Chapter 14 Lexi
Lexi
The Shawshank Redemption was as good the thirtieth time as the first. Last night, besides a brief moment when Justin got a phone call from someone he clearly didn’t like, the night was so comfortable it almost made me uncomfortable. If that even makes sense.
During the movie, Justin and I reached into the popcorn bowl at the same time and a small tingle flew through me.
I know, I know. It’s so childish, like the way a fourteen-year-old would feel on a first date.
But that was not a date. Justin is my client who’s given me zero indication that he thinks of me as anything more than an employee.
Seriously, my immature physical reaction and lack of professionalism is over the top.
I keep saying I’m going to do it, but I’m officially heading into an extreme drought era – one of these days, I’m getting laid by something besides my vibrator so I can release this tension.
A barrier between us shattered, so much so that I nearly broke down and told him that I’m still reeling from the news that my ex-wife just had a baby. I’ve never in my life wanted to share something so personal with a client.
Every day I’m growing more comfortable with him.
Probably not all that uncommon after spending more than a month together.
Normally I can only handle conversations in bite-size pieces.
Letting people get too close threatens the little safety bubble I built after leaving Katey.
But wanting the level of discussions Justin and I are having is putting me on edge.
Nothing is more important than maintaining focus and keeping my clients safe, and these personal interactions are dangerously close to crossing the line.
But after the whole drug–insulin fiasco, when Justin opened up about Mia, something clicked.
I tried to stay calm and casual and not let on how deeply honored I was that he shared so much.
Sure, he’s supposed to trust me with his life.
But trusting me with his emotions is a much larger leap.
When he was done, I almost hugged him. And I’m not even a hugger.
The sincerity in his voice, the pain, was so real, that I officially let the whole ‘jumping to conclusions’ situation go.
I need to create distance, however. Last night I dreamed about him, woke up horny and got myself off. I can’t help my subconscious, but in my waking hours I need to back off.
Before meeting Justin today, I make a quick stop at my favorite café for coffee and a scone. I sit outside on the sidewalk bench and FaceTime my dad.
‘Lexi!’ my dad says over the screen. ‘Pumpkin. Tell me what’s good.’
It’s only been a few weeks since we last chatted, but my heart pinches at my father’s smiling face. ‘Hey, Dad. What are ya doing?’
‘Just working on Sally.’ He pats his ’77 Trans Am.
At least, I think he pats the car. He’s trying to show me, but my dad hasn’t quite gotten the hang of flipping the camera the other way to show what’s in front of him. ‘Sally, huh? How’s she feeling?’
‘She’s good,’ he says. ‘Just finished changing the belt, and she’s purring like a cat in heat.’
‘Eww.’
He chuckles, pulls out a hanky from his overalls and wipes his face.
‘Well, you know Freddy, the guy that takes care of the five-acre plot? He ain’t lettin’ me help no more, so I’m gettin’ forced into the shed.
I tried going into the house, but your mom wanted me out of her hair.
I’m telling ya, kid, all she does these days is bake with her fancy tools. Your old man is getting fat as hell.’
‘Oh stop. You look great.’ I blow into my cup. ‘Mom around?’
‘Nah, she ran into town. You know her, she gets squirrely sittin’ around.’
So true. My father is completely content putzing in the shed on various projects. My mom will tear her hair out if she doesn’t leave the farm once a day.
For the next ten minutes, Dad groans about the Vikings’ draft picks, and swears if they don’t have a better season, he’s switching his loyalties to the Packers. Hearing my dad’s voice like this and picturing him and my mom’s new life, makes everything I’ve done worth it.
When Marcus first hired me, he gave me the starting salary range.
$1,500 a week. Plus overtime! I almost spat my drink on the floor.
He may as well have said he was giving me a million dollars.
I paid off Katey’s student loans, upgraded my 2001 Ford to a car made in the same year I bought it, and started a nest egg for mine and Katey’s future family.
I tried to send money to my parents, but they categorically refused.
Years’ worth of raises, bonuses and high-paying weekend gigs and the money piled up. I’d become so accustomed to my frugal lifestyle that besides running shoes, material items were meaningless. After the divorce, I had a savings account full of cash and no desire to buy a home.
Two years ago, a man showed up on my parents’ doorstep.
