“Montgomery!” The blue-haired, old woman in the floral, polyester dress hollered my name from across the street. I turned away from the Grand Opening banner Steven was taking down to see her tottering across the road, her cane thumping and her rubber-soled shoes squelching.

“Awful lot of traffic on this road now,” she grumbled.

I groaned and forced a smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Cotlier. How are you today?”

I hated to ask because I knew she’d take it as an invitation to launch into a long list of complaints, but with Layla’s encouragement, I was trying to be friendlier, even to old coots who had nothing to offer me in return. As expected, Mrs. Cotlier moaned and rubbed her knobby elbow.

“Well, my bursitis is acting up again, and I’m on my way to refill my prescription. But since you’re here, I wanted to have a word with you.”

I resisted the urge to sigh and roll my eyes and instead kept the smile plastered on my face and replied through clench teeth. “About what, ma’am?”

She gave the sigh I was holding in followed by a harrumph. “Well, I suppose I ought to say thank you for letting Candy sell her sweets in your gift shop. She’s been happy as a lark, cooking up candy every day. Although, I’m getting fat from sampling all of it.”

My fake smile turned into a genuine one. “It’s my pleasure. Candy’s Confections are delicious, and they’ve been a big hit with the guests.”

“Yeah, well, the pharmacist said he might start selling her candy there, too, since business has picked up so much.” She waved her hand at the cars turning into the resort.

“That’s great news, Mrs. Cotlier.”

“All these fool vacationers come in there to buy sunscreen and aloe vera. He’s making so much extra money off of them, he dropped the price of my prescription by a dollar.”

I wanted to say, “I told you so,” but instead I said, “Glad to hear it.”

Mrs. Cotlier glanced over my shoulder at Steven. “How’s your brother doing? Is his brain all right now?”

I chuckled and turned to my brother. “Hey Steven, Mrs. Cotlier wants to know if your brain’s all right.”

Steven wiped his hands on his neat, blue uniform slacks then walked over and took off his Sweet Bay Resort cap, revealing a mostly-healed scar surrounded by a strip of shaved hair that was slowly growing back in. He held a hand out to Mrs. Cotlier. “I’m doing just fine, ma’am.”

“Well, glad to hear it. You take care now.” Mrs. Cotlier hobbled off, and Steven and I shook our heads after her.

Against my better judgement, I let Layla talk me into giving Steven a job in the maintenance department. He wasn’t the head of the department like he wanted, but he did have insurance. All my full-time employees were fully-covered, and that was almost everyone. I’d gotten a nice article written up about me in Prevention magazine for that, famed as the employer with a heart, and my company stocks had risen that day, almost making up for the cost of the insurance.

Steven was on probation for the first 90 days, with an understanding that if he was late or missed work or got written up more than three times, he was out. But so far, he’d been a model employee. I wasn’t sure if the change in personality was due to the removal of the brain tumor or if Steven just had a new outlook on life after almost dying. Either way, he was a different person.

Steven and I headed back towards the resort entrance. “You still coming over for dinner Monday night?”

I held open the door to the lobby for some guests then followed them in. “Yeah. You want steaks from The Sweet Bay Table again?”

Steven held up a finger like a gun and shot it at me. “You know it.”

I tried to eat dinner with my family every Monday night now, then Tuesdays I helped my dad around the house since it was the quietest day at the resort. I’d persuaded him to retire from his salvage business, promising to help him fix up the house if he did. He wasn’t exactly a model citizen yet, but at least he wasn’t swindling people for a living anymore, and the house wasn’t the town eyesore.

Steven went one direction, and I went the other, weaving through the crowd of people that milled around the lobby. The resort was full to capacity almost every night already, and we’d been featured in several travel magazines. A couple kids were clapping and pointing at the fish in the koi pond. Their happy smiles were contagious, and I found myself grinning. I had almost everything I’d ever hoped for, and if things went well, I’d check the last thing off the list tonight.

Layla sat at her desk in my office, typing away at the computer. When I leaned over her shoulder, I saw she was entering data in a spreadsheet and generating graphs and tables. Only when I kissed the top of her head did she realize I was there. She jumped and yelped then held her hand to her heart.

“You’re a pro at that now. What am I gonna do when you’re gone?”

She waved off my concern. “I’ve got it all set up so it will be easy for Leanne to take over. Besides, I’m only going to be gone for a week this time.”

Leanne had been willing to fill in for Layla for a few weeks while she filmed her scenes in the latest Beau Bennett movie, especially after I decided to let staff enroll their children in the kid’s club. They had to pay a small fee that helped me cover the cost of additional staff, but for most of them it was less than paying for daycare or a babysitter. Plus, they could spend their breaks with their children. That was Layla’s idea, of course.

