Absolutely True Lies (18 page)

“Can we be spies?” I asked. “And give ourselves spy names?”

Ben stared at me, trying to decide if I was serious. “You are an interesting woman” was all he said.

•  •  •

I
wasn’t really kidding about the spy names (hey, why not?), but when it became clear that Ben wasn’t receptive to the idea, I just reveled in being Holly for the day. Not someone’s employee or lackey, just me.

We spent the entire morning at the Vatican, even kissing the Pope’s ring. I bought my mother a blessed rosary, hoping it would make up for my recent lack of phone calls, and along with Ben, marveled at the strange grandeur of the world’s only religious city-state. If St. Peter’s Basilica is any indication, God is a really big fan of gold leaf. We have that in common.

Though I wanted to keep my emotions in check in front of this man I barely knew, I found myself overwhelmed a number of times that day. First by Michelangelo’s Pietà, depicting the Virgin Mary holding the dead Jesus in her arms, and then again when we finally reached the Sistine Chapel. I say “finally” because the museum around it is a labyrinth of signs and stairs that seem to go on for miles. I had almost given up when I set one foot inside the chapel and inhaled so deeply I almost passed out. The masterpiece
was like nothing I’d ever seen before, nor would I even trust myself to describe it with any measure of accuracy. It was, quite simply, breathtaking.

By 1:00
P.M.
, I was light-headed and overwhelmed, and I was grateful that Ben recognized this without having to be told. We found a small restaurant for lunch, stuffed ourselves with pasta, and then found some more gelato. I was already full up to my ears, but the thought of just passing by the ice cream shop was unacceptable, so I shoved down more food and hoped I wouldn’t have to vomit into a nearby trash can.

In the afternoon, we explored Castel Sant’Angelo and the residential neighborhood of Trastevere. Rome is such a tourist attraction, I never really thought about the people who call the city home. We sat in a park and talked as school let out for the afternoon, flooding the swing sets and benches with giggling children. The mothers stood by chatting, sometimes offering a snack or doctoring a small wound. It was unlike anything I’d seen in the United States. I know that we have a million parks, but there’s such a cliquey atmosphere to our neighborhood interactions. I grew up in a small town and knew the names of maybe ten percent of the people on my block, and I certainly never would have thought to strike up conversations with most of those folks. Here it was like every mother was a sort of parent to every child, regardless of how well she knew him or her. The sense of community in this tiny Roman enclave made me never want to leave. Three times, one of the mothers walked by and nodded to us, each time with a “hello.” I couldn’t figure out how they knew we were American, but we were highly amused by it.

I’d love to say I recall every detail of that day, but I don’t. Ben and I walked and walked, and talked and talked, for twelve full hours. And try as we might, we couldn’t see everything in one day. We both wanted to visit the Colosseum, but by the time we made it back to that part of town, the tours had shut down for the day. It
was after eight when we realized that our legs were numb and our stomachs were empty.

We stumbled back toward Piazza Navona and stopped for pizza at Montecarlo, a boisterous place brimming with college students and locals. We took seats in the back and worked our way through the greatest margherita pizza I’ve ever tasted. By this point, the waistband of my jeans was cutting off the circulation to my legs, but I didn’t care. If I gained twenty pounds in Rome, it would be worth it.

When the waiter approached with the check, I asked to see the dessert menu.

“Oh, dear God,” Ben moaned, laughing. “You cannot be serious. If we eat anything else, we’ll need to have our stomachs pumped.”

“We’re in one of the greatest cities in the world. I think it’s actually illegal here to skip dessert.”

Before he could talk me out of it, I ordered a piece of ricotta cheesecake and chocolate mousse. This earned a fresh round of groaning, but Ben didn’t stop me.

“So . . .” he asked the instant the waiter was out of earshot, “is it true you’re dating Vaughn Royce?”

I glanced up from my coffee, unsure how to answer that question. “Where did you hear that?”

“Sharla. She said the two of you had been hanging out since Miami.”

There really was no such thing as a secret on a film set. “
Hanging out
is a good way to put it.”

