Hollywood Confessions (19 page)

“
So, what are you in the mood for tonight?” Alec said.

I quickly shifted my gaze to him from my would-be bodyguard as Alec handed me a menu.

It was half in Italian, all the prices withheld. I figured it was the kind of place where if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. I chalked it up to my guilt at having been rehearsing my interrogation tactics the entire way here down the 405 that I picked out the least expensive-sounding item, going with the porcini mushroom fettuccini in white wine sauce. Alec ordered the steak, medium rare. In perfect Italian.

I downed my champagne in one gulp, forcing myself to ignore the sexy lilt of the language rolling off his tongue and remember why I was really here. “Alec, I have to ask you something,” I said, setting my elegant glass down.

Immediately a waiter appeared at my elbow, filling it to the top again. Which was fine with me. I figured I needed all the liquid courage I could get tonight.

“
Uh, it’s about the Barker story,” I continued.

“
Right,” Alec said. Then before I could continue, he reached into the inner pocket of his blazer, coming out with a slim, black memory stick. He pushed it across the table to me.

“
The footage you wanted of Don and Deb. This is everything we shot the day Barker died. I’m not sure if any of it will be helpful—it was mostly of the kids—but it’s all yours.” He shot me that blinding smile again and winked.

I felt myself blush and cleared my throat. Took another sip (okay, it was more like a generous swig) of champagne. “Thanks. For this,” I added, slipping the memory stick into my purse. “But, actually, that’s not what I wanted talk to you about.”

“
Oh?” he asked, refilling my glass (that had somehow become empty again). “Okay, what is it then? Shoot,” he encouraged, giving me a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling in a quite lovely way at the corners.

I bit my lip, really wishing I didn’t have to. “It’s about Canada,” I hedged.

“
I can tell you anything
a-boot
Canada that you want to know,” he joked, emphasizing the northern pronunciation.

I couldn’t help a smile. Though it was short-lived as I dove in. “What can you tell me about Canadian prisons?”

His grin faltered. “Excuse me?”

I let out a deep breath, leaning in close. “Look, I found out about your felony conviction.”

He stared at me for a second then leaned back in his chair, the grin a distant memory. He steepled his fingers together, assessing me in silence for a moment.

I felt myself fidget under his gaze even though he was the one with the record.

Finally he said, “Okay. Yes. I’ve spent time in jail.”

I felt relief drain out of me that he didn’t try to deny it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“
It’s not something I’m exactly proud of. I don’t usually lead with it when I’m trying to impress a girl.”

I bit my lip. He wanted to impress me. Man, it was hard to interrogate a pair of dimples that wanted to impress you.

“
So, you admit you stole cars?” I forced myself to press on.

He lean forward again, this time putting his elbow on the table and lowering his voice to an intimate tone. “I was young. Not that I’m making excuses. It was a stupid thing to do. Idiotic. But my cousin, Jack, had this chop shop. I was sixteen, and my family wasn’t exactly what you’d call well off. I had two choices—I could get a job flipping burgers for minimum wage, or I could go work for Jack. I chose Jack. It was clearly the wrong choice, and I paid for it.”

I licked my lips. “How long were you in jail?”

“
Three years.”

“
Must have been tough.”

I could tell by the look in his eyes it was. Even just talking about it now, his jaw was stiff, his gaze guarded, his entire posture changed from the open, laid-back producer to a cornered criminal used to watching his back.

But instead of agreeing with me, he shrugged. “I deserved every day I spent there. But I can tell you, as soon as I got out I left that life behind me. I got a work visa, moved to L.A. and right away got a job with Barker.”

“
So, that was what you meant when you said he gave you a chance.”

He nodded. “Barker knew about my past. Hell, there wasn’t any way I could have hid it from him. It’s on my official record. But he saw something in me. A willingness to work hard, to start at the bottom. I had a lot to make up for after I got out, and he gave me an opportunity to do that.”

“
I’m sorry,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “For?”

“
For your loss. It sounds like Barker was more than just a co-worker.”

Alec smiled slowly. “Yeah, he was. And thanks.”

He sat up straight, shaking the moment off, and grabbed the champagne bottle, refilling both our glasses. “So, now you know my sordid past,” he said, flashing a dimple my way, “my turn to learn about yours.”

I grinned in response. “Fair enough. Just promise me one thing: no more secrets, okay?”

He nodded and flashed me a smile that could charm the panties off a nun. “I’ll drink to that.”

* * *

I sipped at about three more glasses (and ignored my phone buzzing silently in my purse half a dozen more times) as I told Alec about my job at the
Informer
, my real aspirations of being a
Times
reporter, about Tina, and even about my penny-pinching, over-bearing, annoyingly British boss. By the time Alec finally paid the bill, I’d spilled pretty much my entire life story and I think at least ten dollars worth of champagne (somehow those glasses got harder to hold onto as the evening wore on).

Alec put a hand at the small of my back as he led me through the restaurant, back out into the warm night air. Which was a good thing, because for some reason as we exited the restaurant, my stilettos seemed to have grown wobbly. As we stepped out onto the sidewalk one of the paparazzi snapped a photo, his flash momentarily blinding me as my shoe collapsed under my foot.

“
Whoa,” Alec said. His arms went around my waist, holding me up.

I giggled. I mean, I think it was me, but it sounded more like Miley Cyrus than a grown woman.

“
You okay?” he asked. He was grinning down at me, his smile close enough that I felt his breath on my cheek.

Was I ever. I nodded. Then unconsciously licked my lips.

