Trouble Me (23 page)

I T
HINK
H
AVING
A P
ARTY
I
S
M
ADNESS
, particularly a party at our house five days after a possible break-in. Kelly’s been silent about it. Tucker thinks we should go ahead with our lives and not cancel things that are important.

But this party isn’t important to me. It’s important to Aaronson. It’s not even a good idea in Jeremy’s opinion, and the whole stalker thing usually is no big deal to him. He used to think of stalking as a sign that I’m popular and said it “comes with the territory,” but he said
no way
to this party after the latest incident.

But the one thing that made us go through with it was Tucker’s idea: flush the guy out. Make the stalker show himself. Bust him. Get him out of our lives.

And I can’t argue with that. The sooner the bastard’s in jail, the better. Kelly’s not sleeping again. The boys are sleeping in one room, and they’re worried about Kelly, picking up on their mom’s distress. No matter that we told them the whole business with the police station was a precaution. They’re not stupid.

So, let’s get this guy arrested and be done. I can be bait for a night if that’s what it takes.

It’s a grand affair, in celebration of the Independent Spirit Awards and Aaronson. He’s getting a producing award. As soon as he sees me, he wants to talk about
The Bull, The Bear, and the Dragon
, of course, which is deep in post-production and due to release in late March. Eventually he gets around to asking about my current project, and I have to choose my words carefully. The indie I’m shooting,
Leave No Trace
, I hate. When I took it, it was fine. Now, not so much. It’s about a man and his fiancée who go camping. She steps out of the tent in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and never comes back. The whole thing’s a mystery about who took her and what happened, and it sets my teeth on edge given current events. Art damn near imitates life, and I don’t like it one bit.

Tucker’s got every Apotheosis security guy on the job tonight. We picked this house because of the gated community and the high wall around our property. The guys crawl all over it tonight, and there’s a SWAT team from the city too. Some of them hide in the shrubs behind the swimming pool. I pity the poor schmuck who tries to sneak off to smoke a joint. If he doesn’t get his head blown off by the snipers on the roof of the house, he’ll be lucky not to be pummeled senseless by the guys in the bushes.

On the other end of the bizarre spectrum of tonight’s festivities: Sandy and Jeremy hired Quique Fox, the biggest party planner in LA. Quique is a diva. He demands a huge paycheck and perfection.

When he suggested a 1920s theme, I nodded. I don’t give a rat’s ass. Kelly doesn’t care. She did shut down his several ideas about live animals. But the rest, Quique ruled over. There are Packards parked by the swimming pool. The band plays Cotton Club jazz. Martini glasses fill tables where lilies are piled in high clusters. I said hell no to dressing in costume. Kelly said yes, mostly because the boys agreed to it too. But the servers are all in twenties attire: robin’s egg blue uniforms straight out of a Ziegfeld Follies film. Lots of guests wear flapper dresses or pinstriped suits.

I stand over by the bar, a long, heavy wood ordeal under a canvas tent, and wish I had a drink in my hand. A real drink. I want one tonight. Badly. It’s the strongest temptation I’ve felt since rehab.

And if not a drink, then I want Kelly in my arms. I wish for a dark corner to pull her into. I want to have my way with her.

But our life’s not cooperating with this idea. The last time I saw Kelly, she was sitting rubbing her feet. She looked tired. She needed to lie down. I can’t ravage her when she looks so pale and worried.

I’m the host, the all-powerful Andy Pettigrew, Mr. Newly-Minted Earns-Eight-Figures. I can’t get a drink, and I can’t get laid. Oh yeah, and someone wants me dead. Great party.

So, I walk to the top step of the stairs to the deck, and I watch over the mayhem.

There’s a girl in a lemon yellow flapper dress. She’s wandering along the back wall of the yard, a young guy in a beanie trailing along behind her. She keeps picking up on some line of a song and singing just that line, before her voice breaks, like she’s going to cry. I swear I see her look around to see if anyone is paying attention.

Stupid actress. I have zero patience for this kind of bullshit drama. For an actor, I’m not a very good fit in Hollywood. LA gets so old sometimes I could spit.

Instead of spitting, I decide to look for a cigarette. I want one.

But then I see Hunter run across the lawn, laughing with Beau. I sigh and thank the universe for the reminder of why I’m not smoking anymore. I go to find a toothpick instead.

I start to turn the corner to cut through the garage door when I hear Amanda’s throaty laugh. “Yeah, I know. Andy’s like that!”

Oh God. I have to see Amanda. Jordan the dick must’ve invited her. I didn’t vet the guest list; Jeremy did. Figures.

I walk around the corner of the house.

