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“Tape away.”

She turns the little machine on until the red light blinks and then mutters some words into it and checks to make sure it’s working. “OK, we’re ready. Why don’t you start by—”

“Why don’t I start by telling you what’s gonna happen now?”

“Excuse me?” She looks up with fake doe-eyes. Like she’s stunned. Like she expected this to go her way.

She cannot be that stupid.

“How. This. Will. Go,” I repeat slowly. “It’s simple really. You can fuck off. You can print whatever the hell you want. Photos of my wife? Fine. Stories about me? Go for it. But before you do that, Keefe… just make sure you tell your star reporter that I’ve got pictures too. And that shit will hit the public the minute I see my wife in your magazine. Or on your stupid little cable TV network. Or anywhere else for that matter. If my wife’s private photos exchanged on Twitter appear anywhere, her past goes public too.”

Keefe clicks the little recorder off and shakes her head. “I thought you’d take the easy way out, Asher. I really did. But you’re gonna regret this. I can’t control her, I can only appease her. This was your only chance. I’m gonna let Amy go tomorrow. So whatever she does, it has nothing to do with me. And I could care less if you release things about her past. It’s not my problem.”

“Oh, it is your problem, Keefe. Because whether you know it or not, that secret she thinks I’m hiding is not about me.” I wait for her smug look before I deliver the last line. “It’s about you.”

“Ha,” she laughs. “Right. I have no idea what you two are talking about. I have no idea how you know each other so well. But I do know this. Your threats are as fake as your on-screen alter-ego. You having a superhero complex, Asher? Newsflash, asshole. The Invisible Man isn’t real.”

“Oh, he’s real. Keefe. He’s real. He might take the form of well-concealed video equipment these days. But he’s one hundred percent real.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t know me.”

“I know more than you think, Keefe. A lot more. You want to know what this is about?” I stand and she stares up at me. “You want to know what Amy has against me?”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Movie Star.”

“November, 14, 2005. Issue one of Buzz Hollywood. A press-printed paper circulates through the Hollywood clubs. Given out at the door while people wait in line.”

She narrows her eyes but the anger is replaced with confusion. She doesn’t see it yet.

“You ran a story that changed your life.”

“So?”

“It was a lie.”

“It was not,” she bellows, standing up like she’s gonna take the control back. I smile and nod as I stare her down. “I had proof of that shit. Frankie Miller did not kill DeeDee Cisco, it was a suicide. We proved it. Not to mention I knew him personally from my time at UCLA. He was my graduate school advisor. And if it was false, believe me, he and I would both be in jail right now.”

I stand up to take her down a notch as she is forced to admit how small she is compared to me. “He’s guilty as fuck, Keefe. And so are you.”

She’s shaking her head, like that will make it right. “You don’t know anything. You’re bluffing, to make us back off.”

“Honey,” I say, taking advantage of her confusion, “who the fuck do you think runs this town? You and the media whores like you? Really?” I laugh under my breath at her stupidity. “Come on, Carey. Step down off your pedestal. Take off the rose-colored glasses and see this shithole for what it is.”

She stares up like a befuddled child.

“Mine.”

“Liar,” she screams at my back when I turn away. “You’re a fucking liar. I’m telling Amy to go to print with those photos. They’ll be all over the internet in two hours!”

I stop so I can give her a sidelong glance over my shoulder. “And your precious tabloid will be bankrupt before the week is out. So choose wisely, Keefe. There will be consequences.”

I walk back onto the thick tree-covered path and climb back up the hill to the security building and wait for Ray. He comes through the door laughing less than five minutes later.

“Don’t get cocky, Ray. I have the means to take her down, but I’ll go down with her if it comes to that.”

Chapter Five

#WelcomeToMyWorld

NINE WEEKS LATER

“GRACE?” I whisper in her ear. “You awake, sweets?”

“Mmm.”

At five AM, I take that as a no. “I’m leaving for work. I have to go in early for makeup.” Nine weeks have passed since I brought her home from the hospital and my Grace is still moping. It’s making me crazy. “You want me to send a car, Grace? So you can have lunch with me later?”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbles.

That was a yes? I don’t want to ask her again in case I’m mistaken. I’ll take whatever I can get. “OK. Be ready at one.”

I kiss her on the head and pull away, glancing down at the long scar running down her thigh. It’s still red and raw, but it’s healed. Her limp is gone. She’s been working hard at physical therapy. Bebe saw to that. God, I owe Bebe hard. Grace actually listens to her. Me? She’s still a little rebel with me, but Bebe snaps her fingers and Grace falls in line. Reluctantly, but she does. So I have Bebe to thank for Grace’s quick recovery.