Chapter 31
Alex remembered when she’d been a little girl and her dad had taken her along to a couple of business meetings. She’d been five or six at the time, cute as a button with pigtails, rosy cheeks, and an upturned nose. These events were held in some pretty amazing venues, old English-style chateaus, complete with butlers and wait staff and gilded paintings on the walls.
She knew why he brought her, despite Brandon Frost’s claims that he just ‘wanted to show her where he worked’.
It was because nothing quite loosened up the room like having a small kid around. A cute kid.
And, of course, he also wanted Alex to do what she did best, even at such a young age: observe and report back.
But Martin Yeo’s place was nothing like these estates from her past.
The McMansion that Con pulled up to was almost entirely made of glass. It sat atop a small embankment, probably designed this way so that everyone who drove by could look up at and into the house.
See you prancing around in the nude, showing the world that you had so much money that you just didn’t give a fuck.
At present, Alex noticed dozens of people inside, mostly women, mostly blonds. Wide mouths and perfect teeth. Bolt-on tits.
Con drove a black sedan, a newer model Audi, which he explained was a rental and that Marcus Allen would absolutely freak when he put in the expense report, but, as nice as it was, it didn’t fit in with the other cars that were parked on the side of the narrow, winding road.
Supercars that cost double what either of them would ever hope to make in a year. Con elected to park about half a block away, and together they slowly made their way back to the house.
As they neared, the sound of laughter and general raucous behavior reached their ears.
“I guess Dwight was right,” Con said out of the corner of his mouth. “Maybe we should have stayed in your hotel room for a few more drinks.”
Alex gave him a sidelong glance and his face immediately went red.
“I—sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
Alex swatted him playfully on the shoulder. Tori was right about one thing, when he wasn’t a miserable drunk, Con was cute.
“It’s okay—relax.” She twirled and laughed, trying to match the pitch of the sounds filtering down from Yeo’s house. “It’s a party!”
Con smiled.
Then he leaned close and whispered in her ear.
Alex shivered pleasantly.
“Just to let you know, we are Peter and Jessica O’Toole from the private investment firm New York Limited.”
“O’Toole?”
Con shrugged.
“What? Dwight said they’re a real couple. Got an invite but couldn’t make it.”
“Okay…”
Con took her hand in his as they approached the two massive bouncers at the bottom of the concrete stairs leading up to the McMansion.
This felt strange to Alex, but not to Con. His walk changed, his gait, his demeanor. He’d gone from bashful around a pretty girl to a confident, rich, and important investor.
Alex was impressed.
“Names?” the bouncer with the clipboard asked.
“Peter and Jessica O’Toole,” Con said. Even his voice was different. Not exactly deeper, but heavier, somehow, as if there was more weight to it.
The bouncer checked his list, used his finger to trace a line then stepped aside.
And just like that, they were in.
The interior was packed, and it was loud . Music played from hidden speakers, people shouted, laughed.
Cried out.
Alex wasn’t a huge fan of crowds. Most of the past year or so had been spent with Tori and a few other select friends. When they went out, which they rarely did, they went to small pubs during off hours.
Con must have felt her tense because he gave her hand a squeeze. It was the motivation she required.
If Con could become Peter O’Toole then she could transform into the man’s doting wife, Jessica.
Alex caught the arm of the closest waiter with a tray and snagged a glass of champagne. She sipped. Then gulped.
It was delicious.
“What do we do now?” she said, nearly having to shout to be heard by Con even though they were standing right next to each other.
They hadn’t come up with a plan. Con had wanted to speak to Martin Yeo after seeing the damning video they’d pieced together of Adon Guerrero, but this wasn’t the right venue.
They weren’t even the right people anymore.
“We wait. We watch.”
Con said and she saw something of a sparkle in the man’s eyes.
He was cute alright. Troubled, broken, angry, but damn cute.
“Yeah, we watch and wait,” Alex agreed, then grabbed another drink.
***
“Yeah, but at least your husband’s hot,” the tall blond said as she swept hair from her face with the back of her hand. Alex took a sip of her champagne—her third glass—and said nothing. “ That’s what I have to go home with every night.”
She aimed a manicured finger at a man sitting in a chair on the other side of the room. He was at least seventy years old and barely moved. Every half hour or so the blond would walk over and give him a new glass of scotch despite the fact that Alex never saw him take a single sip.
“He’s not that bad,” Alex said politely.
The woman snorted.
“It’s like sleeping next to a mummy. It wasn’t so terrible a couple years ago when he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get it up. But now he takes every pill in the book. Viagra, Cialis, Levitra, everything . He makes me—” she shuddered. “—well, let me tell you, it’s like trying to suck the seeds from a raisin.”
Alex laughed. She couldn’t help herself. She also resisted the urge to tell the woman that almost all raisins were made from seedless grapes.
For some reason, this only made her laugh harder… too hard.
The blond shot her a dirty look.
“Sorry, too much champagne.”
Alex excused herself and started to search for Con. She hadn’t seen him for a good half hour at least and now she couldn’t find him anywhere. It didn’t help that pretty much every man at the party was wearing the same outfit.