He watched my face for a few moments, though I’m not sure what he was looking for. “But you want to date him.”

Ben was more direct than anyone I’d ever met, including my mother. It felt especially odd because there also didn’t appear to be any judgment in his questioning. “I don’t know,” I told him. I almost left it there, until I realized Ben could be a good sounding board. Unlike Camille, he didn’t have any preconceived notions
about me—and he knew Vaughn fairly well. “I think he’s interested in me. We’ve spent a good deal of time together. But he’s never told me how he feels, one way or the other.”

“And you’re not sure how you feel about him?”

“I’m not.” I paused, considering the question. Despite my attraction and the emotions swirling around in my head, I’d tried not to focus too much on Vaughn. Not in the middle of a job that had the potential to change my whole world. “I like him. I think he’s a lot of fun, and we definitely have things in common. But I don’t like uncertainty. And for someone who puts so much effort into what he does and says, he can randomly be pretty thoughtless.”

The desserts arrived and neither of us made a move to eat them. Ben ignored the waitress, instead continuing to focus on me. In my limited time with him, I’d already noticed that you could almost see the gears turning in his brain when he was mulling something over. It was like opening the front of a working clock and peering inside.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Ben said. He paused, still constructing his thought. “Vaughn can be a lot of fun and I can see why the two of you get along. But be careful around him.”

I was taken aback by the warning. I waited to see if there were more specifics, but Ben appeared to be done. “Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say. Thanks? I will? You have nothing to worry about?

Ben seemed satisfied with my response, and even dug into the desserts. After engaging me in conversation all day, he was surprisingly quiet for the last part of the meal and the beginning of our walk back to the hotel. The behavior didn’t immediately raise any red flags, as I’d already noticed Ben didn’t make idle conversation. When he spoke, there was always a purpose to his words. So when he stayed quiet, I assumed he simply had nothing left to say.

Boy, was I wrong.

A few blocks from the hotel, Ben reached out and lightly grasped my hand. I was so astonished I came to a screeching halt, causing an older woman to run into me. She cursed me with an Italian word
I didn’t know, then veered around me. I still hadn’t moved. It was a miracle I hadn’t instinctively yanked my hand away. I think the whole event was so unexpected my mind couldn’t process what was happening.

Ben must have seen the look on my face. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have done that.” He did not, however, let go of my hand. Maybe he was afraid I might run away once untethered.

I had no idea what was going on. “I’m just surprised. Especially given our earlier conversation.”

“Really?” Ben’s expression said that he didn’t believe me. “Because I like to think of myself as a fairly transparent person. I thought I was making myself pretty clear all day.”

Not clear enough, apparently. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t notice. And you said to be careful with Vaughn, but you didn’t say not to date him.”

“I’d never tell you what to do,” he said. “But I also wouldn’t leave you doubting how I felt about you. You’re great. You deserve someone who treats you that way.”

The implication being, Vaughn wouldn’t. More than anything, I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Ben was attracted to me. I could see how I fit with a man like Vaughn; he was handsome, but in a quirky, tortured intellectual way. We were two peas in a geek pod. But Ben, he was different. He looked like he could pose for a Calvin Klein ad in the morning, spend his afternoon working on the design of a new Trump skyscraper, then go home and grill a porterhouse to perfection. He was direct, almost statesmanlike, and I hadn’t yet noticed a quirky bone in his body. I don’t know exactly who I would have paired him with, but it definitely wasn’t me.

I mulled over these concerns so long that Ben took my silence the wrong way and released my hand. “Look, it’s fine. We’re both adults, I’ll get over it.”

“What?” I cried. Usually, I screw things up by opening my mouth. This time I’d done it without a single word. “No, my reac
tion isn’t what you think. Honestly, I don’t know what my reaction is. I’m a little slow sometimes.”

“But it’s probably not a great sign that you’re this shocked,” he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

I had to make a split-second decision, and I didn’t quite know how. While I would have preferred a few days to think about the possibilities with Ben, I knew I didn’t have that kind of time. Men like him claim they recover from romantic defeats, but they really don’t. Any chance I had with him started and ended right at that moment. But how could I choose when I hadn’t even considered him in that way?

