Текст книги "Child Star: Part 3"
Автор книги: J. J. McAvoy
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 8 страниц)
Chapter Seven
Amelia
“You want to do what?” he snapped like I was insane. But then again, I bet insane people rarely asked favors like this.
“I want you to help me steal my mother’s body from Bo. Where did I lose you?” I answered, taking a seat on his couch. His room was only slightly smaller than ours and positioned the opposite way.
He opened his mouth to speak. Then stopped, then opened it again and asked, “I … there … What the hell, Amelia?”
“Bo came to me¸” I confessed, brushing my hair back behind my ear. “Esther received the W.E.W.A. award last night, and I accepted in her stead.”
“I just found out. It was the right move going. But how the hell did you meet Bo there?” he asked, frowning as he took a seat across from me.
“Not there. In the parking lot. He was hiding in the back of the Escalade we were driving. He had a gun, Austin, and threatened me.”
“He what?” he snapped, rising to his feet, already reaching for his phone.
“Austin, no. Listen to me.”
“I’m gonna kill him,” he said, ignoring me as he dialed.
Getting up, I reached over for the phone, ending the call before it was even made. “Listen to me! I know you don’t think I’m up to this … whatever this is … but I am. And I came to you because I have a plan, and I need your help to see it through, not because I need you to protect me! So can you listen to me or not!”
“Go on,” he nodded, somewhat stunned as I sat back down.
“Like I was saying, Bo threatened me, but in all honesty, I didn’t care. It’s what he wanted that bothered me—”
“He wants Noah to help get Frank out of the country.”
I glared at him, crossing my arms.
“Sorry.” He raised his hands in defense, leaning back.
“Anyway, yes, he wants Noah to help his father escape, and if he doesn’t, then Bo will expose everything, making sure I get pinned for most of it.” As I should, honestly. “But if Noah does that, he’s fucked when it comes to the Callahans. If they could so easily figure out where our shoot was and change the venue so Noah could have a one-on-one chat, they wouldn’t just forgive him for letting Frank go. And truthfully … I … I want Frank dead. No,” I paused, not because it was hard, but because I couldn’t believe how badly I wanted it. “I need him gone, Austin. I need Noah to be free of him—of everything that’s holding him back. And the closer I get to him, the more I realize it’s family. It sucks. I wish it wasn’t true. But it is. Frank and Bo are anchors. The only thing stopping that is Esther, which is why we are going to make it look like she died in a tragic accident.”
“Can I speak now?” he asked, raising his hand.
Sighing, I nodded, “Yes, you can speak.”
“I understand. Believe me, I do. But how do you plan on making a three-month-old corpse look like it died in an accident? Secondly, I have no idea where she is. I left it to Bo.”
I paused for a second. “You guys said you she would reappear over New Year’s. What were you thinking?”
“There is this open murder investigation —”
“Never mind,” I held my hand up, not wanting to hear about it. “It doesn’t matter, because I thought about it. When I was fourteen, I was on the set of a movie called Street Kings. One of the mechanics was explaining the stunts and how they didn’t want me anywhere near the car when it exploded because it had the ability burn a body to the point of no recognition.”
“A car accident? Which causes the car to explode? Amelia, this isn’t like the movies. Cars just don’t explode—”
“Not explode, but burn intensely. One collision, a strong enough one that ruptures an already weak fuel tank. It takes anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute for the actual car to spark up to where it seems like it is exploding. But it’s just enough to keep people at bay and for Esther to burn through.” When it came to memorization, the ins and outs of movies, I was the best. And this scene I remembered perfectly. I remember the director wanting it to look realistic, the makes and models of all the cars they tested. This could work. This would work. There was only one catch.
“Okay. Let’s say the car burns like you want it to. How will you do the collision?”
I smiled, and I knew he understood what I meant.
“No. Amelia. No—”
“I’m going to be driving.”
“Have you lost your mind? This plan is half-cocked as it is. I can see dozen of ways this could go wrong. Hell, you could be pulled over by the police before you even get to crash! Let alone the state you’ll be in afterward—”
“Exactly. If I’m involved, no one would even think I had anything to do with it. Bo will lose the only card he has—”
“I’m not asking for your permission. I’m letting you know what I am planning to do. The only reason why I came to you is because I need you to fill Noah’s schedule so he’ll be too busy to check in with me. But if I have to, I will lie and go out on my own.”
“You don’t even know where Esther is.”
