Incidental Happenstance (48 page)

            They checked into their hotel room and immediately hit the road to do some shopping. Jessa had never had an affinity to designer clothes; her tastes had always been pretty simple; but the Victoria Park Market practically begged to be shopped, just as Harrods had. The boutiques showcased unusual styles and unique items, and every window beckoned them inside. Angela fell in love with the Ariana Boutique and vowed that neither of them would leave without getting something nice for themselves. “We work hard for it, Jessa,” she said. “We deserve to have some nice things.”

            Jessa settled on a beautiful and unique scarf, full of colors and textures she’d never seen before. It was more a work of art than an article of clothing, but she could match it with almost any color and it would make pretty much any outfit in her generally bland wardrobe really stand out.  Angela insisted she buy it. “The colors are amazing on you,” she said, “I know you’d regret if you didn’t get it.” Jessa took her one meager item to the counter, cringing when she signed the credit card slip—she was still paying off her shopping spree at Harrods—and the clerk wrapped the scarf in gold tissue before placing it into the bag.

            Angela had considerably more in her arms, sweaters, scarves, a hat, a handbag—she was really splurging.  “Hey,” she suggested to Jessa. “Why don’t you check out those two little restaurants we passed on the way here, and see which one would be good for lunch? I’ll be a minute, and meet you over there.”

            Jessa nodded, and walked out into the clear spring day as Angela finished her business. “Oh, just one more thing,” Angela told the clerk after Jessa left the boutique. “I want one of those scarves like the one my friend just bought. My little sister will just love it.” The clerk wrapped it in the same gold tissue and placed in on top of Angela’s heaping shopping bag. “Thank you!” she said brightly as she exited the shop to meet back up with Jessa.

            The girls returned on Sunday afternoon, looking refreshed and happy. Both went immediately to Dylan to kiss his cheek and thank him for their day of pampering. They had the rest of Sunday to relax, officially on vacation from their jobs, and they spent it together, sipping wine they’d bought in the city and chatting comfortably. Angela had been to the Oscars, and Jessa to the Emmy’s, where InHap had won for best live performance. They shared stories about after-parties, and giggled over which celebrities made asses of themselves after having too much to drink. Jessa left happy, glad that she’d found a new friend to pass the time with on this long trip away from home.

            On Monday morning, Jessa’s task was to collect some studio big-wig from the airport. She crawled out of bed, her head still a bit fuzzy from all the wine, but all she really needed to do was hold the placard with his name on it and guide him back to the limo where the driver would be waiting. She grabbed her new scarf, wrapped it over a fresh outfit, and contemplated her image in the mirror. It really did match with anything, and she felt elegant and confident as she drove a golf cart over to the little makeshift studio to meet the limo.  She arrived at the airport to find that the flight had been delayed an hour, so she stopped off at one of the bookstores in the airport to grab a magazine, found a seat, and settled in to wait.

            When the first call came in, Dylan and Penelope were perched in lounge chairs outside Dylan’s trailer, running through the scenes for tomorrow’s filming. She saw him frown as he looked at the display, obviously not recognizing the number, but he punched the keypad and took the call.

            “Hello?” he answered.

            She saw his eyebrow lift in that little way she had grown to love, and smiled to herself. She could only hear his side of the conversation, but it was more than enough to assure her that her plan had been set in motion.

            “Yes, who’s this?”…”Excuse me?”…“Hold on a second, how did you get this number?”... What airport are you in?” he asked incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief and looking at Penelope, his face twisted into confusion. “No, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said, thinking quickly, “but I’m not that Dylan Miller—this must be someone’s idea of a joke.” He tapped the keypad to end the call, and before he could even say a word, it rang again in his hand.

             “What the hell?” he said angrily, hitting the talk button.

            “No, this not that Dylan Miller,” he replied, hanging up again.

            Penelope watched as Angela approached, just as they’d rehearsed. Now it was time to see if she actually had any acting talent—she’d put a lot of faith into her assistant, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed to be sure that her hands were clean in all of this, and that she was around to pick up the pieces when they started raining down.

            “What is it, Dylan?” Penelope asked, her voice full of concern.

            “I don’t know,” he said as the phone rang again. Penelope and Angela exchanged a knowing glance, and then looked back to Dylan, who punched the keypad hard with his index finger, disconnecting the call.

            “Talk to me Dylan, what’s going on?” Penelope asked again.

            “I’m not quite sure, but it looks like my private mobile number just went public,” he said, scowling at the ringing phone. He clicked the disconnect button again, and then shut off his phone. “It seems that a few of my fans are calling to chat.”

            “How in the world could that happen?” Penelope asked innocently.

            “Damned if I know,” he said. “The first caller said she got the number at the airport. The Auckland airport.”

            Angela inhaled sharply and dropped her eyes, shook her head the smallest bit, and began to slowly slink away. 

            Penelope looked at her with concern. “Are you OK, Angela?” she asked. Angela nodded, her wide eyes searching, but unfocused. “Wait a second, where are you going?”

            Angela turned back toward them and there was guilt written all over her face. Penelope smiled inside, but maintained a look of genuine concern.  So far, so good—Angela kept just the right distance and looked just uncomfortable enough to be believable.

            “I…I,” she stammered, “just remembered something.” She tried to turn again, and Dylan and Penelope shared a look of suspicion.

            “Wait a minute,” Penelope said. “What’s going on with you? Why do you look so flustered all of a sudden?”

            Angela’s eyes turned up and to the left—a sure sign that a lie was coming. “It’s nothing,” she said shakily, putting her hand over her stomach. “I just don’t feel so well all of a sudden. I...I’ve got to go.”

            “Oh no you don’t,” Penelope said. “Angela, do you know something about this?”

