Authors: Allison Rushby
I don’t look back. Instead I dump my bag and go over to 224
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power up my desktop. Within thirty seconds, I’m sitting at my computer.
Okay, this is it.
Hold on to your horses, Jake.
With a deep breath, I go to my banking site and type in my username and password. As my account loads up, I have to take another breath. If I’m not careful, I’ll probably hyperventilate, but I need all the help I can get right now. My head isn’t 100 percent sure what I’m doing is the right thing.
But my heart is.
“Okay, here goes nothing. This is what I wanted you to see, Jake. Come on, Wendy. You can be a witness.”
“To . . . ?” Wendy asks as she and Jake both step forward.
“Giving back Jake’s dad’s money,” I say. “Because he’s already paid me some. Ready?” I click on a few buttons and then I’m set. “The money goes in and the money goes . . .
out.” I refresh my banking details. “There. It’s gone.” Wow. It really is gone. I note the numbers that fl ash up on the screen. That money is so, so gone. Oh, please, let me have done the right thing. Let there be a way out of this. For everyone involved.
I start to take yet another deep breath but then stop myself short. Because I realize something. It’s not just the money that’s disappeared.
So has my guilt. All of a sudden, I feel this sort of . . .
lightness. Like part of my worry has disappeared along with 225
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the money. And there’s something else, too. A sense that everything will be okay. That I really will fi nd a way out of this. And so will Jake. And Ned.
When I glance up, Wendy looks confused, but she must see what my actions mean to both me and Jake because of the expressions on our faces. She looks from me him, assess-ing what’s going on, then stands up and leans back. “Well, I have no idea what that was about, or why you’re giving away perfectly good money, but it was powerful, Jo. Powerful.”
“Thanks, Wendy.”
Beside her, Jake simply nods and remains silent. I can’t tell if he’s angry or happy or just in shock . . . or anything, really.
“One last thing before you go,” I say. “And this one you actually know about.” I nod at Jake. “Time to put the plan into action.” I grab my cell and bring up the right number for an after- hours call to one of my best contacts— another newspaper editor. One I actually kind of like. Maybe even trust a little bit. “Mitchell?” I say when he picks up. “Sorry to call you at this time of the morning, but I’ve got something for you. Something big . . .”
★ ★ ★
After my call to Mitchell, Jake picks up his bag. “I’d better go,” he says. “I’ve kept that cab waiting forever. Nice meeting you, Wendy.”
“You, too, Jake. Stay one of the good guys, will you?” 226
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Jake laughs. “I’ll try!”
“I’ll be back in a second to fi ll you in,” I tell Wendy as I follow Jake out onto the landing.
He pauses at the top of the steps, looking slightly uncomfortable, moving from foot to foot. “Look, Jo . . . about the money. It’s just that . . . I mean, thanks. Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that. It’s too much to ask, with school and everything—”
“But you didn’t ask,” I cut in. “I had to do it, Jake. For me.”
“But what if the money we get from our plan isn’t enough?”
I shrug. “It’ll just have to be. Or I’ll change my plans slightly. Or really look into that fl ipping burgers thing. All I know is, I couldn’t get that new start on your dad’s money. It wasn’t right.”
Jake and I stare at each other. “It’s a big deal, Jo,” he fi nally says. “A huge deal. It means a lot to me that you’re doing this. For me and for Ned, you know?” I nod. “I know.”
“I guess maybe it’s worth trusting people you barely know sometimes?”
I laugh, thinking back to my circus skills tantrum.
“Maybe,” I say, then feel a bit braver in the half-light. “It
helps if they’re gorgeous.” Eek! Where did that come from?
I hold my breath, waiting for Jake’s reply. Which, thankfully, doesn’t seem to include screaming, “Freak!” and running away down the stairs. Instead, he smiles, but it’s kind of 227
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a tired smile. Thankfully, the cab driver honks, which is a welcome distraction.
