No Wolves in Los Angeles by M S Lawson - HTML preview

Meghan smiled. “I don’t think he’d believe me.”

The star also thought she wished she could get Will to tell Robin she wasn’t going to invest but she suspected that was not going to work. Among other difficulties, she had never mentioned the consultant to her boyfriend, or that she now valued his advice on investment matters far above his. No, she would have to tell her film star boyfriend that she was not getting involved in yet another of his schemes herself.

Later that day a photoshoot team arrived, including the all-important cameraman, but also a makeup lady, a stylist and lighting expert, two other bodies to help with the equipment, and a security guy. All of this was to advertise a major jewellery brand with salacious shots of Meghan wearing the merchandise but little else in the pool and garden. Will, still discussing details of the seating with Emma, paid them little heed until the security guard came into the dining room.

“Sir, you have to leave,” said the guard, a big man in a very official-looking uniform with a pistol in a shiny holster on his hip.

“I do,” said Will, astonished. “Why? Who are you?”

“I’m Ms Chalmers’ security,” said the guard. “She wants the area cleared for the shoot.”

“I’m on Ms Chalmers’ staff and I’ve never seen you before,” said Will. “If she wanted me to go, she’d have told me beforehand in no uncertain terms.”

“I’m Ms Chalmers’ assistant,” said Mia from the other end of the dining room table, “and you’re shoot security, not her security. She didn’t say anything about clearing people out to me.”

“Okay, shoot security,” said the guard. “The photographer told me to clear people out.”

“Now it’s the photographer who told you this,” said Will. “Ms Chalmers has never asked for it before.”

“I was still told that I had to clear out the men,” said the guard. “You need to leave now sir.”

Will looked at Mia.

“You know what, Will,” said the assistant. “Meg has to do some shots like this.” She held her arms in front of her breasts, “and face down topless on towels. She may not be comfortable with you here.”

“Fine,” said Will, standing up and closing up his lap top. He did not look at the annoying security guard. “Event details can wait a day or so. You’ll tell her where I’ve gone?”

“Of course,” said Mia.

Will started walking towards the garage.

“The front door is this way, sir,” said the guard.

“But the garage is this way,” said Will without turning around.

The officious guard followed Will out to the garage and stood, arms folded, while he drove off. He then looked through the rest of the house, even going upstairs, to the astonishment of Mia and Emma.

“There’s no one else in the house apart from the housekeeper,” said Mia.

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Later, Meghan came in wrapped in a towel. She had to speak to both Mia and Will, although the mischievous part of her also thought it might be fun to show bare shoulders to Will and was surprised to find the consultant missing in action.

“Where’s Will?” she asked.

“The security guard came in and told him to leave,” said Mia. “He said you had told him to clear the men out.”

“I never said any such thing,” said Meghan. “I know the photographer also didn’t say it. I wanted to see if Will could make the crew, and me, coffee, and I also wanted to talk again about Robyn’s investment stuff. Call him and tell him to get back here at once.”

Mia did so, catching Will still on the road back to his place, or so she thought. In fact, he was not all that far away, having been called by Charlotte to meet her.

“He says there’s no point in coming back today,” called Mia, after talking to Will, as Meghan messed around in an unfamiliar kitchen, making her own coffee.

“I expect my per day consultant to be here on the day when I pay for the day,” called Meghan. “Look! I’m even having to get my own coffee. Tell him to come back, now.”

Mia conveyed this to Will.

“He says you can always call him and if it bothers you, don’t pay him for the day.”

“For heaven’s sake,” said Meghan, “I want my consultant back here. Tell him if he doesn’t come back, he’s fired.”

Mia spoke again with Will. “Okay, he’s fired,” she said. “Thanks for hiring him for those few weeks.”

“What?” said Meghan. “How dare he be fired!”

“But you just fired him,” said Mia.

“I didn’t think he’d take me seriously,” she said, as she emerged from the kitchen coffee cup in hand. “Men! I’ll send the crew in to make their own coffee.”

Mia waited until she stalked back out to the pool area and then laughed.

“Will’s not actually fired, is he?” said Emma, who had followed the whole exchange round-eyed.

Mia shook her head.

“She likes Will and trusts him, but if he’d come back just because she had threatened to fire him, she might have started using him as a doormat. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

Later that day Meghan called Will, who had to excuse himself with Charlotte and step into another room.

“Am I still fired?” asked Will. “If so, I’ll hang up.”

“You are a total pain William Moorland and I hate you,” said Meghan, “and I should keep you fired.”

“People have told me I’m a pain over the years,” said Will. “I thought for a time there might be something to it, and then I thought ‘nah’, I’m Will, I’m not a pain. Anyway, what’s up?”

“I wanted to go over the NFT thing again,” she said.

They talked for a time then Will got back into bed with Charlotte, who had been waiting not very patiently for her lover.

“You still fired?” she asked. Will had told her as much of the story as she needed to know.

“Seems not,” he said. “Back to work tomorrow.”

“That’s good. In the mean time you and I have business tonight,” she said and pulled him to her.

As Meghan had suspected would happen her dinner date at a top Hollywood restaurant with Robin turned sour when she told him she would not be investing in NFTs. Instead, she would keep her money in dull but reliable mutual funds.

“The returns from those things are tiny,” exclaimed Robin. “You’re way too young and hot for dull investment. You want the exciting stuff with big returns.”

“I tried exciting and lost my money,” said Meghan. “I like to be dull and keep my money.”

“Don’t you trust me?” said Robin.

“It’s not that,” said Meghan. “I just don’t understand these NFT things.”

“What’s to understand?” said Robin. “It’s an asset. You buy and sell and make money.”

“Or lose money,” retorted Meghan. “I looked up these things online and I still don’t understand them. I don’t think I should be investing in things that I don’t understand. Anyway, I’d be giving a lot of my money to two guys in an office in New York, and the paper you gave me doesn’t say much about them.”

“Two guys? No, it’s a consortium.”

“Maybe the investors call themselves a consortium, but the business part is just two guys in this office, trading these things,” said Meghan, trying to remember what
Will had said. “And taking fees as well as a slice of the profits. I don’t like it at all.”

“Two guys trading?” said Robin. “Where did you see that?” He had not actually read the information pamphlet he had given Meghan.

“It’s in that paper you gave me, down the back. There’s a sub-head ‘trading strategy’. It’s under that.”

“You read the paper down to there?”

“Of course, I looked through it,” she said. “I’ve had so many investments go bad on me and my family that I now get someone to look at these things.”

The last sentence had slipped out.

“An accountant?”

“Well, no,” said Meghan, regretting what she had said. “He’s just this advisor I have.”

“An adviser?” said Robin sharply. “You never mentioned him before.”

“He’s the one that told me to make that remark that Connie should trade her jet in for a bicycle. He also suggested the benefit we’re holding and he’s organising it.”

“I thought that was being organised by your team.”

“He is on the team. I pay him per day, although I fired him today. I didn’t mean to, but I fired him.”

“How can you fire someone without meaning to?” asked Robin.

Meghan explained the circumstances.

“He should stay fired,” said Robin. “You need someone looking out for you, honey, and that someone is me. Invest in this consortium and you won’t need to do endorsements and commercials.”

Meghan avoided mentioning Will after that and let Robin think that the consultant was still fired but held firm against her boyfriend’s pleas that turned into requests and then even angry demands to invest. It seemed that he had even told the people organising this consortium that he would deliver a certain amount of investment to them. Why he would do that when he, like Meghan, earned millions of dollars per film and was in a streaming series that paid him nearly a million an episode, the star did not know. But it made her even more suspicious of the deal.

They spent the night together, but without any real passion and Robin left early the next day, saying he had business on the East coast. He would be back soon.

 

Meghan continued to find uses for her consultant, including rehearsing parts in her films. The first Will knew of this was one morning when he was handed a script for the streaming series The Brandenburg Protocol.

“I want you to help me with rehearsals. Page twenty five. You’re Jurgen.”

“I’m doing a shower scene with you,” said Will, in alarm, looking at the script.

Mia and Emma laughed.

“Lots of guys want to do shower scenes with me,” said Meghan, also amused.

“Lots of guys won’t get fired if their self-control slips during the scene,” protested Will. “Anyway, Violet always said I can’t act.”

“There won’t be water and our clothes will be on,” said Meghan who was sure Will would behave himself. “As for acting, you don’t have to act the part. I do. You’re there as a prop only, speaking lines. It helps if I can work through the part with a human prop.”

“I’m no good at the guy parts,” said Mia.

“I can’t stop laughing during those,” said Emma.

A few minutes later Will found himself in Meghan’s bedroom with a view over the pool and back garden and a neatly made up bed with a black cover and satin sheets befitting of a bad girl with cabinets on each side. On top of the cabinet on what Will assumed was Meghan’s side was a collection of cigarette-like objects but much longer and thinner, with an external colour and texture close to that of cigars. Will had heard of the soft drug product called Sticks, using a variation of hashish, a drug related to cannabis. But it was not smoked in the traditional joint or bongs – consumers of sticks turned their noses up at such crude methods of consumption – but rolled into the thin pipes he could see on Meghan’s bedside table. The writer was also aware that the habit was widespread in Hollywood. He had seen Meghan glassy eyed once or twice and had thought nothing of it.

The star noticed Will looking at her drugs.

“Do you want one?” she asked, showing them to him.

“Not my scene,” said Will. “It’s soft stuff, I know, but you still shouldn’t keep those things – sticks aren’t they? – in plain sight.”

“Yes, sticks, and I’ll put them away.”

She stuck them in the bottom drawer of her cabinet and they said no more about them. Instead, Will soon found himself in the ensuite’s shower enclosure, script in hand, his peace of mind disturbed by the star having wrapped both legs around him, head on his shoulder, as if they were having sex in the shower. He concentrated on the script.

For her part, Meghan thought that Will was a far more convenient prop than Mia or Emma. For one thing, he could support her weight without effort.

“The guy probably wouldn’t stand like this for any length of time,” said Will, looking at the script. “It’d be easier for him to lean the woman against the tiles or glass with one arm around her back because the surface might be cold, even in a shower.”

“You seem to know a lot about sex in the shower, Will Moorland,” said Meghan, eying her consultant quizzically, as they moved into position.

“There was the occasional for-real shower scene with Violet,” said Will, trying to forget that a woman often voted as ‘most desirable’ in magazine polls was breathing on his cheek. “It’s just a suggestion for your director. What do I do now?”

“Lean in, so my head is on your shoulder.”

“It’s bad of me to seduce you like this,” said Meghan breathing in the writer’s now accessible ear, as she read from the script. Will was glad they had clothes on.

“Um, heavy breathing,” said Will, looking at the script, “um, oh yeah. ‘let’s not talk now’.”

“But I like to talk like this. Heave, heave.” Meghan jerked her body a couple of times.

“Erk! Best not to do the actual action,” said Will. “I don’t want to be fired.”

Meghan laughed. “Poor Will!”

“That’s right, poor me. Okay,” he looked at the script again, “‘we’ll have to talk about Carl’.”

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about him, now,” whispered Meghan in his ear. “I want to talk about us. What you’re doing to me now.”

“Okay, grind, grind,” said Will. “Knife in her hand while bottom heaves. Stabs Jurgen repeatedly in the back... shower runs with blood. My character is killed, messily!”

“Price of sex with my alien character.”

“You’re an alien in this series?”

“Yup, murderous femme fatale alien, working to free comrades held by the US government.”

“Gets them watching I guess, but where does the knife come from? It’s not as if you can hide it on your body or in a shower stall?”

“Hmmm!” said Meghan, flicking through the script. “Good point. Better discuss that with the director.”

“If I may make a suggestion, about the only thing you could have in a shower stall that would hide a blade would be a scrubbing brush. Have one in a brush somehow. You push a button and a blade comes out.”

“I’ll pass it on,” said Meghan thinking that it was a useful suggestion.

“Okay, I say ‘Bitch!’ and fall down clutching at you weakly.”

“I step back and watch you bleed out without emotion, being an alien an’ all.” Meghan stepped back.

Will fell to the floor of the stall hanging half out the door and turned the page. “I go glassy eyed you grab his laptop which he’s brought with him and start hacking it while naked – that’ll get the nerds interested.”

“Hacking now,” said Meghan, picking up her own laptop, and tapping at the keys.

Will flicked over the page. “My body is revived by nanobots! This script is getting out there.”

“Says the guy who writes slasher movie scripts.”

Will thought about that for a moment. “Fair enough. Where do these nanobots come from?”

“Earlier in the script. I have a vial of them handy.” Meghan took a lipstick off her dresser, as a prop and pretended to feed it to Will.

“I revive and stand up jerkily. I’m still naked too. Something for the ladies.”

The rehearsal went on for some time, with Will also taking the part of Karl returning to the hotel room who was then murdered by his nanobot-revived character. The writer thought it was all exhausting, although the shower scene was interesting. Meghan for her part thought that rehearsing with Will was far easier than using Mia or Emma. She later discussed the knife issue with the director who also agreed that the blade in a brush idea had potential.

Will was able to work out some of his feelings on the issue in a shower scene with Charlotte, who unexpectedly appeared again despite still declining to give Will her number.

A few days after that Will got out of the pool following his morning swim to find three strange females draped over sun lounges beside the pool.

“Ladies,” he said taking off his goggles and swimming cap. “I’m Will.”

“I’m Misty Dawn,” said the blonde on the left, a singer and aspiring actress.

“I’m Bo Jovanovic,” said the auburn haired one on the right, who Will recognised as a top model. She spoke with a faint Eastern European accent.

“We’re friends of Meg. She invited us over for morning coffee,” said Misty.

“I can certainly do the coffee,” said Will towelling himself. “And I know you’re Meg’s sister Madison,” he said to the girl in the centre. “There are pictures of you and your mother in the living room.

“Hi!” said Madison, shyly. Although she did not have her sister’s beauty, she was pretty enough to have no problem attracting boys. In fact, of late that proved to be a problem.