He needed to stop underestimating me. Lifting my phone from my pocket, I held it up for him to see. “When I was a teenager, Esther gave me these matching necklaces, not knowing a sponsor had given me a ring from the same collection. It has a GPS locator on it. When Bo came to see me, I slipped the ring into his jacket pocket. With this little handy dandy app, I can not only see where he went, but if he came next to any one of my contacts. Esther died wearing that necklace. She stayed in one spot for nine hours before the battery died. Which means…”
“You know where she is,” he groaned, leaning back against the chair. “Noah will kill me—”
“Not, at least, until after he is safer. And I’ll beg him not to.”
“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his lip turned up. “You were right. You are nothing like you once were.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. So are you in or out?”
“Let me see the address,” he demanded.
“You’ll do it without me.”
“Amelia,” he said sternly with his hand out. Sighing, I handed it to him. He stared at it for a long time. The corner of his lip turned up into a small smile. “I’m in. Give me some time to make a few calls and work out everything. The only way this works is if Bo doesn’t have time to move her and the car works exactly the way we need it to.”
“Noah does not hear a word of this,” I repeated, taking the phone back.
He nodded.
I knew this was going to get ugly. I just prayed it worked despite that.
It is going to work. There is no plan B.
Chapter Eight
Noah
There were a few things I hated about Chicago: corrupt politicians, gang violence, the extreme weather, my father, the mystifyingly unclear parking regulations. However, at the very top of that list was none other than the Chicago PD.
It was 5 a.m. Five fucking a.m. I didn’t even know they were capable of being up and alert at 5 a.m. when they barely gave a fuck when the sun was up as it was.
“Mr. Sloan.”
I glared at the idiot in front of me, reaching to the dresser table for my pack of cigarettes. It was only when I had I blown the smoke from my nose that I relaxed enough to actually go hear them out since they had wasted their time coming to my suite.
“What can I do for Chicago’s finest?” I asked, kicking my foot up onto the table. “After all, I’ve been here for twenty-four hours. Thank you for restraining yourselves from arresting and slapping bullshit charges on me like the last time I was here. How’s Mallory?”
The two of them tensed.
Coughing, the female, whose blonde hair was pulled back so tight I wasn’t sure how she could move her head, moved to take a seat. “Mr. Sloan—”
“Ah no,” I snapped my fingers at her. “Guests sit down. You are not a guest. I do not want you comfortable, we are not friends, and hell, I have half a mind to tell you to get the fuck out.”
“Noah,” Austin spoke up from behind me. The only reason I was even doing this shit was because he had pulled me out of bed.
“Mr. Sloan, would you rather do this downtown? Because I can—”
“You can what?” I interrupted her again, taking another long drag and staring at her partner, who for the most part kept his mouth shut. He was young, so I could see why. “Do you really want to be that officer? The one who so badly wanted to stick out in your little colony of ants that you tried biting me? How’s Officer Dacosta? He and the union are fighting to get his job back now, right?”
Her jaw tensed, her fist balling up. “Have you heard anything from your father—”
“Estranged father. I was emancipated as a teenager and haven’t been in contact since.”
“Have you heard anything from your estranged father, Mr. Sloan? As you may know, there is a warrant out for his arrest.”
Tilting my head back, I looked at Austin. “Austin, has Frank tried to be in contact?”
“You don’t know?” the boy behind her finally spoke up.
“Estranged means no longer close or affectionate to someone. Alienated. Distant. Where did I lose you?” I questioned.
“Yes or no, Mr. Sl—”
“No,” Austin answered. “Mr. Sloan has not been in contact with his father.”
She forced a smile. “We need to hear it from you, Mr. Sloan. After all, I’m sure your manager can’t keep tabs on you all the time.”
You’d be fucking surprised.
“No. I have not been in contact with Frank. I do not know where he is. I have not had any affiliation with Frank Sloan. And that is all the time I have for you both this morning. Any more questions, and I’ll have to get my lawyer involved, and there will be a harassment suit filed as well.”
On that note, Austin walked around the chair. “I’ll show you both out.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sloan, for your cooperation.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” I replied emotionlessly.
“Wow.” Amelia clapped behind me, stepping out of the bedroom, with only her damn robe on, her damp brown hair shifted to one side. “And the award for being the biggest asshole—”
“They deserve it,” I replied, walking to her, and pulling the rope of her robe until her body was pressed up against mine, the scent of vanilla and honey filling my nose. Damn, she is beautiful, was all I could think. When I lifted her head up, my face was reflected in her blue eyes. “Good morning.”