            Angela’s face went froflustered to pained. “No, I…” she looked like a trapped animal ready to flee. Easy now, don’t overdo it, Penelope tried to convey with her eyes.

            Dylan spoke up. “Angela, what do you know?”

            “Son of a bitch,” Angela wailed. “I really don’t need this right now!” She sank into a chair, looking defeated.

            Penelope held up a hand to stop Dylan from speaking and sat down next to Angela. She put her hand on Angela’s back and rubbed small circles there, her voice motherly and full of concern. “Listen, Angela,” she said soothingly. “If you know something about this, you need to tell us—this is important. Look at me,” she commanded. Angela raised her eyes, the look of pain clearly evident. “This is very serious, honey! If someone did this purposely it’s a personal attack on Dylan, and it’s incredibly unfair. You need to speak up right now, and tell us everything you know.” Angela stammered something unintelligible and looked around for a way out. Penelope continued. “Now you’ve always been loyal to me Angie,” she said softly, “but if I find out later that you knew something about this and didn’t share it when you had the chance, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider your trustworthiness.” Angela’s shoulders hitched, and Penelope pulled her into an embrace. “It’s OK, Angie,” she said. “Just tell us what you know.”

            Tears began to slip down Angela’s cheeks, and Penelope cheered internally for her trusty assistant who was playing the part even more perfectly than she’d hoped.

            “But she’s my friend!” she whimpered. “I don’t get to have many friends, you know!” 

            “Come on, honey,” Penelope prodded. “You just need to tell us.” She scooted her chair closer to Angela’s and put her arm around the sobbing girl.

            “I’m so sorry,” she breathed, “I never really thought she’d go through with it!”

            Dylan sat bolt upright in his chair. “Who are you talking about?” he barked. “And go through with what, exactly?” he demanded.

            “She told me when we were away over the weekend,” she said between sobs.

            “Wait a minute,” Dylan interjected. “Are we talking about Jessa here?”

            Angela nodded, and more tears fell. Penelope dashed into Dylan’s trailer and came out with a box of tissues, which Angela gratefully accepted. 

            Dylan was having a hard time holding on to his patience, but he forced his voice to be smooth and even. “What did she tell you, Angela?”

            “Oh shit!” she tried to force the tears down and make her voice work properly. “She said that you didn’t know what was coming to you; that you deserved it for the way you’ve treated her this past year!”

            “What are you talking about?” he bellowed. “The way I treated her? We get on brilliantly!” He shook his head quizzically. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t get it,” he said. “She loves her job—she tells me that all the time!”

            Angela was shaking with emotion. “No,” she whispered, “what she loves is
you
, Dylan; she’s been in love with you for over a year and she always assumed it would just be a matter of time before you felt the same way about her. But then Tia came along, and she was so resentful.”

            “No,” Dylan uttered, shaking his head. “No, that isn’t true, it’s just not possible—she and Tia are friends!” His face was twisted in pain and confusion, and Penelope sat back to enjoy the show. She patted Angela on the back, encouraging her to continue.

            Defeat settled onto Angela’s face and she looked up at Dylan with pained eyes. “She said that at first she thought Tia would be like all the others so she let it go. She said she knew you wanted a real down to earth person, and since you and Jessa spent so much time together, and got along so well, she figured eventually…” she broke into another fit of sobs, but then continued. “But all she ever heard about was Tia, and then you brought her to Europe, and Jessa had to make all the arrangements for fancy hotels and special dates, and she was so mad! She finally realized that her last chance to get you to notice her would be here, when your girlfriend wasn’t in the picture.” She took several deep cleansing breaths, and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Over the weekend, she said she knew it was pointless, and that she had to get away from you before she lost her mind along with her dignity. She told me you’d be sorry you ignored her as a woman.” Her breath shuddered in her chest and shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Dylan, I really didn’t think she’d do anything like this—I thought she was too nice for that! I couldn’t imagine her doing something so mean!”

            “No way,” Dylan said, staring at the ground and shaking his head. “I just can’t believe that about her. She’s doesn’t have a mean or vindictive bone in her body, even if she was that angry. I trust her completely. It couldn’t be her—it just couldn’t.”

            Penelope put her arm around Dylan’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. “Never underestimate a woman in love, Dylan; especially one who feels scorned. Desperation is a hell of a motivator.”

            Dylan shook his head violently. “I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it!”

            “I’m sure you’re right, honey,” Penelope said, standing and putting her hand on his arm. “I really couldn’t imagine her doing that either. She’s incredibly loyal to you and has always been completely professional. So let’s clear her name right now, and then we can figure out who actually did do it.”

            Dylan looked at her quizzically. “And how do you propose we do that?” he asked.

            “It’s simple,” Penelope replied. “Just turn your phone back on, and ask the next caller who gave them the number—ask them to describe the person. They had to get it from someone.”

            Dylan nodded and turned his phone back on; frowning when he saw the display announcing that he had twenty seven new voice mail messages. The phone chirped almost the instant it powered on.

            “Hello?” he said, trying not to sound too aggravated. “Yes, this is…” “Well thank you, thanks a lot, I really appreciate it…” “Listen, can you do something for me?...” “Thanks—I just really need tknow how you got this number—did someone give it to you?...” “Can you describe them to me please?...” Penelope watched Dylan’s face fall as the caller delivered the news, and shared a quick triumphant glance with Angela, who flashed her just the hint of a smile as Dylan’s back was turned. “Thanks a lot,” he said, “and thanks for being a fan.”

            The call waiting beeped before he finished the call. His heart fell in his chest, but he had to be sure, and hit the button to take the call. “Can you describe the scarf to me?” he asked the caller. “Yes, thank you very much. I’m glad to talk to you too.” He turned the phone off again, and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.