Chapter 13 #2
“This little adventure is already compromised. The paparazzi knows you’re there, and you’re on your own, Cas,” Todd says.
“Well, isn’t that just fucking lovely? I asked really nicely for a low profile. Are we going to put any of the blame on your precious assistant, Arty?” I snap.
“Arty will not be blamed. He did the best he could. You fail to understand that’s not the type of assistant Arty is, but he’s been trained to know it’s important to keep the talent happy. You told him you had a special assignment for him, and he interpreted that as keeping the talent happy.”
“Oh, you’ve got be fucking kidding me,” I yell.
“No, I’m not fucking kidding you, Cas, and you better watch it. You forget who does all the hard work of making you look good. Now, if you’re done with your little tantrum, I’d like to discuss my reason for calling you.”
“Fine, make it snappy. I need to find a new hotel unless you want the headlines to read: Famous Rockstar, Cas Wilder, Eaten Alive by Bedbugs While Staying in Colorado for ‘Private’ Business.”
Todd snickers, then clears his throat. “I’m calling to let you know I’m headed downstate for a relaxing weekend at a vineyard. I’ll be unreachable. Do not disturb me, and remember the rules, Cas.”
“What rules?” I scoff.
Todd sighs, annoyed. “Do not add to the population. Do not subtract from the population. Do not go to jail, but in the event you do, I’ll cancel your contract and leave you there to sort things out yourself.”
“Thanks for always having my back, Todd,” I grumble. “Manager of the year for sure.”
“Be a good boy, Cas. Have a nice weekend. Bye.” Todd hangs up.
I punch the steering wheel angrily, then instantly regret it, cradling my hand.
So the paparazzi knows I’m here—honestly, it can’t get any worse.
I guess first thing’s first: I need to find a new hotel.
I run my hand over my face. Maybe I’ll do a quick drive-by of Vivienne’s place, just to check on her, and find something close by.
I can do a nearby search from her neighborhood.
I pull open the file of information I’ve been collecting about her and type her address into the GPS.
I’m another twenty-five minutes away, but it will be totally worth being this close to her again.
Her house looks just like it did online.
It’s in a really nice part of town, probably custom-built in the fifties or sixties, and from the looks of it, there’s a pool in the backyard.
Damn. I’d work from home and follow in my dad’s footsteps too if I were her.
I crack my knuckles. But I’m not her, and I actually enjoy being the center of attention most of the time.
While I sit at the top of the hill watching her house, I begin my search for a new hotel.
I’m looking for something nice, but extra close to Vivienne’s place.
It doesn’t take me long to find something and book it.
Only seven minutes away. I think I’ll clean up and change my clothes from the flight, then maybe come back and do some work on the plans for tomorrow while I keep an eye on her place.
Maybe I’ll even work up the courage to sneak around back and peek in a window or two.
It sounds like a fantastic way to spend my first night in Colorado.
After a much-needed shower, wardrobe change, and dinner, I’m ready to head back out to Vivienne’s place.
The sun is only just beginning to set, and I can see exactly why people fall in love with Colorado and never leave.
I’d relocate my base here just to be Vivienne’s live-in pool boy.
Smiling at the fantasy playing out in my head, I shake myself free from it and snatch the keys to my stupid minivan.
At least it will blend into the neighborhood without looking suspicious.
On the way to her house, I try to memorize the route.
I’ll practice some more tomorrow too. The spot I parked in earlier is taken.
There’s a lot more cars littering the street than there were earlier today.
It looks like there might be enough room across the street from her house, between two other houses.
I pull past her house and swing the van into the space.
Perfect. Now I have a great view of her front entryway and a few of the upstairs windows.
If I use my phone, I can see the windows even better, and one of them looks like it might be a bedroom, based on the soft glow of light coming from a bathroom.
I settle in to watch while also doom-scroll searching for a better restaurant than BananaBees.
Chicken penne, I scoff to myself. I can’t believe Arty thinks girls are impressed by pasta.
I call a few steak houses to see about reservations, but everywhere is booked.
BananaBees it is, I decide, admitting defeat after three more failed attempts at reservations.
I look for a ballet or some kind of other show at a theater.
I’m not completely uncultured, but it looks like all those tickets are sold out too.
Browsing over a few “things to do in Denver” pages, it seems like most everything is booked out in advance.
The rental car guy wasn’t kidding—it’s a busy weekend.
I shrug it off, continuing to watch her house.
A light turns on, and then another, and then there she is, standing in the front window.
But she’s closing the blinds. Disappointment overwhelms my senses.
I need more than just a glimpse. There’s no possible way I can wait until tomorrow.
I sulk, waiting a few minutes longer to see if, by chance, she’ll appear upstairs—
Jackpot! My patience scores me a much better show.
Vivienne appears in the upstairs window, and though my view appears in slices, I can still see the way she fills out the white lacy bra she’s wearing once her T-shirt comes off.
Oh hell yes. This is better than I could have expected.
I don’t feel the least bit guilty, my eyes glued to her window as she slowly unclasps her bra.
Please turn around. Please. Please. Please, I think, knowing her body already belongs to me.
Yes! She turns around—and a flash from her bushes catches my eye. I turn, ramming my elbow into the center of the steering wheel and HONK!
The car horn makes me jump, melting into my seat.
I pray no one looks my way. From the bushes, a dark, hooded figure bolts, running down the street on foot.
They disappear quickly, swallowed by the darkness.
I start to open the car door, angry and tempted to chase after them, but when I look back at Vivienne’s window, I find her clasping a shirt to her chest, scanning the street.
Not only could she spot me if I chase them, but I also can’t exactly just chase people and tackle them to the ground without risking negative PR.
I’ll get to the bottom of it. I don’t want anyone spying on my girl but me.
First thing tomorrow I’ll pick up a security system and get myself invited back to her place so I can install it.
Then I can keep an eye on her, and whoever thinks they can creep in the bushes. I don’t like it one bit.
My anger slowly dissipates, and I turn my attention back to her window. I really ruined a perfect opportunity, but it’s kind of a good thing—or I might not have discovered the man in the bushes. It was definitely a man.
I watch her silhouette pull the blinds closed and retreat deep into the bedroom, disappearing, leaving only a blue glow from her television peeking through the edges of her window. I sigh, pissed at myself. I wasn’t done spending time with her. I think I’ll send her a text or two before I go.