His eyes followed the motion of my tongue, glazing over, going just that much darker.

“
Sorry. I guess I’m not used to champagne,” I said.

“
Maybe we ought to get you home,” he mumbled, his voice low. Intimate. Infused with meaning.

I licked my lips again, nodding in what I hoped wasn’t an overly eager way.

He leaned down, and I watched in slow motion as his warm, full mouth moved toward mine. I close my eyes, lifted my chin, prepared to feel the softness of his kiss…

And instead felt him being ripped from my arms with a loud, “Oof.”

I opened my eyes. Alec was on the ground, spread eagle, a four-foot tall person on top of him pounding him with pudgy fists.

“
I got him!” Gary yelled. “Don’t worry! I got him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, Gary, what are you doing? Get off of him!”

Though I noticed that Alec had already managed to extricate himself from Gary’s rain of little fists.

“
What the hell are you doing?” I yelled as my
back-up
stood up, brushing himself off.

He blinked at me. “What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m rescuing you.”

Oh, brother.

“
Do I look like I need rescuing?”

“
He was attacking you!”

“
He was kissing me!”

Gary looked from me to Alec. “Well, from the back it looked a lot like attacking.”

I threw my hands up.

“
A friend of yours?” Alec asked, brushing off his blazer.

“
Alec, meet Gary.”

“
I’m her bodyguard.”

Alec raised an eyebrow at me.

“
Assistant
,” I clarified. “Who is leaving, unless he wants to find himself suddenly unemployed again.”

Gary put his hands up in a surrender motion. “Okay, okay. Geez. I was just doing my job…” He trailed off as he ducked back into the restaurant, presumably back to his redhead. Though I didn’t really care where Gary went. What I was more focused on was Alec.

And the sudden two feet of distance between us.

I cleared my throat. “Um, sorry about that.”

Alec grinned, though it was a shallow thing. Clearly being pummeled on the sidewalk wasn’t high on his list of aphrodisiacs. “Right. No problem. Happens all the time,” he joked.

“
Yeah.” I cleared my throat, shifted from my left foot to my right. “So, um…”

“
I had a really nice evening,” Alec jumped in.

“
Right. Me too.”

“
No, I mean it,” he said. And he took a step closer, closing some of the gap. “Really nice.”

I couldn’t help smiling back. “Me too.”

“
Can I walk you to your car?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m good. I think I’m actually gonna take a cab.”

“
I could give you a ride?” he offered. But I could tell the intimate insinuations of a moment earlier were gone from the offer.

I shook my head. “I’m good. Really. But thanks.”

“
Anytime,” he responded. “Well, have a good night. And we’ll talk soon, yes?”

I nodded. “Definitely.”

He leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before walking toward the parking garage down the street.

Not exactly the way I’d hoped to end the evening just a few minutes ago, but considering the circumstances I figured it wasn’t the worst way the evening could end, either.

* * *

It was after midnight before my cab pulled up in front of my building in Glendale. I got as far as my front door before my cell buzzed to life in my purse for the umpteenth time. I pulled it out, checking the readout. Felix. Again.

I stabbed my finger at the On button. “What do you want?” I barked out.

“
Jesus, don’t you ever pick up your phone?”

“
I’m picking up now.”

“
I’ve called ten times.”

“
I know,” I gritted out between clenched teeth. “I was busy.”

“
On your date.”

“
Yes. As you well know,” I couldn’t help pointing out.

“
And?”

“
And what?”

“
Details.”

“
I am not giving you details about my love life,” I said, shoving the key in my front door.

There was a pause on the other end. Then, “I meant details about the interview.”

“
Oh.”

“
Look, Allie,” he said.

But whatever followed was lost in a blur as I entered my front door, switched on the lights, and got a look at my place.

My sofa had been de-slipcovered, the cushions slit open until their stuffing innards spewed out onto the floor. My vase of daisies had been shattered, flowers and water strewn across the coffee table. Every cupboard in my kitchen was open, the contents spilled out in a haphazard fashion that said this was more for show than an intent to find valuables.

I took a couple of tentative steps into the room, feeling my feet crunch on cereal and glass shards. My mouth hung open as I surveyed the chaos that used to be my pretty little sanctuary.

Someone had totally trashed the place.

“
Mr. Fluffykins?” I squeaked out. I cleared my throat then tried again. “Mr. Fluffykins? Are you okay?”

“
What?” I heard Felix ask in my ear. “Who’s Mr. Fluffykins? Are you even listening to me?”

“
Mr. Fluffykins!” I called out again, hearing the fear lacing my own voice, listening for a telltale mewing in response.

Nothing.

I felt tears back up behind my eyes.

“
Who is Mr. Fluffykins?” Felix repeated.

“
My Cat. Oh God, what did they do to my cat? Mr. Fluffykins!” I shouted this time, springing into action. I peered under the sofa, behind the open cupboards, in the scant three inches between the refrigerator and the counter.

“‘
They?’ Who is ‘they’? What’s going on over there?” I heard Felix ask.

But I was too focused to answer. To say I was frantic would be a gross understatement. Tears ran down my face, my hands shaking, my brain going over the last time I’d fed him and how I was such a cruel owner that his last meal might have been dry cat mix instead of premium Chicken of the Sea tuna.

“
Mr. Fluffykins! Where are you? Mommy’s sorry! Please be okay! Please come out, Mr. Fluffykins.”

“
Allie—”

“
Shh!” I commanded. I froze. I thought I heard a noise. A very faint sound coming from the bathroom.