There she is, holding court in the side yard by the recycling. She is smoking. There are three men sitting at her feet. I kid you not.

“Like what?” I walk up to them.

Amanda jumps, drops her cigarette. One of the men scrambles to pick it up for her, but curses as he catches the lit end of it in his palm.

“Andy!” Amanda rushes over and throws her arms around me.

I peel her off. She reeks of booze. “Like what?”

She shifts nervously, waves a hand to the men, who are now all on their feet. “You know, we were just talking about how you’re always trying to be perfect.”

“Huh.” I narrow my eyes at the men. They blanch, look anywhere but at me, and start to inch away from Amanda, eager to escape.

Amanda stands next to me and smiles. “We’re alone now.”

Shit
. That wasn’t where this was headed. “You mean you’re alone now. I’m leaving.” I turn to go.

She takes my arm. “Wait, Andy. Please.”

I stop for a second. “I need to find my fiancée.”

“Aren’t you bored? Rumor is you’re bored. Ready to admit what you really want.” She’s still holding on to my arm, pulls herself close to me.

I try to step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.
You
don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going, Amanda. You need to let go of me.”

She makes a weird little noise, and if it were anyone else, I’d say it was crying, but Amanda’s always been cold as a snake in my experience.

The lemon yellow dress girl comes around the corner just then, staggering and yelling, “Watch out! I think I’m gonna be sick.” She makes a beeline for the recycling bins.

This is my life in Hollywood in one shitty little nutshell.

Yellow girl pukes her guts out, and I peel Amanda off of me again. “Please, Amanda, leave me alone. I don’t want to go back to anything that was. I do know what I want. I want Kelly. I don’t want you. Please.”

Amanda makes one more swipe, pulling me by the arm close to her, trying, I think, to kiss me. She’s stinking drunk. Otherwise she’d never put herself out there for this kind of rejection, not like this. Whether she admits it or not, she has to have gotten my message.

“Jesus. Amanda, stop. I’m walking away.” I push away from her and take three large strides across the side yard to the garage door.

“Are you Andy Pettigrew? Did she kiss you? Holy shit.” Yellow dress girl has her head up out of the blue recycling bin. “Where’s my phone?”

Amanda lets out a sob and throws herself on the ground. The girl plops down next to her and pats her on the back, like she’s petting a puppy.

I need to find Kelly now. This is getting out of hand.

I walk through the garage, and Tucker greets me, not Kelly.

“Good, I need you. Come back out here.” He takes me by the elbow and steps into the garage.

“Wait, is this night about to get worse? Of course it is.”

“Maybe not. We have a suspect. A good one.”

“Amanda just threw herself at me. In a pretty certifiable way.”

Tucker’s brow wrinkles. “Yeah, she’s still on my radar. But it looks like somebody else.”

“Who?”

“Devon. The tutor.”

“What in the hell?” My stomach heaves. The guy who’s been in my house, taking care of my kids…

“They’ll take him for questioning tonight. It’s not rock solid, but it looks good. He was in New York at the right time; he has a record.”

“No, he doesn’t. You checked.”

“He lied.”

“Then throw his ass in jail. I’m ready to be done with all of this.”

Tucker claps me on the shoulder and steers me into the house. “Me too. Let’s go find Kelly.”

A
ARONSON’S
P
ARTY
S
UCKS
, but I didn’t have a better idea. I just called all hands on deck for help and moral support, and I was relieved Mari could make it. She’s just gotten a reception job down at the Sony lot, but I’ve tried really hard to make time to see her. She’s new in town, like me, after all.

She stands next to me as we survey the party, now in full swing. Andrew has disappeared somewhere…

“A Gatsby party. Huh.” Mari watches two teetering flappers flap by.

“What’s the huh?” I look at Mari and pull my gloves back up to my elbows.

“Does that mean I’m the Jordan to your Daisy?” she asks.

“Then does that mean Andrew is Tom, Daisy’s rotten husband? I don’t like that thought.”

She twirls her pearl necklace. “No. No, he’s definitely Gatsby.”

Her eyes, her expression, go to some faraway place for a split second—like she’s remembering some distant place with a green light of her own. Her face is slack, dreamy, for just that moment, and I’m about to break her out of her reverie when we both turn in the direction of a commotion.

An angry man yells, “This is bullshit.”

“You need to come with us, sir.” A different male voice, flat but firm.

“This is total bullshit. Don’t you see that?” The angry man sounds louder, angrier.

At first I can’t see, and Mari and I press through the crowd toward the pool.

There are two uniformed officers, one with a hand on his gun, like that’s how he casually stands, and the other with a hand up, showing the way to someone, reasoning with him.