“I’d better go.” Jake waves to the cabbie, telling him he’s coming. “Thanks again, Jo. I really mean that.” He bends forward and kisses me. And even though it’s quick, my legs almost start shaking. Before he can move away, though, I kiss him back. I’m not missing opportunities to do that again.
When Jake fi nally pulls back, he smiles again. He still looks worn out, but I’m glad to see it doesn’t look like he’s tired of me. “Okay, so give me twenty- four hours to pull these meetings together, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Two o’clock, right?” he says as he gives one of my shoulders a fi nal squeeze and then starts for the stairs.
“Yep. Two,” I reply. Two. Which should just give me time to get a few hours’ rest, catch up on the work e-mails I’ve neglected while I’ve been at the retreat, deal with the wicked witch of West Hollywood (part of my delegated duties), meet Mannie for lunch tomorrow— as promised during our last IM
session— and be home again that afternoon to pull off the rest of Jake’s and my (fi ngers crossed) foolproof plan.
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19
I text Melissa around 9:00 a.m. the same day. When I get to the diner at 11:00, as arranged, she’s waiting for me. As I walk toward her I can see by the expression on her face that, today, there will be no happy cherry pie orders or girly chitchat.
Today will be all business.
I take my time in getting over to her and sitting down on the opposite side of the booth.
“Well? Where are my shots?” is all she says. She gives me a slow once- over, noting the absence of my backpack.
“Wait. You don’t have any, do you?”
“Oh, I have shots.” I pause dramatically and spend some 229
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time getting comfortable in my seat, enjoying every millisecond of this. “I have plenty of shots. I have juggling shots and balancing shots, shots of formal group time and informal group time chatting on the lawn. I have shots of him talking to girls at lunch and pensive ones of him on his own.”
“Well, where are they?”
“Where are what?”
Melissa looks as if steam is about to come out of her ears. “The shots of Ned, of course.”
I try to act confused. “Wait, I never said I had shots of Ned. I do, however, have plenty of shots of Ned’s brother, Jake.”
“Oh. I see.” Melissa eyes me for a moment, her mouth set in a hard line. “You found out. So what? Look, I’m sorry if you feel a bit used, but I knew the shots would be better if you didn’t know. More realistic. So, hand them over. I take it you have a Memory Stick with you. Or did you e-mail?”
“Um . . . no. I don’t have a Memory Stick. And I didn’t e-mail. And I’m not going to, either.”
Across the table from me, Melissa frowns as hard as her Botoxed forehead will allow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t think you’re getting this, Melissa. I’m not going to give you those shots. Ever. I only came here today to let you know that all the money’s been transferred back. Not to you, but to ML Entertainment.” I stand up, done almost as soon as I’d started. “I also wanted to let you know I won’t be working with you again.”
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Melissa laughs a croaky laugh. “And you expect me to care? Want to play games with me, little girl? When this gets around, you won’t be working with anyone again.” Perfect. “Which suits me just fi ne.” I grin as, before me, Melissa tries to frown even harder, not understanding what’s going on and why I don’t care if I never pap again.
“And you dragged me down
here to tell me this
because . . . ?”
Now it’s me who laughs. “Because otherwise, Melissa, I wouldn’t have been able to see the look on your face.” I wave my fi ngers as I depart. “Toodles, dahling!”
★ ★ ★
“Jo?” I get the call from Mannie just as I’m peddling away on my bike.
“Hang on,” I say, pulling over beside a telephone pole, which will hopefully stop Melissa if she suddenly decides to veer into me with her convertible. “Sorry,” I say, when I fi nally jump off. “Just dodging Melissa. All good now. We still on for lunch?”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Mannie speaks in a kind of half whisper.
“You busy?”
“Sort of. But we can still meet if you’re up for a bit of waiting around.”
“Hey, I’m pretty used to it. I can probably handle some more of the same.”
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“Great. You know that solarium that we’ve cased before?
The one just off Sunset?”
