Living Dangerously

Chapter Eight



Troy had seen only one room, but he already hated the layout of the house. There were a lot of French doors and large picture windows. He knew next to nothing about alarm systems but didn’t plan on sharing that. Chalk up another lie. He felt the need to shower off the grime, but it was internal. No amount of soap and water could clean his guilty conscience. He folded down the cover of the alarm pad and stared at it.

“What’s the response time with the security company?” he asked.

“Uh...” Julie didn’t seem to have an answer. “A few minutes, I guess.”

He turned to her. “You mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve never needed them, except for a couple of maintenance calls. The alarm’s never gone off. They haven’t had to be here.” She tipped her head. “Actually, I need to call them again because the five is sticking.” She pushed the five and nothing happened. “The number should come up on the panel, but it won’t. It takes me some futzing to get it to work.”

Futzing. “You shouldn’t have to ‘futz’ with your keypad,” he said. He made a mental note to find out how many patrols the company had and what they reported as their response time.

After going through the whole house, Troy ended up back where he started, in the foyer. Those damn flowers smelled like a whole florist shop and made him feel insignificant because some other sap had sent them.

“If those aren’t from Ari, who are they from?” he asked. None of his business, but he felt compelled to ask anyway. He wanted to know how many men she had in her life. It might actually clear up the whole Ari situation. On the other hand, it might muddy it up.

“I don’t know,” Julie said reaching for the card stuck within the arrangement. She opened the small envelope and took out the card. Her brows furrowed as she read it.

Troy didn’t like the look on her face. “What?” he said, reaching for the note. “What’s it say?” Tension crawled up his back. He hated that sensation.

She handed him the card and looked out the side window at the front door, scanning the street. “I got a note like that in the hospital,” she told him. “He wrote something very similar and signed it the same way. Allen.”

Troy had kept his eyes on her, but now he looked down and read the card.

To my precious Julie,

I’m so thrilled your recovery is complete. I hope these roses bring you as much happiness as you’ve brought me. I promise, we’ll be together soon and I vow that no man will ever hurt you again.

My undying love, Allen

Troy read it a second time. That creepy crawly sensation he had along his back doubled in intensity. “You said you got something similar in the hospital?” he asked. “Did you keep the card?”

She nodded. “I planned to, but the police asked if I’d received any unusual fan mail and they ended up taking anything that could be construed as suspect. My mother told me early on to keep all the creepy ones in case any of them turned out to be...a...” She tried to find a way to soften the potential slam of a stalker, amazing Troy with her compassion for the crazies in the world.

“Psycho?” he said, finding the most appropriate word, be it politically correct or not.

Julie nodded with a roll of her eyes. “Yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “But not everyone is psycho. Some people are very nice and very lonely and they reach out to people who make them...feel.” Her face turned a shade or two darker before she cleared her throat.

“How much mail did they take?” he asked.

“Just a couple of big shoe boxes full. Not that much. I have bins full of cards and letters in my garage.” Her eyes widened at his surprised stare. “I haven’t saved every bit of mail over the years,” she insisted. “Just the ones that either touched me or—” she shook her head and shrugged, “—gave me the creeps.”

“Did you get anything creepy after the shooting?” he asked.

“One nasty one came, but it could’ve been someone who just hated my movies.”

“Do you remember what it said?”

She shuddered. “I doubt I’ll ever forget it. It said, ‘You should have died. We’d be better off without you.’ And it was signed, ‘A.’ The police were very interested in that one.” She snatched the card and waved it around. “You know, this seems silly. I mean the guy sending the flowers might be a little creepy, but he doesn’t mean any harm.” She turned as she replaced the card in the bouquet.

Troy looked at it from over her shoulder. Her perfume slammed him in a sweet assault and nearly distracted him.

Suddenly she spun, her eyes wide with panic. “The house! How did he find my address? How does he know where I live?” She ran her hands through her hair and paced next to the table. “Oh, wow. I didn’t think of that until just now. I opened the door to him,” she groaned.

“You what?” Troy said. “What do you mean you opened the door to him?”

“He rang the bell and I thought it was you. I opened the door without checking and it was the deliveryman. It could’ve been anyone.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Troy nodded. “Besides that being a lesson learned, it’s time to call the cops.”

