Calder’s head jerked up as rap music began to blare from the side table of his bed. “I think your phone’s having a seizure.”
Robby didn’t try to wiggle free of Calder, just bent impossibly far behind him to reach his phone. He was bendy. Calder filed that away for later.
“It’s my ringtone.”
“Why is it so angry?” Calder asked.
“Don’t disrespect Tupac,” Robby mumbled before frowning. “It’s the lawyer.”
Calder grimaced. “Well, don’t leave him hanging. Answer it.”
All the joy seemed to leave Robby, like somebody had dropped heavy curtains across a sunny window. Calder dropped a kiss to Robby’s lips without thought before adding, “It’s gonna be okay, angel face.”
Robby nodded, but it was clear he didn’t believe it. “Hello?”
“Robby? Stanton Fields.”
“Hello, Mr. Fields,” Robby managed, feeling like his heart had physically lodged itself in his windpipe. He didn’t bother to sit up, just let his head hang over the side, certain that Calder wouldn’t let him fall.
“You’re not staying at a hotel, are you?”
Robby frowned at the strange question. “What? No. Why?”
“The press is all over this. They know you’re not at your apartment. I wanted to warn you if you had decided to stay at a hotel. You shouldn’t go out right now, and you definitely shouldn’t be going out alone. It could be dangerous.”
“I hired a security detail. I’m staying…at a friend’s. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
That was true, at least. The last thing Robby wanted was to have to muscle past paparazzi screaming at him, trying to get a reaction from him since the only reaction they were likely to get was him bursting into tears, and he was already an embarrassment.
“Good. Good. This investigation will blow over sooner rather than later, but we have to let the detectives do their job and explore all avenues. In the meantime, I suggest getting with your publicist and hiring a PR team.”
“A PR team? Why?”
“Because your father has one and he’s already out there in front of the cameras claiming that he’s the victim of a smear campaign and threatening to sue you for defamation of character.”
Robby felt like he’d fallen down a rabbit hole. “Defamation of character?” His father had no character. Besides, how could he be defaming his father? Nobody had even known who his father was…except now somehow they did. “How did the press even get a hold of this?”
His attorney scoffed. “The LAPD leaks like a sieve. I’m sure somebody tipped them off before we’d even made it out of the building. It’ll get kicked up to HSS now, and then this is about to get real Hollywood. I hope you’re ready for it.”
Ready for it? For what? To be the star of a crime drama that possibly ended up with him doing time in a real life jail cell? Was anybody ready for that? “HSS?”
“Homicide Special Services. They handle all the cases with high-profile suspects.”
Was he high-profile? Washea suspect? Robby’s stomach sloshed. What was happening? How was this happening to him? He had the worst luck in the world. Only he could be the victim of a break-in and still somehow be the one under suspicion. “Am I going to jail, Mr. Fields?”
The attorney snorted. “I’m not going to let that happen. Like I said, this investigation should close rather quickly, but the press is gonna make a meal out of it regardless. Just do what I say and you’re going to be fine. But you should seriously get with your publicist and hire a team quickly. You need to get out in front of this. The world thinks your father is a quack, but you’ve done some pretty damning things in the court of public opinion lately. You might need to start triaging your image.”
Triaging his image? “Yes, sir.”
“You’ll hear from me shortly.”
There was no goodbye, just silence as the man ended the call. Robby dropped his phone to the mattress, feeling dizzy and sick. Calder gently tugged him into a sitting position. “What was all that about?”
Robby sighed. “My father is threatening to sue me for defamation, and the media is trying to hunt me down. I need to call Jasmine. Mr. Fields thinks I need a PR team now.”
“What do you think?” Calder asked.
“I think it doesn’t matter what I think. I need to know what Jasmine wants. I have to do what I’m told at least until the end of the year.”
