Infamous Page 4

  She was about to refuse when she took one last glance at the message scrawled on the mirror, and headed into the shower instead.

  FOUR

  SHARP DRESSED MAN

  Mateo Luna stood in the doorway and peered inside. The space was large, cavernous, and a long way from finished. With its plywood floors and unpainted walls, it offered no clues about the exclusive nightclub it was destined to become.

  It was the last place Mateo wanted to be, and he seriously considered leaving before anyone noticed he was there. Every passing day it seemed his life belonged less to him and more to everyone else.

  “Oh, you’re here!” Heather bounded across the room, her brown eyes flashing, blond hair bouncing over her shoulders. “How long have you been standing there?”

  Mateo glanced at Ira as he walked alongside her. With his dark jeans, sharply pressed untucked black shirt, and unreadable expression, there was something vaguely ominous about him.

  “Welcome to RED.” Ira chased the words with the kind of tight grin that set Mateo on edge. Then again, Ira often had that effect.

  Heather nudged Ira with her elbow and rolled her eyes. “He calls it RED, even though he’s planning for an all-white decor.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all.

  Mateo picked at the woven bracelet he wore on his left wrist—a gift from his little sister, Valentina, a few birthdays back. At the start of the summer he’d never given it much thought. Now it served as one of the few reminders of the sort of blissfully simple life he’d once lived.

  “How’s your sister?” Ira squinted through a veil of construction dust their footsteps had kicked up. “Valentina, right?”

  Mateo squinted back. He’d met Ira before, most recently at Ira’s tequila launch party, but Mateo couldn’t remember ever having a conversation about Valentina. Had Layla, or even Heather, mentioned it to him? Mateo briefly considered it. It seemed improbable, but not impossible.

  “Cancer’s a bitch.” Ira’s gaze sharpened, as though he’d just said something profound and was expecting Mateo to commend him for his brilliance.

  Instead, Mateo focused on Heather and said, “You ready?” She’d sent him a text, claiming she needed a ride. But now that he was there, she seemed content to hang around.

  “What’s the hurry?” she said. “Don’t you want to see the new club?”

  Mateo shook his head. “I’m not much for clubs.” He wasn’t much for Ira Redman either and saw no point in pretending otherwise.

  “Aw, yes.” Ira’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I seem to remember your bit on Trena Moretti’s show. Something about club owners not giving a crap about the kids who are making them rich.” He tilted his chin and peered at Mateo from under a lowered brow. “Or something to that effect.”

  It was weird how Ira had quoted him verbatim. Had he actually been insulted by Mateo’s words? You’d think he’d be used to that sort of criticism, or at least better equipped to handle it. But like many in the Hollywood crowd, Ira’s praise-seeking narcissism made him surprisingly thin-skinned and easily offended. He was also rumored to keep a growing list of enemies. Mateo idly wondered if he was on it.

  Ira stared at Mateo as though he expected an apology. Mateo embraced the silence. The description fit and he had no intention of taking it back.

  “At any rate,” Ira said. “Sorry to hear about your brother Carlos. Though I assure you, I’ve never had anyone overdose at one of my clubs. If I did, I would never dump them outside and leave them to die.”

  “No,” Mateo said, his voice full of venom. “Maybe no one’s overdosed, but someone did get roofied. You remember what happened to Aster the night Madison went missing? She was drugged right there in your club. From what I heard, you poured the champagne.”

  If Mateo had blinked, he might’ve missed the flash of seething anger that crossed Ira’s usually impenetrable face. It vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, but Mateo had caught it, and the way his lip curled in response told Ira as much.

  It was a risky move, baiting the beast. But Mateo had reached a point where he no longer cared. He was one of the few people in his small group of friends who was not reliant upon or indebted to Ira in any way. He planned to keep it that way.

  “Well!” Heather clapped her hands together and pasted an exaggerated sitcom smile onto her face. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.”

  Mateo stared in confusion. As far as he knew, he was there to provide a ride and nothing more. He should’ve known Heather had something else planned, otherwise she would’ve ordered an Uber.