“How come you’re here instead of college?”

“Guy troubles,” said Madison.

“All men are evil?”

“Some are still interesting,” she said, eyeing Will.

“Incidentally, ladies, have you seen my shirt?” said Will looking around.

“Nope, no shirt,” said Misty, eying Will. “Did you see a shirt, Bo?”

“I never saw any shirt,” said Bo.

“I’m pretty sure I left it on the table here.”

“I didn’t see it,” said Misty. Bo shook her head. Madison grinned.

“Hmmm! Well, I guess I can get coffee without a shirt,” said Will. He saw a shoulder bag under Misty’s chair which seemed to be full but thought there was no harm in playing along for a time. “Where is Meg, incidentally?”

“On a call in her study,” said Madison.

Will took their orders – Meg had bought a coffee machine for the kitchen so that Will could serve the full range – and brought them out to the pool area along with diet cookies that the occasional lady guest seemed to like.

“Can I have my shirt back now, ladies?” he asked when he finished.

“We told you we didn’t see a shirt,” said Misty.

Meg walked up. “Will, I see you’ve met everyone.”

“They’ve got their coffee and they still won’t give me my shirt back.”

“Aw, come on you guys,” said Meg, giggling, “give my consultant his shirt back. I need him for work.”

“Why does he need his shirt to work?” said Bo.

“Just a convention for guys to wear shirts at work,” said Misty.

“It’s a psychological thing,” said Will. “I also have to do a phone conference later.”

“Oh, very well,” said Misty, picking up the bag under her seat and taking the shirt out. “Is this the shirt you want?”

“Thank you,” said Will.

Meghan later spoke privately to Madison.

“Will seems very nice,” said Madison, Maddie to her friends. “What does he do for you?”

“I hired him as a consultant.”

“Really! I want a consultant with a body like that. What does he consult on?”

“Lots of things, as it happens. A more important point now is what’s happened to that expensive college I’m paying for? Why aren’t you at it, studying hard?”

“I broke up with Ethan and, well, the college wasn’t really working for me.”

Meghan sighed. “You’ve told mum about this?”

“Why do you think I’m hanging out here? I’ve gotta wait until she cools down. Let me stay a week or so. Then I thought I could help Mum with the shop. Maybe try the college thing later.”

“Humph!” said Meghan but acquiesced, thinking that she would discuss the matter with her mother. Mrs Kowalski, after cooling down, thought that there was nothing to be gained by forcing matters and that college could be deferred. In the meantime, she could use another hand in the shop. She also wanted to discuss developments in her older daughter’s life.

“Maddie tells me you’ve hired a good-looking man as a consultant who swims in your pool,” she said.

“A woman can hire a man without it getting personal, mother,” said Meghan. “Happens all the time in business. Being allowed to use the pool was part of the package when I hired him, and he’s proved very useful. It doesn’t go beyond that.”

If you say so, dear,” Mrs Kowalski said.

Later in the week, with Will’s permission, Madison took a picture of him emerging from the pool and sent it to her friends with the caption, “My sister’s new consultant, Will. He’s very nice. He also makes coffee.” Some of her friends wanted to know what Will consulted on, others asked what the coffee he made was like.

“I hope he makes good coffee,” said one world-weary college freshman. “Men should be good for at least something.”

 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

A few days later Meghan found another use for her consultant when her regular trainer, Julio, injured himself at sport and could not come to train her.

“Get Will to lead you through stuff,” said Mia, as they watched the writer go through his morning swimming routine, along with Emma and Madison who had also developed the habit of coming down to watch Will. “He also seems to know what he’s doing in the upstairs gym.”

“Hey Moreland!” said Meghan.

Will stood up and looked around.

“Yeah!”

“I need a trainer for today.”

“You need exercise?” he said. “Okay, then start with a swim. Grab your bathers and - you got a cap?”

Meghan thought for a moment. “I can wash my hair later.”

“I’ve got some spare goggles. We’re set. Let’s see your moves in the pool.” Meghan turned to go. “And, oh yeah, a one piece, Diva. A suit that’s meant to actually go in the water and be swum in.”

“Ha!” said Meghan but came down a few minutes later in a stunning one piece. She thought that Will would say something but, as usual, he did not react, just smiling slightly as she dropped into the water and put on the goggles Will gave her.

“For starters, can you do the fifty metres, down and back again, freestyle?”

“Sure,” said Meghan, who splashed her way down to the deep end and back. “There, Mr Swimmer,” she said. “I can also swim.”

“Very good. What about a comp then? Fifty metres. I swim relaxed. You try and beat me.”

“Hmmm! Okay, but you don’t swim at full power.”

“I’m a laid back kinda guy.”

They set off from a standing start, Will calling ‘Go!’ and he made it back well before Meghan.

“Hey Maddie, throw us that magazine, quick,” he called, pointing to a magazine left on one of the other tables, which the former college girl did.

By the time Meghan touched the pool end Will, goggles on his forehead, was pretending to be engrossed in what turned out to be a fashion magazine. “Glad you could join us,” he said. Meghan crossed her arms and glared at the writer. “Look at this, shoulder pads are back. Can you believe it?”

“You said relaxed,” said the star still glaring.

“I am relaxed,” said Will. “I’ve been reading this magazine.”

“Ha!”

“What about this, then,” said Will, setting the magazine to one side. “I’ll give you a twenty five metre head start. When you touch the other end I’ll start swimming from here, and we’ll see who gets back to this end first.”

Meghan assessed the distances involved for a moment and decided that she had a chance. “You’re on, Moreland.”

“Then get going. I’ll see you back at this end.”

As she splashed away, Will stood up on the end of the pool and prepared for a full racing dive, crouched, arms back. Meghan touched the other end and he dived. To the watching ladies, it looked almost as if Will flew across the pool surface for some time before merging with the water. When the star looked back, she realised that Will had already cut her lead almost in half and set off in alarm, swimming determinedly. Will reached the deep end, did a full racing turn and pulled out all stops on the return leg. He reached the shallow end with just enough time to stand up and pretend to be engrossed in the magazine again, as Meghan touched the side.

“I don’t agree with the colors for this season at all,” he said, pointing at the magazine. “Do you?”

“How dare you beat me, Will Moreland,” she said and pushed him. Meghan had been in films where her character had beaten up stunt men heavier than Will, even knocking them down with one punch. In real life, she made little impression against the human wall that was her adviser, although she thought that the sensation of her hands on his bare chest was interesting. Will chortled.

“What’s this?” said someone. They looked up to see Robin Hawk just above them. The Latin-featured star looked a million dollars in black chinos, a white silk shirt and a dark blazer. But when Will climbed out of the pool he realised, to his surprise given the star’s tough guy image, that he towered over the visitor.

“Mr Hawk,” he said, hiding his surprise and shaking the star’s hand. “Ms Chalmers’ usual trainer is out due to injury, and I was just standing in. Swimming is what I do.”

Hawk managed a smile. “I thought I was the only one Meg pushed around.”

“I don’t push anyone around,” said Meghan from the pool. She raised her arms for Robin to pull her out of the pool. “It’s nice that you can be here, darling, but I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Our last date could have been better,” he said. “I thought I’d make amends.”

Will left to shower and change noting that the ladies had also moved inside, leaving only the cat to glare at those who remained in her domain. When he got into the house he found Mia, Emma and Madison sitting around, trying to distract themselves as Meghan and Robin had gone upstairs obviously to have sex. Madison, in particular, seemed on edge. She certainly couldn’t go to her room. Will did not know why there should be a problem in that day and age but decided that a distraction was in order.

“Guys, if the star’s gone off to play then we can have a break,” he said. “I know there’s a pack of cards in the kitchen so let’s do coffee and cards.”

When Meghan came downstairs in a light pink dressing gown after what was, for her, a mechanical exercise, she found her staff engrossed in a game of twenty-one. Just as she arrived Madison had been dealt two Queens by Will, she split these and then beat the house on both to a roar from the crowd.

“What’s this?” said Meghan. “Is this what I’m paying you all for - to play cards?”

“If you want to get in, diva,” said Will, unabashed. “Take a chair.”

“Since I’m paying for the whole thing, I might as well,” she said, sitting down. “What are we playing for?”

“Just make a note on paper, Meg,” said Madison. “You show how much you’re betting with these cards. You throw the number of cards you want to bet in front of you from that stack, then count it up at the end of each hand. I made 25 on that hand.”

Meghan picked up what proved to be a standard sized business card from the stack indicated and read, “Will Moreland, journalist and writer.”

“I had them made out East,” said Will. “Now they’re good as counters at least.”

After two hands, with Meghan losing both, Robin Hawke also found the game.

“Hey, coffee guy,” he said.

“Name’s Will,” said Will. “You want coffee – made to order?”

“Yeah, and my security guy.”

“Henry’s already got one,” said Will. “He just preferred to stay in the kitchen and read.”

“He does that,” said Robin.

Will handed the dealer spot over to Mia and then went to the kitchen, followed by Robin. Will thought for a moment the star was going to speak to him about being too familiar with his girlfriend, but instead he produced the same pamphlet he had given to Meghan on the NFT investment consortium.

“You may want to get lucky with this opportunity,” he said. “Better than serving coffee all your life.”

Will noted that bodyguard Henry, a heavy-set, amiable man with whom he had chatted earlier, looked up, rolled his eyes and went back to reading his thriller.

“The NFT thing?” said Will, doing his best to smile. “Ms Chalmers showed that to me. Isn’t it half a million minimum investment?”

“Find half a million,” said the star, shrugging as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “There’s a world of opportunity out there. The important thing is to get in on the ground floor.”

“Pardon me, Mr Hawk but why are you bothering with this stuff?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, how much do you make for a film?” said Will, “or for a single episode of a streaming series? Wouldn’t it be more than you could hope to get from these sorts of investments, especially as you’re relying on two guys in an office to make good on their promises in trading these things?”

“What does a coffee guy know about any of this?” said Hawk, frowning.

“I was a journalist for a time back East, Mr Hawk,” said Will. “Just regionals but I did some investment stories. But if I’m just the coffee guy you shouldn’t even be showing this to me.”

“Why the fuck not?” said Hawk.

“Because I wouldn’t be considered a sophisticated investor and that’s not a formal offer document. The SEC has set views on procedures for raising money from the public. I’m hazy on the rules but there are exceptions, including crowd funding and one for getting money from investors who would be expected to know what they’re doing but I doubt I’d qualify. In any case, I don’t have half a million to drop on this but thanks for the thought.”

 

This conversation resulted in another sharp exchange between Hawk and Meghan who had become tired of the whole issue, although just as determined to avoid putting money into the NFT consortium.

“You take investment advice from the coffee guy?” said Hawk. “I thought you’d fired him.”

“He was fired for a while,” said Meghan, carefully. “But he came back because he’s useful. He handles all my social media and PR, all at a fraction of the amount I was paying in fees before and does it better, as far as I’m concerned. The coffee thing is just a bonus.”

“How does handling social media extend to being in the pool with you?” Robin asked.

“My regular trainer sprained his ankle and Will is former national swimming team. He was standing in.”

“Yeah?” said Hawk remembering, with alarm, the way Will had towered over him. “I don’t like this baby. He’s too close to you; he’ll take advantage of you. You’re so beautiful you have to be careful.”

“I can look after myself,” retorted Meghan. “Will doesn’t have access to my money and has never asked for anything, not even for a raise.”

“Does he touch you? Talk dirty to you?”

Hawk thought that if Will had done anything like that he could get bodyguard Henry to confront the writer, but Meg laughed softly over the thought of Will ‘talking dirty’.

“He’s never laid a finger on me and he’s never said anything inappropriate,” she said. Meghan almost added something like ‘darn it’ but stopped herself in time. “He’s been fine. I can handle my staff.”

“I’m just looking out for you, baby,” said Hawk, “I worry about you. Let’s come back to it.”

Meghan wondered why they had to ‘come back to it’ when she had made herself clear that she wasn’t going to invest but did not say anything.

“The good news,” continued Hawk, “is I can be in New York with you.”

The star was due to film on location for a romance/murder mystery December in New York, and her status meant she stayed in a suite at a swanky hotel, along with anyone she wanted. This mostly meant Mia in another bedroom but boyfriends as well.

“That’s great,” she said, although she did not feel that it was great, especially if she was to be hassled about the NFT consortium again, “how long are you going to stay with me?”

“Couple of weeks,” he said. “I’ve got meetings and a commercial to shoot. Can you get the producers to arrange an extra room for Henry?”

“I’ll get Mia onto it,” she said.

Later, Meghan called Mia into her study to pass on the request and to laugh with her over the thought of Will ‘talking dirty’.

“I don’t even get compliments,” complained Meghan. “He tells you and Emma you’re ‘looking fine’ or comments on what you’re wearing or has that line he’s used on Misty about how she’s looking too fabulous and it’s distracting him. But I don’t get that at all. He never tells me I’m ‘looking fine’.”

“Since when do you need to be told you’re looking fine?” retorted Mia. “You make the top of any list of desirable women going and you warned him off pretty hard when you hired him he told me, so he probably thinks that any remark would be out of line. Sometimes, when he puts pics of you online, he says stuff like ‘that should get them in’, or ‘that should have them drooling’. That might count as ‘talking dirty’ now that I think about it, but he never says it when you’re around.”

“He shows those pics to me,” said Meghan, “and he doesn’t say anything then.”

“What can he say about those shots of you sitting up in a bed with a sheet around you that wouldn’t sound greasy?” said Mia wrapping an arm around her at breast level to demonstrate. “Of course, they’re sexy. If Will knows what to say he probably doesn’t dare say it.”

“He could say something. I get a lot of compliments from men I don’t know and don’t care about. It would be nice to get them from someone I actually care about.”

“Do you care about Will?” said Mia quickly. She had begun to suspect that her boss liked the writer and was glad of a chance to question her.

“We all care about Will,” said Meghan, carefully. “I’m with Robin.”

