I roll my eyes and shake my head slightly. “Lying is very unbecoming and I do believe taking photos of your clients without their permission is against company policy, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Page. I’ll remove it immediately,” she says as she walks away. The damage is done. She knows it and is probably at her desk crying. I’m faced with either telling her boss or letting it go. Today is not the day that I want to ruin anyone’s life, so she should be thankful. My picture is out there and there isn’t shit I can do about it. When I call to talk to Noah tonight, I’ll tell Josie that I had an impulse and bought a new motorcycle.
Once the paperwork is printed and everything is signed, I’m pushing my new toy out of the showroom and onto the streets of LA. Slipping my helmet on, I turn her on, letting the bike idle while I get a feel for her. I can’t wait to see what she does on the road.
It’s not long until I’m weaving my way through Mulholland Blvd. After being gone for a few years, I’d have thought things would’ve changed, but they haven’t. I slow down when I get to my grandma’s street. I haven’t been back here since I moved into the penthouse and I’m not sure why I am now. Shutting off the bike and removing my helmet, I look up at the big white house that I called home for a short time of my life.
The black gate and fence that protected her from intruders still stands tall. Whoever is living here has been maintaining the landscaping that she loved so much. In fact, everything looks freshly painted. My heart swells with pride for my grandparents, knowing that the home they shared is being loved.
“Can I help you?” A lady walking her dog stops next to me.
“No, just looking at the house. I used to know the previous owner.”
She looks at me with confusion written all over her face. “The lady that lived here died, but her family took over her estate.”
She’s right, she did die... but now I’m confused. I run my hand over my hair and think back to when my grandmother died. I told Sam to sell it or donate it, but never followed up on it.
“Do you know who owns it?”
The lady shakes her head and offers a small smile. “West something or other. The family is never here but they make sure the house is well maintained. You’d think someone lives there.”
“Don’t they?” I ask, even though I know the answer. The only person, other than me, who could stake a claim, is my mother and I’m not sure she even knows her mother died.
“Not for ten years or more. I’ve lived next to this house for fifteen years. There was a young kid one time, but haven’t seen him since she passed away.” The neighbor looks at the house and sighs. “I’m sure if you were interested in buying, they’d sell. The County office will have the information.”
She and her dog are down the street before I’m done processing everything. There’s no way I still own this house, but someone does. Someone has been taking care of this property all these years and I need to figure out who they are and why they’re doing it.
When I arrive back at the club, the back alley is lined-up with cars. At best, there have been two or three back here at a time, but nowhere near a dozen or more. The benefit of having a bike is that you can park anywhere, squeezing into the smallest spots, even making your own. That’s what I end up doing, right by the back door.
As soon as I’m inside, Harrison is pulling me into the green room. He looks pissed off, and that’s not a good thing. It takes a lot to piss him off.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Oh yeah, he’s pissed.
“I needed to get some fresh air.”
Harrison pulls off his trademark beanie and runs his hand through his short hair. “Remember when Trixie asked if Sal sent us?”
I nod, remembering well. Harrison and I had no idea who she was talking about.
“Sal is Mr. Moreno, as in Sam’s father, as in majority owner of Moreno Entertainment.”
I shake my head, disagreeing with him. “Nah, Sam’s dad is named Anthony, but he prefers to be called Moreno. It’s like he thinks he’s Madonna or some shit like that.”
“No,” he says, with his head moving back and forth. “Salvador Anthony Moreno is his name and right now he’s out in the club with a shit load of fucking reporters. Trixie hired him to do some promo work for the fundraiser and he’s scheduled a press event.”
“What?”
“Yeah, apparently he and Trixie go way back and she’s always called him Sal. When he started his company, he started going by Anthony.”
“Um… this isn’t good.”
“No, it’s not. We haven’t done a legit interview since Sam was managing us and now that she’s not here to monitor questions, I’m afraid of what shit is going to be asked.”
I start to pace, thinking about what we can do. “We don’t have to do it. We’re not under contract to perform so we’ll skip the interviews.”
“You know, I thought about that as everyone was setting up,” he pauses and puts his hat back on. “But we need the press. We need to be in front of the people again.”