And then there was the issue of Vaughn. I was attracted to him and I thought he was attracted to me, but he’d yet to make a move. And here I had another—pretty fantastic—man that I could just pluck right off the vine. I momentarily felt like a cheater until I realized I had no real responsibility to Vaughn. If he was truly jealous about me going out with Ben, he could tell me himself.

In the end, I used a method that has yet to fail me. I opened my mouth and just waited to see what came out.

“Can I be blunt?” I asked.

“Better than just about anyone I’ve ever met,” Ben replied. “But yes, please say what you need to.”

Partly because I need to move to think and partly because we were holding up the sidewalk traffic, I started walking again. Putting one foot in front of the other in a measured, methodical way made it easier to pace my thoughts. “I know that a lot of women eye every man like a piece of meat, but my brain doesn’t work that way. And this isn’t some game. . . . I don’t even bother playing games, it’s too exhausting.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he said.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m an idiot.” When Ben opened his mouth to protest, I quickly added, “Socially, anyway.” I paused, trying to find the right words, and fast enough that this didn’t dissolve into an awkward silence. “I like you, I really do.”

“But not in that way . . .” Ben finished.

“I didn’t say that.” Those four words were the first I hadn’t actively constructed, so I suddenly knew what I wanted. Sometimes I even surprise myself. “I just needed a minute or two to think about it.”

There are some moments in life when it feels like the physical atmosphere around you changes in a blink of an eye. In one instant, I was nervous and confused, and in the next, I felt a static charge in the air.

Ben gave me his cute little smirk. “And?”

I launched myself up on my toes and kissed him. He was unprepared for the kiss, but it took only a second or two before he relaxed into me. Vaughn could be noncommittal all he wanted, but that wasn’t the way I operated.

Like I said, sometimes I even surprise myself.

•  •  •

O
ur fingers were still intertwined when we approached the InterContinental. In fact, we were both so dazed from the recent revelation that we failed to notice the melee outside the hotel until we were less than a block away.

Though how I could have missed it, even from the end of the street, I don’t know. The fans had been pushed to one side of the block, and paparazzi now swarmed the entrance, illuminating the façade of the building with rapid camera flashes. And in the space directly in front of the door, two police cars were parked haphazardly, the officers being ushered inside by Vaughn.

“Oh, God,” I said under my breath. Ben was too stunned to say anything at all.

We approached the security line and were shouted at for a few seconds before Daisy’s big, silent bodyguards saw me and walked over, moving the sawhorse aside for me and Ben to enter. We hustled inside the hotel, and I didn’t even realize I was still clutching Ben
until Vaughn caught sight of me, shooting an angry and pained look at our hands.

Vaughn recovered well, turning and crossing to us. I think it helped that he had bigger things to worry about.

“What’s going on?” I asked, filled with dread. Whatever was happening, I knew it couldn’t be good.

Vaughn took a moment to answer, a panicked expression on his face. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, terrified. “Daisy’s missing.”

CHAPTER 14

For someone so young, I do have a lot of responsibilities, which can feel a little heavy at times. I can’t be late for work or to a meeting. Not only is it rude and bad business, since I’m the star, but very little can happen without me. If I’m late or don’t show up where I’m supposed to, it costs people money. And if there’s one thing my mama taught me, it’s the value of a dollar.

But it gets hard sometimes when thirty people always have to know where you are. I can’t disappear for an afternoon at the movies or a quiet lunch by myself. In my world, there’s no such thing as quiet.

T
en minutes later, we were piling into Daisy’s suite with the Italian police leading the charge. At the door, Vaughn stopped me, his eyes carefully trained on Ben.

“It’s not appropriate for your friend to be here.”

In the haze of the last few minutes, I’d almost forgotten about Ben’s presence. Well, not his presence so much as the strangeness of it. There was so much strange to go around, my newfound crush got lost in the mix. But Vaughn was absolutely right; Ben shouldn’t be anywhere near this debacle. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure I should be, either. It wasn’t like I could write about any of it.

