Trena pulled up to the curb, propped open the passenger-side door, and let Javen in.
“Your sister would kill me if she found out about this,” she said.
Javen tugged at his seat belt and settled beside her. “Only if my parents don’t get to you first.” He stared through the windshield and frowned. “Then again, I haven’t even heard from her. She’s been out of jail since yesterday and won’t even answer my texts.”
“I think I might know why.” Trena told him about the threatening notes Layla had received. “Maybe Aster got one too?”
Javen considered. “Well, it would make sense. At least, it better be the reason. After all I’ve done for her . . .”
“And all you’re still planning to do?” Trena pulled out of the school parking lot and merged into traffic.
“Yeah. Sure.” Javen shrugged and took in the passing scenery.
Trena stopped at a light and used the moment to study him. He was avoiding eye contact, had barely so much as looked at her. Normally she was skilled when it came to reading people, but in this case she hadn’t a clue as to what might be motivating his cagey behavior.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” she said, figuring if he was worried about getting into trouble, it was her job to reassure him. “You’re under no obligation. Last time, you got off easy. Not sure that’ll be the case if Larsen catches you again.”
Javen focused his brown eyes on hers. “Well, let’s make sure he doesn’t catch me then.”
Trena held the look, then returned to driving
“You know, you really send a lot of mixed signals.”
Trena cracked a half smile. “How so?”
“You seemed pretty scary when you barged into my sister’s apartment that night.”
“No, not me.” Trena shook her head in a way that sent her curls bouncing. “I didn’t barge. The barger was Larsen, one hundred percent.”
“Well, you were part of the barge.” Javen was not about to give in. “You were right there with your notepad in hand, looking for someone to incriminate.”
“No notepad either. I forgot to bring it.” Trena stopped at an intersection and scrutinized him. He seemed to be warming up. She took it as a good sign. “Perhaps I misjudged you. Maybe you don’t have the eye for detail I thought you did. Should I drop you at the mall, or the library instead?”
He rolled his eyes, and it reminded Trena so much of Aster it was like they were twins. Never mind that Javen was three years younger, and slightly prettier, which seemed impossible, even though it was true. “Fine,” he huffed. “A metaphorical notepad. Whatever. At any rate, I’m in. If it’ll help Aster, it’s worth it. And I hate to say it, but this is turning out to be the most exciting thing that’s happened all week.” He frowned. “Which, by the way, is off the record. You put that on your show, I’ll lose half my Snapchat followers once they get a true glimpse of how tragic my life has become.”
Trena maneuvered through traffic, taking surreptitious looks at him. With his smooth olive complexion, wavy dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, and large brown eyes with those ridiculously long lashes, he had a face that was made for the spotlight. Though strangely, unlike most beautiful people she’d met in LA, Javen had no interest in fame. Unfortunately, because of the mess involving his sister, infamy had found him.
No wonder he preferred a low profile. Couldn’t be easy being gay in a family like that. From what Trena had gathered, the parents were traditional, conservative, and extremely strict. For a moment, she considered turning around and dropping him back at school where she’d found him. But she needed him, and he wanted to help. And so, she kept driving.
“Clearly you’re not here to chat or lure me into an episode of carpool karaoke, so what’s really going on here?”
Trena grinned. Now he reminded her of Layla.
“I need help,” she said.
He gazed out the passenger-side window. “Obvi.”
Trena laughed. It’d been a while since she’d spent time with a fifteen-year-old. “The kind of help that will hopefully help your sister as well. I need you to go deep on a few people.”
“Listening . . .” He drummed his fingers on the armrest.
Trena swerved into the underground parking structure of her building, claimed her designated space, and said, “I need a few background checks.”
“Something a little more than a Google search, I’m guessing?”
“I need you to dig up whatever you can on Paul Banks and Kevin O’Dell.” She turned off the ignition. “See if their paths converge. If they come together at some point.”
“I know what ‘converge’ means.” He shook his head. “I’m in honors English, you know. Thing is, those are pretty common names. Any way to narrow it down?”
“Not to worry.” Trena climbed out of the car and led him toward the elevator bank. “I’ll give you everything I’ve got, along with a few suggestions on where to start. You can take it from there.”
“What about MaryDella Slocum? You forget about her?”
“Her too,” Trena said. “I know it’s a lot to ask.” She pressed the call button and frowned.
“Generally speaking, it’s not. But since I’m guessing you’re expecting me to hack into a protected database or three, then yeah, it kinda is.”
“Well, if you can’t do it, or don’t want to . . .”
Javen stared openly. It took Trena a moment to catch on to the fact that he’d just switched to negotiating mode.
She entered the waiting car and pushed the button for the thirty-fifth floor. She never should’ve underestimated the kid. He lived a pampered, somewhat sheltered life, but he still had his share of street smarts. Not only was she on the spot, but also annoyed with herself for being so slow to catch on.
