CHAPTER 1
Demma St. John stared at the note she’d found sitting on her dressing table with shock on her face. With a shove, she pushed the stack of scripts to the side and pressed the page flat, smoothing it down with trembling fingers. She flipped on the power to her dressing table and reread the words typed in the middle of the plain piece of paper.
Sleep doesn’t come easy when you hide your demons, wouldn’t you agree, Beatrice? Silence is golden, and gold is expensive. Instructions will be coming. It’ll be in your best interest to follow them.
Demma sat back and stared at the paper for several minutes. Somebody knew her secret. But how? She had left it all behind her many years ago; made a clean break and never looked back.
There was a knock at her trailer door. “Dem! Are you in there?”
Demma snatched up the paper and stuffed it inside the top script. She pushed her fingers through her hair as she glanced in the mirror. Her normally olive complexion was pale and her blue eyes much too large. Taking a few breaths, she tried to settle her nerves and turned toward the door. “Come in, Monty,” she called out and pasted a smile on her face she hoped would be believable.
“It’s about time,” Montgomery Allen chided her as he bounded up the steps. Dropping into one of the oversized chairs, he threw his head back and sighed dramatically. “Dem, darling, why are you still in your makeup? We have reservations at eight.”
Damn. Demma had forgotten about their plans for the night. It wasn’t just the appearance of her past which threw a monkey wrench in the works. Filming had been brutal the last few weeks. Not to mention, the push to land the role of a lifetime playing the lead for the movie adaptation of Joselyn Chamber’s murder mystery had consumed her energy. Tonight, they were supposed to celebrate the contract she’d signed last week with dinner and clubbing at one of the hottest new nightspots in Hollywood.
She let out a long sigh. “Monty...”
Her best friend’s head snapped up. “Oh, no you are NOT about to cancel on me, girlfriend. Do you have any idea how many favors I had to call in to get those reservations? We are going out tonight. We are celebrating this monstrosity’s wrap and your next project. You will enjoy yourself. Tomorrow, you can rest and get over your hangover.” He clapped his hands together. “Get to it, girl. Put on something hot and sexy.” He shook his hands in the air and sang, “I feel like dancing!”
Monty was what Grandmama Adelaide would have called a ‘certified mess’. He was charismatic, funny, and the life of any party. When they met on the set of her first feature film three years ago, she didn’t know what to make of the stylist. He took one look at her and shook his head. “No... we are not putting you in that. It will wash you out. He stormed out of her dressing room muttering about idiot people who didn't understand about color wheels. Ten minutes later, he returned with the wardrobe manager and a stack of approved alternatives for the movie. By the time she walked out of her room for her first day of filming, he had her completely dressed in what he had called – ‘fanfabuloso’; whatever that meant. She had to admit; she looked amazing, and the film got a Costume Designers Guild nomination. Unfortunately, it didn’t win, but it proved Monty knew his stuff. Since then, Demma insisted on his services for every project she undertook. It was her one ‘diva demand.’
“I’m not feeling the whole grove-the-night-away thing,” Demma started.
He threw his fingers up in a stop motion and turned his head to the side. Pursing his lips, he shook a finger at her. “No, Ma’am. You are not canceling on me. Get your skinny little rear-end up off that chair, throw on the teal pantsuit I laid out this morning and the black sling backs. I’ll do your hair and makeup and voila! Instant perfection.” He threw his hands up dramatically.
Maybe I should just go. The night out would probably do me good. Forget about the note.
At the thought, her eyes zoomed in on the script with a corner of the vile threat sticking out. Letting out a heavy sigh, she shook her head. “I won’t be good company tonight.”
Monty cocked his head to the side and studied Demma for a moment. Sitting up, he gently took one of her hands in his. “Alright, sweetie. What’s going on?”
Demma yanked her hand back and clutched it in a fist. Slowly she forced it to relax and attempted to smile. “Nothing. I’m tired, is all. Sixty-four days of filming with only nine days off are enough to wear anyone down.”
The snort coming from Monty was loud in the cramped space. “Girl, I know you better than you know yourself. If you don’t want to tell me what it is, then tell me to back off, and I’ll respect your wishes.”
“Okay... Monty, back off.”
He wrinkled his brow and studied her a moment. She grew restless under his gaze and couldn’t meet his eyes. He stood and braced his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Fine. I’ve been a part of your life and career for years. After all we’ve been through together, I would hope you could come to me if you had a problem.” He lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug. “It hurts, but when you’re ready, I’ll be here for you.” He slid a purple rhinestone covered telephone from his pocket. “You have my number. Just do me a favor, when I drunk call you at three in the morning, don’t get upset. I intend on celebrating your accomplishments even if you don’t. I also intend on not celebrating alone.”
“Wait.”
Monty stopped with his hand on the doorknob and glanced over his shoulder. He lifted one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Yes?”
Demma let out a long sigh and motioned toward the chair. When he settled into the seat again, she rubbed her sweaty palms on the knees of her slacks. “I can’t go into detail, so please don’t ask me. I have a... a problem.”
“That’s obvious, darling. Tell Monty what you can.”
“I have a past.. I can’t tell you anything specific.”
He chuckled and leaned forward. Taking one of Demma’s hands in his, he stopped her from wringing them. “If you are breathing, you have a past, dear. There’s not a single person in this world that doesn’t have one. It goes double for Hollywood and may be a prerequisite for becoming a star.”
“I’m not talking about the normal stuff. I have skeletons in my closet. I thought that door was locked, but it’s not as secure as I would have hoped. Now, someone has opened it and is threatening to expose me.” She threw her head back and closed her eyes. “It’s bad, Monty. Really bad.”
He nodded his head slowly as he chewed on his upper lip. “I see. Blackmail. Is there any chance you know who it is?”
She shook her head.
“Is it going to hurt anyone other than you?”
She hesitated then slowly nodded. “Yes.” She sniffed delicately. “A lot of innocent people could be hurt. No, I can’t call the police about it.”
“Aww, sugar, come here.” Monty pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried softly. With her tears spent, Monty handed her a couple of tissues. “Alright then, leave it to me. I will take care of everything.” He flipped his cell phone out, unlocked it and scrolled through his contacts. Picking one, he placed a call. Demma opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, but he lifted one finger to shush her.
“Kathleen Barosa, please. Tell her it’s Monty Allen. Yes, it’s important.”
Demma frowned. “Who is Kathleen Barosa?”
Monty pulled the phone away from his mouth. “She owns a company called Starpower Incorporated, and she’s going to be your second best friend.”