“We all do,” agreed Mia although she was not fully convinced by the answer. “Do you want me to say anything to him about comments on the photos? I have to say, it’s weird, as most men would have to be told to shut up.”

“He can say things like ‘getting them in’ when I’m around. It’s what I do, I guess.”

“Should I tell him he can say things like that?”

Meghan thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever.”

Later that same day, Will came into her study as she was reviewing the social media comments. Will selected comments from the different channels, those that were complimentary or interesting, and either sent them to her or left printouts on her desk. As Meghan was not one to put her life online, or broadcast opinions on X, it was the only interaction she had with her professional profile media.

“Boss, I won’t be around for a couple of weeks from next week.,” he said.

“Don’t call me boss, and why not, Will Moreland? I’ll be paying you to be here.”

“You don’t pay me while I’m doing other stuff. That was our deal, remember?” said Will. “That slasher script I re-wrote is going to the storyboard phase and the producer – you remember Hap – is arranging a workshop with me and the director at some country shack he’s got. We’re going to hang out there for a week and more, hashing out the story. Hap is paying me, not very much but some, to be there. As per our deal, you don’t pay me for that time away.”

“Who’s going to be looking after all the things you do, Will?” she said, annoyed at the thought of the writer not being around for her to hassle. “What about the social media? What about my PR? What about investment advice? What about this benefit?”

“I can set up stuff for online before I go, for Emma to release. She’ll be here by herself, won’t she? You and Mia will be in New York. The benefit is arranged – it’s set for when Connie comes off touring. Your investments are as you want them; we can discuss any shifts in your portfolio when you return. As for the PR, you’re doing a radio interview and one of the TV shows, and both of them will be light. Tell a funny story for the radio program – I’ll leave you a couple of pointers – and wear something short and fabulous for the TV show and it won’t matter what you say. Mia can run interference otherwise. Any serious calls refer to me – I’ll handle them free of charge.”

“I still want you to be there,” said Meghan becoming exasperated. “It’s part of your job. I wanted you to come to New York and advise me.”

“You did fine before I came on staff, and this was part of the deal remember?”

“A slasher movie script with a director who makes zombie Nazi films?”

“Evan’s career to date has not been distinguished, that’s true,” said Will judiciously, “but neither has mine, as you’ve pointed out, and we’ve all got to start somewhere. Hitchcock started as a title card designer for silent films. James Cameron worked for Roger Corman, the king of low budget shlock…”

“This is not helping William Moreland. I still need you in New York.”

“You don’t need me in New York and this was part of the deal. If I’m not doing your work you don’t pay me.”

“How about I not pay you, ever? How about I fire you?”

“Fire me, then,” said Will. “I’m still going to this workshop.”

“Fine, you’re fired.”

“Okay, fine,” said Will. “It was a pleasure to work for you, for that time.”

He left. A few minutes later, Mia came in to ask about payments that had to be made.

“I hate Will Moreland,” said Meghan.

“Uh-huh,” said Mia.

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

The Sierra Nevada country retreat that Hap had promised Will and Evan Zagame, director of the film now called Party Town Terror (to avoid confusion with a Spanish film called Party Town), turned out to be a nondescript timber house on the edge of a small settlement called Mystery Valley.

“I thought you said water views and near Lake Tahoe,” said Evan, as he unfolded his lanky frame from Hap’s car. About the same age as Will, he was taller than the swimmer but a lot thinner, with dark, lank hair hanging down either side of a pair of large, black-framed glasses. His appearance and usual garb of black tee shirts of varying designs and jeans meant that he was often under estimated, although Will thought he detected a fierce intelligence and willingness to learn that had intrigued him enough to recommend the director to Hap.

Both Evan and Will agreed that there seemed to be little mystery about Mystery Valley. Unlike its namesake in Arizona, the valley had no ancient ruins or anything much apart from a few houses spread along the road with a general store and gas station in the centre. Surrounding hills and forests which showed evidence of logging blocked any view of the mountains.

“Lake Tahoe is two hours that way,” said Hap pointing into the woods at the other end of the valley.

“You’re pointing East,” said Will. “Lake Tahoe would be north of here.”

“Whatever,” said Hap. “Two hours is close in California. The water views are this way.” He led the others to one edge of the unfenced property and, sure enough, a small creek ran past the house then through a culvert under the settlement’s sole, paved road.

“Looks clear at least,” said Will. “Were there any fires near here?”

“Place got logged out of most stuff that could burn, decades ago,” said Hap. “There were fires in the next valley across but not here.”

“You said you fell in love with the place,” said Evan accusingly, looking around, “but this must be the most un-scenic part of the Sierra’s.”

“The price tag on this place is to die for,” said Hap, unabashed, “and it’s quiet. What more can you want?” The multi-millionaire led the way back to the house which, Will noted, was equipped with security cameras and a satellite dish. A sign said the place was under twenty four hour CCTV surveillance. The front door, which looked strong, had a key code lock.

“You keep an eye on the place,” said Will.

“Have to,” said Hap. “Logging camp up the road.”

Inside was comfortable enough but hardly luxurious, with a small stove powered by bottled gas and an ancient ice box that had to be turned on. They settled into the three bedrooms, unpacked the groceries and computer equipment they had brought with them and got to work.

 

After a brief discussion both Mia and Emma had decided simply not to mention Will, dealing with the writer by email for the matters they had to handle while he was away, and Mia paid Will for the time he spent on those matters. Meghan saw the payments in the list she always reviewed but said nothing.

The assistant had a request of her own.

“Can Jake stay with me in our suite in New York?”

“Okay, I guess,” Meghan said. “Can’t see any harm in it. Have you two gotten that far?”

“Seems so,” said Mia, coyly. “There’s been talk of moving in together, even if only to stop our respective roomies from complaining that three people should be paying rent. He’ll also be taking pictures of you on-set and around New York for the online material.”

“You’ve got words to go with these pictures?”

“We’ve got templates,” said Mia, carefully, “and Emma can adjust to suit.”

“These templates have been set by Will?” said Meghan frowning.

“Well, yes.”

“How dare he go away, like that!”

“Okay,” said Mia.

 

When Meghan got to New York with Mia and Jake in tow she found that filming included a lot of starts at sunrise, when the streets were mostly still clear of all but the inquisitive homeless. Meghan would have preferred late nights partying in fashionable night clubs with Robin and did not do mornings well, but they were part of the job and she took her job seriously. This time, however, the early morning starts were made worse by confusion over the script and conflict between director Ephron Pereira and the male lead, Morten Dyke. The woman scriptwriter, who had also written the original book, vainly tried to referee between the two men. Meghan thought that Morten was a slease bag always trying to get into her pants and Ephron was an idiot and took no part in the arguments. Instead, she spent a lot of time on a director’s chair, yawning, flicking through her phone messages, ignoring stares from early bird New Yorkers and resisting the urge to call Will to hassle him.

Finally, they would shoot a couple of scenes then there would be too many people about, and film production would move to interior shots. On the third day of this, Meghan was dragged into one of these fights over, of all things, how fast she should move up a staircase. Ephron wanted her to move slowly, Morten thought she should move quickly.

“Isn’t that right, Clar?” Morten asked her, as she was standing ready for the shot. He was not close enough to his co-star to call her Meghan or Meg.

“It’s a directorial decision,” said Meghan, exasperated.

“Now you’re taking his side,” snapped Morten.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” snapped Meghan. “I’m just doing my job which includes this scene. I’m doing it not you, and if the actual director of the picture says to go slowly then I’ll go slowly. In any case, I’ve just discovered my husband’s body and I’m dreading the fact that you, as my lover in the film, has killed him. Slowly doesn’t seem out of place.”

The film crew would have clapped and cheered if they had dared, especially as Morten then allowed the next couple of scenes to be shot without throwing a tantrum. Instead, the youthful female assistant who brought Meghan coffee spoke to the star.

“The crew really appreciate you standing up to Morten, Ms Chalmers,” she said. “He was less of a pain after that for a while, anyway.”

“Oh right, thank you,” said Meghan. “This film promises to be a nightmare all round.”

“It does,” agreed the assistant.

Then there was the problem of Robin who spent a couple of nights with her but was otherwise mostly missing in action. When he was present, he would pressure her to invest in the Non-Fungible Token scheme, upping the ante to two million dollars.

“Are you crazy?” retorted Meghan. “I’m not giving two million dollars of my money to two guys in an office. I don’t know what they’re supposed to be doing to earn these big profits and I don’t care. I’m not giving them any of my money.”

“Is it that coffee guy? You’re taking investment advice from him over me.”

“He’s got nothing to do with this,” said Meghan. “I don’t want to put money into schemes I don’t understand. It’s as simple as that.”

Robin stormed off, not to be seen for the rest of the day and the night. The thought that the relationship might have reached its use by date drifted through Meghan’s mind, only for her to put it to one side. Then the next morning she was walking through the hotel lobby with Mia for one of the early starts when they met Henry coming through the main entrance.

“Good morning, Henry,” said Meghan, cheerfully. The bodyguard had always been nice to her. “You’ve already been out this morning?”

“Staying in the hotel up the road,” he said. “Just coming in to get the boss.”

“You’ll be disappointed,” said Meghan, puzzled. “He’s not with us, and I thought you were staying in this hotel.”

“No, I’m down the street,” said Henry, after a moment’s hesitation. “Not with you? Thanks, I’ll check my phone.”

He held the door open politely for the two ladies and then went in, reaching for his phone. Meghan waited until they were a few steps further on before speaking to Mia.

“You arranged for a room for Henry, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Check on what’s happening with the room. Try to get the number then see if you can find out who’s staying in it. Maybe Jake can check it out.” Meghan already had deep, dark suspicions about who might be in the room but thought that she should at least check first, before confronting Robin.

A little later Jake knocked on the door of the room which Mia had arranged with the producers of Meghan’s film. He was a man of middling height in jeans and tee shorts with a short beard, carrying a top of the line camera. Eventually, the door opened, still on its chain, and a female voice said “Yes?”

“I had an appointment with Mr Robin Hawke I’m taking a few studio shots.”

“Oh, okay,” said the woman. “Sorry, but he’s gone out for a while. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

“Hmmm! Okay,” said Jake. “Maybe I got the time wrong. I’ll get the studio to check. Thanks.”

The woman was sufficiently reassured to open the door fully. She was a young, pretty brunette, dressed to go out.

“I’m just going out myself. Do you want me to tell him you were here?”

“Don’t worry,” said Jake. “The people who want this will get hold of him or that bodyguard Henry, was it? And find out where he is. Hey, you’re worth a few shots yourself. You’re a friend of Mr Hawke’s?”

“Yes, I am,” she said, smiling.

“Can I grab a couple of pictures for the producers, so my visit is not a total waste of time? If you’re going out, maybe by the fountain out front. Won’t take a moment.” Jake was fairly comfortable in his role as a photographer to the stars, as he was a photographer and had been taking shots of the famous Clarise Chalmers.

“I suppose I can do that,” she said. “I’ve had parts as an extra.”

“I don’t doubt that,” said Jake, getting into the lift with her. “You got an agency?”

“Turners,” she said.

“They’re supposed to be one of the best,” said Jake. “I am sorta curious about one thing, I thought that Mr Hawke was with that star um..”

“Clarise Chalmers. Yeah, that was a thing but it’s over. It just hasn’t hit the media yet.”

Jake spent a couple of minutes taking the girl’s picture by the fountain. Just as he was leaving, Henry, who had come to pick up the girl, drove up to the hotel’s entrance in Hawke’s limousine. Henry saw the photographer, whom he knew, but Jake did not see Henry. That meant Meghan was looking at the picture of the girl on Mia’s phone at about the same time that the male star was told by Henry that his secret was out. Hawke called his publicist.

“I’m sorry,” said Mia, as she showed Meghan the picture of the new girl in Hawke’s life and repeated what Jake had learned. They were on another break in filming while the director and male lead argued.

Meghan looked briefly at the picture and handed the phone back. She thought for a moment. The news was a blow but not such a bad thing when she thought about it.

“It hurts,” she said, after a moment, “and will for a while, but it’s also a relief. Robin was fun for a time, but he was never around and when he was he was trying to get me into those weird investments of his. Then he’d get mad if I didn’t invest. He’d also get mad if other men so much as looked at me. Why get mad at me over that? I can’t help guys looking at me. The fun’s over. Good riddance!”

“Good girl,” said Mia. “Lots of guys out there.”

The pair were silent for a time.

“Post-relationship cleaning up to be done,” said Mia, finally. “Are we doing the exit interview?”

Meghan eyed her assistant. “Are there office procedures for breakups these days?”

“Now that I’m in one, I’ve been reading up about them,” said Mia. “Procedures help. There’s the five steps in a relationship. Dating, then meeting each other’s co-workers…”

“I don’t want to hear about the steps of being in a relationship,” said Meghan, firmly. “I want to hear about the steps involved in getting out of one.”

“Oh right. Well, Robin still has stuff in your suite.”

“Good point,” said Meghan. “Does Jake mind clearing Robin’s things out? Leave them all at hotel reception, and make sure Robin can’t get into the suite. We’d better pay Jake for the work he’s doing too.”

“Okay,” said Mia, putting her phone to her ear.

“And tell the producers they don’t need to pay for that room any longer.”

“Will do. Is there going to be an announcement?”

“Humph!” said Meghan. That would be the most painful part of all, but it could be put off. “We’ll at least wait until after this exit interview you’re talking about.”

Meghan did another scene before exterior shooting was wound up for the day then agent Stella Bullingham called her.

“Is this a good time to talk?” Stella asked cautiously. “Are you sore about this breakup?”

“How did you know that Robin and I had gone our separate ways?” asked Meghan. “I only just found out myself.”

“It’s on the Sidewalk Stars website. I thought Will would be on his millionth call about it by now.”

“Will’s off doing his own work, and I hate him for it.”

“Okay,” said Stella. The agent thought it was a good idea not to say anything more about Will.