“You do realize the colder you are to them, the longer you are on their shit list,” Austin said behind me.
“Seriously,” I groaned, looking back to him. Amelia giggled, wrapping her arm around my waist.
Ignoring us both, he turned on the television.
“Thank you, Katie, for that weather forecast. Now over to Andrew Thomson, coming to us live from South Lawndale.”
“Thank you, Jeffery. I am standing only feet away from this apartment right in the heart of the Little Village where the manhunt for the notorious drug runner, Frank Joseph Sloan, who was caught on camera shooting at police in Monday’s massive bust, has revved up as the body of one of his possible accomplices was just found early this morning when neighbors reported a horrible stench coming for the complex above them ... father of the former child star and actor Noah Sloan, police have doubled the reward for any information leading to an arrest.”
“Turn it off!” I snapped angrily, stepping away from Amelia. “I need to find him. I need—”
“You need to prepare for the interview I set up for today,” Austin said, cutting me off.
“You did what?”
“You. Dalila Alexandra. Sixty unfiltered minutes of you telling the world all about yourself.”
He had lost his mind. “Austin, my father—”
“He will get caught. This will all resolve itself. You are not a bounty hunter. You are not a cop. You are an actor. An actor who, I will remind you, has a blockbuster movie coming out, but instead of that, they are connecting your name to that of a criminal. I shouldn’t need to connect the dots for you. You need to go on television and tell the world exactly what you told those cops. Frank is your estranged father. Your actions are in no way connected to his, and you are a morally right, upstanding human being who they should not have any issues supporting in theaters.”
“Austin…” My voice trailed off as I tried to think of something to say, but I had nothing.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll be there—” Amelia started.
“No, you will not,” Austin, once again stepped in. He was apparently on a power trip this morning. “You, Amelia London, are also an actress, not Noah’s sidekick. You are not playing the role of the faithful girlfriend today. Not only will it look like Noah can’t stand on his two feet without you, but also because people are going to get fucking tired of seeing your faces together before the movie comes out. You are Amelia. He is Noah. You are a couple. But you both are enterprises in your own rights. You want to help him, Amelia, then we need more of what you did last night. I need you to be Amelia London, the Oscar-winning actress. So you are not going to be anywhere near him today. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” she muttered, wide-eyed, a small grin growing wider and wider on her face.
“Beautiful. Since you two managed to get out of bed this morning at a respectable hour, we can get a jump on things. Amelia, get dressed,” he said before focusing on me. “And you—eat something and shave before the makeup crew arrives. I scheduled this thing for early this afternoon on the patio of the penthouse. I want you looking strong, assertive, and healthy.”
He stretched the last part as he stole my cigarettes.
“Nothing is going to change if I don’t smoke for a few hours.”
“We will see,” he replied, checking through his phone. “Chop chop.”
“He’s a slave driver, but he’s right,” Amelia giggled, kissing my check.
I know. That’s what made him so goddamn annoying.
Amelia
Taking a seat in the back of the Mercedes, I wanted to high-five him. “Austin, you were amazing. And for a second, you had even me believing I had something planned for today.”
“You do,” he said, for some reason sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Where is Daniel?”
“He’ll be staying with Noah. I prefer him having muscle behind him.”
“Right,” I replied, relaxing into the backseat, and then remembering … “Wait. I thought we were going to—”
“This morning, you will be having brunch with the young sponsors of the W.E.W.A. that you honored last night. Beautiful speech, by the way. However, in the future, take a second to call me and let me know before you randomly go to awards ceremonies. I hate finding out things after the fact.”
“Austin?” I sat up straighter, looking at him. My question was serious. “Do you ever sleep?”
He snickered and didn’t answer, which had to mean ‘no,’ or at least not an amount that was healthy. Somehow he had managed to set up an interview for Noah, get me into brunch, and think over the other issue I had brought up to him all in one morning.
“Are you sure Noah is okay?” I asked. Dalila Alexandra wasn’t just any reporter. She had made a name for herself by questioning and pushing celebrities, politicians, even princes, with her questions. She pulled no punches, and there was no line she wouldn’t cross. In some ways, it was an honor to be on her radar, but in most ways, it was an annoyance. I had met more than a handful of actors and actresses who just walked out on their interviews with her.
“He’ll be fine. Contrary to popular belief, Noah is actually very good with interviews, especially if they’re important ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was trending once it airs.”
