The older reporter steps in front of the Julie Larimore poster and faces him. “What’s the story on Princess Gabby? We heard her hotel room was vandalized last night.”
That’s a new one.
“I don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“How soon is Bobby Warren going to make a decision?”
“Very soon.”
“Are there any other candidates?”
“The field’s wide open, as far as I know.” Lucas turns to his assistant, “Ellen, call Security, will you? I want these people out of here, now.”
We have our stories. There’s nothing else to be gained by sticking around, except for me. As the others begin to exit, I lock gazes with Lucas.
He walks over to me. “I want to talk to you.”
“We’ll talk, all right.” I spit the answer back at him. “First I have a story to report.”
He moves into my space, my face, forcing me to confront him, his voice still low. “The real story is about your cousin, isn’t it?”
His words almost knock me over. I look around this room of glass and mirrors, not sure I can rise from the reality of those two words.Your cousin.
“She’s part of the story,” I say through quivering lips. “And so are you.”
“You’re looking for revenge, pure and simple. Were you the one who got those other reporters here?”
“No, but you don’t have to be a brain surgeon to figure out that Tania Marie would show up at a Killer Body opening.”
“Especially since you wrote a story saying she was one of the contenders.”
Lucas looks at his assistant, poised by the front door, as if in charge of who goes in or out, a pretty little monitor in an all-white suit. “Is that locked, Ellen?”
She nods.
“Would you do me a favor? I want to talk to Rikki alone.”
“Of course.” Her voice is hushed like the voices on the telephones in law offices and courtrooms. “It’s been a long night and a long morning, and I really ought to drive back to Santa Barbara,” she says. “Unless you need me here.”
“I’ll be fine. You go.”
“I’ll check out of my hotel and head straight to the office. Are you coming back today?”
“I’ll let you know.”
He watches her leave, then turns to me. “Sit down, please.”
I am too angry to sit, but I force myself to settle in one of the white wrought-iron chairs. He does the same, looking less imposing as he arranges his long legs on one of the loveseats.
“Don’t men belong to Killer Body?” I ask.
“Some. Most of our members are women, but you know that.”
“The furnishings kind of give it away,” I say. Then, “Why did you ask her to leave?”
“Because I want to tell you something no one else knows, not even Bobby Warren.”
Something in his eyes makes me believe he’s telling the truth, but I can’t imagine what he could say to me that he wouldn’t say to his boss. “What could that be?”
