Lucky Me (29 page)

“Okay,” Milo said, accepting my lack of proof. “What about today? Where was Jack when he called today?”

“Jack dropped the car keys in sc—” I thought about saying school. It made me seem childish. Although I was talking to a police officer. If he couldn't figure out that I was still in high school then we've got ourselves a problem. “Inside the building. He went back to get them when Dr. D called.”

“He was gone pretty long, don't you think?”

“My friend Veronica saw the keys lying on the floor and took them with her. Jack had to chase her all the way down the hallway to get them back.”

Milo looked at me sympathetically, as if he felt sorry that I actually believed Jack was with Veronica.

“Did you know,” he began slowly, “That if Jack's father dies, he stands to inherit millions?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. Nope. Wasn't aware of that one.

“I don't understand. What?”

“And I don't mean one or two million,” Milo continued, pleased that he had hit a nerve in my Jack is Innocent campaign. “I'm talking
hundreds
of millions.”

“But that's just cra—”

“Crazy?” Milo finished for me. “Yeah, it does seem a little odd. Ask yourself this, Gia. Why would someone who has a
trust fund
need a job as a bodyguard for celebrities?”

“Trust fund?” I repeated incredulously, and Milo nodded. “No, you've obviously made a mistake. Jack's not rich. He can't be!”

I thought back to what Jack had said about his father. If they didn't get along then why would his dad have set up a trust fund for him? That didn't add up.

“Can't he?” Milo said. “Dr. D's got to be getting his money from somewhere, right? That restaurant isn't worth anything! Of course, I don't know what Jack's motive would be, but—”

“Motive? Wait, what? Slow down!” I cried, backing away from Milo, my head spinning in confusion. “This doesn't make sense. Jack . . . he's not Dr. D.”

“He could be working for him?” Milo said, and I shook my head fiercely.

“No. No, that's not possible! That doesn't make any sense.”

And it didn't. I mean, not really.

“Gia,” Milo said softly, taking a step toward me. His tone sounded like he was telling a five-year-old that her puppy died. “There's a lot more about him that you should probably know.”

“Well I don't want to know!” I declared, holding my hands up in attempt to stop him from continuing.

It was absolutely insane. Jack couldn't possibly be involved with Dr. D. He was Jack! He was
so
not a criminal mastermind. Although he was pretty slick. I mean, he wasn't Bruce Wayne, let-me-keep-my-identity-hidden, but he wasn't exactly handing out autobiographies to strangers. He couldn't possibly be the bad guy in this equation.

“Alright,” Milo said quietly, accepting defeat. “I understand that. But I'm going to keep looking into this, whether you approve or not. My job is to keep you safe, from whoever.”

“I can't stop you from doing your job,” I told him with a sigh. “But I can't know about anything you find.”

“Your dad's asking for you,” Jack's bored voice came from behind me, making me jump a little.

Milo and I turned to look toward the study door, where Jack was leaning casually against the frame, arms loosely crossed. I had no idea how long he had been standing there, or how much he had heard, but there was no way he would have been pleased by our conversation.

“I'll see you in a minute,” Milo said to me quietly, taking a long stride to the door and pushing past Jack without making eye contact with him.

“How much of that did you hear?” I asked him finally, after a few seconds of silence.

“How much of what did I hear?”

I opened my mouth to elaborate, then closed it again. He clearly hadn't heard. I mean, that was a pretty relationship-damaging conversation. If he had heard Milo talking about his little research plan then he would have said something. Besides, if he
had
heard and was playing the fool, I wasn't going to go announce what we were talking about. I'd just play along. Cool as a cucumber.

“Never mind.”

It was only just noon and I was ready to crawl back into bed and never get out. Between getting mobbed by a group of paparazzi and being photo-shopped onto a whale, I was having the worst day in the history of the world. Oh, and finding out my hot bodyguard and dare I say it,
friend
, might also be evil wasn't much help either.

“I had to tell Milo about the napkin,” I told Jack, fidgeting nervously with the fringe on my shirt.

He shrugged. “Alright.”

Jack's phone buzzed in his hands and my heart skipped a beat. What if that was Dr. D giving him further instructions? What if some other rich guy was transferring millions into Jack's account as I stood there watching him? Suddenly a million possibilities were swimming around in my mind, and I didn't know how to make sense of them all.

“You're on E! News,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

“
Already?”

Okay, I'm not an idiot. I knew news of the reporters ambushing me wasn't going to stay hidden for long. But damn, the E! Network moves fast!

“Turn on the TV,” Jack said.

I reached for the remote and turned on the plasma across the room. Jack moved into the room beside me, just as I found what we were looking for. My heart sank as I watched my shocked face stare back at me on the television screen.

“
I—I really can't comment,
” I was saying, and I covered my eyes my hand, as if I were watching a horror movie.