  He had no idea what he was doing there. Actually, scratch that. He knew exactly why he was there. He was just too ashamed to admit it.

  His sister was sick. His mom was a wreck. His ex-girlfriend was in jail for a crime she didn’t commit. And Mateo was stuck in a job he hated but was lucky to have.

  The huge sums of money he was paid to smolder for the camera helped to cover Valentina’s astronomical medical bills. Still, he couldn’t help feeling embarrassed every time he passed a billboard that featured his face.

  It was Heather who’d helped him get started. Without her his family would be a lot worse off. There was no denying he owed his good fortune to her. Still, that wasn’t the only reason he’d jumped at the sight of her text.

  He was lonely—a relationship guy who sucked at being single. And in the midst of his life falling apart, Heather had become his favorite go-to distraction.

  Problem was, while he knew why he was with her, he was beginning to suspect her reasons for seeking him out weren’t quite as pure as she pretended they were.

  “I guess I should’ve been more up-front.” She bit her bottom lip in that adorable way that she had. Only lately, Mateo was beginning to find it far more manipulative than cute. “Thing is, Ira wanted you to swing by and see the new place and possibly set up a time to shoot.”

  Mateo gave her a confused look.

  “The club.” Heather lifted her shoulders up toward her ears. “Trena Moretti’s doing a show about Ira and the empire he’s built. He asked me to take part in some of the promos. I’m slotted to be the celebrity guest DJ on opening night. Anyway, we both thought it might be fun for you to join in.”

  Mateo swiped a hand through his hair and switched his gaze to Ira. “Really? You thought it would be fun? Because it sounds more like you want to continue to capitalize on Madison’s disappearance by using two people remotely connected to it, since everyone else is in jail.”

  “They’re not in jail,” Heather said.

  Mateo was knocked speechless by the news.

  Since when? And more importantly: Why hadn’t Layla called to tell him?

  Just because they were no longer a couple didn’t mean he’d stopped caring about her. Most days, he found he cared a lot more than he should.

  “They were released a few hours ago. I assumed you knew.” Heather shrugged as though it were no big deal, which left Mateo wondering if she actually cared about anyone other than herself.

  “Listen,” Mateo said, eager to leave. “If you still need a ride, we’re good. As for everything else—” He gestured toward the unfinished club. “Count me out.”

  Heather shot Ira an opaque look, then stalked away in search of her belongings. While she was gone, Ira looked at Mateo and said, “You do know I’m helping Aster, right?”

  Mateo returned Ira’s gaze, but refused to respond either way.

  “I didn’t drug her.”

  “But you know who did?”

  Ira assumed a pensive look, as though choosing his words. When Heather returned, he simply said, “All the best to your sister.”

  Mateo turned away.

  “Let me know if I can help,” Ira called.

  “I think curing cancer is a little out of your jurisdiction,” Mateo spat.

  “You’d be surprised how far my reach extends.”

  Mateo shrugged it off and kept going. He was nearly at the door when Heather said, “I’m reall
y sorry. I didn’t think it all the way through. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Mateo reached for the handle. Now was as good a time as any to start weaning himself from her. When he sensed she wasn’t following, he turned to find her standing before a dust-covered mirror propped against a wall. She was drawing a large heart with the tip of her finger.

  She glanced over her shoulder and shot him a questioning look. When he hesitated, she started to trace a crack down its center.

  God, she was so dramatic. Mateo sighed, and swiped a hand through his hair. Then again, what had he expected, getting involved with an actress?

  She thrust her lower lip into an exaggerated pout, and against his better instincts, Mateo started to laugh.

  “C’mon,” he said, watching her face brighten as he offered a hand. “Let’s get out of here. It’s been a long day.”

  Heather cast a last look at the heart she’d drawn and brushed the remaining dust away, leaving no evidence of the crack that had been there a second ago.

  If only it were that easy. Then, refusing any further thoughts of Valentina, his mom, Layla, or anyone else on his long list of heartbreaks, he entwined his fingers with Heather’s and headed into the night.