“Sure.” I nod, even though Mannie can’t see me. We’d sat there for hours one day, broiling in the sun, waiting for someone who turned out only to be a lookalike. Meanwhile, a number of other high- profi le stars were getting booted out of the Mondrian, and we both missed the whole thing.
“Can you meet me there?”
“Sure can. See you in twenty.”
★ ★ ★
“You said ‘toodles, dahling?’ to Melissa?” Mannie glances away from the entrance to the solarium for only a second before he turns his attention back again, worried he’ll miss his target. I can tell he’s impressed, though. If he hadn’t been, his eyes would have stayed put on the door.
“I did,” I say. “And it was quite satisfying, too.” I put my backpack down on the ground for a second and rummage around in it, pulling out the two bottles of water I’d stopped to buy along the way. “Here you go.” I uncap one and pass it over to Mannie.
“Thanks, Jo. I won’t ask how you knew I’d need this . . .”
“Oh, I knew all right.” I don’t have to tell Mannie about all the afternoons I’ve spent baking in the sun. He’s been there and done that. In fact, he’s doing it right now as we perch half on the curb and half behind a rental car, ready to pounce.
I watch as he puts his water down and brings up his 232
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camera. “Come to me, my little fried dumpling. I can see the headlines already.”
“Fried dumpling?”
“Maybe I’m hungry,” Mannie says. “I hope you’re not.
Hungry for shots, I mean. I thought you said you were getting out?”
“Hey, I’ve come without ammo. It’s a weird feeling, but I’m cameraless. So, who is it?”
Mannie names an up-
and- coming young star. “I
wouldn’t be surprised if it is her. She has been known to tan. Remember those shots from the UK?”
I nod. “Yep. They were everywhere.”
“Naughty girl, tanning. And Mommy took her, too. Don’t get it, myself. Why risk skin cancer when there’s a spray-tanning place on every corner?”
I shrug. “And let’s not forget—
melanomas are so last
year.”
Mannie snorts a loud snort. “That would make a great headline. But stop making me lose concentration.”
“Sorry. I can go if that helps.”
“Don’t be crazy. Anyway, we’re not done with the Melissa thing yet.” Without breaking his gaze on the solarium entry, he reaches out and punches me in the arm with spectacular accuracy. “It’s not every day someone tells Melissa they don’t have the shots she wants and then tells her ‘toodles.’ But you did. And I’m proud of you, man.”
I laugh and give my arm a rub. “Thanks, Mannie.” 233
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We both hold our breath as someone exits the solarium.
Nope. Not her.
Mannie lowers his camera. “I
would’ve paid a million
bucks to see you say that to Melissa. Not that I have a million bucks. Do you think anyone would ever offer a million bucks for these shots?” A dreamy expression comes over his face.
“No, Mannie. I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t.”
“Me, either. But I can dream, right?” He shrugs, still focused on the solarium.
“We can all dream, Mannie.”
He nods. “And you got your dream. You’re getting out, Jo. For good. I’m gonna miss you, man.” Mannie reaches over now for another punch on the arm, but I manage to jump out of the way in time, and he punches thin air.
Even with that one missed punch, I think I’m going to have a bruise after our clandestine solarium meeting today.
Still, it’s one I’ll wear with pride. I think it’s against the paparazzo code of conduct to have things like friends about your person, but Mannie’s never cared. “Thanks again for helping me out with the advice the other night,” I say. “I was really losing the plot there for a while.”
“S’okay,” Mannie says. He raises his camera again as a shadow falls on the doorway, but it’s just someone moving around inside.
“No, it was really good of you. I’ll never forget it.” Mannie’s eyebrows raise at this. “Doesn’t take much to 234
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impress you, does it?” he reaches down blindly for his water, fi nds it, and lifts it up to his mouth to take a swig.
“Not after a couple years in this game, no. I don’t think I realized how entrenched I was. I’m going to be very, very glad to get out. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. It’s just not for me.”