It’s Devon. Devon the tutor, who we invited to the party at the boys’ request. He shakes his head vehemently about something. Tucker and Janus are both standing to the left of him.

Mari touches my shoulder. “What’s going on?”

I lead her around the pool, over to the group of men.

Jeremy catches my arm before I make it very far. “Hold up there, cowgirl. Let Beverly’s finest deal with him.”

“What’s going on?”

“Maybe Andrew better fill you in, but I’ll give you the short version. Your tutor there? He’s the one scaring the shit out of all of you. He’s your stalker.”

“What? How can that be?”

“The security guys at Apotheosis found out he lied on his background check. He had a previous conviction, under a different name in Texas.”

“For what?”

“Harassment. Broke an ex-girlfriend’s no-contact order. Threw a rock through her window.”

“But he did all of the stuff to us?”

“He was in New York when Andrew got pushed, and he was in LA for The Ivy and the tires, so it looks like it.”

“Hold up. Andrew got what?”

Jeremy’s face falls flat. “Andrew hasn’t told you that part. I’m dead.” He turns and watches the cops lead Devon away, then walks after them, in a hurry all of a sudden.

Andrew walks up.

“Jeremy told me. You lied, Andrew.”

Mari touches my elbow. “Kelly, take it easy. Think about Hiccup.”

“Mari, can you go find the boys? Help them get ready for bed. It’s late.”

“Kelly.”

Cold as ice, I stare at her. “Please, Mari.” She nods and leaves.

Andrew’s hands are deep in his pockets. I’m suddenly aware of my stupid 1920s outfit and stupid wig, and I start yanking things off: feather boa, elbow-length gloves, necklaces.

“No one told me someone tried to kill you. You said it was an accident. You lied.”

“Tucker and I thought it was best. We weren’t sure what was going on.”

“You weren’t sure you were pushed?” My pulse intensifies.

“No, we knew that.”

“And you think it was Devon? All of it?”

“It looks like that, yes.”

“I can’t do this.” I kick off my stupid shoes.

“Kelly, what are you doing?”

I turn my back on him and get a good look at the crowd that’s been watching me scream at Andrew. Deep shame and fear rush through me. I feel faint, sick, and furious.

Raging, I throw my shoes over the garden wall instead of taking one of the onlookers’ heads off. “Party’s over. You all don’t give a crap about him anyway. You’re sycophants, and you don’t care if he lives or dies, so long as you get to come to the party. Get out of my house!”

I scream so loud my voice goes hoarse, like blown-out speakers at a concert. I wipe my mouth, wet with tears and rage and spit.

I run inside. I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m humiliated. I’m trying to understand that I know the person who was scaring us, and he wanted Andrew dead—all while he sat at my kitchen table, helping my boys with their homework.

I get to the master suite and rush into the bathroom. I throw up, retching until I’m empty inside.

“Kelly?” It’s Andrew at the bathroom door.

“If anyone comes in this bedroom tonight, I swear I’m getting in the car and driving away. Don’t you push me tonight. Don’t do it.”

I don’t hear a response, just footsteps down the hall.

I finally am able to take a deep breath, wipe my face with a washcloth, go into the empty bedroom, and crawl under the covers in my stupid flapper dress.

Thank God for blind rage, because I can’t even entertain what all this new information means for me, my boys, my baby, Andrew. I cry angry, terrified tears until I fall asleep exhausted, wrung dry.

I do not dream.

I wake up to the sound of my boys’ voices. They giggle in the kitchen, and I hear Mari’s melodic voice mix with theirs. The pale light of morning filters through the windows.

I’m awake, and my boys are okay
.

I think back to my last thoughts and feelings, and they’re there, but they’ve been muted by the heaviness of sleep.

I need to talk to Andrew. I need to set my head straight. It was Jeremy, after all, who told me about New York. He might be completely wrong.

But Andrew didn’t correct me when I asked. He said he didn’t know what to do.

I need to talk to him.

I hate how mad I was last night. I hate that I was that mad in front of people.

If I was on his side of that screaming lunatic last night, I’d be done, I’m sure. I can’t constantly treat him like dirt and chalk it up to the hormones of pregnancy. There are plenty of pregnant women who are kind and pleasant and balanced. I’m acting crazy, and if I want him to be mine, I need to knock it the hell off.

I will lose him. I will drive him away.

And he’ll go away somewhere where I can’t make sure he’s safe. And then I will lose him like I lost Peter. Forever.

My heart pounds, and I hear my breath. I’m hyperventilating. I just told myself that any more crazy behavior would put him over the edge, and here I am having a panic attack. Again.

I sit up in bed. I try to take deep breaths. I keep as quiet as I can.