“Oh lord,” I groaned, sinking onto the leather sofa.

“It's not that bad!” Jack assured me, taking a seat next to me. He leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees. “I mean, your hair looks cute.”

I groaned some more, watching my embarrassingly dumbstruck face on TV through parted fingers.

“Dear God, why?” I wailed, as footage of Jack shielding my face with his hand came on screen.

“Is that really what I look like from the back?” Jack asked himself more than me. “Wow, I look
good.”

I lowered my hand and forced myself to watch the television screen, muting the TV so that I didn't have to hear the questions being flung at me all over again.

“Your hand,” I said, pointing at the TV screen in horror. “Is ridiculously low on my body! You're practically groping me!”

Jack watched the screen with concentration, a grin threatening to appear on his face. I pointed again as his hand rested on my lower back, as he eased me into the car.

“I was protecting you!” Jack replied, the grin fully evident now.

“You were protecting my ass.”

“And I succeeded. Nothing happened to it.”

“There you are!” Dad said suddenly, appearing in the doorway. “I was yelling out your name. Why are there pictures of you with colored-in teeth stuffed into our mailbox?”

I looked at Jack with widened eyes. Meghan, the spawn of Satan, had resorted to tormenting me on a domestic level!

“Oh God . . .” I picked up a cushion and buried my face in it.

Hopefully if I clasped my eyes shut for long enough, I'd be floating on a rainbow when I opened them.

“Oh fantastic,” I heard Dad say sarcastically. “News has spread.”

I guessed he was looking at the TV screen. This was worse than cramps and math tests put together.

“Just ignore the flyers, sir,” Jack said. “They're not important.”

“Good. Because right now, I've got a bigger problem to deal with,” Dad replied.

“What now?” I cried, looking up at the chandelier in disbelief. “What could possibly be wrong now?”

Dad took a deep breath that told me he needed a drink, and blew out a sigh.

“Your mother is flying in tonight,” he told me. “She heard about the reporters and is
furious
. But more importantly, she's worried about your outfit for the Golden Globes.”

Rehearsals! I had completely forgotten that I had rehearsals that afternoon. Now I had to go and get barked at for three hours while I stumbled like an idiot across the stage. And now I had to deal with Mom? She was all the way in New York! Which meant my friends and the rest of the school would have heard about the reporters by now as well. News travels faster than STDs amongst teenagers in L.A. I just couldn't deal with my friends asking questions about being stalked and me moving to New York. Which reminded me, was I actually being shipped to New York to live with my mother like that reporter said?

At this stage, I didn't care if Dad was ready to ship me to Madagascar in a wooden box. I needed a break. Big time.

Chapter Twenty

“Ow!”

That was the fifteenth time I had been poked by a pin in the last hour, and I was less than pleased. My bedroom had been transformed into a makeshift boutique, and I was clearly the mannequin on display. My mother stood watching me from across the room, hands on hips, eyeing me uncertainly as I stood there with my arms stretched out by my side, while two Filipino women continued to use me as their human pincushion. Jack was sitting on my couch, occasionally looking up from his phone to laugh whenever I got poked. It seemed Jack had officially become less of a bodyguard in the house, and more of an adopted son. I was on my way to being replaced.

“The top needs to be tighter,” Mom said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Can't I just pin it?” I asked, knowing fully well the answer was going to be a flat no. “It's better than becoming Swiss cheese.”

“Gia!” Mom said sharply. “Monique was kind enough to do this fitting in our house rather than her boutique to avoid the media. The least you can do is suck it up and quit complaining while these kind ladies sew you into this dress that cost me thousands.”

Couldn't argue with that. I dropped my eyes and looked at gown that was pinned all over. It
was
beautiful. I mean, worse things could have happened. Well, for some. Mom had been in the house three days and Dad was already on the verge of having an anxiety attack. She cared far less about the reporters coming to school than she did about that little Photoshop stunt. She'd spent an entire day yelling about how she was going to make the Adamses pay, laughing at Meghan's mother's “botched nose job.” It was pure luck that while my life was in shambles in L.A., my mother had busied herself in New York with finding the perfect dress for me to wear at the Golden Globes. And boy, had she found it.

Mom's friend Monique Lhuillier had been working on a collection that hadn't been released to the public yet. The collection was every girl's dream, and I couldn't believe I was standing in a part of it. Mom practically cried every time she was reminded that the dress wasn't made especially for me, but with such short notice, I was beyond a lucky Cinderella.

The one-shouldered, deep purple gown was breathtaking. It just looked out-of-place on me, especially with the messy bun positioned high up on my head. The silk felt cool against my skin, and I fingered the flowing net material, careful not to lower my aching arms too much and get poked again.

“We'll have to go get you some jewelry,” Mom said, biting her thumb fingernail thoughtfully.

I winced as one of the ladies poked the skin under my breast. Hopefully that would be a less painful process than this.