“Just a moment.” Meghan took the phone away from her ear. “Mia, can you look at the Sidewalk Stars site?” She went back to speaking to Stella. “We’ll get to it. but I was just telling Mia before that sure breakups hurt but this was also a relief. There were problems.”

“That’s good,” said Stella. “I mean breakups are bad but if there are problems then it’s better in the long run. Fortune cookie slogans aside, and I hate to bother you at this time, but can you do a Vogue cover? The model they had lined up has fallen though and they’re trying to keep to schedule. It’s in New York in about a week, and it’s good money.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it,” said Meghan. “The trouble is that filming here is proving such a pain. The director and my co-star are at each’s throats, and I think the crew are just about to mutiny. If they can fit in with breaks in the filming as I’m here anyway, then maybe. I’d prefer to keep working. Give them Mia’s number and we can try to co-ordinate.”

“Can do,” said Stella, “and sorry again about the whole break-up thing.”

Mia handed Meghan her laptop with the Sidewalk Stars website, featuring breaking news concerning her love life.

 

You read it here first. The talk on the sidewalk is that glamour couple Robin Hawke and Clarise Chalmers are on the rocks. Heart throb Robin decided that the relationship was no long working. Sources in his camp say that incompatible work schedules meant that the two were seldom together and when they were it was for a paid appearance for Clarise, or for her charity work. Robin has not remained single for long, being seen around town with brunette starlet Peggy Blossom.

There is no word yet from the Siren of the Shower…

 

“That arsehole!” exclaimed Meghan.

Mia, who rarely heard her boss use bad language, was impressed.

“He’s always on film sets, then takes up with this girl on the side and lays all the blame on me,” said Meghan. “And what charity appearances? We’ve only organised the one and it hasn’t happened yet. And what sort of name is Peggy Blossom? Makes Clarise Chalmers sound almost classy.”

Mia let Meghan fume for a couple more seconds. “There is one way you might be able to get out ahead of this?”

“Really, what?”

 

Chris, Danny and Hope discovered what was left of the bodies of the two party goers two levels below Party Town, the music of the main dance floor a muted doof, doof, doof.

“We told ‘em the Crazies were still around,” said Chris, bending to look at the bodies. “Might be two of those things.”

“We’ve gotta go back and warn them,” said Danny.

“They didn’t listen to us before,” said Hope. “Even with two bodies they might not listen.”

They heard a soft giggle somewhere in the darkness, then a patter of many feet.

“Shit they’re still here,” said Chris. “Guns out everyone.”

“Are we going to show the monsters now?” asked Hope.

“Let the tension build,” said Chris. “Let the audience look for the monsters.”

“I agree,” said Danny, “be sparing with the monsters, like the classics Alien and Jaws, but start the music - that pulse of a drum beat followed by a mechanical rasp were talking about, like in that Tomb Raider game sequence.”

A mobile phone rang.

“That’s yours, Will,” said Hope who was actually Hap. “I thought we agreed that everyone’s phone was to be turned off.”

“Sorry guys, I turned it back on,” said Danny who was actually Will, taking out his phone and looking at it. “I gotta take this.”

Will got up from the dining/kitchen table where he, Hap and Evan and been hashing out the film Party Town scene by scene with laptops connected by workgroup software. A rough sketch of the agreed scenes had been printed out and taped to the shack’s wall in sequence.

“Just a moment,” he said, and walked out to the deck overlooking the shack’s ‘water views’.

“How is the CGI going for this?” he heard Evan ask.

“Can show you something later,” said Hap, who had become absorbed in the project. Making a slasher film was way more entertaining than devising software development tools, he had decided. “Needs more work but for the scene you’ll just need someone with a laser tag on his chest.”

“Meg, what’s up,” said Will once he was out on the deck. Even if he didn’t admit it to himself, he had missed the star and hoped that he wasn’t really fired.

“I hate you, Will Moreland!”

“Oh, okay, was there any reason to call me to tell me that? A text with a bad emoji might have done it.”

“I need a statement. A response.” Meghan told him what had happened and read out the web site item.

“Oh wow, and he’s blaming you? The bastard.”

“Humph! Tell me about it,” said Meghan, glad that Will could not see her smile at his response.

“And this is why I’ve got a heap of voice mails. But you can easily return fire on this and blow your ex out of the water if that’s what you want?”

“I’m listening,” said Meg.

“You acknowledge that there were strains in the relationship including incompatible work schedules, but you note that Robin Hawke didn’t tell you any of this face to face. Instead, the first you heard of the break up and of another person in his life was when you read about it online. He hasn’t tried to call you since the news broke?”

“No – I haven’t heard from him.”

“Then you say also he’s made no attempt to contact you since the story broke. All that will instantly get the female half of the population on your side. It’s like a school kid sending a girl a text message saying, ‘You’re dropped’.”

“This sounds good,” said Meg, “is that it?”

“Then you drop the real bomb. You say Hawke did not mention other strains in the relationship such as his attempts to get you to invest in a string of crazy investment schemes You list the schemes including the last one he wanted you to drop half a million on.”

“He upped the amount. Try two million,” said Meg.

“What? Is he crazy?”

“That’s what I told him,” said Meghan, amused and comforted. “Now that I think of it, the last time I spoke to him was when I refused to put up that money.”

“Then that’s what you want to say,” said Will quickly, “and in those terms. Don’t attack him. Just keep to the facts. Can I send on those ridiculous investment flyers he was handing out?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” said Meghan. “Do we still have them?”

“I stuck them in a box in one of the closets – unless they’ve been thrown out as part of the firing process.”

“Not yet,” said Meghan. “Emma is in the house with not enough to do.”

“Then a short statement setting out all of that, Emma gets busy scanning and emailing and you’ll find that the whole debate will shift towards partners who try to get money from their better halves, and how mean they can be when they don’t get what they want and so on. I’ll draft something for your approval. It won’t take long.”

“I still want you in New York.”

“From where I am that’s going to be impossible inside two days and I haven’t finished this workshop thing. I’m being paid to be here.”

It was on the tip of Meghan’s tongue to offer Will double what he was getting to come to New York, but she did not. She knew that Will did not operate like that. Instead, she said: “where is this workshop thing?”

“It’s in an unscenic part of the Sierra Nevadas.”

“How can you have an unscenic part of those mountains.”

“That’s what we said, but Hap, you remember the publisher, sold it to us as close to Lake Tahoe and with water views.”

“Sounds better.”

“Except Lake Tahoe is still two hours away, and the water views are of a tiny creek on one side of the property.”

Meghan laughed. “You never seem to get ab good deal, do you.”

“Nope,” said Will. “Do I get any sympathy?”

“Ha!” said Meghan.

“I’ll come to New York just as soon as I can.”

“Ha! First do the statement, Will.” She hung up.

“Do I start paying Will when he turns up again,” said Mia.

“Ha!” Meghan said, but without any heat.

“We were discussing a deal where he would get paid half the daily rate if he had to do any work while away. Do I do that?”

“Ha!” said Meghan again.

Mia took that as a yes to both questions.

 

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

Sidewalk Stars’ Ken anchorman flashed his gleaming teeth. “The big news in the entertainment industry today is Hollywood heart throb Robin Hawk filing for bankruptcy. Take it away Barbara.

“Yes Ken,” said Barbara flashing her gleaming teeth. She was sitting at a desk with a picture of the Wall Street Bull and Bear statues behind her to establish her financial credentials. “The star’s financial affairs started unravelling the moment he split from Clarise Chalmers, the siren of the shower, with Ms Chalmers complaining that the first she heard of the split, or of another girl in Robin’s life, was from an item on our web site. She admitted to tensions in the relationship but said these were about money. Chalmers said that the last she saw of her lover was when she refused to put two million dollars into one of a string of what her office describes as ‘crazy investment schemes’ favoured by the Hawk.

“The amount was large enough for the SEC and the IRS to start kicking over rocks as they say in the investment game, with the help of material provided by Ms Chalmers’ office. It turns out Ken that even with the millions he was earning from acting, Robin Hawk could not stay away from high-risk investment schemes. He lost so much on those schemes that in the end the only way he could get some of this money out of those schemes was to get others to invest…”

The next call Will got, almost the moment he hung up from Meghan, was from Charlotte who declared that she would be in Los Angeles in two days and what about getting together?

“Love to Char,” he said, “but I’m in an obscure spot in the Sierra Nevadas in a workshop for several days and just now I have to do something quickly for my office. There’s a chance I may be in New York in a week or two if you don’t mind getting together then, otherwise, it’ll have to be next time around.”

“New York may be hard, as I don’t know where I’ll be,” she said, carefully. “But I’ve been thinking about what you said about me not giving you my number, so I’ve decided to give it.” She then gave him a number which he noted down.

“That’s great, Char,” he said, “I’ll finally be able to call you. But I gotta dash. I’ll call in a day or so.”

He stayed at Hap’s country retreat for another week and a half, fielding calls from reporters about his boss’s breakup. They wanted to talk to Meghan, but she had left strict instructions that she would not comment further until she was ready to do so, whenever that might be. However, Will was authorised to throw one or two information titbits to those who called, provided they attributed the points to “sources familiar with the events”. These included Meghan only becoming aware of the other girl in her boyfriend’s life at about the time he broke up with her via media leak. However, they had not been speaking before that because of the star’s demands that Meghan invest millions of dollars in risky schemes. This was close enough to the truth to keep reporters happy. Will was also able to say that he had been approached for investment and could send them the papers outlining the various schemes.

The fuss over the breakup itself died down after a few days, to Meghan’s relief, with the gossip columnists shifting their attention to Robin Hawke’s tangled financial affairs, and reporters writing features on financial abuse in relationships.

By the time Will, Hap and Evan thought they had a viable story sequence in place the breakup was old news, but Meghan still wanted Will to come to New York as Vogue had suggested an interview to go along with the cover about the events in the star’s life. Will could brief her on what to say. In addition, Stella wanted Will to attend a meeting about what was now being called the Bad Diva fashion brand with her in New York.

“Me, at a fashion meeting?” said Will when the agent told her about this. “Security might not even let me into a building with fashion brands.”

“Meghan says you’re to wear something decent,” said Stella, amused. “Her words were ‘the half-drowned pool look works in LA, but not New York’. Wear a good suit. That’ll do.”

“But what am I to do at this meeting, apart from not look half-drowned?”

“You’re decorative enough and that’s not a bad start for this kind of meeting especially as it will be mainly women,” said Stella. “Faking it also helps and that briefing note you wrote shows you can fake it with the best of them. But mostly I need someone from the diva camp who’s got my back. These guys are a top fashion brand. I don’t want to face them alone.”

On the drive back to LA, the Party Town production team kicked around the next, important step – that of trying to find actors who were a cut or two above the run of late night slasher features, but still willing to work for the money Hap was prepared to offer. He had taken Will’s advice about films rarely earning back their cost of production to heart and he was watching expenses carefully.

“What about Violet, Will?” asked Evan. “Do you keep in contact with her?”

“No not at all,” said Will. “She’d be into any acting job, I guess, although when she ran out on me she was heading to an off-Broadway gig. Maybe she’s still doing that.”

“Sounds sordid,” said Hap.

“Sordid and gruesome,” said Will, “but she might spice up the movie. You’re welcome to the number I have for her, especially as you’re the one who has to deal with her – I’ve done the script bit.”

“’ Bout that,” said Evan. “Hap and I have been talking and we want you to hang around on set as assistant director/script writer.”

“I couldn’t turn down the chance,” said Will. “But you guys saw that I had to break off a couple of times during our workshop to put out fires for my boss. That’d still be a thing.”

“Whatever,” said Evan.

“I also get paid for my time, right?” asked Will.

“Yeah, there’s pay,” said Hap, not very enthusiastically.

“There’s also the question of what you’d want me to do,” said Will. “The film seems set to me, and I dunno just what I can add to issues like camera angles, costumes and props. I never trained in film.”

“You’ve done alright so far,” said Evan. “I’ve been an assistant director and it’s a lot about coordinating all the different teams involved. Coordinating AI backdrops with the action may be a big part of this. The script will probably also need tweaks and we’ll still need someone to blame for things going wrong.”

“Great someone who takes the blame,” said Will. “My career is looking up.”

 

A day later, Will emerged in the lobby of the Marlborough Hotel within spitting distance of New York’s Central Park, to see Meghan bearing down on him.

“You!” she said. Will had gotten in too late the previous night to visit the star and had been given a separate room, so this was the first time the star had seen her consultant for more than two weeks.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” said Will. “Mia, how do you react knowing Will is here.”

“Yea! Will is here!” said Mia, playing her part. “It’s great to see you again Will!”

“There, see, Mia at least is pleased to see me.

“And what is that?” said Meghan, ignoring Mia and pointing at Will’s tie.

“It’s a tie,” said Will.

“I can see that,” snapped Meghan. “What is the ghastly design on it? I can see bottles but what are the other outlines?”

“I think its baseball bats,” said Mia, craning in to look.

“Thank heaven, I thought it might be something else,” said Meghan. “You are not going anywhere representing me wearing a baseball tie.”

“But I...”

“Come.” She grabbed Will by the forearm and dragged him to a menswear boutique in the foyer of the hotel.

It was interesting, Will thought, to see the male attendant snap to when the famous Clarise Chalmers appeared in his shop.

“Men’s ties please,” she said.

“Of course, madam,” said the attendant who then produced several hangers full of ties. “Conservative, madam, or more colourful?”

“Conservative with a dash of colour, I think.” She inspected a couple of racks and chose one in a soft, grey fabric with a yellow stripe. “Take off that tie and put on this.”

“Does sir also want a pocket square, madam?” said the attendant. “Two peaks are fashionable just now.”

“Yes, what do you have.”

This resulted in the production of another row of fabrics and, by the time Will had tied his new tie, Meghan tucked a pocket square with two peaks in a yellow shade that more or less matched the tie’s colour stripe into the writer’s breast pocket.