“What?” Her face contorted and her brows pulled together. “Really? Maybe we’re overreacting. He didn’t threaten me. Neither did the other guy really,” she said, clearly trying to find a bright side. “He just wishes I was dead.”

Troy rolled his eyes, more exasperated than ever. “You think this is funny?”

“No!” She sobered and sighed. “Look, when I get nervous, I sling jokes, okay. Call it a defense mechanism or whatever. Do I think any of this is funny? No. But do I think either one of these guys tried to shoot me? I don’t know, but I doubt it. Besides,” she blurted, “Allen sent the first note after the shooting. He wouldn’t shoot me just to send a note to tell me to have a quick recovery if he’d pulled the trigger.”

Troy raised his eyebrows. “He could’ve done it and sent the flowers anyway. But go ahead, I’m dying to hear your logic for the other guy.”

“Wouldn’t he have sent another letter after missing me on the balcony?” She lifted one brow like he was the one lacking cognitive brain cells.

She did have a point, but not enough to change his course of action. “Not necessarily. Look, we call the cops because,” he said, lifting a finger, “Allen has now sent you two cards.” He raised up a second finger. “He knows where you live and—” he ticked off a third finger, “—I don’t like it.”

There were a lot of things he didn’t like. He didn’t like that Allen could’ve also sent the other note and just signed it A. Nor did he like the location of the property or the security on the house. He especially didn’t like that she might be having an affair with Ari, but he was trying his damnedest to keep that on the back burner. He especially didn’t like how he could picture her naked in that hot tub waiting for him to join her.

Something pinged in his head and he backtracked his train of thought. The property, security...what was the other thing?

Ari.

Whose name started with an A.

Troy read the card a third time. We’ll be together soon. Hadn’t that been Ari’s goal all along? Was he somehow trying to scare Julie into his arms by using a completely different name? The guy certainly had enough money to pay someone to kill her. But if she died, Ari wouldn’t be together soon with her. Then again he would have great publicity once his next film came out if he told the press that he’d contracted Julie to be the star.

An hour later, after sitting on hold, getting the runaround from the desk cop and waiting for a detective most of that time, his frustration might’ve strangled him. “I don’t believe this,” he said hanging up the phone.

“What’d they say?” Julie asked from her spot on the other side of the granite counter in her kitchen.

“They said there was no overt threat with the cards and flowers. They can’t be sure the gunman was after you, but they’ll do some drive-bys to check on you here. The investigation is focused on the crime scene and your fan mail.” Which meant her safety lay in her hands. And his.

“Okay.” She seemed resigned, but then she wasn’t convinced this guy posed a threat.

“How much do you love this house?” Troy asked as he rummaged through the paper at the end of the counter. He found the real estate section and whipped it out.

“I love it. Why?” Her tone screamed caution. So did her narrow-eyed gaze.

He slapped the section in front of her, his mood as serious as the attempts on her life. “I’m sure you’ll love something new just as much. It’s time to go house hunting.”

* * *

Three days later, Julie, her mom, Abbey and Cal sat in Julie’s living room enjoying a rare afternoon of girl time. Abbey had stopped at Starbucks on her way in and they all happily sipped their drinks of choice. Julie’s former stunt double had introduced her to chai lattes and she’d become addicted to them.

“Tell me again who this bodyguard guy thinks he is?” Cal tucked herself into the corner of Julie’s comfortable sofa and sipped her frap. She’d made it very clear she wasn’t a fan of Troy Mills.

“Cal.” Julie sat at other end of the sofa. She used her warning tone. The one that said get off my back.

“I’m serious. He thinks he can stroll through your house and tell you to move and you’ll just jump right out and buy a new house? Get real. I thought I liked this guy for saving your life, but—”

“Twice,” Julie’s mom amended from the overstuffed chair across from the sofa. “He saved her life twice.”

“Not true,” Cal said, glancing at Elena. “She saved her own life the second time when she spun on the guy.” She shook her head and glared at Julie. “My point is that he can’t come in here and tell you how to live your life.”

Elena sipped her green tea. “Maybe not, but I think he’s probably right about this,” she said, her voice full of the worry of a mother. “You lived here longer than I thought you would.”