“It’s not a problem,” Ben said quietly. “I’ll talk to you later.” He
squeezed my hand and backed away, but not before exchanging a death stare with Vaughn.

“I don’t know why she’s even here,” Jamie yelled in my general direction. His face was red and puffy, and he looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. I’m sure he was just adding up the financial losses incurred with every passing hour. I wasn’t sentimental enough to believe that he actually cared about Daisy’s welfare.

“I asked her to come up,” Faith replied tearfully. She had been sobbing for most of the last few minutes, and there was a trail of makeup and snot running down her face. She didn’t seem to notice. “Holly’s one of Daisy’s best friends.”

I was what now?

“Fine,” Jamie barked. “But get inside and close the fucking door. The last thing we need is the rest of the hotel hearing about this.”

“The rest of the
world
knows about this,” Vaughn shot back, being far more insubordinate than I’d yet seen him. “How the hell did that happen?”

It took two of his monster strides for Jamie to cross the room and get right in Vaughn’s face. Though Vaughn was about the same height, Jamie had a good forty pounds on him—there was little doubt in my mind who would go down in a fight. I also suspected Jamie wasn’t above fighting dirty.

“Listen to me, you pissant piece of shit,” Jamie hissed. “The little bitch hopped on the back of the motorcycle in plain view of the paparazzi. They all have pictures of it. What was I supposed to do?”

“Keep her under control,” Vaughn shot back coolly. “How about that?”

I had yet to hear the story in its entirety, but I had gleaned the basic outline of events. As I had seen myself the previous day, Daisy was increasingly bizarre and spacey, though no one could say exactly why (or what she was on). After throwing a tantrum over the lunch truck being late—which I couldn’t understand at all, given her weird
diet predilections—she’d started screaming at the fans. Right in front of the sea of photographers and videographers.

When Jamie had tried to calm her down and forcibly pull her away from the crowd, Daisy had apparently bitten him and then run out into the street, whereupon she jumped on a Vespa that was stopped at a light. Why the cyclist hadn’t thrown her off the bike, I’ll never know, but he continued on with Daisy on the back, disappearing from sight before the police and security could respond. By the time of the frantic meeting, Daisy had been missing for three hours and hadn’t contacted anyone.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Faith sniffled softly. “She’s a very resourceful girl.”

The eyes of everyone in the room moved to Faith as if to say,
Really?

“I don’t care how she is,” Jamie hissed. “The little whore fucking bit me. Has everyone forgotten that?” He held up a haphazardly bandaged hand that was bloody on one side.

“You should probably go to the hospital for that,” I said, cringing. “Human bites almost always get infected.”

My random, esoteric knowledge was met with a look that said Jamie was hoping my face melted off. “Was I talking to you?”

Fine,
I thought.
Let the wound fester and you can die from Daisy’s insanity.

The police began speaking in rapid-fire Italian, which prompted nothing but looks of confusion from the occupants of the room. I caught a few words that sounded familiar, but that may have been due to their similarity to English words I already knew.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Jamie boomed, using the flawless, age-old logic that if someone doesn’t speak the same language, you should yell louder. “We need to find Daisy.
Now
.”

“We are many of us out looking,” one of the men replied haltingly, taking long moments to formulate his words.

“Really? ’Cause all I see are assholes standing around, staring at their own feet,” Jamie roared in the cop’s face.

From the withering look Jamie received in return, it was clear that the officer didn’t exactly understand what was said, but he didn’t like the tone being leveled at him. The cop turned and started a new line of conversation with his fellow officers—not that we understood a word of it.

“I should call Deacon,” Faith said. “I can’t believe I forgot to call Deacon. I’m sure he’s already seen the press and is out of his mind. He’ll want to know what’s going on.”

Jamie glared down at Faith like she was the lowest form of slimy, disease-ridden insect. “If Deacon gave a flying fuck, you’d have already heard from him.”

His tone was so cruel, Faith burst into a fresh round of sobs and ran off to the bedroom. Vaughn sighed and rubbed his eyes. Everyone in the room seemed stuck, unable to think of anything to do or say.

