Page 136 of Breaking Hollywood

“Sure I can.”

She grins and puts her cell to her ear. “Oh, hi. I was wondering if you could help me. Sure, yes, I’m in need of a new cleaner, as I had to fire my last one. She was terrible. Anyway, I was just wondering what you have in place to make sure that the cleaners do their job properly. Hmm…mmhmm. A friend of mine has a cleaner, and she has to sign off on the job to say that the cleaner has done the job to satisfaction. Do you have that? Oh, you don’t?” Charly gives me a knowing look. “Okay, that’s great. Just one more thing. A friend of mine uses your service and said there’s a woman who works for you who is such a great cleaner—Sadie…something. Black. Yes, that’s right. Oh, she has, has she? Oh, well, that is a shame. Okay, well, thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch.”

Charly lowers the phone from her ear. “Seems Sadie Black left Floor-to-Ceiling Cleaning a couple of days ago.” She taps her nails against the screen of her phone. “She had you sign a nonexistent form a few days before Gabe’s story broke, and then she quit her job. Coincidental? Me thinks not.”

“Oh my God.” My heart starts to pound in my chest. “So, what do you think? That Sadie sold the story to Digby and used my name? But why use my name? And how did she get the recording?”

Charly stares up at the ceiling, thinking. “Where did you and Gabe have the conversation when he told you all that stuff about his past?”

“At his apartment, in the living room.”

She brings her eyes back to mine, a light flickering on in them. “Maybe she bugged his apartment.”

My eyes widen. “Bugged his apartment? Doesn’t that seem a little far-fetched?”

“Maybe. But some people will do anything for a story. She could have bugged Gabe’s apartment. Gotten the recording of your conversation. And then sold the tapes to Digby.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why she used my name. She’d want the glory for herself, right?”

“Not necessarily. Because illegally recording a huge movie star’s private conversation about his personal life and then publishing it in the press would, without a doubt, lead to a huge lawsuit for whoever did it. But if his girlfriend recorded the conversation and she sold the tapes to a journalist and signed a contract to give him exclusive rights to the story of the century? It would keep the journalist’s nose clean, and he could run the story without repercussions.”

“And, if a lawsuit did happen, it would land back on the girlfriend who recorded the conversation.”

“Absolutely right.”

“Holy shit.” I press my hands to my head.

“Got to give it to Digby; it’s clever as hell. If it wasn’t so fucking deceptive and it wasn’t you and Gabe he was screwing over, I might actually be impressed.”

“I just can’t believe this.” I tug at my hair. “I can’t believe he would go so far for a story.”

“Digby’s a shark with no morals.”

“So, we get that Digby’s behind the whole thing, but where does Sadie fit into the picture?”

“She probably works for him. So-called journalists like Digby have spies everywhere.”

“That’s nuts and a lot scary.”

“It’s the life of a celebrity, I’m afraid.” She sighs, knowing all too well what it’s like for Vaughn.

“I’m going to look up Sadie online and see if I can find anything out about her.” I get my cell, bring up Google, and type in her name, but all that comes up are some Facebook profiles, and none of them are her.

“Check Digby’s website. She might actually be a writer for him. He should have a roster of employees on there.”

I bring his website up. In the search bar, I type Sadie Black and press Enter, but nothing comes up.

“Check Gabe’s story. See who the writer is.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to see it.” I put down my phone. I’ve avoided looking at the story. The last thing I want to see is the reason Gabe and I are no longer together.

“I’ll look then. I want to know who the writer is.” Charly starts tapping on her screen. “Hmm. Weird.”

“What?” I sit up straighter.

She meets my eyes. “The person who wrote Gabe’s story is called Sandy White. Sadie Black. Sandy White. Similar or what?”

I grab the screen, looking at her name, reading it aloud, “Sandy White, writing for Digby’s Dirt. You think that Sandy could be Sadie?”