Julie looked at her mother, never having any idea she felt that way. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that when you bought this house, I had a little nervous wiggle in my stomach that it was too close to the street and a potential hazard if you got too famous.” She shrugged. “Guess what?”

“You got too famous,” Abbey said, answering the question. She’d been fairly quiet up until now, listening to the conversation as she absently scrounged in her purse for something.

“Great.” Julie peered at her mother over her own cup. “You think I should move too.”

Elena sighed. “I think I’d feel better knowing you lived in a gated estate.”

“But I like that I know my neighbors,” Julie protested. It was one of the things that made her feel normal and kept her grounded in reality instead of the craziness of the often-ridiculous world of show business.

“I know.” Elena sighed. “But sometimes we have to do things we don’t necessarily want to do in order to...you know...” She shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just think he’s probably right.”

Cal lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “I think he’s a pain in the ass. I don’t even know why you called the guy. You pay a security company to watch your house. You should’ve called them.”

“All they’re going to do is pitch me more of what they’re selling.”

“That sounds like Troy Mills talking,” Cal replied drily.

Julie scowled. Just because Cal had guessed right didn’t make Troy’s assumption wrong. She ignored her best friend. “Abbey, will you work up a list of realtors for me.” Her assistant jotted down the order on her ever-present notepad and Julie continued, “Until then, does anyone want to drive around with me this weekend just to see what’s out there?”

Cal and Elena exchanged glances. Abbey went back to burying her head in her bag.

Elena’s eyes lit with definite excitement. “You know me. I love to shop. We found this place together. No reason we can’t strike gold a second time.”

Cal shook her head, clearly frustrated with the idea. “I know when I’m outnumbered. Fine. I’ll come along, but I’m doing it under protest.”

Julie sipped her tea and smiled. “Noted. Abbey, what about you? Want to come along?”

Abbey looked up, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry. What? What’d I miss?”

Julie had never seen her so distracted. “What’s up? You’ve had your nose buried in your purse since you walked in the door. Spill, what’s going on?”

Groaning, Abbey sat on the floor and dumped her purse onto the carpeting. A ton of garbage fell out. It amazed Julie that Abbey could be so organized with her boss’s life, but not her own. “I lost something.”

Elena leaned forward. “Are you sure it’s in your purse? Maybe it’s in the car or your apartment.”

“No, I think I know what happened.” She started tossing everything back in her bag and leaned against the chair next to Elena’s. “I think when I pulled out my wallet at Starbucks, the piece of paper slipped out of my purse. I was too busy catching up with an old dance buddy I hadn’t seen in months and wasn’t paying attention.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Dammit.”

“What was on the paper?” Cal asked.

“A phone number and email address.” She shook her head. “Shit.”

“Whose phone number and email address?” Cal lifted a brow.

Abbey glanced at Julie. “The guy I told you about.”

“What guy?” Elena said, jumping into the questions. “How come I didn’t hear about this?” Elena had been trying for months to get Abbey to go out, but Abbey insisted her schedule was too full to include a guy. Between Julie’s schedule, dance classes and trying to make the occasional dance audition, she swore she didn’t have time for a man.

Abbey had told Julie about the elevator incident...how the hunky guy had calmed her down when she’d hyperventilated. Julie had never seen Abbey anything but calm and cool, but she understood how being trapped in a broken elevator, thinking you might fall to your death, could be a little unnerving.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Abbey explained to Elena. “I met a guy in an elevator and since I wouldn’t give him my number or email address he gave me his.”

“Were you seriously going to call him?” Cal asked. She’d razzed Abbey enough about her man-less life. Talk about two sides of the teeter-totter. Cal bedded anyone who might help her career, and Abbey stayed arm’s length from just about anything with a Y chromosome.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s a moot point now since I lost that slip of paper.”

She looked truly dejected. Poor kid. Julie sympathized.

Scrunching her face up into a pucker, Cal asked, “Jules, have you by any chance heard from Ari about the movie?” Cal wasn’t much of a sympathizer. She was on to the next subject. Something that concerned her.

“Now, girls,” Elena said, leaning forward to set her tea on the table. “No shoptalk. I hate when you two are up against each other. Makes my stomach turn.” She gave Abbey a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Ditto,” Cal muttered.

