An elderly lady who looked as if her hair dye job had gone horribly wrong dragged her overweight husband over to Grace.
The two studio bodyguards jumped in to stop them, but Grace waved them away. “It’s okay.”
When the security guards stepped back, the woman grasped both of Grace’s hands as if she were a long-lost relative, completely ignoring Lauren in the process. “Oh, I always wanted to meet you and tell you how wonderful you were on Everything That Counts.”
Grace smiled as sweetly as the little girl she’d played on the long-running TV sitcom.
“You were just so cute.”
For a moment, Lauren thought the woman would reach up and pinch Grace’s cheek, but she didn’t.
“I never understood why they sent you to that boarding school in Europe,” the woman continued and clucked her tongue in disapproval.
“Well,” Grace said. “Education is important.”
The bodyguards, who were hovering nearby, burst out laughing, but Grace looked completely serious.
Lauren didn’t know how she could keep a straight face. Apparently, she was used to fans who confused the real Grace with the roles she played on TV.
“Oh, of course, dear.” The lavender-haired woman patted Grace’s hands, turned toward Lauren, and squinted at her. “Weren’t you the one who always tormented poor little Amber?” She looked ready to whack Lauren with her giant purse.
Lauren held up both hands. “Uh, no, no. It wasn’t me, I swear.”
Grace giggled.
“She’s the one, isn’t she?” The woman turned to Grace for confirmation.
Grace’s ocean-blue eyes glittered with mischief.
For a moment, Lauren thought she would nod. She gave the security officers a beseeching look, but they just smirked and apparently had no intention of protecting her from the wrath of this little old lady.
Finally, Grace shook her head. “No. She’s one of the good girls. Really.”
“Oh, that’s all right, then.” The woman thrust her camera at Lauren. “Can you take a picture of us with Amber?”
Lauren took the camera and zoomed in a little. On the digital camera’s small screen, it was easy to see that Grace was shivering in the cool night air, but she gamely wrapped one arm around the elderly lady’s shoulders and the other around the woman’s husband, smiling as if she’d just won an Oscar. Amazing. Lauren snapped a few pictures and then handed back the camera.
The woman did a little happy dance. “Thank you, thank you. Oh, just wait until I get home and tell my friends!”
Grace said good-bye, and they continued toward the parking garage, the bodyguards following them at a respectful distance.
Lauren looked back over her shoulder. “What the hell was that? She was about to strangle me with her purse straps for something that somebody did to your character twenty years ago!”
“Now do you understand why these gay rumors are so bad for my career?” Grace asked with a serious expression, talking so quietly that neither the security guys nor the tourists passing by could hear her. “A lot of people still remember me as Amber Haynes. America’s little darling can’t be one of those people.”
Are you? Lauren still couldn’t tell. With an actress like Grace, it was hard to say what was real and what was an act. “Trust me, I get it.” If Grace had starred in action movies or had been a character actress in dramas, maybe her sexual orientation wouldn’t have mattered so much. But she had always played Ms. Perfect, the pretty girl-next-door, the one you wanted the movie’s hero to fall for. “I just didn’t think it would be that bad.” Lauren pointed over her shoulder to where the elderly lady had stopped them.
“I thought she was pretty sweet, actually.”
“Yeah,” Lauren grumbled, “because you weren’t the one she threatened with her monster purse.”
Grace laughed, a gesture that didn’t seem at all rehearsed.
“Thanks for not throwing me under the bus, by the way,” Lauren said.
“You’re welcome.”
Grace had expected Lauren to drive a BMW or a Lexus, but when Lauren pressed her key fob, the lights of a gray Honda Civic flashed. Most of the PR types she’d met were concerned with status symbols, but apparently, Lauren wasn’t.
Lauren looked at her over the roof of the car. “Something wrong?”
“No, nothing,” Grace said and quickly got in.
Lauren settled in the driver’s seat and looked over with a slight smile. “The carriage not to your liking?”
“It’s fine. I just…”
“You thought I’d drive something a little more…flashy?”