“There that’s an improvement at least,” she said, adjusting Will’s tie with a click of her tongue then stepping back. “Give me that other tie.”

She held out her hand and Will, who had previously put the tie in his pocket, reluctantly gave it to her. She dropped it on the counter.

“Take that away and put it out of its misery.”

“Of course madam. Perhaps Madam may want to rethink sir’s suit?” said the attendant hopefully.

“There could be other improvements,” agreed Meghan. “But I’ll be late on set. Pay the man, Mia and let’s go.”

“Never understood keeping a handkerchief in the breast pocket,” said Will when they got out into the foyer.

“William Moreland!” said the star rounding on him. “You use your pocket square as a handkerchief and you’ll be fired again.”

“Yes, ma.. Meg. Are we all going to have dinner together? Stella said something about it.”

“She did,” said Meghan. “Mia see to the booking. Are you going to see your Junior Cougar at some point? This is supposed to be her home turf.”

“Doesn’t seem like it. Instead, I’m meeting my sister for lunch.”

“You have a sister living here?” said Meghan.

“Lilith is an associate in one of the major law firms, Huntington and Brown, on the fast track to legal stardom.”

 

Lunch with Lilith was a re-run of many other meetings with his older sister who was ambitious both for herself – she was aiming for partner and would probably get it – and for her two brothers. While Will put up with the hectoring as best he could, his younger brother Caden had taken to hiding whenever she visited.

“Are you going to see mum and dad?” Lilith said the moment Will appeared at the table. Lilith was a severe but not unpleasant looking woman who tied her dark hair back in a bun and wore outsized glasses that reminded Will of Charlotte. He had met her partner Ben, another lawyer, a few times and thought the man always appeared shell-shocked.

“I’ll be able to go down for a day or so on the weekend, then I’ll fly back,” Will said.

“To these non-paying writing jobs.”

“Well, they pay something,” said Will, thinking he should at least be allowed to order before defending himself. The menu looked good.

“Mother says you’re on the staff of one of the big time Hollywood stars, but she didn’t say which one.”

“Clarise Chalmers.”

“Really?” It was one of the few times Will had seen his sister impressed by anything he did. “You’ve met the star herself?”

“Oh yes.”

This led to a question and answer session in which Will told his sister how he had met the star, and how Clarise/Meghan had laid down the law regarding any romantic thoughts he might have.

“Good,” snorted Lilith. “But no doubt you’ll meet starlets and we’ll have a re-run of the Violet disaster.”

Both Lilith and Mrs Moreland had been wary of Violet and Will had to admit that the relationship had ultimately been a disaster. But he didn’t try to defend himself. Instead, Will said he couldn’t help who he liked and could they order now? He was hungry. Lilith relented, then, once the waitress had come and gone, questioned him about how much he was earning. Will told her.

“You get that much per day? Junior associates at my firm get that much per hour.”

“I’m not giving legal advice, Lil. Just handling the PR and social media.”

A little later they got onto Will’s current romantic affairs which were also unsatisfactory.

“Mum says you won’t say anything about this person you’re seeing, only that she comes to LA sometimes on business.”

“Well, yes. I haven’t said anything because the whole thing is strange.”

“Huh! She lives here – are you going to see her?”

“Dunno,” said Will. “The meetings are up to her.”

He eventually left the lunch, feeling drained, but was able to entice Charlotte to his hotel room the next day for what turned out to be an afternoon sex date. She kissed him afterwards and gave him various excuses about why they couldn’t meet for dinner or, indeed, even have a normal date while he was in town. She was just too busy.

A week later, however, she came to LA and they had dinner saw a film and then had a night at her serviced apartment. The next day was Saturday and Will thought to check out Venice Beach where he had never been. As far as he was concerned, Los Angeles was one, big traffic jam and most places in the tourist guides in any city were usually a letdown, but Charlotte also wanted to go before flying out later that day.

Where did she have to be on a Saturday night and then Sunday, Will asked as they ate a breakfast of muffins.

“I’m so sorry I can’t stay over longer, darling,” she said. “It’s just so busy at work at the moment, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Of course,” said Will, “but work can’t be too much of a drag, you looked tanned and fit.”

“Why thank you, Will. I was able to get a little time in the sun on the rooftop at work.”

Just at the moment, she bit into a muffin she was holding with her left hand and Will could not help but notice that there was a band of paler skin on her ring finger. He looked away quickly, thinking that pale skin confirmed a part of what he had suspected, and he wondered whether it mattered to him one way or another. The choice had been Charlotte’s – he was along for the ride – and he had never thought in terms of Charlotte becoming a soul mate with a shared life. But then did it matter that she had a husband and perhaps a family back East?

Charlotte declared she would take a quick shower and pack before they headed off, disappearing into the bedroom and leaving her shoulder bag, a smart item of black leather closed with a zipper, on the kitchen top. Will stared at the bag until he heard the shower start then carefully unzipped it so as not to change the bag’s position. The first thing he noticed was that his occasional girlfriend had two mobiles. He lifted each out. Both were set to silent. The front screen of one showed a generic view of the Brooklyn Bridge. Will supposed that was the one for him. The other had a picture of Charlotte with an older, distinguished looking man and two boys, one a near-teenager and then other somewhat younger. They all looked happy. He carefully replaced the phones, zipped the bag back up and went to get dressed.

 

Will noticed the car in the street outside Charlotte’s serviced apartment building as they drove past it, only because the vehicle reminded him of his own decidedly down market Saturn, comparing badly with the Porsches, BMWs and even Jaguars of the neighbourhood. Then he thought no more of it – wondering, instead, what he would do with his new found information. Was it really his problem? After all, Charlotte was not cheating on him, but then what would happen if this dalliance became serious?

Despite what was going through his mind Will still managed to keep up his end of the conversation until they found a place to park and got out of Charlotte’s rental, some distance from the Venice Beach skateboard park and recreation centre where they thought most of the action would be. Then the same beaten-up Ford he had seen outside Charlotte’s place drove past them. Will glimpsed the driver, a middle-aged, balding man who looked away the moment the writer looked up, then parked within sight of Will and Charlotte.

“Odd,” thought Will. But then Venice Beach was a popular attraction.

They walked on with Charlotte saying that she needed the exercise and eventually arrived at Ocean Front Walk.

“Let’s go out to that park feature,” said Charlotte after a couple of minutes. The weather was California-normal, meaning that there were girls in bikinis and others wearing cut-away shorts riding bikes. Will was distracted by two passing girls and thought he saw the same man who had been in the old Ford move discretely out of his line of sight. Curious, the writer then pretended to look up and down Ocean Front Walk so that he could observe this man out of the corner of his eye. Like Will and Charlotte the newcomer was not dressed for the beach but he had a camera around his neck. He was just standing in the nearby car park but when Will and Charlotte moved further on, down the main drag their new friend came with them.

Will thought this man looked more like an ex-military or law enforcement type than any mobster, and why would someone who meant them harm carry a camera? Then he realised what the man must be and, after a few moments of thought, what he must do. They bought ice creams at a shop and Will saw, through the shop window, their new companion come up closer to take a picture of them as they emerged. He turned his face away and they continued walking.

“I’m afraid there’s been a development in our relationship, such as it is, Char,” he said.

“Really, what?”

“We’re being followed, and I strongly suspect the man is a private detective. Don’t look around. Just keep strolling casually.”

“How do you know this?” asked Charlotte.

“Saw the man’s old car in the street outside your serviced apartment. I think he was trying to blend in, but in that street it stood out. I got a glimpse of him as we drove by. The same car passed us when we stopped and then parked a block or so from us. The guy who was in the car has been behind us since. He’s squat, balding, white shirt blue pattern, well back. I think he just took a picture of us.”

“But why? Is he following you?”

“Don’t think it’s about me, Char. Would you say your husband is a jealous kind of guy?”

“Shit!” said Char, after a moment. “How long have you known?”

“I knew something was off right from the start when you wouldn’t give me your phone number or even tell me where you worked, but the part about you being married I didn’t realise until just this morning at breakfast.”

“How?” said Char looking at him.

“You said you’d been out in the sun but I happened to see your ring finger with a much paler patch of skin about where a wedding ring would go.”

Charlotte looked at her finger and said “shit” again.

“I did something a little sneaky. While you were in the shower I looked in your bag and found your two cells. One’s for me, I guess, and the other has a sign-on screen of you with a man and two boys.”

“The younger one is mine,” she said, “the older one is his, staying with us every second weekend.”

“They look like nice kids,” he said.

“They are. Sorry Will, I wasn’t getting what I wanted in my marriage and my husband cheats on me quite a bit – having affairs and buying hookers. But I still didn’t want to break things up.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Char,” said Will. “I suspected you weren’t free right from the start, and I took the sex. I can’t point fingers. I also didn’t mind anything that happened. Guys can take being a port of call for sex way better than a girl can. No hard feelings at all; but when it comes to private detectives following us, taking pictures then it’s time for me to depart. I really don’t want to be involved in messy divorces.”

She sighed. “I understand Will, and thanks for the good times.”

They walked on for another few seconds in silence.

“What happens now?” she said.

“I vanish. I don’t think this guy has got his money shot – he seems a bit eager with that camera of his – and once I’m gone all he can do is follow you around.”

“What’s the money shot?”

“The picture of us in some sort of passionate embrace or holding hands or whatever. My mother is a lawyer with a family law practice; she told me about this stuff. The money shot is conclusive proof and helps justify the fees.”

“I see. And he doesn’t have it?”

“Don’t think so, at least he seems to be taking risks to get closer with that camera of his.” They came to a corner store filled with souvenirs and a handy circular postcard rack right next to the corner. He looked at the front rows while talking to Charlotte. “I’ll get behind this, then when the crowd blocks our mutual friend’s view I’ll slip around the corner. Remember to buy something for your kids and maybe mention, casually, to your husband that you met a former colleague on the streets and went to Venice Beach. All good fun.”

“Okay Will,” she said. “Bye!”

“Nice knowing you,” said Will and went around the back of the stand. When Charlotte looked again, he was gone.

 

Will walked quickly down the side street, thinking that he would walk several blocks over and then call in a taxi or an Uber or something. He had been truthful when he told Charlotte he did not regret the affair. But it had been a strange arrangement, and now that it was over he felt a sense of relief.

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

“The bad girls’ charity event is almost here Barbara,” said Sidewalk Stars’ anchorman Ken. “What’s the gossip on the big event?”

“After a long delay to fit in with Connie Leighton’s existing touring dates,” said Barbara sitting in front of a picture of a busy night club to show that she knew about the club scene, “the event is on for this Saturday. The long standing feud between Leighton and Hollywood hottie Clarise Chalmers is now coming down to be a stand-off over club dresses. Dress makers are working overtime for both camps, Ken.”

Another question even more important than what to wear to the event was weighing on Meghan’s mind.

“I don’t really want to go alone to this event,” she told Mia, as they scanned through dresses on Mia’s laptop. “It’s depressing sitting alone in a stretch limousine, and you’ll be there already, handling lists.”

“The obvious thing is to ask Will to ride with you,” said Mia. “The event organisers and security are handling all the details he was telling me. He doesn’t need to get in early.”

“Okaaaay, but what about this junior cougar of his?”

“He’s just keeping you company – it’s not an actual date. There shouldn’t be a problem. Just ask him.”

“I have to ask him?” said Meghan, as if this was some exotic practice of tribes in distant countries.

“Sure,” said Mia. “You haven’t asked a guy out before?”

“I haven’t had to.”

“Well, it’s time for Clarise Chalmers to try something new.”

Later in the day, Meghan called Will into her study and asked if he could ride with her in the limousine and be on her table at the dance.

“I’m going anyway, so it’s no problem,” said Will. Mia had already mentioned that he would be asked. “This is all about me making up the numbers because Robin is now a non-person as far as you’re concerned.”

“That’s right,” conceded Meghan. “But I hope you don’t think it’s a chore to ride in with me Will?”

“No guy would think that,” said Will.

“Ha! Finally, a complement,” said Meghan. “What about this junior cougar of yours; is she going to cause problems over this?”

“No longer relevant,” said Will. “I found out about the other man in her life.”

“Who was the other man?”

“Her husband.”

Meghan gasped. “Let’s hear it, then. I want the story.”

Will told her most of what happened.

“She never wore her ring around you?” asked Meghan, at the end of the story.

“Nope. Now that I think of it, she probably took the ring off just before she spoke to me that first time outside the supermarket.”

“Like I said at the time, opportunistic of her.”

“Maybe she speaks to a few guys before she gets a hit,” said Will. “Like some guys ask a lot of girls hoping to get the occasional yes. But girls wouldn’t have to ask many guys to get lucky, I guess.”

“Humph! Did the marriage thing bother you?” said Meghan.

“If she’d been wearing her ring that first time I would have taken evasive action. You never know who the husband might be.”

“This is true,” said Meghan.

“But when I found out I was wondering what to do. The choice had been hers all along, as a response to her husband stepping out on her and not wanting to break up the family, or so she said. But when private detectives start taking pictures it’s all getting way too serious. I wasn’t really invested in the relationship, nor was she and we both knew it.”

“At least your romantic affairs generate gossip for the rest of us, Will,” said Meghan, amused.

“Tell me about it,” said Will. “Speaking of tangled affairs do you mind if Henry, your ex’s former bodyguard, is the security man for you on the night?”

“Guess not. Henry was always nice to me. Why him?”

“He got left high and dry financially with unpaid fees thanks to his boss’s bankruptcy. He rang me looking for work. If he was working for Robin he would be top of the line, and you need more security.”

“Okay, sure.”

“Say, if I’m going with you even if it’s not a date, I’ll have a chance to tell you about my theories on Darth Vader.”

“Mention Darth Vader and I’ll have Henry put you out of the limo.”

“I could tell you that the Jedis were a power bloc that had to be eliminated.”

“I’ll have him throw you out on the freeway,” said Meghan.