  FIVE

  UNCERTAIN SMILE

  Trena Moretti P @trenamoretti—13s

  Everything you need to know re the body linked to the Madison Brooks case—TONIGHT on #InDepthWithTrenaMoretti #WhereIsMadisonBrooks

  Trena Moretti reread her latest tweet, then tucked her phone away and looked over her notes. The decision to film the show live had seemed like such a good idea at the time—but with the moment fast approaching, her stomach was a tangle of nerves.

  Her career had started in print. But thanks to a move from DC to LA that coincided with Madison Brooks’s disappearance and Trena’s decision to focus on it, she’d become the face America trusted most when it came to all things Madison. In light of the recent developments, her producers had agreed that a live broadcast was the best way to deliver the story and, more importantly, maintain their number one spot in the ratings.

  She looked up from her script and gazed into the large mirror before her. From the outside, she looked good: calm, poised, professional, and perfectly put together. People often commented on what a natural she was. Plenty of journalists longed to make the leap to the higher-paying TV spots, but few had the right combination of smarts, chops, and charisma to pull it off. Trena was one of the lucky ones blessed with the innate gift to look into a camera and convincingly relate a story, no matter how banal, that people could not turn away from.

  Credibility. Integrity. Authority. They were all qualities she’d worked hard to maintain, and in her line of work she’d be nothing without them. But at the moment, Trena was feeling shaky and unsure. With the cameras set to roll soon, that just wouldn’t do.

  She dropped her notes to her lap, placed her right hand to her belly, closed her eyes, and forced herself to take a series of deep, calming breaths. It was an old trick she’d learned as a child from her beloved Noni Moretti, back when Noni’s attempts to teach Trena to meditate had failed to catch on.

  As a kid, the idea of stopping her thoughts seemed both ridiculous and impossible. But now, haunted by the troubling images that lurked in the darkest recesses of her brain, Trena couldn’t help but wish she’d tried a little harder back then.

  Usually, a nice long run was all it took to shed her anxiety. But the six miles she’d logged on the treadmill just a few hours earlier hadn’t done much to calm her.

  She returned to the script. She’d memorized every word, but Trena was a perfectionist who left nothing to chance, and so she dove in once more.

  ANNOUNCER: Tonight—on our special live edition, catch the latest, up-to-the-minute news on the body found in Joshua Tree and its connection to the disappearance of Hollywood A-lister Madison Brooks, on In-Depth with Trena Moretti.

  [Cut to clips of the shallow grave in Joshua Tree surrounded by crime scene tape, a billboard featuring Madison Books, an aerial view of Hollywood Boulevard, the Night for Night facade, and the mug shots of Aster Amirpour, Layla Harrison, Tommy Phillips, and Ryan Hawthorne]

  TRENA MORETTI: Good evening and welcome to In-Depth. Tonight, we delve deeper into the investigation of Madison Brooks’s disappearance, and the four teens recently arrested for their alleged involvement. We’ll hear from the suspect’s friends:

  SAFI NASSERI (from video): I’ve known Aster for as long as I can remember. We even had those best-friends necklaces at one point, you know those hearts that are cracked down the middle? Aster was obsessed with Madison. She even kept a file on her, filled with pictures and articles and stuff. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now . . . (she visibly shivers). Once she started promoting Night for Night, she totally changed. She started seeing Ryan Hawthorne, and it seemed like she was trying to claim Madison’s life. That’s also about the time we stopped hanging out, and I’m glad I got away when I did. To think I was best friends with a possible murderer . . . (closes her eyes and shakes her head). The whole thing gives me the creeps.

  AMY STREETER (from video): I dated Tommy Phillips back in high school. What’s to say? He was cute, talented, and a total player who only cares about himself and never stops to think about the sort of heartbreak he causes. Without any warning whatsoever, he told me he was moving to LA, and then, less than twenty-four hours later, he was gone. He acted like he was too good for our small town. (Rolls her eyes.) Nothing about him would surprise me.

  TRENA MORETTI: We’ll hear from rising young star Heather Rollins, who will be live in our studio. Heather was a close friend of Madison’s and knows all the suspects involved.

