

“Yeah. Tucker has the police here. Looks like whoever broke the key off in the door didn’t really do much inside. We just walked around, and I couldn’t really see anything out of place or stolen. Tucker wonders if he ever even got inside, maybe got scared away by a neighbor instead.”

I exhale. “I hate the idea of someone in the house.”

“Well, Tucker will check the security camera footage from the guard house and the ones at our doors. If there’s anything, he’ll follow up with the police.”

“Did the alarm go off?”

“No. It wasn’t armed.”

I silently curse my forgetfulness. Stupid pregnancy brain. “Do we need to stay here, then?”

“Well, there’s one other thing we’re following up on.”

“Yes?”

“We had a fire alarm pulled at the restaurant, and it looks like it was to get us out of the building.”

“Why?”

“Maybe to make me a target.”

“And when you went outside?”

“Jeremy and I were all sneaky and went out the back to his car, not ours. Janus came to check the alarm, went back to the car, and the tires were slashed.”

“Jesus, Andrew. This person’s getting worse.”

There’s a long pause on the other side of the phone. “It feels like that, doesn’t it?”

“Who could it be?”

“Well, the police’s job is to figure that out. But I’m sending Janus down there to get you.”

“I love you. I’m scared.”

“I love you. And I’m scared too. But we’ll be okay. I promise you that. I won’t let anyone hurt my family. It won’t happen. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.” When I hang up, I watch Sergeant Ridley walk out of the conference room and back over to me.

“Is he coming to meet you?”

“He’s sending someone. If he showed up here, it’d be a mess.”

She nods. “True. Let me fill you in. We like a friendly for this.”

“A friendly? What’s that mean?”

“Someone who has access to your inner circle in some tangential way. A maid, a housekeeper, a personal assistant.”

“We don’t have any of those.”

She raises an eyebrow. “That’s not very Hollywood of you.”

“We don’t live here. We like Idaho.”

She smiles. “I could see that. Fair enough. We’re going to recheck backgrounds, look at phone logs. We’ll start with any personal employees, then folks on the last couple of Andrew’s movies. Is there anyone else we should look into?”

I rack my brain. I can’t even fathom knowing someone who would want to hurt or scare us. “I can’t think of anyone. I haven’t made a lot of enemies. I don’t think Andrew has, either.”

“Well, your employees are a place to start. We’ll keep you posted.”

I get up and turn to collect my kids from the conference room. Janus is standing there waiting for me.

“Are you driving us home?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He takes a step forward. “Would you like me to drive your car back? An officer drove me here.”

“Janus, you never call me ma’am. Don’t start now.”

“Okay, Ms. Reynolds. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.”

We get the boys, and I spend the first part of the drive explaining what little I know to them. Beau’s eyes widen at the idea of someone in our house.

“Are we going to have to stay there? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.” He shivers.

My heart tightens. “Beau, honey, you can sack out with your brother in his room. I bet you that right now Tucker is getting extra help for watching the house too.”

Hunter chimes in. “Yeah, we can pull my mattress off the loft bed, and drag yours in. It’ll be slumber party central.” Hunter’s never wanted to have Beau in his room. Maybe he’s a little spooked too. I know I am.

The boys relax a little with a plan, and Janus looks up in the rearview. “You need gas. Should we stop and fill the tank?”

“Sure.”

We pull into the station, and Janus gets out to pump gas. I get out to stretch my legs. My back and knee are aching. The baby has been living up to his name and hiccupping for the whole ride back, shifting around and pushing into my ribs, doing an all-around great job of making me uncomfortable.

“I have to tell you something,” Janus blurts out. He looks shaken.

“Janus, what?” I’ve never even heard him talk this much.

“I heard the policewoman mention phone checks on your employees.”

“Yes. I think they’re doing that.”

“Ms. Reynolds, I’m so sorry. Please don’t fire me.”

I swallow hard. “For what?”

His eyes tear up. “I’ve got a mom back in the Philippines. She’s really sick. Her meds every month…” He trails off.

“Janus, tell me what you did.” My heart pounds.

“That day, in the doctor’s office? When the paparazzi ambushed us in the parking garage?”

I remember that, of course. Hard to forget when your boyfriend has to drag you out through a gauntlet of screaming photographers. “Yes?”

“I called them. A website offered me five thousand dollars if I tipped them off.”

Holy hell. That’s a ton of money. “I’ll tell Tucker. I’ll talk to him about it. That’s not what we’re worried about right now, anyway.”

He hugs me, right there by the gas pump: a huge crying Filipino security guard holding on to a massively pregnant Softee ice cream lady.

We get back in the car, and Janus drives us home. No one says a word.

There is nothing about this life that makes any kind of sense.