“It doesn’t happen that often.” Julie got up and went to the kitchen. Ari did seem to be taking a lot of time to make up his mind. But things could’ve been happening to slow the schedule. The whole process was out of her control; she understood that. Which was why she never talked about it with Cal and why she wished Cal hadn’t brought it up.

She snatched the real estate section from the counter and headed back to the den. She pulled it apart in four sections and handed one to her mother, Abbey and Cal, keeping one for herself.

“Why are we doing this?” Cal asked. “This is a realtor’s job.”

“Maybe, but we found this place on our own.” Elena grinned, reliving the fond memory.

Julie remembered the excitement of hunting for her first house. She hadn’t even been twenty years old. Instead of a getting the usual one season pickup, her show had been guaranteed at least three more years because of its success, so her mother had insisted she invest in real estate. “Abbey will get some names, but in the meantime, it won’t kill us to see what’s out there.”

“What’s our budget?” Cal perused the first page. “Because there’s a twenty-five-thousand-square-foot place in Holmby Hills on the market for twenty million.” She arched a blond eyebrow.

“What would I do in twenty-five thousand square feet?” Julie didn’t wait for an answer. “I’d get lost. Try for something about a fifth of that size. I don’t need more than three bedrooms. Four tops.”

“Another canyon house?” Abbey asked as she flipped a page.

“No,” Elena answered. “After what just happened the other night, I think we’ve learned our lesson about canyon homes.”

“No offense, Elena...” Cal peeked from over the rim of her paper. “But if someone’s going to be shooting, it’s not going to matter if the house is in a canyon or not.”

Elena arched one honey-blond eyebrow in a clear Mom-glare that spoke volumes.

“Jules, your mom is mad at me. Save me.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Julie said.

Cal glanced at her watch and her eyes opened wide. “Shit, I wasn’t keeping track of time. I have a nail appointment.” She hopped off the sofa, tugged down her thigh-hugging skirt and snatched her frap and bag off the table on her way to the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to carpool tomorrow?” Julie asked as she followed her. “I don’t like showing up to these things alone.” It wasn’t that she hadn’t walked down a ton of red carpets on her own before, but it never made the process easier.

“I’m sure. I have to leave right after the luncheon. Drew’s at my place for a couple of nights while the house is being tented and I’m still worried about him.”

“Is everything all right?” Elena asked, setting her tea down and joining them at the door as Abbey started picking up napkins and bits of trash around the coffee table.

“Yeah. He’s just depressed. That volunteer thing I sent him to didn’t have a lasting effect and he thinks I was trying to get rid of him. He says I don’t spend enough time with him. It doesn’t matter what I do, it’s never enough so...” She shrugged.

“Oh, sweetie.” Elena hugged her tight and Julie made it a threesome with her arms around both of them.

Julie pulled back first. “I know he doesn’t usually like to be in a crowd, but why don’t you try and bring him tomorrow. Maybe it will cheer him up.”

A smile curved Cal’s lips. “I think he might love that. He really misses you, but isn’t it too-short notice?”

“Hey, the luncheon is for me. I’m sure they can accommodate one more person. There are always no-shows at this kind of thing. I’ll call and set it up now.”

Cal hugged her tight again, a quick squeeze, before pulling away. “I think it’s a great idea. Drew will flip. Thank you. Now, I need to hit the road or I’ll only get seven out of ten nails done.” Cal turned to Elena. “Why are you not carpooling with your daughter?”

“I have to leave early so I can make a doctor’s appointment before I pack for Arizona. I decided to drive.”

“Oh, no,” Cal said, the knowing sadness in her eyes. “Again?”

Elena nodded. “Yes, and no. It’s been a roller coaster for months. At the moment, Brian’s doing well. It’s his sixtieth birthday so I want to be there for him to celebrate. Vicki can’t get enough time off work, but I thought one of us should be there.” She shook her head. “Not sure how many more he has in the future, you know?”

“Well, that’s sweet. Big brother is sure keeping you on your toes,” Cal commented.

Elena nodded. “I guess that’s what brothers do.”

“Sure seems that way.” Cal opened the door and scooted out. “See you both at lunch tomorrow.” She waved. “Don’t be late!”

Julie waved and shut the door. The only time she’d been late had been for the Sporties. Then she’d almost been dead.