  [Clips from Heather Rollins’s sultry photo shoot with up-and-comer and former boyfriend of Layla Harrison, Mateo Luna]

  TRENA MORETTI: And of course, at the center of it all, Ira Redman, the enigmatic owner of the Unrivaled brand, which includes a recently launched tequila label, along with a string of exclusive nightclubs that Madison was known to frequent. Ira is also rumored to be financing Aster Amirpour’s legal defense team.

  IRA REDMAN (from video): Listen—don’t be so quick to judge here. These are good, hardworking kids with a healthy entrepreneurial spirit. But instead of being lauded for their endeavors, they’re being demonized for having big dreams. Sure they’re ambitious and willing to do what it takes. So what? That doesn’t make them criminals! This is America—it’s part of our national DNA to yearn for a bigger, better life. Since when did that become illegal?

  TRENA MORETTI: We’ll also discuss the explosive journal entry posted just hours ago on Layla Harrison’s Beautiful Idols blog, which got the whole world talking. As you remember, Layla was one of the four teens recently arrested in Joshua Tree for her alleged connection to Madison’s disappearance. Moments after being freed from jail earlier today, the incendiary post, titled “Through the Looking Glass,” appeared on her site. Was it an act of revenge? Only Layla knows. If the words truly are Madison’s, then it leaves us to question everything we ever thought we knew about the young star. If not, then it’s a risky move on Ms. Harrison’s part that could be met with serious legal action. Stay with us, as we keep you updated on the latest developments regarding the disappearance of Madison Brooks on tonight’s special live edition of In-Depth with Trena Moretti.

  [COMMERCIAL BREAK]

  [In-Depth logo]

  It was all there. Nothing Trena didn’t already know. Of course, Heather was a wild card, since there was no way to guess how their on-air interview would go.

  Then again, Heather had so far proved herself to be a consummate pro who seemed eager to attach herself to the scandal, if for no other reason than to build her own platform. Trena frowned at the thought until she realized she’d done the same thing. Standing on another’s back for a faster rise to the top was the very foundation Hollywood was built on.

  She’d tried to get Mateo, but he’d been quick to deny her request. It wa
s too bad. With his laid-back vibe and his obvious disdain for the very spotlight that seemed to adore him, he would’ve made a perfect addition. Still, Trena hadn’t completely surrendered. There was always the possibility of filming a segment on childhood leukemia. She’d already put out feelers to the hospital that was treating Mateo’s little sister. A big donation to accompany it just might make for an offer he wouldn’t refuse.

  Ira had claimed he was too busy to provide anything more than a video clip, but Trena didn’t buy it. Ira was never one to turn down a chance at free publicity. It was as though he was trying to distance himself from the very scandal he’d used to propel his own brand. It didn’t make sense.

  She reached for her phone and tried once again to reach Layla. Trena hoped she had a good reason for making that blog post, because if not, she’d soon be facing serious consequences. When Layla’s phone went straight to voice mail, Trena left another message, her third that day. She was about to review her script one final time when her assistant, Priya, opened the door a crack, poked her head in, and said, “You have a visitor.”

  Assuming it was one of the producers, Trena tossed the script onto the table and ran a hand over her wild mane of bronze curls. It was important to look her absolute best, both on and off camera.

  “Been a while.”

  The mere sound of his voice was enough to make Trena freeze. Turning slowly, she watched James advance as Priya shut the door behind him.

  “You don’t write. You don’t call. Not even so much as a text.” He stood before her, all dark gleaming skin and well-honed muscles. His brown eyes flashed as his lips slid into a wide feral grin.

  “I have to be on camera soon.” Trena rose to her feet and brushed a hand down the front of her dress, straightening the seams in a way that enhanced her lean curves. She might not trust him, but she was still vain enough to want to impress him.

  James peeked at his shiny gold Rolex. “In exactly six minutes,” he said. “Give or take.”

  “What’re you doing here?” Trena fussed with the random items strewn across her dressing table, trying to appear unconcerned about being alone in a room with him.