Grace nodded, embarrassed to admit it. She rubbed her goose-bump-covered arms. “Would you mind turning up the heat a little?”
“I can do better than that.”
Their shoulders brushed when Lauren turned and reached through the gap between their seats. “Here.” She handed Grace a red Boston University sweatshirt.
“Thanks.” A hint of Lauren’s perfume—a fresh, citrusy scent with spicy undertones—clung to the fabric, making Grace inhale deeply as she slipped the garment over her head. Hmm. Nice.
“So?”
Grace looked over at Lauren. “Excuse me?”
“I’m going to need Jill’s address.”
“Oh. Of course.” Grace told her and tried to reach her friend again while Lauren punched the address into her GPS and started the car.
Still no answer from Jill. Grace was really starting to worry.
For once, there wasn’t much traffic, so they covered the eight miles to Jill’s home in Glendale in less than half an hour. The house sat on a corner lot, surrounded by an ivy-covered brick wall. Jill valued her privacy just as much as Grace did.
They got out of the car and pressed the call button next to the gate.
Nothing.
“Seems she went out,” Lauren said.
Grace peered through the iron bars toward the house. “I don’t think so. Her car is in the driveway, and the light is on in one room.”
“Then why isn’t she answering the intercom?”
A reason instantly popped into Grace’s head. She closed her eyes against the image, but it kept intruding. “What if she slipped and fell?”
“Why would she slip?” Lauren asked. “Is she drinking?”
“No.” Grace didn’t offer more of an explanation. Maybe bringing Lauren here hadn’t been such a good idea.
Lauren stepped closer and pressed the call button again—with the same lack of response. “If you’re really worried, maybe we should call the police.”
“No!” Jill wouldn’t like that kind of attention.
“But don’t you want to check on her?”
“We will.”
Lauren eyed the brick wall surrounding the house. “You’re not suggesting we climb the wall, are you?”
“Dressed like this?” Grace gestured to her stilettos and the sweatshirt-covered dress. “No, thanks. I have the security code, but I never used it without her knowing that I’m coming.”
If Lauren wondered why Jill had given her access to her home, she didn’t show it. She waited patiently while Grace typed the code into the panel.
The gate sprang open.
“Come on.” Grace waved at Lauren to follow her, and they entered the property.
Loud barking from the front of the house stopped them in their tracks just a few feet from the gate.
Lauren froze. “Oh, shit. You didn’t tell me she has a dog.”
“She didn’t the last time I was here.” Grace tried to make out the dog in the darkness, but she could see only a shadow on the porch. “Nice doggie.”
The barking started again. It sounded like a big dog. One with sharp teeth. And the barking was coming closer.
“Let’s get out of here!” Grace shouted.
Lauren didn’t have to be told twice. She sprinted toward the gate.
Nearly twisting her ankle in her stilettos, Grace followed. When she slid to a stop next to the code box, Lauren gripped her arm to steady her.
Her heart hammering wildly, Grace entered the code, but the gate wouldn’t open. “Shit!” Hastily, she peered toward the house and thought she saw a big shape charging toward them. “Climb!”
Next to each other, they grabbed handfuls of ivy and clambered up the wall.
Part of the ivy pulled from the wall, almost sending Grace plummeting to the ground.
Lauren gripped the sweatshirt and held on until Grace had grabbed hold of another handful of ivy.
One of Grace’s feet found a brick that stuck out of the wall, giving her a more secure hold. Her heart still slammed against her ribs as she peered down, trying to see where the barking dog was.
“Jesus Christ,” Lauren said next to her. “I don’t think this is covered in my contract.”
For some reason, this struck Grace as funny. She laughed hysterically, almost falling off the wall in the process. Her stilettos scraped over the wall until she found her foothold again.
When the dog continued to bark, lights went on in the house. The door opened. A figure, backlit by the light in the house, appeared in the doorway and then stepped onto the porch. “Who’s there?”
Was that Jill? She sounded strange somehow, but maybe it was just the blood rushing through Grace’s ears. “Jill? It’s me,” she called, “Grace.”