This time, Layla was returning to Hollywood for a round of interviews. Then she’d come back to Sweet Bay till it was time for the premiere. I’d go with her to that. Hopefully, the resort would be running smoothly enough to get by without me for a few days, because I had some other things planned for that trip, as well.

I frittered away the last few hours of the day, trying to stay busy but not accomplishing much. I was too nervous. Finally, when the clock struck 5, I jumped up, grabbed my things, then looked at Layla. “You ready to go?”

“Sure, just give me one more minute.” She entered a few more numbers into her spreadsheet while I hovered impatiently.

I’d gotten in the habit of picking her up from her parents’ house and dropping her off every evening in my car, so I had to wait for her. It was a teenage fantasy I was finally living out, and I loved every minute of it, except when she kept me waiting. Finally, she shut down the computer and picked up her pocketbook.

Layla tried my patience again by saying good night to every single person we passed as we headed out to the parking lot. I forced myself to be friendly, too, but I couldn’t have cared less about anyone else at that moment.

As soon as we climbed into my Maybach, I raced out of the parking lot like my tail was on fire. Layla braced one hand on the dash and the other on the roof as we careened around the corner. “Whoa there, speedy. What’s the big hurry? Are you really that eager to spend the evening with my parents?”

“I’m just excited to watch your movie, that’s all.” I held up the early copy of the film that wouldn’t be released for several more months. We’d received it in the mail a few days ago and had made plans to have a screening of it with her friends and family at her parents’ house tonight. What she didn’t know was that I had something even more special planned for the evening.

When we got to her parents’ house, several cars were already in the driveway. I grabbed the movie then dashed around to Layla’s door to help her out of the car. I kept a hold of her hand as we walked up the path and climbed the stairs to the veranda. I’d wanted to touch her for so many years, now that I could, I took every opportunity.

Inside, voices chattered excitedly in the family room. We went to the kitchen first, though, where Layla’s mom had laid out a spread worthy of a Hollywood party on the quartz countertop.

“They’re here!” She hollered out loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear then gave Layla a hug. I flinched when she reached for me but quickly covered my surprise and let her envelop me in an Estee Lauder perfumed embrace.

“Wow, Mom, everything looks amazing. You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.” Layla picked up a plate and piled it with a bit of everything.

Mrs. Emerson flicked her hair back and propped her hands on her hips, striking a movie star pose. “Well, it’s not every day you get to watch your daughter star in a blockbuster movie.”

Layla rolled her eyes. “I’m barely more than an extra, Mom.”

“Nonsense. Your name is in the opening credits, right?”

Layla gave her a surprised look. “Uh, I guess so. I’m not really sure.”

“Well, we’ll just have to look closely for it.” Mrs. Emerson winked at me then reached out for the movie in my hands.

“Let me go get this cued up.” She took the movie and sashayed away.

I was too nervous to eat, but I filled a plate anyway so Layla wouldn’t suspect anything. Layla poured us some drinks, then we carried our dinner to the family room.

Layla’s parents and several of her popular friends from high school filled the white leather sectional sofa that curved around the large TV. They’d left the seats directly across from the television for Layla and me. We put our plates on the glass coffee table, and Layla leaned down to give everyone a hug as she greeted them. I hovered behind her, mumbling hellos to people I’d never talked to even though I’d known them my whole life, feeling like the same reject I was back in high school. I shook her father’s hand, hoping mine wasn’t sweaty or shaking.

Finally, we settled down to watch the movie. Mrs. Emerson dimmed the lights and hit play on the DVD. Dramatic music filled the air, and Beau Bennett’s name flashed on the screen, as wide as my arm span on the 90 inch television. I grabbed Layla’s hand and held my breath as several more names appeared and disappeared. Finally, Layla’s name lit up the screen.

“There it is!” her mother announced and paused the movie so we all could admire it. Her friends gasped and covered their mouths to keep from squealing as they gaped at us in anticipation.

Layla stared at the TV in confusion then turned her head to look at me. “Why does it say Layla Montgomery?”

I slid off the couch and onto one knee beside her then pulled a black, velvet box out of my pants pocket. I slowly cracked it open, revealing a five carat diamond solitaire in a platinum band embedded with smaller diamonds. Layla’s eyes got bigger and sparklier than the giant gemstone.

“Because I’m hoping by the time this movie is released, that will be your name. Layla, I love you with all my heart. I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. Will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” I tacked on a caveat, just in case. “You don’t even have to take my name if you don’t want to.”