“Vader was justified in wiping them out.”

“And then have him run you over.”

Meghan giggled. Will sighed.

“No theories then?” the writer said.

“About Star Wars, nope,” said Meghan firmly. “You can always talk about other theories, depending on the subject. What we will talk about now is just how you will dress for the night.”

 

On the day, Will attended casa-Meghan dressed in a tuxedo, with a red bow tie and a red pocket square, as instructed, to find Madison and another, older lady, in the kitchen. The lady was muttering to herself while inspecting the coffee machine.

“Mum, this is Will,” said Madison.

Mrs Kowalski was an attractive woman with a figure kept trim by golf and hair kept dark by careful dying.

“Oh hello, Will,” she said. “You caught me talking to myself.”

“I understand, Mrs Kowalski, you need people of sense and intelligence to speak to from time to time. The real question is, and I have to ask, do you listen to yourself?”

“I answer myself back sometimes,” she said, smiling.

“The issues have to be argued out,” said Will. “You need someone to argue with.”

“You’re taking my Meghan to this thing tonight?”

“Just making up the numbers, Mrs Kowalski. Your daughter wants someone to push around in lieu of an actual date and I’m told I make a decent verbal punching bag.”

“You should be complimented,” said Mrs Kowalski, laughing. “Meg only beats up people she likes.”

“That still means I get beat up – pardon me, Mrs Kowalski, but what are you doing to my coffee machine?”

“Trying to get a cappuccino out of it, Will, and it’s Claire, please.”

“Of course, Claire, just let me around the other side and I’ll get it going. You also want a cap, Maddie?”

“Yes, please, Will,” said Madison. “But I want that nutmeg flavour you were talking about when I was here last time.”

“Oh right, well, okay, that takes some effort. You ladies are staying over, I’m told.”

“I live over my store and it’s being fumigated, as a precaution against nasty bugs in the wood,” said Mrs Kowalski

“Antiques can be difficult to store, as I understand it,” said Will as he messed with the machine.

They talked for a time about types of antiques with Will expressing a preference for Chinese, although he could never afford anything more than reproductions, and Mrs Kowalski saying that there was more money in reproductions than in genuine pieces. Then she asked about Will’s family back East.

“I come from a family of lawyers,” said Will. “Mum has a family law practice in Albany, the New York state capital. Dad specialises in State constitutional law and city charters and the like. My older sister, Lilith, got into Yale and now she’s an associate in one of the big New York law firms, aiming for a partnership.”

“Oh my, she sounds quite the go getter,” said Mrs Kowalski.

“Those guys earn millions. Here we go Maddie, can I have a taste of this to make sure I’ve got it right?”

“Sure,” said Madison.

That meant Will was drinking nutmeg-flavoured coffee just as Meghan floated past dressed in a backless, halter-neck, very short dress of sparkly-red material with a scalloped front, and shoes to match. He choked. This time Mrs Kowalski patted him on the back as he struggled to recover.

“Nice dress,” Will managed to gasp at last. Madison giggled, wishing she could make men choke like that. Meghan rolled her eyes, although she was by no means displeased, then lent across the counter, put one hand under Will’s jaw and pushed his mouth shut.

“Come along Will,” she said. “The limo is waiting. Chop, chop!”

She floated away and Mrs Kowalski gave Will a paper towel to clean his mouth.

“Who says chop, chop these days?” asked Will of no one in particular.

“Meghan it seems,” said Mrs Kowalski, “you’d better go.”

“Nice to meet you, Claire,” said Will, “later Maddie.”

“And lovely to meet you, Will,” said Mrs Kowalski.

The Kowalskis waited for Will to leave and then laughed.

 

In the limousine, the first time Will had been in such a vehicle, the writer said ‘hey’ to George, riding shotgun, and to the driver a smaller, whippet-like man called Noah who came highly recommended by George.

“Not all that far, folks, for LA,” said George as they drove off.

“We may have to make a stop on the way,” said Will, “as Ms Chalmers wants to run me over if I mention Star Wars.”

“She doesn’t want to hear your Star Wars theories?” said George. “We can find somewhere to run Will over quietly, can’t we?” he said to Noah.

“No problem,” said Noah.

“Come to think of it,” said Meghan, “you might damage to limousine. Maybe you could just push him out into traffic?”

“Even easier,” said George grinning.

“You really don’t want to hear about Star Wars, do you?” said Will.

“Nope! But I do want to hear about this sister of yours Lilith.” The star had heard some of Will’s conversation with her mother. “She sounds competitive enough for the two of you.”

Will was trying not to leer at Meghan’s legs on full display in the back of the limousine. Meghan for her part, noticed Will’s struggle and was amused. Will could look discretely if he wanted, especially if he was entertaining her with conversation.

“You think you’re being determined and tough threatening to have me pushed out into traffic?” said Will. “Compared to my sister Lilith, you’re just a lamb.”

“A lamb!” exclaimed Meghan.

“A fluffy, woolly bah-lamb.”

“I see,” said Meghan, amused.

“She’s still an associate at her firm, but Mum says she’s heard that senior partners are terrified of her.”

“Sounds formidable.”

“Tell me about it. She’s been trying to manage my career since junior high. I had lunch with her when we went to New York.”

“I remember you saying.”

“As far as she’s concerned I’m wasting my time with low-paying, trivial jobs in LA. I should get a proper job in a law firm, give up on actresses and start dating some nice associate at her law firm. And that was before I was allowed to order. The menu looked good and I was hungry.”

“Poor Will,” said Meghan amused. “Your life is hard.”

“I’m a victim – that’s me.”

“A victim of your sister?”

“And in other ways.”

“What other ways?”

“I’m a fashion victim.”

“I knew that,” said Meghan laughing. “You say Lilith got into Yale. Did you also get into there?”

“Me? No, I was University of Chicago.”

“What’s the law school like at the University of Chicago?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m the black sheep of my family. I did physics and maths, not law. My parents weren’t too worried, but the fight I had with my sister was epic.”

“I thought you must be law or a business major,” said Meghan. “How did you get into reporting from science?”

“I’d done honours focusing on the properties of semiconductors – used in transistors and printed circuits. I was thinking about doing a doctorate in computer modelling of solid state materials but was wondering whether I really had what it took. The likely doctoral supervisors didn’t seem to take me seriously. Too much of a jock for them, or something.”

“Huh!”

“And then I met an editor who was looking for someone to write science and he liked me, so I thought well I’ll do that. I didn’t realise until I was in it that I was really lucky to get a place in newspapers, let alone just walk into it the way I did. The work also seemed to suit me and it was good fun for a while. Then I got cancelled.”

“What? How did you get cancelled?”

“Over not much as it turned out - a story on a place that would compost bodies using solar energy.”

“Compost bodies?”

“Yep. If your mother passes away and you’re really keen on recycling, you can get her composted. Takes some time and energy which this company sourced from wind generators, solar panels and the like. At the end of it, you get a chunk of nutrient-rich soil which you can use to plant a tree or something.”

“I don’t want to have my mother composted,” said Meghan.

“She seems in pretty good shape so the issue may not arise for a long while. When it does just tell her that it’s for the good of the planet.”

“Don’t think I’ll go there, but how did you get cancelled over that?”

“I didn’t take the story sufficiently seriously,” said Will. “I didn’t mock them but I had a lighter touch on the story. A bit of humour. The editor thought it was fun; the copy desk didn’t say anything when it went through, but the company complained. The journalists had a meeting and cancelled me – wouldn’t handle my copy.”

“Over that!”

“Yep, over that,” said Will. “I got on well with those guys – mainly women – up to that point, but they turned on me in a split second just to maintain their green street cred. I was shocked.”

“This is why you thought up that crack about Connie trading her private jet in for a bicycle?”

“I just knew something about the debate,” said Will. “Anyway, the editor had approved the story so he wasn’t about to fire me. Instead, he moved me to the property desk, where I also helped out with personal investment stories. The cancelling didn’t extend to stories from those desks. That’s why I know something about those areas.”

They arrived at the venue, a new hotel, a Regal Grand, in West Hollywood, a little off the boulevard itself which had agreed that the publicity from the event was worth a discount. George opened her door and Clarise Chalmers emerged in a dazzling red club dress in front of a wall of paparazzi held back behind a rope barrier by security. She then worked her way down a host of fans behind another rope barrier who had been waiting for hours, exchanging a few words and stopping for selfies. George followed close behind, constantly scanning the crowd. After that she posed in front of a backdrop featuring the hotel’s name for the more formal pictures – the ones that commentators would use to judge the dresses. Apart from Connie and Clarise, four other lesser known but still recognisable personalities had found time to attend the event.

Will, in contrast, slipped out of the limo on the other side and walked around to check in with Mia, nodding at the hotel security guys. As event organiser he was able to move around unchallenged. He was inside the hotel when Connie arrived, with a roar from the crowd far louder than that which had greeted Clarise. This annoyed the star, who was still having pictures taken. Why was Connie always so much more popular than her?

The rest of the evening was a blur of chatting with a host of people, all the way from Meghan’s friend Misty Dawn through to an ill-favoured gentleman who wanted to buy a dance with one of the stars, perhaps Ms Chalmers who seemed like a “sporting lady”, as he put it. Will said that there was no space in the schedule for paid dances and told George to keep an eye on the man.

As master of ceremonies for the evening, Will got on the stage to remind the crowd that they were there to raise money for the Haddenbach Children’s Hospital – they agreed noisily although they didn’t really care – and conducted a small celebrity auction of memorabilia donated by the stars. Meghan still had the underwear she had worn in the famous sword fight which she happily handed over, to be bought by the ill-favoured gentleman, and Connie had found the shoes she had worn in her very salacious first video. A Silicon Valley billionaire type got those. More money for the hospital.

Later, as the attendees mingled with the stars, Will spoke to Connie for a time who took the trouble to hassle him – a sign of her high opinion of him – then said, “I think you better go and get Meg, she look’s uncomfortable.”

Will who had lost track of his “date” in the crowd for a few minutes, turned around a did a double take at the sight of Meghan sitting on a table, feet on a chair, surrounded by a dense crowd of men, with another, looser crowd mainly of women surrounding the first crowd.

“Lordy!” said Will.

George was by Meghan’s side, but Will thought the usual bright Clarise smile was a little strained.

“Excuse me. Dance later?”

“We’d better dance, Will, or else,” Connie said.

Will then dived into the crowd declaring “photo call Ms Chalmers”. As he was MC, Meg’s many admirers made way for him. He nodded at George who was glad to see Will, grabbed Meghan’s hand and said, “Time for the pics with the hospital people, Ms Chalmers. Say goodbye to the nice gentlemen.”

“Goodbye nice gentlemen,” said a relieved Meghan, waving.

“Shit!” said someone.

Then came the photo op with the chief executive of the Haddenbach Children’s Hospital where Meghan and Connie symbolically handed over a display cheque made out with the estimated amount for the night. The outrageous ticket price of several thousand a person plus incidentals meant that the event had raised close an amount not far short of one million dollars. That money, plus the much higher public profile making it easier to attract donors, meant that the hospital’s financial future was considerably brighter. It’s very young patients would get better care, which was the whole point of the night. Not incidentally, both Meghan and Connie received grudging praise in media outlets and websites coast to coast. Their image was softened.

With business out of the way and dinner eaten, the two bad girls toured the tables and then got down to the dancing. After some discussion with the Connie camp Will had settled for a top DJ instead of a live band which meant all the hits were played. At Will’s suggestion and with him co-ordinating, the headliners danced with their own entourages then each other’s entourages and with other stars, rather than mix with the mass of invitees, without seeming to hold themselves aloof.

A lot of dancing later Meghan declared herself ready to go home and Will went with her, leaving hotel security to move on the last of the party goers. Outside he was surprised at the host of determined fans who had hung around out the back just to catch another glimpse of the Hollywood star Clarise Chalmers.

“Your fans are enthusiastic,” he said as they got into the limousine.

“I was overawed when I first met Robin,” she said. “But I don’t think I’d ever hang around the back of a hotel hoping to see him. Anyway, what were you talking to Connie about for a while this evening?”

“You mean while you were surrounded by male admirers ten deep? She was telling me to go and get you as you looked uncomfortable.”

“She told you that? Anyway, I don’t mean then. I mean later. You stopped dancing for a while.”

“Oh right, then,” said Will. “We were arguing over who was the bigger Diva, you or her. We finally agreed that she was the bigger diva.”

“William Moreland!” she said, turning on him and pointing to herself, “I’m the bigger Diva and don’t you forget it!”

Will laughed and, after a moment, Meghan joined in.

“Anyway, coming in we hadn’t finished discussing William Moreland’s life story,” she said.

“I thought we’d covered all the bases,” he said.

“No we have not,” she said, firmly. “Why did you drop out of the national team? It must have been hard to get into in the first place.”

“It was, but I really wasn’t competitive enough for a medal at the international meetings – the ones that count. To win at that level takes a lot of work and it stops being fun. All events at that level are hard, but I’ll put in a word for the two hundred metre butterfly, the four hundred metre individual medley – that’s four different styles in one race – and the big one, the fifteen hundred metre freestyle. When you get out of the pool after one of those events everything hurts.”

“You still keep in good shape,” said Meghan. “Maybe you could still compete.”

“There’s a world of difference between what I do and what I’d need to do to swim at an international level. Nope. Pass! What I could do I suppose is enter a major race and have you by the pool side in that one piece of yours to distract the male swimmers then, while they’re floating open mouthed in the pool, I’ll sneak by to the finish line.”

“William Moreland! I’m not going to help you cheat at swimming,” said Meghan, giggling. “What I want to know now, is there anything else major you haven’t told me about yourself?”

“You mean apart from two trashy Military SF novels with another on the way, and this slasher film project thing.”

“I wish I didn’t know about those things but I do,” said Meghan.

“Um, well I scuba dive, although I haven’t for a while now and, um, well, the last one is a bit of a shock.”