“Yeah, but he’s your client. You should be—”
“You are also my client, and I also flew out my assistant last night. I usually keep him in the office, but with the promotions coming up, I’m going to need backup.”
“You, backup? You’re like a one-man army. I don’t understand how or why you are so … so dedicated. Not that it’s a bad thing. But I’ve never met a manager like you, who has no boundaries.”
“That’s because Oliver was your manager while you were a child as well. Everything is simple when you are a child. You might not have felt that way, but it’s the truth. The problem is that most managers can’t transition with their clients when they become adults. They still see you as a child who needs to be micro-managed. And too many actors are so loyal that they allow it. The truth of the matter is that having a good, even a great, manager is important. But that doesn’t change the fact that there will always be another manager worth having. However, there will not always be an actor worth working for. ”
I knew he wasn’t talking about me, per se, but it was still me. I remembered how badly I wanted to hold onto Oliver months ago, and not because I needed him for my career, but because I was comfortable with him.
“And Noah is the actor worth working for? That’s why you left your old job to become his manager?”
He didn’t reply, and I didn’t push, though I really wanted to.
All too soon, we were in front of the very same hotel I had been to the night before. Austin stepped out, opening the door for me.
“Amelia,” he said softly before I could even move from the door, his face stern, “the moment we are done here, we’ll move to what you asked for last night.”
For some reason, it felt like my heart sank to my stomach. I’m not sure why, because I wanted this. I couldn’t stop thinking about it getting it done and over with. However, when I looked into his eyes, I realized what we were going to do was horrible. It wasn’t something I should want to do or even something I looked forward to. It was a terrible means to an end, and I was an awful person—but that didn’t change the fact that it needed to be done.
“Got it.”
Noah
Earlier, when I was thinking of the things I hated about Chicago, I had forgotten to add Dalila Amen-Alexandra to that list. Born of Egyptian immigrants, graduated from Loyola University with honors, worked her way from radio to daytime news announcer to her own nighttime show, all before the age of thirty. There was no denying that she was a hardworking person. I did not know her personally, nor was I fortunate enough to ever have an interview with her, but she made my list based solely on the way she treated those across from her … like we weren’t human. Like her questions didn’t hurt or affect us, like we were just a spectacle and she had the right to expose anything and everything to the public because they were interested.
“We’ll be starting in just a minute,” the sound manager said, adjusting the microphone on the insider collar of the navy button-down shirt I was wearing. “There. Does it feel right?”
“It’s fine,” I replied. Nodding, he moved from my path, exposing her. She sat across the table from me wearing a white cocktail dress and blazer, her black hair tucked behind her ear as her makeup artist finished dabbing powder on her face.
“That’s enough,” she snapped, and they went running. “We need water or something on this table!” Her hazel eyes focused on me. “Sorry, it’s quite hectic. Today was supposed to be our day off.”
I shook my head, leaning back comfortably. “Take your time.”
“You aren’t nervous about having your first sit-down interview with the Wicked Witch?”
I snickered, “Not all. It never turns out well for the Wicked Witch at the end of the movie, anyway.”
She opened her mouth to speak. However, the camera cut in, cueing her in with a thumbs up and a five-second countdown.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Let the carnage begin.
“Noah Sloan, child actor at age seven, Oscar winner by age thirteen, Hollywood bad boy at seventeen, then vanishing, doing only low-budgeted indie films, only to reappear at age twenty-seven. You’ve captured all the headlines after being cast as the lead in the upcoming movie Sinners Like Us as well as your recent run-in with the police and of course your whirlwind romance with fellow child star, Amelia London, along with the current situation with your father…wow. Some year.”
I smiled. “Tell me about it. And it isn’t even over yet.”
“All of the information I just recited can be found in just a common search. I want to truly understand who you are, and when I got this interview, I figured I’d get a list of topics to stay away from. To my surprise, there wasn’t one, so nothing is off the table and everything is fair game.”
Goddamn it, Austin. “I’d tell you to do your worst, but I’m sure you didn’t need my permission for that.”
“I don’t. So let’s get right to it,” she said, leaning in slightly, “You were scouted by an agency while shopping with your step mother, Pegi, who later abandoned you and your step-brother?”
I didn’t want to talk about her or anyone relating to my family from my start—I’m sure she knew that, but didn’t care.
“Yes, we went looking for new shoes after I was jumped walking home on the corner of 47th and Mitch. She was so scared Frank would find out, and she went into her room and got an old peanut butter jar from a hole in the wall by her dresser. It was her ‘runny day fund,’ as she liked it call it.”
