The fund-raiser for the Stark Children’s Foundation is scheduled to start at eleven, with a lunch buffet, activities for the kids, and then a speech by Damien and a live auction, complete with a cattle auctioneer that Damien found in Texas.
Cass and I arrive at about eleven thirty, and I immediately start looking for Jackson, who’s been here since eight.
The fund-raiser is being held at the Greystone Mansion, a popular event location in Beverly Hills. The 1920s mansion itself is huge—over forty thousand square feet—and is tucked away in rolling hills and lush landscaping.
The event is being held in conjunction with Stark Sport Camp, and the entire property is dedicated to the kids who are staying the full weekend for a variety of games and other activities. For camp, the foundation has rented the entire property. But the fund-raiser—which is only a few hours out of the weekend—is being held primarily on the main floor of the mansion, with a few activity stations set up outside on the portable sport courts.
I see a basketball court set up off to the left as Cass and I head into the mansion. “There it is. Jackson’s community service.”
“That’s what he’s doing?” Cass asks. “Basketball?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Let’s find him and ask.”
We enter the main area with the polished checkered floor and stunning grand staircase that has graced so many movies. Along the sides of the room, buffet tables are set up. Adults and children are going through the line, then taking their food to the small cafe tables that are provided both inside and out.
“I don’t see him,” I say, though I do see several familiar faces. Evelyn Dodge, for one, a Hollywood agent and friend of Damien’s. She’s a dynamo with publicity and I recall that Damien was going to ask her advice about releasing news of his relationship with Jackson to the public. As far as I know, though, they haven’t discussed it yet.
I also see Charles Maynard, Damien’s attorney who also represented Jackson on the Reed assault case and negotiated community service in lieu of a conviction. Ollie McKee is here, too. He’s one of Maynard’s associates, and he’s been helping Cass with her plan to franchise her tattoo parlor.
I point him out. “Oh, good,” she says. “A familiar face.”
I laugh. “What am I?”
“About to abandon me to go find Jackson. And you know it.”
“True,” I admit. “Catch up with you later?”
“Absolutely.”
She heads off to Ollie, and I start to make the circle. I check the buffet tables first, because I think it’s very likely that he got stuck serving food. But he’s not there. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be anywhere.
I follow the crowd and end up in a wonderfully colorful garden out back. But there is still no Jackson. I’m starting to think that with the size of this place, I’ll never find him.
Finally, I see someone I recognize, and I catch up with Stacey, the assistant director of the S.C.F. “Do you know where Jackson is?” I ask after the standard greetings.
“He’s down by the petting zoo. His friend with the little girl can’t stay, so I gave him an hour off to hang out with them.”
“Can’t stay?” My heart sinks for Jackson. I know he was looking forward to spending some time with Ronnie. And I was looking forward to meeting both the child and the mother.
As Stacey had said, I find him at the petting zoo that’s been set up at the rear of the gardens. He’s kneeling beside a little girl with curly black hair as dark as his own. She’s wearing the little pink cowgirl outfit, and I can’t help but smile.
I look around, but don’t see Megan, so I move closer, approaching from the side. I don’t want to disturb Jackson’s moment with Ronnie, but at the same time, I want to meet her.
I’m at an angle where I can see her face now. Her huge blue eyes and little cupid bow of a mouth. She has her hand out, and Jackson puts a few pellets of goat food in her palm.
“Okay, just hold it out, and he’ll eat.”
She does, but as soon as the very eager goats approach, she slants her palm, and all the food falls off.
Jackson laughs. “No, sweetie. Keep it flat.”