He represented an anonymous buyer interested in purchasing five acres of my parents’ fifteen-acre plot, for an extraordinarily high price.
So high that my father first laughed and asked if there was a hidden camera in his pocket.
Then accused him of being a scam artist. The man explained the buyer looked at it as a long-term investment and had no use for it now but promised to maintain it as part of the purchase.
My father was skeptical and called me. I offered for a ‘lawyer friend’ to peek at the contract.
I contacted my lawyer, the one who drafted the original paperwork and set up an LLC for me to purchase the land anonymously.
Sixty days later, my parents had enough money to be debt-free and retire, plus plenty left over for some toys.
I say goodbye to my dad and check the time. Today, Justin has an early call time at the studio, so security hand-off will take place at the building. I toss my trash and go home to wait for a driver.
Traffic is freakishly light, and I arrive at the studio twenty minutes earlier than expected. I tap my thumbs against my cell.
Doc: Here early. Going to check in at the lobby.
Zane: Perf. Caterers are setting up now. Meeting should be done soon. I’ll let the coordinator know you’re here.
I pass through two security checkpoints to enter the corporate offices. Glass-blown sculptures, abstract artwork and ultra-modern furniture fills the space. After I sign the electronic guest log, the distinct click of expensive, thin stiletto heels on the marble floor approaches from the left.
‘Ms Morgan?’ A six-foot-tall, gorgeous woman with pristine, straight, pale blonde hair asks.
I quiet the urge to tighten my ponytail. ‘You can call me Doc.’
She flattens the bottom of her body-hugging blouse. ‘I’ll call you Ms Morgan.’
Wow.
The woman taps the digital clipboard. ‘Justin’s meeting with his team. I’ll escort you in a bit.’
Justin? Not Mr Greenwood? My skin prickles. In this business, unless you’re part of the inner circle, staff always address the talent by the first and last name. ‘I’m part of his team.’
Her red, heavily outlined lips pull into a thin line. ‘It’ll be a few minutes. Please take a seat.’ The woman spins and walks off without another word.
‘Can I offer you something to drink?’ A doe-eyed, barely twenty-year-old receptionist with a name tag that says ‘Amanda’ asks from behind the desk.
‘No, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Could you point me to the bathroom?’
‘Of course,’ Amanda says. ‘Follow me.’
The brightly lit hall smells faintly of jasmine and hardwood floor cleaners. Movie set pictures ranging from E.T. to The Breakfast Club to 8 Mile decorate the walls. I’m not one to be star struck. But if Molly Ringwald happens to appear around the corner, I will definitely forget my own name.
Amanda leans into me. ‘Don’t mind Ivy.’
‘Ivy?’
‘The cranky blonde in the lobby.’ She nods behind her shoulder. ‘She’s, like, obsessed with Justin Greenwood. She escorts everyone back there just so she can look at him. It’s not personal.’
Obsessed. A trigger word in my line of business. I’m absolutely running a background check later tonight.
After using the bathroom, I sit back in the lobby, accept a cappuccino from Amanda and watch as various folk check in. The woman, Ivy, selectively smiles. She’s a fascinating study. Laughing and grazing one man’s hand. Scoffing at another. And completely ignoring those with visitor badges.
A tall, slender man with a laptop bag approaches the desk. I can’t make out his conversation with Ivy, but within a minute, he takes a deflective step back and puts his hands in the air. He turns around and adjusts his bag. When he catches my eyes, he mouths ‘yikes’.
I almost chuckle. At least Ivy is an equal-opportunity asshole. ‘Not sure they’re known for their customer service skills,’ I say from the corner of my mouth.
‘I think you’re right. Wowza.’ He runs his fingers through his sandy-blond hair and settles into a lounge chair. ‘You waiting to audition?’
‘Me? God, no. You?’
‘No way.’ A warm smile spreads as he attaches a visitor badge to his breast pocket. ‘Resident IT nerd only. I don’t think you could pay me enough to be in front of the cameras. Although I do have one hell of a snake dance.’
He ripples his arms from his shoulder to his wrist in a terrible snake dance move. This time, I do chuckle. ‘That’s, ah, impressive.’
‘I figure if I drop one of these moves in the hall, a producer might catch it and sign me up for a reality show.’
