Chapter 29
Ichuckled. "We’ve been running errands all day.”
"Well, it's time for a little R&R,” Flynn said. “I'm having a party at my house tonight, and you are invited."
"What time?”
"We'll be there."
"I'm counting on it. Everybody who’s anybody's going to be here." Then he got down to business. "How's that script coming along?”
"It's done," I said with a grin.
"Fantastic, I can't wait to read it.”
"Listen, what do you hear about the Vivian Steele case?" I asked.
"Not much. But somebody did her dirty. Joel said he was going to put you two on it. You making any progress?"
"Two steps forward, one step back. Somebody doesn't want the truth to come out.”
"Isn't that always the way?”
“Out of curiosity, do you know a guy named Nick Shaw?”
Flynn groaned. “I can’t stand that guy.”
“Do tell.”
“Arrogant. Just rubs me the wrong way. Thinks he’s hot shit.
Everybody thinks he’s gonna be the next big thing.
Maybe he is. But I tell you, with an attitude like that, he won’t last long in this business.
You can get away with that crap when you’re on top.
But the minute that star fades, people drop you like a bad habit.
” After a pause, he asked, “What’s your interest in him? ”
“He was one of Vivian‘s clients until he left for Rachel Langford. I’m sure that was quite contentious. He just signed a six-picture deal.”
“I heard. That’s a ridiculous amount of money to pay that guy. He’s not a proven draw. Just because you’ve got a bazillion followers on the socials doesn’t mean they’ll drop money at the theater.”
“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
“Sh-i-i-i-i-i-t,” he scoffed. “I’m not jealous of nobody. I keep my mind focused on my business. Do you think Nick’s involved somehow?”
“I don’t know. But he made Rachel a lot of money. I don’t think he has a motive, but you never know. I’d like to talk to him.”
“I’ll have my people call him and invite him to the party.
I don’t know if he’ll come, but with the names I’ve got on the list, he’d be a fool not to mix and mingle.
Hell, I’ll call him myself. A personal invite might be more persuasive.
We worked together on a picture several years ago.
He had a line or two. Was a nobody back then. ”
I thanked him and said we’d see him at the party, then ended the call.
JD and I sat around, shooting the breeze with Scarlett, catching her up to speed on all the events. Then we caught dinner at a nice restaurant in the hills. Afterward, we set out for Malibu. This time, we rode in the Macan with her other security guard, Cole, at the wheel.
I’d never been to Flynn's house before. But it was on another level.
We had stayed on his yacht in Monaco, and that was a sight to behold.
He sold it after he went broke and his career had taken a nosedive.
Now he was on the upswing once again, trying to rebuild.
Rich once again from a rare gem we had found on a previous adventure, he had splurged.
Flynn was the kind of guy who could be happy in a van traveling across the country, seeing the world.
But that didn't mean he didn't like the finer things in life.
And this house was one of the finer things.
Perched on a cliff, overlooking a man-made private beach, it had an endless view of the Pacific.
The stunning home boasted six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, and a separate guest house.
At this time of the evening, when the sky was midnight blue, the lighting design of the house accentuated its striking form.
Colored LEDs set the mood. Everything was crafted from the finest material.
Sleek and modern with clean lines and an open concept.
As soon as you walked in the front door, the floor-to-ceiling retractable windows offered a view of the patio, the infinity pool, and the ocean beyond.
Light hardwoods, modern furniture, and colorful art gave the space life.
A formal dining table sat 16, and an amazing selection of wines was on full display.
Flynn's private office shared the same stunning view of the ocean and retractable floor-to-ceiling windows. They were open most of the time. The weather was almost perfect year-round.
Outside, a fire raged in a pit, and a bartender at a stone bar with a canopy served drinks to guests.
There were marble countertops, floating staircases, intricate hanging chandeliers, and lots of fine glasswork. Of course, there was a baby grand piano for entertaining.
No Malibu mansion would be complete without a full-on rec room with a bar, pool tables, and flatscreen displays.
A private gym, a Jacuzzi, a spa, and a dry sauna were also mandatory.
There were two kitchens, one for the chef and one for everyday.
Integrated lighting gave the spaces a purposeful ambiance.
I don't know what he paid for the place, but it didn't come cheap.
There was already a good crowd by the time we arrived. When Flynn spotted us, he rushed across the living room and greeted us with a wide smile and bro hugs.
"Great to see you both." His eyes found Scarlett. "You look stunning as ever, my dear."
He gave Scarlett a hug.
“Hey, now,” Jack said. “Don’t get too frisky.”
Flynn raised his hands innocently. "What do you think of the new digs?"
"A little small, don't you think?" I teased.
"This place is a little slice of paradise,” he said with pride.
“What happened to minimalism?”
“I thought I’d try maximalism again,” he said with a grin. "Can I get you a drink?"
"I believe I could be persuaded," Jack said.
"I have your beverage of choice. I knew you were coming.”
Flynn escorted us to the bar, and the bartender took our orders. JD and I went with the Wild Fury whiskey. Scarlett stuck with bottled water in a martini glass.
“I talked to Nick,“ Flynn said. “He told me he’d come by. I don’t know if he will. Joel says he’s stopping by too.”
I thanked him for the effort, and he gave us a tour of the house. When we returned to the living room, even more people had arrived.
The guest list was like a Who's Who of Hollywood.
Flynn wasn't lying when he said everybody who was anybody would be here.
Everywhere you looked, a recognizable face.
There were directors, producers, agents, and studio executives.
This was more than just a party—this was business. An opportunity to network.
Flynn nudged my arm and gave a subtle gesture to a guy across the room. “There’s your boy, Nick.”
Nick pulled out an amber vial of white powder and tooted up like it was no big deal. Not unusual at Hollywood parties.
Flynn grumbled. “See, I just don’t like that. Ask first if you’re gonna do that shit in my house.”