Still, might as well get to the point. Trena turned to him. “What is it you want?” The second it was out, she realized she’d blown it. She’d basically tossed him the ball and told him to run with it. She’d negotiated a killer contract with the network’s top brass, but when it came to a teen, she was out of her league. She’d just forfeited the game before it even started.
“First and foremost,” he said, his tone professional, brisk, “I want to be clear that this is about helping Aster.”
“Of course.” Trena nodded, watching as the doors opened to a short hallway, just a handful of steps to her apartment.
“Because Aster is innocent, and she’s in desperate need of our help.”
Trena readily agreed and ushered him inside.
“In fact, maybe we should take a moment of silence for—”
“Don’t push it.” She needed his help, but she still had her limits.
Javen crossed the spacious room to the floor-to-ceiling windows and took in the expansive city view. “I know you’re eager to get started,” he said. “And I’m guessing you plan to share whatever I find on your show so you can raise your ratings, broaden your audience, and further promote your agenda.” He looked over his shoulder, and when she failed to confirm, he continued, “In which case, I think it’s only fair I get something out of it too.”
“You mean aside from helping your sister avoid a guilty verdict?” Trena placed her hands on her hips and steeled herself for whatever came next.
“Well, yes.” Javen turned away from the window.
“And what is it you’re looking for?” She was worried he’d overestimated her. Her spike in ratings had also led to a spike in power and clout, and had undoubtedly padded her bank account. Still, there were limits to the sort of things she could offer.
“My parents monitor all my comings and goings.”
Trena watched as he wandered the apartment, plumping the couch cushions and running a finger across her shelves, inspecting for dust. He was the world’s worst mother-in-law disguised as a beautiful adolescent boy.
“Sometimes I feel like they have eyes everywhere. It’s like there’s not a single space in the city where they’re not spying on me.”
Trena rocked back on the heels of her Jimmy Choos. Her bullshit radar had just kicked into high gear. “Let me guess.” She looked him over. “Your parents have eyes all over the city—everywhere but here.”
Javen nodded solemnly, though the gleam in his eyes assured her she’d just been masterminded by a fifteen-year-old. “Exactly,” he said. “Which is why I’m thinking I might need to visit a few more times in the future. You know, for follow-up work.”
Trena grew silent. This was not at all what she’d planned. “I’m sure that can be discussed at some point,” she finally said, her voice tight.
Javen grinned happily. “You know, I’ve always wanted to live in a penthouse apartment.” He stood before a framed black-and-white print—a gift from Trena’s ex-fiancé that she still couldn’t bring herself to part with. “My parents’ house is huge, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes it feels too big, you know?”
Trena folded her arms across her chest. He was seconds from being evicted. He just didn’t know it.
“But a place like this is pretty much the stuff of my dreams.”
“Really?” Trena cocked her head and squinted at the beautiful, manipulative, savvy boy she’d wildly underestimated. “You dream about real estate?”
Javen gave a casual lift of his shoulders. “That. And a few other things.”
It was time to take back the reins before this went any further. “You’re not moving in.”
“Wouldn’t consider it. Pretty sure I just mentioned I live at home with my parents. Now that Aster’s gone, I have an entire wing to myself. Still, every now and then, I do find myself in need of a little more privacy.”
Their eyes met. If she agreed, she’d be aiding and abetting a minor in who knew what kind of teenage debauchery. If she didn’t, she might never get what she needed.
Deftly avoiding an answer, she said, “I figured I could set you up right over here.” She gestured toward the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the den.
Javen pursed his lips and tapped a finger to his chin, looking as though it didn’t quite live up to his standards. Trena was just about to blow, when he said, “That’ll do.” He grabbed a stool, propped open his laptop, and went to work.
“You know what would be good?” He glanced at her, his hands hovering over the keyboard.
Inwardly, Trena groaned. She was already regretting her decision to involve him. “Let me guess, you want me to go on a fro-yo run?”
Javen rubbed his chin as though considering the offer. Deciding against it, he said, “No. But a little road trip might be fun.”
“Javen,” she said, ready to let him have it, when he turned his computer toward her. She leaned over his shoulder and peered at the screen showing a document for a property in Ojai registered under the name of MaryDella Slocum. “Is this legit?” Trena skimmed the page again, sure that it was. “You found that just now? After less than a minute of typing?”
Javen laughed. “No, I just placed an order with Postmates. It’ll be here in twenty-five to thirty minutes. This I found right after you revealed Madison’s birth certificate on your show.”
Trena stared. Clearly, she’d been played by a pro.
“I’ll text you whatever else I find. But for now, I think you should go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll let myself out when I’m done.”