My smile spreads. This guy is the friendliest person I’ve met in a while. I check my watch, sip the last of my cappuccino and start to rise when Ivy struts toward the sitting area.
‘Tim?’ Ivy says to the man, waving him over. ‘You can come back now.’
Seriously? I was here way before this Tim guy.
‘Good luck,’ he whispers and follows her through the heavy glass doors.
Ten minutes later, Ivy swipes her elevator badge and escorts me to the conference room.
When the doors open, I monitor her facial expressions and micro-actions.
She glimpses at Justin, and her cheeks flush.
She might just be a fan. And I’m not jealous, obviously, but I do find myself staring at Justin to see his reaction.
Ivy looks like a model, is dressed like she’s auditioning for a role on a new Devil Wears Prada spin-off flick, and towers over me by a good four inches.
I’m in my T-shirt, cargo pants, ponytail and … yeah. I look at Justin’s reaction.
Which is none. But when his eyes meet mine, he grins.
Not that I care. Of course. I refuse to entertain this butterfly that’s pinging around in my gut with zero regard to rationale. I snag Jack for a quick debrief, ask him to run a background check on Ivy, then wave at a patiently waiting Zane.
Someone needs to explain how magenta hair and a rainbow cardigan can look so good on a person. It goes against the laws of the universe.
‘What’s up, Doc?’ Zane hands me a carrot and snorts a laugh. ‘See what I did there?’
‘Yep, sure did.’ I roll my eyes but chuckle at the cartoon reference. ‘Sadly, I’m old and crotchety and lost the ability to laugh at a joke I’ve heard a hundred times.’
‘Ooh, burn.’ Zane motions for Justin to join us. ‘Quick deviation in today’s schedule. The prince here wants to stop at the grocery store on the way home.’
I glance at Justin and shake my head. ‘You’re the only client I’ve ever had that likes to grocery shop. I don’t even like to grocery shop and I’m not famous.’
‘Can’t help it.’ Justin shrugs and cracks open a sparkling soda. ‘I like looking at produce. Besides, no one has ever harassed me at a grocery store.’
He has a point. Our trips to the grocery store thus far have been totally uneventful. Stressed out moms with kids, bored check-out clerks, people staring at their phones … either people don’t notice or don’t care that an A-lister is sniffing pineapples in the produce aisle.
Zane taps their phone. ‘After that, the masseuse is coming to the house. Heads up that his regular one is out sick, so this is her replacement.’
My chest pinches. There isn’t enough time to properly run a background check. ‘Has she been vetted?’
‘Well, I asked her if she did happy endings, and she said no, so I guess she’s vetted?’ Zane flashes me a devilish wink and nudges Justin in the ribs. ‘Sorry, buddy, I tried.’
‘I swear to God, someday I’m gonna sue you for sexual harassment.’ Justin chuckles as he heads back to the table.
‘But you’re my boss!’ Zane yells after him.
The second Justin starts a conversation with the producer, Zane’s smile fades, and they hand me their phone.
‘I wanted to show you this. I didn’t want to freak Justin out, but it was DM’d an hour ago to one of Justin’s accounts that I manage.
I didn’t tell Jack yet, cause, well, I wanted your reaction first.’
I press play and as the video rolls, my breath is tight. The video shows a hyper-realistic AI video of Justin lying on the ground with his eyes gouged and live maggots oozing from his mouth. A protective surge tears through me, and I glance at Zane. ‘Jesus …’
‘I know.’ Zane’s eyebrows pull together. ‘And it might be nothing, but there was a dead bird on Justin’s steps this morning when I arrived. I didn’t even think anything of it. I just asked one of the maintenance workers to remove it. But now with this video, I don’t know … it just seemed … odd.’
A dead bird is strange. But explainable. The video is fact. An almost primal urge thrashes in me to find out who did this. ‘I need to take your phone and contact the cybersecurity team.’ I touch Zane’s forearm. ‘We’re going to keep this one from Justin. No need to alarm him at this point.’
For the first time in a month, I finally understand why Justin’s team – who clearly cares for him – wants to shield him. I just hope when he finds out that we’ve been downplaying these threats, he understands.
I glance at Justin who catches my gaze and smiles. I smile and swallow back the fire. Whoever this stalker is just upped their game. And I refuse to let Justin go down without a fight.