“I need heels too,” I reminded her.

“Jesus, Gia,” Mom said, shaking her head. “You really have no breasts at all!”

“
Mom!”

I glanced at Jack, who was looking back at me with a wide smile on his face. His gaze lowered to my chest and he feigned a thoughtful look. I rolled my eyes. Good job, Mom. Go ahead and announce my lack of endowment to the world.

“I need to get you a new push-up bra.”

“Kill me now.”

“I mean, honestly,” Mom said, clearly talking to herself. She looked at my chest, shaking her head some more. “Here I am, desperately try to get you to cut back on junk food, and no breasts is how I'm being rewarded.”

“Mom!” I snapped in horror, and she looked up at me. “Less junk. No breasts. Got it. We don't need to keep talking about it.”

“Oh!” Mom cried, as if she had suddenly remembered something. “I need to make sure your outfit is ready for tonight's W Magazine event.”

Of course. The magazine event. It seemed everything was being sprung on me last minute, and I was just expected to show up and look pretty whenever I was told to. Mom had actually been invited to the event to “celebrate style icons,” but the editors had suddenly decided that it would be good publicity to invite this year's Miss Golden Globe to come along and make an appearance, maybe even get an informal interview out of her.

Mom whipped out her phone, business face on, and walked past me as she typed away furiously.

“Wait!” I cried, as she reached the bedroom door. I craned my neck as best as I could in my statue position to see her. “Don't leave me here with the pokey twins!” I hissed, motioning toward the dress fitters who were working away like mad scientists.

“I'll be right back,” Mom called behind her shoulder, strutting out of the room in her Louboutin pumps.

Jack stifled a laugh as I blew out a frustrated sigh.

“Quit laughing at me!” I whined. “My arms are going to fall off!”

“You look like a giant grape” Jack said, tilting his head to one side as he eyed me up and down.

My mouth dropped. “How dare you? This dress is amazing! Or at least it will be once it fits.”

“The push-up bra will help, no doubt.”

“If I ever get out of this, I'm going to kill you.”

The two helpers exchanged words in a language I didn't understand and stopped pinning my dress.

“One. One minute,” one of them said, with a heavy accent.

She held up her index finger, pointing it at the sky, as if indicating the number one. I nodded to let her know I understood, and she smiled. They left the room together, leaving me in my hanging grape costume.

“This is just fantastic,” I grumbled.

I could barely move my body and now I was stuck in a room with Jack, who would undoubtedly continue to make fun of me. And Famous didn't count, because all he ever did was lie there. Plus he couldn't stick up for me, and he probably wouldn't have even if he could. Even
he
liked Jack more than me.

I shuffled around so that I was facing Jack. A few seconds later, my brother walked slowly past my room, stopped in the center of the doorframe, eyed me up and down and shook his head. He then proceeded to disappear out of sight, doing what looked like The Robot. Chris was right behind, glancing in my direction and then quickly averting his gaze to the floor as if I were Medusa, ready to turn him to stone. I watched as they walked away, shaking my head.

“We need to get him checked out.”

Jack looked up. “Who?”

“Chris. He doesn't speak at all! It's not normal.”

“Oh, I thought you meant your brother,” Jack replied, turning his attention back to his phone.

“Yeah, him too actually.”

The pokey twins re-entered the room, and a few seconds later, Mom followed.

“Here's your dress,” she said, holding up a pink and silver dress on a hanger.

“Mom!” I cried, eyeing the dress up and down. “I can't wear that!”

She looked at the dress in confusion. “Why not? It's Balmain!”

Yeah, which was exactly the problem. I waddled closer to the hanger she was holding, feeling the material that was perfectly bandaged into a one-sleeved mini dress. There was no way in hell I'd be able to pull a dress like
that
off. The sad thing was, my mother probably could.

“It's very . . .” I trailed off, and Mom rolled her eyes. Clearly she knew where I was headed.

“Gia, you've got the body.” She eyed me up and down. “Well more or less. A few more carrots wouldn't hurt. I don't understand why you don't flaunt it! Tell her Jack.”

I turned to Jack with raised eyebrows. He smiled in reply, nodding his head in approval.

“Hot.” Was all he said, and my mother nodded enthusiastically.

I widened my eyes in embarrassment. There was no way I was ever allowing my mother and Jack to interact again.

“You have male approval.” Mom declared, as if it emphasized her point. “Now we can all move on with our lives.”

“You take dress off,” one of the pokey twins said.

“Um, how exactly?” I asked, turning to mom.

“They'll help you out,” Mom replied, hanging the Balmain dress on my closet doorknob. “Just hold very still.”

Easy for her to say; she could just stand there and watch.

“Anything else, mother dearest?” I asked her sweetly.

“You have an appointment for hair and nails at six. Go straight from rehearsals, and don't be late,” she said, pulling out her phone from her pocket.

