“Our food is here,” he says, looking irritated at the waiter for intruding. “Just set it up on the dining room table.”
The food is set up painstakingly slowly; Knox signs the bill and puts the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.
“No more interruptions,” he says, politely holding my chair out for me.
“That’s good. Shall we eat first? The food looks amazing.”
“It is. One of the reasons I’m staying here. So, what’s the deal with you and Aiden? I noticed your new ring.”
I glance at the beautiful ring Aiden gave me in the gazebo. “He just gave it to me.”
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“No. I wanted you to know about my situation before we’re seen together.”
“Your situation?”
“I have a stalker.”
“Don’t we all? The one here almost had someone at the front desk convinced she was my sister, that I was in danger, and she needed to check on me. I think she’s pitched a tent outside, so she’ll know if I leave.”
“Mine is a little more than that. His name is Vincent Sharpe.”
“I know that name. He does, um—movie futures, right? And, oh, I know, he was doing that nationwide search for the next Abby Johnston.” He pauses and stares at me. “That’s a weird coincidence.”
I take a big drink of champagne. “Knox, I don’t know you very well yet. And I want to trust you. Can I trust you?”
“I’m not my image. You know that.”
I nod and keep going. “Vincent is a long-time fan of my mom’s, although Mom never knew who he was. He was just someone who sent her sweet stuff over the years, starting not long after A Day at the Lake released. He had a rough childhood, but was taken in as a young teen by his grandmother, a former film star, and sent to the finest schools. He inherited money when his mom and her—I think—sixth husband were killed. He took that money and invested it in a small production company. One that owned the rights to A Day at the Lake. Since then, he’s built up the company and become known as a movie futures golden boy. This past spring, we believe, he got into my mom’s trailer on set and left her a gift. We also believe he took a photo of me and Mom from a Hawaiian vacation. We were on the beach, both in bikinis. The theory is that he saw the Abby he fell in love with in that photo. Me. After that, I met him. He told me he wanted to make a movie with me. We became friends, sort of. I had dinner with him. Invited him to my birthday party. Where he tried to kidnap me.”
“Kidnap you? Why isn’t he in jail?”
“It was my birthday party. I’d been drinking. He’s rich and good-looking. He said it was just a mistake. That he’d been trying to help me. The police didn’t have enough evidence to charge him. But he had a van out back with drugs and restraints. He told me we were going to make the movie together. Even after it all happened, part of me still didn’t believe it. Like, did I make a mistake? Mom had just finished filming To Maddie, with Love, and we think those sex scenes set him off. He started calling her a whore. He put a threatening note in my little sister’s backpack. And his grandmother, who he idolized, passed away. Hell, I even helped him spread her ashes on the beach. But that same night—the night of my party—after I was back home, he broke into my boyfriend’s house, took one of my bikinis, and left a packet of pictures for my mom.”
“Your mom was smoking hot in that film. I loved it. So, what were the pictures of?”
“Me. He’d been following me and taking photos for months. I had no idea. Everyone freaked out. They thought about putting me in a witness protection program but ended up sending me to boarding school. They made me leave my friends without telling them a word. Set me up with a different name. I had to lie about who I was. They said he’d forget about me. But he hasn’t. He broke into rehabs trying to find me. He messaged me on my old Facebook page. He showed up at my ex’s surf tournament. He followed my mom shopping in New York City and accidentally found me. I was lucky to have gotten away. He almost got me in Miami when I saw Damian. He sent photoshopped pictures to my mom where Tommy’s head gets blown off. After my ex won his first pro surf tournament and dedicated it to me, he got the same type of photo. And the nationwide search . . .”
“He was trying to find you.”
“Yeah. And it almost worked. Both my drama teacher and a friend offered to nominate me. But that’s not the worst of it. The guy who did my tattoo was murdered after Vincent got a matching one. I went to the club where he always goes looking for me and danced in a cage to piss him off. The next week, a girl from the club was murdered, her body stabbed with scissors. After the New York incident, he sent a photo of me to my mom. The photo was stabbed with scissors. Going back to the club in L.A. was the start of me fighting back. I’m also trying to do a hostile takeover of his company. If that works out, I’ll own the rights to the movie he so desperately wants us to make. And when that happens . . .”