“Kelly?” Andrew’s on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Uh-huh?” It’s all I can get out and still sound normal. I gulp at the air, trying to get a grip on my racehorse heart.

“Can I come in?”

He can’t. He’ll see that I’m still a ridiculous crazy mess. “Let me come out. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay.”

I jump out of bed and put both arms out to brace myself, my head spinning. I get to the sink when the bedroom door opens behind me.

“Sorry, I’m not waiting. I’m worried about you.” He comes up behind me and turns me around to face him.

“Just give me a second.” I try to get another deep breath.

“Kelly, you had every right to be mad and scared.”

He looks at me for a moment, as I’m unable to respond, then takes me by the shoulders and looks me straight in the eyes. “This is a vicious cycle. Break it.”

He stares at me, steady as a rock. His blue eyes are clear, calm. He searches mine. He waits.

I breathe in again. And out again. I close my eyes and concentrate on just breathing.

“Better?”

I open my eyes. I nod. “It’s too much, Andrew. There’s too much to think about.”

He knows. He nods too. “I know. Tell you what; right now there are an amazingly annoying number of people who make money because of me, worrying about a hell of a lot of our business. Let’s let them.”

“But you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t know what to do. Tucker didn’t, either. I’m sorry.”

“You have to be one-hundred-percent honest with me. We have to be on the same page. I start wondering why you aren’t telling me everything. I wonder if you’re overwhelmed, if all this is too much.”

“Give me a little bit of credit. I’m insulted, actually. How many times do I have to propose to you before you believe that I want you? I want you. The you that threw her shoes over the wall into the neighbor’s yard, by the way.”

He smiles. He grins and shows all of those white teeth, and his eyes crinkle up. I love his smile, his real smile that crinkles up those eyes.

“C’mon. It’s funny. I don’t even know where you chucked that wig.”

I take one more big deep breath, and he pulls me into a strong hug.

“I know it’s scary. I’m scared. But we’re here together. We can do this.”

I look up at him, and he puts a hand on my stomach, smoothing his palm over what is probably Hiccup’s heel or elbow.

“Andrew…”

“Stop. Let’s just be for a while.” He kisses me, covering the rest of my sentence before it can be spoken. “We can slow all of this down until we both feel stronger. Deal?”

I hold both of his hands in mine. “Deal.”

I take the longest shower known to man, throw some yoga pants on, and get the dog’s leash. I can’t run, but I can go on a good, cleansing walk.

In the kitchen, Mari’s still here, helping the boys with their homework. Without Devon, I don’t know how we’re going to finish their school year.

And with all this craziness, I don’t know how we’re going to make room for Hiccup to enter the world. Little babies demand a lot of attention. He’s going to have a hard time.

But maybe…if Devon is the person who did all that crazy stuff, maybe our lives can quiet down now.

I still can’t wrap my head around Devon being the stalker. I should say attempted murderer. He tried to push Andrew into traffic. I can’t believe it.

“Mari, come walk the dog with me.”

She looks up from Hunter’s homework. “Okay.”

We get outside. Janus walks behind us, about twenty paces. Tucker’s still not taking any chances, not until the police piece all of it together and bring charges against Devon.

Poor Janus. Tucker and he sat down for a very difficult talk about the tabloid tip. But I pleaded for him and Andrew to give him another chance. And they did. He’s been silent and stone-faced, but Janus is still on the Apotheosis security team, and essentially our team now.

“What’s up?” Mari walks close to me, her elbow grazing mine from time to time.

“I wanted to apologize for the party. You tried to talk me down.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You just don’t appreciate what you’ve got sometimes, you know that?” Her tone verges on angry.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. I just think Andrew—you’re lucky to have him.”

I feel ashamed. She’s right. “He didn’t tell me the truth.”

“Nobody’s perfect. You’re not, are you?” She looks at me with those cornflower blue eyes. Right now they look watery and faintly bloodshot.

“Far from it.”

“I’m just saying.” Her voice cracks a bit.

“Are you okay?”

She pulls her hair out of its ponytail, shakes her head a little, takes a deep breath. “You know the brother I mentioned? His name was Cameron.”

“What about Cameron?”

“I was watching him. Mom and Dad were out for the afternoon, just running a few errands. Two hours at the most.”

My stomach clenches. “Mari, what happened?”

“We were watching TV. He got out the back door, and I was busy getting cereal. I went to the bathroom, and I wasn’t thinking that he wasn’t watching TV anymore.”

“Oh, Mari.”

“He went into the backyard and fell in the pool. When I found him, he was floating face down. I called nine-one-one, pulled him out, did CPR the best I could.”

We continue to walk. Tears stream down her face.

“Oh, Mari.” I put an arm around her shoulder.