“Dad will never let me out of the house,” I told her.

“I told Anya to make Italian tonight.”

“Using his favorite food as a distraction. I like it.”

“I've had a lot of experience manipulating your father.”

Yeah, I didn't doubt it.

“Okay, time to change,” I announced, waddling toward my helpers. “I need to get a stack of homework done before rehearsals today.”

“I'll go supervise the boys in the kitchen,” Mom said, walking toward the bedroom door. “Your father's making crème brûlée and I'm scared he's going to blowtorch Mike's eyebrows off.”

I watched her walk out the room, lifting my arms so that the pokey twin could start relieving me from the dress.

“Jack,” I said, suddenly remembering he was still in the room.

“Yes?”

“Get out. I'm changing.”

Jack lay back against the couch pillows, resting his head on his fingers that were intertwined. He yawned, and one of the seamstresses unzipped my dress from behind.

“You take off dress,” she said. “Slow. Slow.”

“Jack!”

“I'll shut my eyes, I promise,” he said innocently.

I knew there was no point in arguing with him. If I had learned anything from my time with Jack, it was that he was almost as good as me when it came to getting his way.

“Fine!” I snapped. “Close them. And if you even
accidently
blink, I'll set the pokey sisters on you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, making a big show of it as if it was such a complicated task. I rolled my eyes and let the gown sink to the floor; making sure Jack's eyes were closed. I grabbed my leggings and sweatshirt off the edge of my bed and put them on as fast as I could.

“Okay, three, two, one, I'm opening my eyes,” Jack said, his eyelids fluttering open.

Thankfully I had managed to get the sweatshirt over my head and just past my bra in time. The last thing I needed was for Jack to see me half naked, especially after the macaroni and cheese I had demolished yesterday. The seamstresses carefully placed the gown on a hanger, holding it as if it were glass. I watched them carry the dress out of my bedroom, yelling out a thank you behind them.

“They seemed nice,” Jack said. “Bit talkative though.”

My phone buzzed on the couch beside Jack, who reached over to pick it up.

“Who is it?” I asked, removing stray strands of hair from my sleeve. “It's not one of the girls again, is it?”

The last few days had been a complete nightmare to deal with. My friends had been amazingly sweet and supportive about the whole flyers incident, and it killed me that I had to keep lying to them. They had called about a billion times after hearing about the reporters in the school parking lot, wanting to know if I was actually getting stalked. I had come inches away from telling them the truth, but decided not to at the last minute. The last thing I wanted was for Dr. D to target them as well. So instead I pretended that the rumors were completely baseless, and that Meghan had probably orchestrated it to drill home her Photoshop prank, and scare me right before the Golden Globes. I think they only half believed me. When they had come to drop off some homework and notes on what I'd missed, I'd hid in my closet like a coward and begged Jack to get rid of them for me. I know, I know. Not one of my proudest moments.

“Nope. Lover boy,” Jack replied, as my phone continued to ring.

I paused for a second, trying to place the nickname in my memory. “Who?”

“Our favorite, Mr. Fells.”

My eyes widened and I could feel the panic start to creep over me. Oh no. What if he was calling to say he had more information on Jack? I hadn't heard from him since our conversation the other day, and I spent the rest of the time trying not to think about Jack and his mystery trust fund.

“Give it to me!” I cried, launching toward the iPhone.

Jack moved out of my reach, answering the call. He was apparently trying to get me to die of shame.

“Well hey there, Cadet Fells,” he said brightly, winking at me.

“Jack!” I hissed. “Give me the damn phone!”

Jack covered the speaker with his hand and whispered, “Say please.”

“I'm going to hit you.”

“Is Gia here?” Jack said into the phone. “No, sorry. You just missed her actually. You can tr—”

“Jack!”

“OW!”

I pounced on Jack, wrestling my phone out of his hands. His laughter had now become uncontrollable.

“Hello!” I practically yelled into the phone, a little breathlessly. I was still kind of sitting on Jack, who had buried his face in my pillow to muffle his laughter.

“Uh, hi,” came the reply, and I could tell Milo was probably battling some Jack-hatred within. I could tell because I was doing the same.

“How's it going?” I asked, sliding off Jack and pushing the hair away from my face.

“Good,” Milo replied, still sounding tense.

“Is everything okay? Any . . .” I glanced at Jack, who was still composing himself. “Updates on anything?”

I mouthed a
shut up
to Jack, who was still laughing a little as he fiddled with Famous' ears.

“We're tying up some leads actually. Ao Jie Kai's managed to slip away from us a few times, but I think we're getting close to getting some answers.”

“That's good.”

There was silence for a few seconds while I waited for him to continue, sitting on the edge of my bed in anticipation. Jack looked at me, but didn't say anything. His laughter had even died out. Evidently he was waiting to hear the rest of the conversation too.