“Okay,” said Meghan, leaning back, and crossing her legs again for effect. “Hit me.”

“I’m an officer in the naval reserve.”

“What?” said Meghan. “You were in the navy?”

“No, you don’t have to have been in the navy to be in the naval reserve, although most have been. I did three months of training a few years back, a couple of weeks a year and weekly evening sessions which I haven’t been getting to since Vi left. The regular navy looks down on us part timers. Henry you were in the navy.” Meghan had never bothered to raise the partition between the passenger compartment and the front seats. “What do you think of the reserve guys?”

“Weekend sailors who get in the way,” said Henry, looking around briefly.

“There you are,” said Will. “But in my case, it’s not about hanging around on ships and annoying people like Henry. I’m a diver. A specialist. The theory is that if the navy needs a lot more divers than it has for big tasks such as clearing harbours or checking wrecks then guys like me are flown there to take over the routine tasks while the regulars go off and do heroic stuff.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” said Meghan, “but you haven’t been doing it for a while.”

“You can drop out for a while. Now they are trying to tempt me back for a course in really deep diving, where you breathe a helium-oxygen mix and have to spend a long time in decompression stops coming up. Sound interesting. I think I might do it.”

“How long will this course take?”

“It’s one of those things you do properly or not at all, as it’s dangerous. About a month.”

“A month! You’re going to going to leave my work to dangerous underwater stuff for a month?”

“You won’t be paying me and the others can handle all the routine matters. Josh can write captions to his pictures. Just try not to break up with your next boyfriend while I’m on the course, and everything will be fine.”

“Humph! I can’t control that,” said Meghan. “Anyway, I need you for other things.”

“If you want someone to yell out,” said Will, “then hire Henry for a while and yell at him – or Noah.”

“No problem,” said George.

“My wife yells at me all the time,” said Noah. “Being paid to be yelled at sounds good.”

“I don’t have any reason to yell at George or Noah,” said Meghan. “But I will have a reason to yell at you, especially if you’re going to go off for weeks on this course and this film project of yours.”

“The film project will be in LA,” said Will, “and you can always ring me up to yell at me.”

“It’s not the same,” she said. “Why did you get into this navy reserve thing anyway?”

“Money is part of it. I did a few things to keep solvent while at Chicago. My swimming scholarship paid tuition but I still had to live, and Lilith’s Yale foray strained the family finances. She got in but no scholarship.”

“And you still had a big fight with her,” said Meghan, amused.

“And I still got beaten up by her, yep.”

“Poor Will.”

“Yes, poor me.”

They arrived back at the house.

“I want coffee, Will,” said Meghan, getting out “decaf this time”.

As Will got out George nodded towards Meghan opening the front door of her house and spoke softly. “You going to get anywhere?”

“No. Just light entertainment and coffee, that’s me,” said Will. “But as a friend of mine pointed out, a lot of cute girl next door types will be fascinated to hear that I’ve served coffee to Clarise Chambers.”

“That’s what I call a dating edge,” said George.

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

“The top news is the bad girls’ benefit event results,” said Sidewalk Stars’ anchorman Ken. “And honours are about even between the rivals, Barbara.”

The cameras shifted to Barbara standing by a screen similar to that used by the weather people but filled with stars in dresses instead of atmospheric charts.

“Yes, Ken. Clarise Chalmers scored an average of eight point five from critics with a backless red number courtesy of top designer Claude Petit, while Connie Leighton scored 7.2 with her low cut green dress from up and coming design studio Alessio Ricci.

“But Connie won the popular vote, Ken. Listen to the crowd when Clarise Chalmers arrives.”

The display screen showed Meghan stepping out of her limousine to cheers from the crowd.

“Now hear them when Connie Leighton arrives.”

The screen showed Connie stepping out of her limousine to an obviously louder roar of approval.

“Just as when the two girls were in high school the popular vote is still with Connie, Ken.”

 

The next day, over a lunch of salad rolls made by Mrs Kowalski, the Kowalskis kicked around the events of the charity bash and the information Meghan had managed to extract from Will.

“Will seems a very nice young man,” said Mrs Kowalski. The writer was, in fact, the type of young man she hoped her Meghan would bring home before fame resulted in a string of men of whom she mostly did not approve. Although she had never said anything to Meghan she had not liked or trusted Robin Hawke, for all his on-screen presence, and her instincts had proven right. Those same instincts found a lot to like in Will and nothing to dislike. “Madison says he’s seeing an older woman.”

“He was,” said Meghan, “until he found out she was married.”

That required an explanation which led to other details of Will’s career such as fights with his sister Lilith, and his description of Meghan as a “lamb” compared to Lilith – a comparison which made the other Kowalskis chortle.

“A fluffy, woolly bah-lamb, is how he put it,” said Meghan. “But he means I can push him around,” she made a pushing motion with her hands, “and he doesn’t care much. He’s used to it.”

Madison and Mrs Kowalski thought that Meghan sounded as if she was talking about Will as a boyfriend but decided not to make that comment.

“Maybe don’t push him around too much, dear,” said Mrs Kowalski. “He’s very nice.”

Later in the week the question of who might go with Meghan on a well-paid appearance at a plush new LA night club, The Boulevard Studio, arose.

“I’d love to go,” said Mia. “But wouldn’t you really want to ask Will? If you want to ask Will that’s fine, I’ll check out this club another time.”

“Do you think he would?” said Meghan looking coy. “This is different in that he’s not going anyway.”

“The way to find out is to ask him,” said the assistant. “I don’t think he’ll mind. Do you want me to check things out?”

“Well…” said Meghan.

“I’ll ask,” said Mia.

Later an amused Will came into Meghan’s study/office.

“I understand that Clarise Chalmers is sufficiently desperate for a date to ask a lowly writer to keep her company as a friend,” he said.

“You’re right it is desperate,” said Meghan. “But sometimes us girls just have to make do. Will you come with me?”

“Sure. It’ll be interesting to turn up to a place like that and be allowed in, instead of being beaten up by security.”

“Have you been beaten up by club security?” Meghan asked.

“Well, no,” said Will, “but they might unless I’m with you. I’m no A lister.”

“You brush up well enough in a suit. This time more of a lounge suit – a smart one - and lose the tie and the pocket square. No one cares if the guys are dressed the same but I’ve got to wear something different.”

“If I come in with you, nobody is going to look at me.”

“Will, another compliment!” said Meghan, laughing. “I won’t know what to do.”

“This thing is late too, I see,” said Will. “Do we have dinner beforehand?”

“Are you asking me to dinner, Will?” said Meghan, leaning back, amused.

“Well, um, friends going to dinner is different from friends going to a night club.”

“Friends can have dinner together,” said Meghan.

“Not in media gossip columns,” said Will. “Those guys have a rich imagination and you draw a lot of attention.”

“That can be a problem.”

“I know, let me make dinner for the Kowalskis here.”

Mrs Kowalski and Maddie were still staying at Casa-Meghan as the fumigation had proved far more complicated than expected.

“Do you know how to cook for four people?”

“I don’t need to. You buy pre-prepared meat, which comes with packets of sauce and whatever else is needed. The instructions about the temperature of the oven and cooking times are on the packaging. You can even buy trays of vegetables and potato cubes for roasting. With the product I’m thinking of the meat has to be basted a couple of times while in the oven, which is getting complicated but I’ll manage.”

“Sounds good,” said Meghan. She thought later she would have at least considered a dinner invitation. The family dinner at home was a nice compromise, however, except that it piqued Mrs Kowalski’s curiosity about her daughter’s attitude to Will.

“Will is making dinner for us all as a friend?” she said, eyeing her daughter.

“Uh-huh.”

“Should be interesting,” said Mrs Kowalski adding that “Will is a very nice man”.

Dinner was successful with Will entertaining the Kowalskis with his adventures in slasher movies and this time the writer did not choke when Meghan appeared in the low-cut, silver-white dress, but that was only because he was not drinking anything at the time.

“Reckon they’ll get together?” Madison asked of her mother after Will and Meg had gone.

“Hope so,” said Mrs Kowalski. “Remember that boyfriend she had who never took off his sunglasses?”

“He never even spoke to us,” said Maddie. “Just nodded. Will makes us laugh.”

In the limousine, with George and Noah in the front seat, Will pointed out that, as they weren’t going by any freeways he might get away with talking about Darth Vader.

“Say anything about Star Wars and we’ll find a freeway,” retorted Meghan, “a high one so George can throw you from it.”

“No problem, Ms Chalmers,” said George.

Will sighed.

“What I want to talk about is whether Violet is going to be in this slasher pic of yours,” said Meghan. “You said the director was going to contact her. How do you feel about that?”

“As it happens Vi is still in her off-Broadway role and can’t make it back, although Evan says she is keen to do it. But that still leaves the problem of finding anyone at least competent for the money Hap is prepared to offer.”

“Hap sounds miserly,” said Meghan.

“He’s putting up his own money so it’s understandable but it still presents a problem.”

They arrived at the club with Clarise Chalmers doing the full Hollywood entrance while Will, walking a metre or so behind the star, was challenged by one of the security doormen and had to call to Henry to vouch for him.

“See I did almost get beaten up by security,” he said to Meghan. “Security guys who want to beat me up and threats of being thrown from freeways – it’s proving to be a dangerous evening.”

The club was full of soft, blue light with white lounges scattered through the floor and a circular bar decorated with ribbons of white light. Will thought the effect, particularly that of the illuminated bar, was garish but as Meghan was being paid six figures to attend his opinion of the décor was not relevant. The clientele, well-dressed, professional types who had paid good money to be there, all turned to look as Clarise Chalmers walked in. Meghan waved. The dancing had not started so it was still possible to talk, the atmosphere being more like that of an exhibition or a wine tasting. Waiters circulated with drinks, one offering Will a glass of wine the moment he walked in. Henry refused his.

“Men and women are going to swarm around you,” said Will. “If there’s a problem, maybe we can agree on a distress signal so George or I can find an excuse to pull you out.”

“Hmmm. What about I put my hand up to my face like this,” she said, demonstrating. “Seems almost natural, but you will know the people I’m talking to are getting creepy and I want to move on.”

Then the club manager arrived. He was a seemingly smart, tough operator in an expensive suit complete with a gold chain around his neck – Will got the impression of a gangster who had graduated to management – who took Meghan away, ignoring Will and Henry. A short distance further towards the bar he introduced the star to a man Will recognised as a mall-owning billionaire.

“You came in with Clarise Chalmers,” said a female voice. Will turned to see a woman or perhaps a girl in her early twenties with flaming red hair, one of those narrow, symmetrical faces that make men pay close attention and a figure to match, all displayed in a red club dress that would have run a close rival to Meghan’s at the charity event, had the wearer been invited.

“That’s right,” said Will, “I’m part of the entourage, I guess.” He noted that his interrogator had what he assumed to be a boyfriend towering over her left shoulder. This gentleman had a full head of long, dark hair and strong features that looked as if they should be on the cover of a cheap romance novel.

“Guess?” said the vision, amused. “You mean you’re not sure?”

“I work for Ms Chalmers. PR, social media, some business stuff, I even front for her in fashion brand meetings, which shows just what faking it can do in the film industry.”

Will rarely said so much about himself, especially to a stranger, but his new acquaintance had the ability to loosen men’s tongues. The vision laughed over Will’s ‘faking it’ remark.

“You’re not into fashion?”

“In that area I’m challenged,” he said. “I’m a nerd who wandered into this film star business and hasn’t been found out yet.”

She laughed again. “I’m Danni Devlin. You may have seen my Patreon channel Red Devil.”

“I’ve heard of it,” said Will, carefully. “It’s considered salacious.”

“You mean it’s porno,” said the girl, smiling.

“If you say so,” said Will. “I haven’t looked at it, which is my loss. But salacious sounds better.”

“It does,” agreed the girl.

“Anyway, I’m Will. That’s Henry watching Ms Chalmers and you are…” he stuck out his hand in the direction of the boyfriend.

“Brett,” said that gentleman shaking Will’s hand. Will got the impression that was the extent of the boyfriend’s conversion.

“Well, Will,” said Danni, “I know it’s a cliché but what I’d really like to do is to break into films.”

So that’s why she’s speaking to me, thought Will.

“I can reply with another cliché,” said Will. “And say I’m with a few guys putting together a low budget, independent film. No, it’s not porno, but it’s a slasher hopeful. The producer’s a Silicon Valley type who scored big in the valley and now wants to get into movies. The next question is do you think you can act?”

Danni lifted one eyebrow and smiled. “Men who’ve seen my channel don’t ask that question.”

“I’m sure they don’t,” said Will, “but I am.”

“Is Clarise involved in this project in any way?”

“Nope, in fact she fired me for daring to take time off to work on it.”

“That’s a shame, but you’ve been rehired?” said Danni.

“When she broke up with her boyfriend and needed a response to being dumped by media story she forgave me, reluctantly.”

“Oh right! When she said the breakup was really about her not investing in Robin Hawke’s mad schemes, you organised that response.”

“Yes, that was me. Hawke had been trying to get me involved in those schemes, and Ms Chalmers had been asking my advice about them. I said don’t touch them.”

Will thought that he had managed to impress Danni, which he also thought might be a difficult thing to do.

“To answer your other question, Will, I’ve been taking acting lessons and the guys who run the classes say I can act. Whether they’re saying that because it’s true, or because they don’t want to lose a paying customer I don’t know, but that’s what they say.”

Will took a card out of his wallet.

“I won’t ask for your number and there’s no point in contacting me as I don’t decide casting. Email me, and I’ll send the number for the director. He’ll set up times for auditions and such. I don’t know who else they’re speaking to at this stage.”

Danni looked at the card and then quizzically at Will.

“Is this on the up?” she said. “I could do without another casting couch incident.”

“Take Brett here if it worries you,” he said.

George tapped Will on the shoulder.

“Getting the signal,” the bodyguard said.

Will turned and, sure enough, Meghan had put her hand up on her cheek. The billionaire was talking to her intensely. Two men who might well have been the billionaire’s bodyguards were right behind him.

