Chasing Vivi(65)

Misha's brow shoots up. "Handle them? I want them on the bottom of the East River."

"Misha, we're not in the business of killing people. You're losing sight  of our purpose. We need to clean it up for Midnight and get things back  on track. I need to find out what Midnight's contract states and if  Alta can drop her. I thought we checked for that after her last little  issue."

Her chest heaves with anger. But she nods and Emily says, "Yeah, our  anger is making us forget that Midnight is our mission, not the  dickfaces. We can worry about them later."

"Right. So, this is what we need. Emily, work on getting her into rehab.  People are very forgiving about someone with a drug problem."

Emily's brow furrows. "But that's admitting she has one when she doesn't."

"Doesn't matter. Even though the videos were pulled, they were on long  enough for people to have screen shots of that shit. Their impressions  are solid. We can say she doesn't have a problem until we're blue-faced,  but they won't believe us and we need credibility. The best way to move  forward is to ask forgiveness. But in the meantime, Misha, we will go  after those men and get a confession. That way we get a double whammy  and when Midnight gets out in thirty or sixty days, the public will be  dying to see her. They will crawl all over her and want her as back just  like they want icing on cake. If Alta drops her, they'll get down on  their hands and knees, beg her to come back and we may even arrange for  an increase in her contract fees. Oh, and Leland, get to work on her  apology speech. Relate it somehow to her tragic childhood. Do we know  anything about that? If not, dig up something. I don't care if it's  about a cat that died and she never grieved appropriately. Make it heart  wrenching and emotional as shit."         

     



 

The team goes to work, while I do a little research on Midnight. She  started out in the porn world, like some actors do, trying to get  noticed. She got noticed all right. Long black hair with eyes to match, I  wouldn't exactly call her a raving beauty. She is, however,  unforgettable. There's something about her that screams sex. She's  definitely not your average girl next door. Having been cast in the kind  of rolls that not many mainstream female actors usually want, Midnight  is willing to spread her wings and try anything. Apparently at one time,  she also spread her thighs a little too much. That may be what's gotten  her into trouble. But it seems like the girl can't get a break. Then I  stumble upon something that makes me do a double take. Born in Phoenix,  her birth name was Velvet Summers.

"You have got to be kidding me," I say out loud.

"What?" they all ask.

"Did you know Midnight's birth name was Velvet Summers?"

"Oh, yeah. Her porn flick name wasn't fake," Leland tells me.

"How did I not know this?"

Misha shrugs. "Don't know. We have a copy of of her birth certificate."

"Who the fuck names their kid Velvet Summers?" But after I say it, I  think of my best friend, Weston's wife. Her name is Special. Who names a  kid that?

"Yeah, people are weird," Emily says.

I keep reading and find some interesting facts. Midnight's mother was a  dancer, and not the type you'd bring home to meet your mother. She ended  up in foster care but then fell off the radar when she was seventeen.  It looks like she never even finished high school. Maybe she really did  have a tragic upbringing. Her mother died ten years ago, when she was  only fourteen, so perhaps that's why the foster care. There's no mention  of a father in the picture anywhere. The plot thickens even further.

Emily announces she's gotten Midnight into one of the premier rehab  facilities in the country. Located in Arizona, it has a spa like  atmosphere. She'll be secluded from the Hollywood gossip and the rest of  the world for a minimum of thirty days.

"It's pricey, but worth it, I believe. The reviews are astounding," Emily says.

"Good. We'll drop her off on our flight back to LA," I say.

Misha announces our legal team in New York is ready for us and we will be having a press conference.

I have to laugh. "Maybe we need to discuss this with Midnight first."

"Oh, don't worry, boss. I'll get her on board. By the time I'm done with  her, she'll be as eager to crush the balls of those men as I am."

What they don't know is I'm going to have first dibs at those mothers  and by the time the girls have their chance, those shits won't have any  more balls to crush. It's one thing to fuck with someone who can defend  themselves but to go after a girl you've drugged and raped? That's  inexcusable and I'' make sure they pay for it.





A Sneak Peek from A Special Obsession





Prologue





Special



The text had me scrambling to get out to L.A. I wasn't sure what I'd  find when I arrived, but she'd been my best friend since first grade,  and we swore always to be there for each other, no matter what. I knew  she'd been through every avenue to tame her addictions, but the demon of  drug abuse invaded her soul like the devil it was. None of the  interventions had worked, and two years ago when I finally walked away,  I'd been determined to stay out of her messy life of addiction. It had  broken my heart worse than anything, but it was tough love, or that's  what they say.

Except life isn't always what it seems. The old saying about walk a mile  in my shoes nailed me right in the gut when I was caught off guard by  her call a few weeks ago.

"I'm in trouble, Spesh."

This was nothing new for Sasha. Drugs had caused her all kinds of trouble since we were teenaged girls.

"What kind?"

"The real bad kind." Her voice shook, and it scared me something fierce.

"Sasha, you talking the kind where you need to get help again? Like the  hospital kind? Because you know I don't have much money to spare since I  just opened the bar."

"I wish. I don't need your money. It's way worse than what you're  thinking. I did something really stupid this time." She cleared her  throat. Her voice had an edge to it I'd never heard before.

I scooted forward in my seat and asked, "What's going on?"

"I … I-" There was a loud banging in the background. "I gotta go."

"Sasha, wait." It was too late. She'd hung up on me. Sighing, I stared  at my phone for a full minute before getting back to work, but I  couldn't get her out of my mind. Something was up, and I questioned  whether or not I should call her parents. Then I recalled what happened  the last time I did. They told me never to mention her name again. Nix  that idea. So I played the waiting game. One day turned into two, with  at least a dozen of unanswered texts.         

     



 

Finally after five days, she called again. "I don't know what to do."

"Sasha, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"If I tell you, it could put you in a real bad place too."

What the hell does that mean? I took a frustrated breath. "Do you want me to come out there and bring you home?"

"I'm scared. I think I'm gonna die."

"Sash, don't say that."

"No, no, listen to me. I know you're probably thinking I'm overreacting,  Spesh, but I swear I'm not. I need you to do something for me. There's  this, this thing  …  if something happens to me." Panic laced her voice.

"You're talking crazy now." I tried to calm her, but she kept insisting  something terrible was going to happen. Only she wouldn't give me any  information and then she hung up.

Another week passed before I got an emergency text.

I need you to come here. Please! There are some things you need to know. My apartment. As soon as you can. Hurry!

And that was it. I tried to call, but her phone went straight to  voicemail. I almost called the police, but something warned me not to.  That was how I found myself running through LAX toward the rental car  buses. I had to get to my best friend-the girl who I'd known as long as I  could remember-to see what had gone so terribly wrong.

When I finally parked in the lot of her apartment complex, I checked my  phone. I wanted to make sure this was it. My GPS directed me here, and  even though it didn't surprise me to see how seedy it was, I rubbed my  arms as my skin itched with fear. My heart pounded out a rock-hard beat  that traveled up to my cheekbones and almost made my teeth rattle. The  sun had long since set, and it was more than a little creepy walking up  the rusty metal steps leading to her second floor apartment. Wasn't she  scared living here? I damn sure would be.

When I got to her door, I held up my fist to knock, but one touch pushed  the door open. It was pitch-dark inside, so I reached in and felt the  wall next to the door, hunting for a light switch. When I flipped it on,  the sight froze me in fear. Her apartment had been completely trashed. I  didn't get farther than the doorway, but everything in her tiny living  area was in shambles. Broken pieces of furniture lay in scattered piles,  and her couch had been ripped apart with the stuffing torn out. The  scene was so frightening, I hightailed straight back to the car.