Except for…
Adon Guerrero.
Even though the director was wearing a trucker cap pulled low, she recognized the shaggy dark hair.
Behind him stood Thomas Elsberg. This man she knew from the Entertainment Weekly digital magazine that Con had shown her on his phone on the way over. The duo was accompanied by a chubby man wearing a polo shirt that was too small for him and a pair of dark jeans.
He was the most uncomfortable and out of place and Alex suspected, although she didn’t know for sure, that this was Edward Samuelson, the film editor.
All of them looked dour.
Alex sidled toward the group, swaying a little. She was only halfway confident that this drunken swagger was an act.
“Excuse me,” she slurred, shouldering her way through the crowd.
She was almost within earshot when someone grabbed her arm.
Alex stiffened and yanked free. Then she relaxed when she saw it was only Con.
“You see them?” he asked.
“I see them, but they’re going to see you. I’ll get closer, you go… mingle.”
Con let go and stepped aside without another word. Alex quickly slipped back into character, her eyes casually drifting over the pretty faces while maintaining a singular focus.
Martin Yeo, their generous host, had joined the foursome.
He was barking something and both Adon and Edward, if that was who the man was, looked none too happy about what he was saying. When he moved his arms, the sleeves of his monogrammed dress shirt pulled back revealing a silver watch that reflected the overhead lights.
It reminded Alex of when she went fishing with her dad, a rare occasion due to his busy schedule. She thought of a lure spinning just below the surface of the water.
And like a fish drawn by this lure, Alex was inclined to move closer still.
“Sorry,” she grumbled, smiling at a woman with so much Botox that she seemed like she could only sleep with her eyes open. Unless, of course, she didn’t sleep at all and instead cryofroze herself every night.
“Watch where you’re going.”
“Sorry.”
Finally, Alex was within earshot of the men.
“I’m not paying them—” Martin was saying, but Thomas grabbed his arm and held it.
“Not here.”
Martin glanced around and just before their eyes met, Alex looked away. When her gaze drifted back, the four men had disappeared down a hallway.
Alex leaned up against the adjacent wall as if for support. If she concentrated hard enough, she could just hear them over the other sounds of the party.
She knew her face was one of extreme focus now, which didn’t fit with her bubbly, tipsy wife persona, but she couldn’t help it.
“I’m not paying them,” Martin reiterated.
“Just fucking pay them, Martin. I paid, Adon paid. Fuck, even Ed paid,” Thomas said.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the third man shot back. His voice was nasal and resentful, matching Edward’s appearance perfectly
“Just pay them,” Thomas said again.
“I’m not. No way. I’m not being extorted. I called in the FBI.”
“And that was a bad idea, Martin,” Ed said. “ A Bad idea.”
“Bad idea or not, they’ll find out who’s behind this,” Martin hissed. “And put a stop to it.”
“What do you think they’re going to do once they find out? You don’t think they’re going to look at the videos? And then what? You know what they had on me?” Based on the Latino accent, Alex assumed this voice belonged to Adon.
“They won’t look. I met the agent. He doesn’t give a fuck. It’s that asshole who brought down The Sandman. He doesn’t care about pirated videos,” Martin retorted. “He’ll find the person who pirated the movies and then delete them. Move on. Case closed.”
The first part, Alex was inclined to agree with. Not so much the second.
“It’s two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!” Thomas exclaimed. “Just pay it!”
“Keep your voice down,” Edward warned.
“I’m not paying!”
“Look I get it. Nobody wants to be in this position. But, think about it, we all paid. How is that going to make us look. How is it going to make Charles look?”
“Charles left the fucking country!” Martin snapped.
“What do they have on you, Martin?” Adon asked.
Alex pictured the man squinting suspiciously as he said this.
“Nothing… they don’t have anything on me.”
“Then why—”
Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw someone coming toward her. She wanted to continue to focus on the conversation, but it soon became clear that the person wasn’t just wandering aimlessly through the crowd.
Alex turned her head.
It was Con.
She tried to wave him away, but Con continued to approach.
“What are you doing?” she asked, teeth clenched.
“I was just making sure that you’re—”
A stirring behind her, coming from the hallway that the men had disappeared down, made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
“They’re coming! Go!”
Con finally caught on to the brevity of the situation, but it was too late.
The men were nearly here.
There was only one thing that Alex could think of doing.
One terrible, clichéd, ironic thing.
She grabbed Con roughly by the shoulders, spun him around, and pushed him against the wall that she’d previously been leaning against.
Then she moved forward and planted her lips on his.
Her mouth parted and while she’d intended on just a movie kiss, old habits die hard. And she was a little drunk.
Her tongue slipped into Con’s mouth, and she closed her eyes.
He was taken by surprise but after a second, he kissed her back.
They continued to kiss, her body pressed up against his, until she heard the men pass by them.
And then, at long last, she pulled away.
Like hers, Con’s cheeks were red, his eyes glassy.
“Come on, let’s go,” Alex said and then dragged her partner outside before anybody was the wiser.