“Excuse me for a moment, can you hold this?” Will said giving his glass to Danni.

“Sure,” said Danni, surprised by this sudden turn of events.

Will and George strode towards Meg. One of the bodyguards saw the movement and moved around to cut them off.

“Run interference and block that guy,” said Will. George nodded.

“Mr Scranton and Ms Chalmers are not to be disturbed gentlemen,” said the newcomer. Will ignored him, took two more paces as the bodyguard struggled to get past George’s bulk and called out.

“Meg!”

The actress turned.

“Sorry to tear you away but we’re behind schedule.” He took Meghan’s hand. “You’ll have to excuse us Mr Scranton is it? Good to meet you.” Will reached over and shook the billionaire’s hand.

Despite being short, red-haired and with what might be described as a pimply face, the billionaire exuded a certain air as a man who got what he wanted, and he was not happy at having his prize taken away from him. Will was also aware of the club owner in the background, looking thunderous

“We were getting to know one another,” said Scranton frowning.

“That’s nice,” said Will. “But people to meet, schedules to keep, you know how it is.” He tugged slightly on Meg’s hand and she followed willingly, calling “bye” as she left.

“Glad you came so quickly,” she said to Will quietly, as they walked away. “He was propositioning me really hard to come and see his yacht. Thought he might even try to kidnap me or something.”

“Is it a good yacht?” asked Will.

“Suppose it must be, but I wasn’t about to find out,” said Meghan.

“This is Danni Devlin,” said Will taking his wine glass back and releasing Meghan’s hand. “That’s her friend Brett. Danni has her own Patreon channel.”

“It’s a great honor to meet you, Ms Chalmers,” trilled Danni. Brett smiled, nodded and said “Hi!”

“Nice to meet you,” said Meghan, although she glanced sideways at Will as if to ask why she was meeting this person.

“Heard your bodyguard saying you were giving the distress signal,” said Danni. “That guy wanted to hook up?”

“Big time. He wanted me to go to his yacht so he could take me to the Bahamas.”

“Isn’t the yacht on the wrong side of the country?” said Will. “The Bahamas are off Florida.”

“His private jet first to Florida and then on the yacht,” said Meghan. “Quite a ride for a first meeting.”

“He’s that rich?” said Danni.

“James Scranton, mall billionaire,” said Will, noting Danni’s sudden interest in the man.

“He was what, looking for a trophy wife?”

“More like a trophy mistress,” said Meghan.

“Huh!” said the porn star. She and Meghan exchanged a few approving words about the club décor then Will said, “now we should circulate as we’re supposed to. Remember to send that email Danni.”

“Of course,” said Danni.

“Email?” asked Meghan, as they moved on, she waved to a couple of people. Two said, ‘love your work’. The star said, ‘thank you’ and meant it. “How come she knows your email address and why should she be using it?”

“For the film project. They’re looking for cheap talent. We’re trying to put together something above the general run of independent slasher/zombie pics but without much budget.”

“Humph!” said Meghan. “Can she act? What sort of channel does she have?”

“She says she can act, but that’s up to director Evan and producer Hap. I’d certainly rather have her than be on the same set as Vi. As for her channel it’s porno, so she says.”

“You introduced me to a porn star?”

“Since when are you so fussy, Ms Chalmers? I was rescuing you from being a sex slave aboard a yacht, remember? We had to look busy is all. She only spoke to me because she saw me come in with you and was hoping for an introduction to the famous Clarise Chalmers.”

That explanation mollified Meghan, although Will thought that as he wasn’t there as a boyfriend he did not need to account for who he spoke to. Then Meghan caught up with fans taking selfies and complementing other ladies on their dresses. Will felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see the club owner still looking like thunder.

“Chalmers needs to come back,” said this man.

Will looked at the hand on his shoulder and at the owner, who let his hand fall.

“It’s Max right?” said Will. The man nodded. “Ms Chalmers doesn’t need to do anything but work the crowd as far as I know, and come back to where?”

“Mr Scranton says that he had almost closed the deal and then you charged in. He wants her back and what Mr Scranton wants he gets.”

“He thought that, really?” said Will. “Your Mr Scranton couldn’t be more wrong. The reason Henry and I went in was because we got the distress signal. Ms Chalmers was being really bothered by your guy. She told me that she thought that she might even be kidnapped and forced onto that yacht of his.” Max’s face changed from anger to concern as he was told this. “I dunno what the deal was between you and Stella Buckingham. You dealt with her right?” Max nodded. “But I’m pretty sure it doesn’t include being Shanghaied to the Bahamas as a sex toy. I dunno what side deal you’ve got going you with your billionaire friend but Ms Chalmers isn’t coming back.”

Will looked past Max to check whether billionaire Scranton was watching the confrontation to see him deep in conversation with another woman. Despite the dim club light Will was sure the woman was Danni, with Brett standing just behind her.

“With any luck, Mr Scranton will still get what he wants in a different package,” the writer said, nodding at the couple.

Sam turned, checked the scene, glanced sourly at Will and then left without another word.

The Clarise Chalmers show moved on around the club with the star pausing for selfies and the occasional snippet of conversation. Halfway through the circuit in what proved to be a big club they found Misty Dawn, the minor singer/model who had refused to give Will his shirt back, trailing a guy who proved to be a drummer for a rising band. When the dancing started, at Will’s suggestion, each lady danced first with the person they had brought and then the other’s escort to look as if they were mixing things up. Will included Brett in this dancing ring, when he wandered by, but could not see Danni. He asked Brett when the porn star had gone and the man just shrugged. Will also could not see Scranton and thought he knew what had happened, but it was no business of his.

Back in the car, after some dancing, with Misty Dawn and drummer Cass, Meghan handed a card to Henry.

“I want to make a stop at that place,” she said. Henry nodded and handed the card to Noah who looked at it without comment. “And I need to go to a bank terminal first.”

That last request drew a questioning look from Henry but he said nothing.

“What’s the stop?” asked Misty.

“Just a stop,” said Meghan smiling, slightly.

“Ohhh, okay,” said Misty.

Will thought he knew what the stop was for but did not say anything. He did not want to be told anything about it.

“I saw you talking to that manager guy, Will,” said Meghan. “What was that about.”

Will told her, which meant that he also had to fill in Misty and Cass on the background.

“Complete the deal,” laughed Misty. “What a romantic he is.”

“And I thought I was making myself clear, politely, that I wasn’t about to go to the Bahamas with him,” said Meghan.

“Billionaire or not he’s still a guy,” said Will. “Unless you hit him over the head and scream the message in his ear he doesn’t get it.”

“Not sure even that’d do it,” said Cass. “Some of the musicians I’ve known, banging their heads into a desk repeatedly and then screaming the message might work maybe 50 per cent of the time.”

“Girls can’t really bang guys’ heads into a desk,” said Misty. “We just have to shoot them and claim self-defence.”

“You haven’t shot me,” said Cass.

“Not yet, no,” said Misty, smiling.

They stopped at the bank machine with Henry standing guard and a little further on was the mysterious Hollywood address. This proved to be a mansion with a curved drive way so that cars could go in one gate and come out the other. Another car, a Porsche, was leaving by the exit gate as they drove up to the entrance. Noah typed four numbers that had been on the card into a security keypad and the gate opened.

“Come in with me, Will?” said Meghan. “Bring the money I got. Henry, you stay here. We won’t be long.”

The interior had expensive carpets, expensive sideboards with expensive vases sitting on them, as well as a huge man standing just inside the door. This gentleman had a lot of bling hung around a roll-neck pullover, a neatly timed beard, hot black eyes and surgical gloves on his hands. Will thought that the doorman was not the sort of person he would care to meet in a dark alley, but the man held the door open for Megan politely enough and waved her through, glancing at Will.

In the living room was another man who could have modelled for a statue of an evil Buddha except that he wore a purple track suit and pants as well as surgical gloves. Off to one side, sitting forlornly on a couch, was a thin man of middling height in jeans and a tee shirt, unkempt beard and hair and the bleary eyes of a user. The rest of the house seemed quiet but after a few moments, Will thought he heard voices murmuring from a darkened, open doorway on the far side of the room. A faint haze wafted through the opening. He suddenly had a great desire to be away from the place.

The evil Buddha smiled and said, “good to see you again Ms Chalmers”. His smile reminded Will of a shark. “I’m sorry we don’t have your full usual order. We had it when we called but there was a mix up and some got sold to another client.” The Buddha produced a small plastic bag with a handful of the sticks which Will had seen in Meghan’s bedroom when they had been rehearsing.

“Will there be more soon?” asked Meghan looking askance at the bag.

“On order,” said Evil Buddha. “We’ll call when they’ve arrived, and our deepest apologies for the mix up. You are a valued client.”

The drugs cost two hundred dollars which Will handed over without comment.

“Hello Ty,” said Meghan to the dishevelled man.

“Hey Meg, looking good,” said Ty quietly.

“Will, this is Connie’s brother Ty.”

“Oh okay,” Will went over and shook Ty’s hand. “I was arguing with your sister a few days ago about who was the bigger diva her or Meghan.”

Ty’s handshake was limp. He smiled without any enthusiasm. “She won that fight I bet.”

“She did. Um, can we offer you a lift anywhere Ty? Are you waiting for anyone?”

“We have a problem,” said Evil Buddha. “Mr Leighton owes the house three hundred and fifty dollars and we have trouble contacting his sister.”

“We have that,” said Will looking at the money Meghan had given him.

“I’m not paying for Ty’s shit,” said Meghan. “I had enough of that at college.”

“Then take it from what you pay me,” said Will, exasperated. “We can’t leave Connie’s brother here. We can drop him at her house. It’s not far.”

“Humph!” said Meghan but didn’t object when Will handed over the rest of her money. Will said, “plus trouble” to avoid the issue of change. Evil Buddha did not look like the sort of independent businessman who gave change. The writer thought he’d be able to get it back from Connie.

“All yours,” said the dealer, then handed them both a notice about a party in a week’s time. The address didn’t mean anything to Will, but he later discovered it was just fifteen minutes drive further North.

“You guys have get-togethers?” asked Will.

“Valued clients only,” said Evil Buddha. “Whatever you want ’ll be there at a price.”

Will slipped the invitation into his jacket pocket, thinking that he’d prefer to be torn apart by wild dogs than go to such an event. Meghan put hers into her purse. Ty followed them out as they left, and the scary doorman ushered them through without comment. A little more relaxed Will noted that there were security cameras in the hallway and at the front door.

Back in the car Misty Dawn said “hello” to Ty, having seen him around the music scene. “We can put him up for the night in our spare room,” she told Will. “Drop him where ever tomorrow. You’ll tell Connie?”

“I’ll send a text with your phone number to her assistant if that’s okay,” said Will. “I think Connie herself is on tour.”

They dropped their guests with Meghan complaining, after they had gone, about giving “lifts to half of LA” and got back to casa-Meghan in the small hours of the morning, with the star wanting coffee.

“You used to date Ty?” said Will, over coffee.

“He had talent before he got into the heavy stuff. Like I said I got sick of bailing him out of drug debts and dumped him.”

“Didn’t I read somewhere that Connie accused you of breaking her brother’s heart?”

Meghan shrugged. “I dunno if his heart was broken but I dumped him because he was blowing his mind on shit as you saw just now.”

“You didn’t tell Connie that?”

“We weren’t speaking at that stage and Ty begged me not to. He said he’d go into rehab. I don’t think he ever did but anyway he’s now as you saw him today, and I know Connie’s tried interventions. It’s a shame but there was nothing I could do.”

“That place we went to today, incidentally, is evil,” said Will.

Meghan’s face fell. “It’s just a business place serving a need,” she said.

“I got a really bad vibe,” said Will. “It seemed to be like those old style Chinese Opium dens – a place where lives are ruined.”

“I didn’t see anyone else around apart from Ty.”

“That’s ‘cause he ran out of money and they cut off his supply. I’m pretty sure there were more druggies further inside the house. I could hear people. And what are you doing being seen anywhere near that place?”

“Why, what do you mean?” said Meghan. It was the first time Will had challenged her seriously in any way, and she did not like it.

“What I mean is that it’s an evil place. I know the sticks you get are pretty soft, but they’re still illegal, even in California, and there are cameras in the living room in the hallway and in the entrance way not to mention on the gates.”

“Cameras?” said Meghan. “Well, so what, they’re hardly likely to turn over the files to the police.”

“They may not have a choice. The LA cops are bound to find out about that place if not them then the DEA. Granted Evil Buddha…”

“The guy at the desk?” said Meghan.

“…my name for him, and that doorman and whoever else is in the house probably have an exit plan of erasing all files with a few key strokes then doing a flit over the back wall, with nothing traceable to them. The guys we saw were wearing gloves remember?”

“I just thought it was because of the drugs they handled,” said Meghan, nettled.

“Maybe that, but fingerprints as well. But what happens if the DEA or whoever knows about the escape plan or just has people on the back wall, or these guys slip up in some other way? You’ll bet they have back-ups of those photo files stashed somewhere, and they’ll trade them for a cut in their sentences. You’re too high profile, Meghan. They’ll happily nail you, as a way of showing that they’re doing a good job.”

Meghan frowned over this. “Will I don’t like being lectured like this. I’ll want you to go and pick up my order when it’s ready.”

“What? I’m not having anything to do with that place or those drugs.”

“You work for me,” said Meghan, now upset about being defied. “I’m telling you I want you to go and get these drugs for you.”

“No way I’m going to do it. Find someone else to be your drug courier.”

“Well I will, so that means you’re fired.”

“Fine,” said Will, standing up and leaving.

“Fine,” said Meghan to Will’s back.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

The rest of Clarise Chalmers’ tiny entourage took the news of Will’s latest termination in their stride.

“Again!” said Mia when Emma told her. Emma had heard it from Will whom she had called over what photographs to use for the social media sites. “How many times is that now?”