The silence must have been unbearable for Jamie as well, because he unleashed another expletive-laden barrage on the police. The officers continued to try to communicate, but they knew only a few words of English, and it wasn’t long before the room was a cacophony of two clashing languages.

Vaughn, who had thus far ignored me, leaned over and said quietly, “I need to hire a translator before Jamie decks one of these guys and we get tossed out of the country.”

Now, an idea had been floating around in my mind for the last several minutes, but I knew it was a bad one. Or at the very least, ill-advised. But as the tension continued to escalate, I began to think that any option was worth consideration. So I opened my mouth and hoped that I wouldn’t regret my words.

“Um . . . there is someone who might be able to help.”

“Who?” Vaughn cried. “I’m desperate, I’ll take anybody.”

I had a feeling he might change his mind in the next few hours. “I think Ben speaks a little Italian. I’m not positive, but he managed to communicate pretty well today.” In fact, in the entire fourteen
hours we were together, he’d never hesitated with a single order or even hello on the street. And I suppose he could have been bluffing, but he looked like he understood every comment or question lobbed at him.

Vaughn’s gaze immediately went blank. I’ve never met anyone whose main reaction is having no reaction at all. “Huh” was all he said at first.

From across the room, I heard Jamie grunt. “Who’s the damn president of this godforsaken country? I want him in this hotel room in twenty minutes!”

Finally, Vaughn sighed. Without looking at me, he said, “Find Ben.”

•  •  •

B
y 1:00
A.M.
, the room had taken on a deathly pall. We were all still there, sitting silently in the living area, but people rarely spoke. And though Ben had claimed his Italian was rudimentary, he had no problem conversing with the police officers. Which, as the night wore on, became less and less of a necessity as the tips and sightings dried up. I remained in the center of the couch, sandwiched between Ben and Vaughn. I kept waiting for one of them to move, but neither budged.

At about midnight, someone had given Faith a Valium, and so she was now relaxed and a little loopy, wandering around the room like a drunken fairy. She stayed largely quiet, but every once in a while felt the need to remind us that Daisy was an excellent judge of character and never got into any real trouble. We all just nodded, barely listening.

I spent the night trying to formulate an opinion on the current crisis. I’d love to tell you that I felt empathy for Daisy, but I was oddly apathetic.
I know it sounds terrible, but she was the architect of her own destruction and part of me truly felt like she needed to hit some kind of bottom if she had any hope of developing into a
decent human being. As long as the people in her life insisted on bailing her out of every scrape, they were only reinforcing the belief that the rules didn’t apply to her. And even if she was above the general law now, I knew that most starlets in her position didn’t have the happiest endings. Once Hollywood was done with her—and that happened to all of them sooner or later—she’d be nothing but a relatively unskilled has-been with no ability to live within her means.

At one-thirty, just after Faith fell asleep on the floor, the phone rang. She was so drugged, she didn’t even roll over. Vaughn was quicker than Jamie, deliberately grabbing the receiver before the manager could reach it.

“Hello?” There was foreign chattering on the other end of the line, and after a few seconds, Vaughn thrust the phone at Ben without making eye contact. “Here.”

“Ciao,”
Ben answered.
“Qualche notizie?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vaughn mimic the words. Jamie stared at Ben from a few feet away, waiting for a facial expression that might betray the tone of the conversation, but every piece of information Ben received was met with only a thoughtful furrowed brow.

“Sì, ho capito. . . . Dove?”
He listened quietly, nodding to himself a few times.
“Grazie. . . . Arrivederla.”
Ben carefully replaced the phone, then seemed to consider what he’d just heard.

“Jesus, Benji,” Jamie exclaimed. “Just tell us what’s going on.”

Ben threw me a nervous look, and I knew he didn’t relish having to share whatever piece of information he’d just learned.
Oh, God
, I thought.
What if she’s dead?

The truth was far less disturbing, but in the grand scheme of things, just as salacious. “Um . . .” Ben hesitated. “Well . . . they found Daisy.”

“Where?” Vaughn demanded, just as angry with Ben as if he’d been responsible for kidnapping Daisy and holding her for ransom.

“She’s in jail.”