Layla flung her arms out and hugged me, bouncing up and down on the sofa. Her joy burst out like champagne. I took big gulps of it, and it bubbled inside me, filling me with happiness, making me drunk on her love.

After several long, wonderful moments, she pulled away enough to look at me, keeping her arms draped around my neck. “Of course I’ll marry you, Calvin. And I’d be proud to take your name.”

I took the ring from the box and slid it on her finger then kissed her like I’d always fantasized, like she was a movie star, and I was her leading man.

I jerked awake, head throbbing and eyes glued together, when a knock sounded on my door. Or at least, I thought it was my door. I wasn’t sure, to be honest. I didn’t remember falling asleep last night, so I might have crashed somewhere other than my Malibu mansion.

I dragged my arms out from under my pillow, but they were too numb to feel if the sheets were the satin I preferred or some other fabric. I appreciated the coolness, though. My body felt like a furnace. I rolled over, tangling myself worse in the bedding, then kicked at it for a moment, but I was too exhausted to free myself.

I cracked my eyes open to see who was there, but the light instantly pierced my retinas. I quickly shut them and dropped an arm over my face, pretending whoever it was didn’t exist if I couldn’t see them.

Footsteps thudded over to the bed, and my manager’s voice barked out, “Beau, what are you doing in bed? You were supposed to be on a flight an hour ago.”

A flight? No, that couldn’t be right. I didn’t do airplanes unless I absolutely had to, and not unless I drank myself into oblivion first. Maybe that’s what I’d done. That could explain why I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack truck. But typically, I timed my pre-flight drinking so I was riding the high during the plane ride, not crashing from a hangover.

Where was I supposed to be going, anyway? I didn’t remember. I didn’t need to travel for work since I was in that no-man zone in between projects that I hated, where there was nothing to keep my mind occupied but thoughts about the meaninglessness of everything.

I loved the thrill of taking on a new project. It filled me with anticipation and purpose, and I immersed myself in it till my whole life revolved around it. Once the filming was over, I jumped right into interviews and TV appearances to promote the new film. When the movie released, I rode the wave of exhilaration as fans flocked to see it and the whole world raved about my new hit. It was only after the excitement faded that my euphoria dissolved into spirit-crushing depression.

I tried to avoid it by booking my projects as close together as possible so I could jump straight from one into another, but it didn’t always work out that way. Like right now, when I had two months to kill till I started filming my next movie. Now I remembered why I was nursing a killer hangover.

I’d gone to a party last night, hoping to fill the void with something besides loneliness and despair. Instead, I’d filled it with alcohol and the attention of a woman I had no business trying to attract.

I swiped my hands across the space beside me, hoping there was no one else there. Thankfully, I was alone. I didn’t need that kind of negative publicity, although I suspected I already had it. Undoubtedly, somebody had snapped a picture of me hitting on Tamara, the girlfriend of another Hollywood hotshot who competed with me for headlines.

I’d have more than my share of bad publicity lately, which was why my manager had strongly suggested I do something admirable, for once. That was why I’d agreed to fly to the tiny town of Sweet Bay and make a guest appearance at the grand opening of Calvin Montgomery’s resort. It was all coming back to me.

I groaned and dropped the hand from my face, forcing my eyes open against the blinding light of the late-morning California sun. Dave stepped in front of the window, surrounding himself with a halo he didn’t deserve, but thankfully, blocking some of the sunlight. He yanked the covers off me, which stirred up a blissfully cool breeze. “Come on, get up. You can’t bail on this. Especially not after last night. They’re already making up rumors about you and Tamara.”

“I thought you said I already missed my flight,” I mumbled. A normal person probably wouldn’t have understood me, but Dave had been dealing with me and my moods for a long time now. The fact that he put up with me when I got like this made me a little more willing to put up with him bossing me around, even though, technically, he worked for me.

“You did, but I hired a private jet to take you. If we leave in the next hour, you should still get there on time.”

Panic ran like ice water through my body, freezing me in place. The only part of me that could move was my eyes, which bulged out, and my mouth, which instantly spouted objections. “No way, man. No small planes. You know I don’t do that.”

Not since both my parents died in a plane crash when their personal jet took a dive into the Pacific Ocean.

“It’s one quick jaunt. Less than two hours. You can take a commercial plane back afterwards.” He waved the maid in, who held out a glass of orange juice and a couple aspirin.

As much as I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, the juice and pills sounded even better, so I forced myself upright and took them from Maria then tossed back the pills and downed the orange juice in one long gulp. I was just about to let myself fall backwards, but Dave caught me.