“She was scared that Frank, your father, would find out your shoes were stolen?”
I shook my head. If it only were that simple. “She was scared Frank would find out I gave up my shoes without a fight. That day, on the corner of 47th and Mitch, I knelt down, took off my shoes, and handed them over. They laughed in my face, called me a little bitch, but then let me go. In my mind, I figured shoes weren’t worth getting stabbed over.”
“Seems highly logical for a seven-year-old. And your father wouldn’t have been okay with this?”
“You’ve never been to Southbend, have you?” I asked, and she shifted uncomfortably before replying no. “The rules are different. Me giving up my shoes meant I wasn’t a fighter, and if I wasn’t a fighter, I was a bitch—not the title Frank wanted for his sons. So Pegi, worried Frank was going to beat me near dead, took me to the mall. While we were there, a scout came up to her and asked her if she ever thought of having me model.” I smiled remembering the look on Pegi’s face. She nearly took me and ran, thinking this man was some type of pedophile. “Pegi laughed it off until he gave her his card along with some other information. We filled everything out, and he took my photo.”
“And the shoes?”
The smile on my face dropped. “We got them, but when we got home, Frank already knew. And instead of hurting me, he took it out on her. My brother and I sat on the stairs, too scared to move as he gave her a black eye and broke her nose and arm in two places. That was the last time I ever gave up anything without a fight. Pegi stayed and protected my brother and me until she physically couldn’t anymore. She didn’t abandon us, she saved us. And I’m thankful for it. I would not be who I am today if it weren’t for the sacrifices she made for me.”
“Before I get into your father, I want talk about your career for a little bit,” she said, obviously not wanting me to adjust to any of her questions. “Your rise to fame was fast. I remember seeing both of you—between your hit sitcom, movies, and commercials, you were a household name. What was it like coming up from a place like Southbend to living like a rockstar almost over night?”
“Fun,” I said truthfully, shrugging my shoulders. “I was traveling the world, and I had people willing to give me anything I wanted. I honestly can’t describe it in any way other than ‘fun.’ It was the crashing down that was the hard part. I, like most child stars, got used to the limelight, so when it was taken off, it was painful, because all of a sudden, you’re worthless and you’ve spent your whole life doing only this one thing. The rest of the world scares you … returning to Southbend scared me. ”
“Please say your fall, even though you had a few hit movies afterward, began the moment you cheated on Amelia London when you were teenagers. Do you agree, and do you regret it?”
Well, people can kiss my ass…I didn’t actually cheat. But I couldn’t tell the truth about that.
“Yes, I regret ever hurting Amelia and everything that happened. Because I truly loved her, I still love her,” I replied, trying my hardest to think of how to say this. “Did my fall have to do with her? I don’t know. We were kids. The whole world was watching us. We couldn’t breathe. We were trying to grow up, deal with the media, expand our careers, and hold on to each other. It was too much for a couple of love-struck teenagers. We were doomed to fail, and we did. But like you said, I went on to act in some incredible movies, winning awards across the country and Europe, as did she. So as painful as it was to suddenly not be with her, I didn’t see myself as having fallen.”
“But you did. The fights, the underage drinking, the string of rehabs stints—so if not her, what? Your father?”
Reaching into my pocket, I put my pill bottle on the table. “Neither the fights nor the underage drinking are things I can justify, but I’m sure the drinking added to the fights. Most of the fights started because of comments I wish I had never heard. Others, for no reason other than guys trying to show off. However, the string of rehabs stints were all due to a medical condition I kept from the public for personal reasons. But the truth is, I suffer from an anxiety disorder. Any drastic change in my mood will leave me almost paralyzed, trembling on the floor.”
“I don’t understand? Why hide this? Why rehab?” she asked, reaching to pick up the bottle.
“I hated taking my meds and would often have a series of attacks or get so depressed that even the meds wouldn’t work. So I would go to rehab, because contrary to popular belief, it isn’t just a cop-out for actors—it’s a place to get help. And for me, it’s the only place where I could truly escape from the media for a while. I didn’t share it because the attacks are painful, they are embarrassing—and because it’s my business. You all know everything about me. Being an actor should not take away my right to privacy.”
I could see it in her eyes, the realization that this interview was not going to go at all how she imagined. And it was for one simple reason: she, like everyone else, did not truly know me. They just thought they did.
