We stand for long minutes before going to bed. He’s restless as he tries to sleep, tossing for hours. It’s nearly five in the morning by the time he settles. I slip free of the covers, careful to not make a sound as I find shoes and leave. If I can’t talk him out of it or be there with him, I’ll find another way to fix this. He would never let me take this on by myself, so I refuse to let him do this alone.
Kendal opens her door quickly after I knock, headphones slung around her neck. Over her shoulder, I have a clear view of her editing set up.
“Do you have a minute?” I ask.
She rubs her red eyes and steps aside “Yeah, sure.”
“Actually, this might take more than a minute. I need a favor.”
“Of course.” With one hand, she pulls out her desk chair and sits while I settle at the foot of her bed.
“With the documentary you’ve also been compiling old articles, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve been using them as transition pieces, and because of my freelance work I have a few connections at some magazines so I have access to their archives. Is there anything specific you’re wanting to look at?”
“Spring through summer of 2014.” If I’m right, that’s where the evidence will be.
Kendal swivels around, opening up a new application on her laptop. “Yeah, the bad boy years—or the start of them, at least. This is a tricky area I was hoping to touch base with Wes about, because chronologically some of the events of these articles seem impossible and the cropping of the images are weird too.”
“And what about August?”
She pauses and looks back at me, apprehension dawning on her features. “Avery? What are you really asking right now? Is everything okay with you two?”
“Is there any way to figure out who sold these images? I think—no, I know—there was a smear campaign here. I need to find how they link back to Maddison Barron.” I grow more confident by the minute. I’ve spent a long time trying to forget it happened then, never quite able to make sense of how the best time of my life could be a lie. I was so confused that even though I knew exactly how tabloids warped the truth, I let them shape my perception of reality. If I had only pushed a little harder, this would have all been different.
Now is my chance to atone for that mistake.
“Shit. You’re serious? She’s a big deal, do you want to mess with her?”
“She messed with me first. And I don’t know if you know, but I’m a big deal too.”
“I’ll look and see what I can find.”
As Kendal starts her search, I head out to her balcony and make a call.
“Evelyn’s asleep,” Garrett answers on the second ring.
“Keep it that way. I’m calling because I need to talk to you about writing a contract.”
Satan’s mistress attends 5 a.m. hot Pilates. But that’s not a problem, I’ve spent the last two days busy at work, only catching a handful of sleep before we flew into LA last night. Wes stirred for a moment this morning when I slipped out of our room, but due to his own exhaustion he quickly faded back to sleep.
At six, Maddie walks out of the minimalist studio wearing a matching skintight black set with a light jacket thrown over her shoulders. Her eyes are trained on her phone and she has an earbud planted in one ear. When she passes by me on the sidewalk, I fall into step with her.
“Maddie? It’s been so long. You look amazing.” Must be the souls she sucks out of everyone around her. Bet it does wonderful things for the skin.
“Oh, hi, Avery.” She says my name like it’s a fungal infection, looking up for only a moment before her gaze locks back onto her screen. “I don’t have time to chat. I have a meeting to get to.”
“No, you’re free for the next hour before your facial, then you have a video call. After that, you have brunch with my husband. I found that last bit out and realized we’ve never really sat down and bonded. Why don’t we get coffee?” It really was too easy to get her schedule; she probably should look into finding an assistant who doesn’t hate her pompous ass.
“You must be tired. Didn’t you have a show last night in Seattle? How about we schedule another time to meet when you’re well rested and thinking straight?”
“Sorry, that’s my fault for phrasing it as a question. We’re getting coffee. This looks like a cute spot, doesn’t it?” I grab her arm and steer us toward a café with inviting wood accents and shelves of plants.
“Fine,” she shrugs out of my grip and confidently walks in front of me like this was her idea and I’m the one tagging along.
We head inside, order, and sit at a table in the corner. We earn a few glances, but I’m beyond the point of caring. Let people speculate. It doesn’t change a damn thing.
“You have my attention, what do you want?” she asks, swirling her iced latte so the ice clatters together.