“You need this, Beau. It’ll be good for your reputation, and good therapy, too. You need to get over your fear of flying.”

I knew it was irrational. The odds of me dying in a plane crash, even a small plane, were way less than the odds of dying in LA traffic. And why did I care, anyway? I spent a significant portion of my life wondering if there was any point to living. But I couldn’t control the panic that took over my body when I boarded an airplane.

I shook my head insistently and tried to lie back down again, but Dave kept a hold on my shoulders. “We’ll get you a little hair of the dog that bit ya, and you can go back to sleep on the plane. You’ll be there before you know it.”

He gestured to the maid, and she dug in the cabinet over my wet bar and pulled out a bottle of tequila then poured me a shot. I downed it just as fast as the orange juice. When I held the shot glass out and leaned forward to hand it to Maria, Dave took advantage of my position to yank me out of bed. I stumbled forward, foot caught in the blanket, and almost crashed us both into the dresser before he righted us.

“Go take a shower, Beau. You reek.”

I growled but staggered to the bathroom. I needed to pee, anyway, and a shower sounded good, too. Fifteen minutes later, I emerged with a towel around my waist, convinced Maria to give me another shot of tequila, then plopped back down on the end of the bed. Dave tossed some clothes at me, but I ignored them and dug some pajama pants and a ratty tee shirt out of my dresser. I knew I’d have to dress up for the event tonight, but for now, I wanted to be as comfortable as possible.

I didn’t worry about packing anything. That was one of the luxuries of being a celebrity. I had people to do stuff like that for me. I was sure Dave or Maria or somebody had already taken care of it. The only thing I grabbed was my cell phone and the bottle of tequila when Dave wasn’t looking.

My bare feet slapped against the cold marble as I tromped down the wide, curving staircase and out the front door, where Dave’s car waited under the portico. He opened the door so I could climb in the back seat. I stretched out, but there was no way I could sleep, even though it would take close to an hour to navigate through LA traffic to the airport. My nerve endings were already sparking with anxiety.

I pressed my forehead against the window, trying to cool my flaming skin, and stared out at the city as we drove. I couldn’t keep my thoughts from circling around the idea of flying in a small plane, though. Images of my parents, crashing to their death, fear etched across their faces, flashed through my mind. They felt like memories, even though I hadn’t been there. I heard the squawk of the radio, the fear-laced voice of the pilot barking into it, the warning buzzers blaring.

My own body vibrated with nerves, my head pounded, my heart raced, and the tequila and orange juice churned in my stomach, rolling back and forth as the car stopped and started. The interior of the car closed in on me like a coffin.

I couldn’t stand it another moment.

The car lurched to a stop again, and I scrambled for the door handle. “I have to get out of here!” I screeched, and flung the door open, but not before Dave had started moving again.

I didn’t care. We weren’t going more than a few miles an hour. I jumped out of the car, tumbled onto the sidewalk, and crashed into a group of pedestrians. I heard Dave squeal the brakes and holler, “What are you doing?”

The crowd flowed around me, threatening to swallow me, as I lay on the sidewalk for a moment, curled up in fear. A hand reached down to help me, so I grabbed it and let them pull me to my feet. The man tilted his head in recognition and stared at me. “Are you okay, man?”

The people streamed around me, gawking at me, their voices echoing in my brain. I clamped my hands over my ears to try to block the noise. Hands grabbed for me, and cameras flashed around me, making me dizzy, but I didn’t have any more hands to push them away or cover my eyes. I started bellowing, “Leave me alone! Get away from me!”

When someone slammed into me from behind, I stumbled forward, and vomit spewed from my mouth, spraying onto the people in front of me. They squealed and backed away just enough that I could push through them. I didn’t know where I was going till I saw a man on the corner exchange a baggie for a handful of bills.

That was what I needed — something to make it all go away. I’d done drugs a few times, enough to remember the blissful nothing I felt when I was on them. My body automatically moved towards the man.

I grabbed for him, latching onto his arm. “Gimme something, man. I need to take the edge off.”

He glared at me and shook my hand off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude. I ain’t got nothin’.”

“Yes, you do, I saw you. Come on, I need it.” I groped at his clothes, sticking my hands in his pockets. He shoved me away.

“Money, you need money. How much?” I dug in the pockets of my pajama pants, turning them inside out, but didn’t find any money.

“Please, I’m rich. I’ll pay you later. My manager will pay you.” I looked around for Dave. His face bobbed in the crowd, headed for me but still several yards away.

But suddenly, another face filled my vision — a hard mask, half hidden under a dark blue hat with a shiny bill and a silver crest in the middle. The man grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back then snapped a cold ring of metal around it.