* * *

Troy looked around the crowded downstairs lobby at yet another event with Ari. A dozen or so Hollywood bigwigs loitered near the upstairs bar, sipping their drinks and schmoozing it up. Cameras flashed all around as did the jewels worn by most of the women. Troy hadn’t seen this much glitz in the middle of the day since...the Sporties. That memory brought a cold chill down his spine and he shrugged it off.

He hated dressing in suits. Last night he’d been thirty seconds away from calling Sophia Nepali and quitting. He hated this job more than any other he’d ever taken, for too many reasons to count. Usually he watched the cheating spouses from a distance, and got up close and personal with a Canon Rebel EOS with a high def lens. He’d never worked undercover in a situation like this nor had he expected it to last anywhere near this long. In fact, the longer he shadowed Ari, the more certain he became that although the man wanted into Julie’s pants, he hadn’t gotten there yet. That Ari wanted there was a given. After all, there weren’t too many men who didn’t want to take Julie to bed. But whereas early on, Troy had thought Julie was just as likely as anyone to sleep with a married man, now his instincts screamed at him, and they were saying something a lot different.

He’d had plenty of time to look at the pictures he’d taken of Julie and Ari that night at her front door. Julie had not shown one speck of body language that indicated she wanted the man touching her, much less kissing her. Still, Troy couldn’t discount the kiss because he’d seen it with his own eyes, over and over and over again as he stared at the damning photos.

It didn’t surprise him that this luncheon honored Julie, but he hadn’t known until they got there. Ari had told him only where they were going, and since Ari had produced Julie’s last big movie, it made sense for him to be here.

Ari’s introduction presenting Julie with an award seemed heartfelt. The crowd applauded as Julie accepted it and gave her speech. Troy hadn’t realized the type of money she donated to animal causes.

Now as he and Ari made their way up a giant curving staircase toward the bar where many of the stragglers remained since the luncheon was breaking up, Ari stopped to talk to yet another man about his forthcoming picture. Sometimes Troy honestly thought Ari was having an affair with his movie and not a woman. He ate, lived and breathed this film.

Troy glanced around the second level, looking for any other familiar faces Ari might know. He spotted Julie at the bar with her friend Carrie Ann, another older woman who looked remarkably like her—had to be her mother—and a younger man. The woman set her glass down, kissed Julie on the cheek and gave her a heartfelt hug. The gesture and the way she spoke to Julie told Troy these two were tight. Another pang hit his own chest as he thought about all the hugs he’d missed out on from his own mother. Troy quickly banished the thought. Next, Julie’s mom hugged Carrie Ann and the guy, and walked toward the elevators to the right. Julie turned and continued her conversation with her friend. She looked like a star from the fifties in her pencil skirt and cream silk top. She looked exactly like America’s Sweetheart. The moniker fit her perfectly. She was innocence and beauty rolled into one. She embodied old-time Hollywood with new-age beauty. Old-time comedy with class and distinction.

Troy looked away before his dick got hard. The skirt she wore detailed every curve of her hips, ass and thighs. The sleeveless top allowed everyone to see the power in her arms and shoulders.

Ari finished up with the man in front of him and continued up the stairs. Troy followed like a dog at heel and once again wanted to tell Sophia to find another patsy.

Julie’s gaze swept the room and passed right over him and Ari. Then she looked again. She cocked her head and a sexy little grin curved her lips. Troy was damn sure she aimed that grin his way, but Ari must have seen it and thought it was for him because after shaking hands with yet another man, he excused himself and continued up the staircase.

Not to Troy’s surprise, Julie said something to her friend and came toward them.

Another man stopped Ari and delayed their progress. Troy kept an eye on Julie as she drew closer. She got a few feet from the top of the stairs when her friend Carrie Ann stopped her. The same man from the bar approached, medium height and build with blond hair, and Julie’s smile brightened as he neared. He was only a foot away when he tripped on something and flew forward like a projectile.

Julie’s proximity to the stairs made every muscle in Troy’s body tense. The whole situation played itself out in his head about a second before it happened.

The guy slammed into Carrie Ann and the domino effect unfolded. Carrie Ann’s eyes widened. Her hands flew up to protect herself from the impact. She screamed as she slammed into Julie. With her body facing Carrie Ann, Julie went flying backward, airborne over the stairs.