Hollywood Scream Play (29 page)

“So, where does this leave us, Lee?”

“Acme has the same priority it always had—take down the Quorum, and Carl. Only now, you report only to me. I’ll make sure you have every resource you need at your fingertips.”

“Works for me.” We shake on it.

That’s when I see it, displayed in a glass case on one of the wall-to-ceiling bookcases flanking the fireplace—

The Queen of Sheba’s scepter.

Lee follows my gaze. “Ah, the scepter! Like it?”

I nod slowly. “You bet. May I get a closer look?”

“Of course.” He walks me over. Slowly he opens the top of the display case, and pulls it out for me to examine.

Yes, it’s the real thing.

“Lee, where did you get this?”

“Babette gave it to me, last night. As an early birthday gift.”

“Isn’t one of your guests the Yemeni president?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I presume he hasn’t seen it.”

“No. This is my private office. I rarely bring anyone here.”

“Good. Don’t—at least not him, especially while you have this in your possession, unless you don’t mind re-gifting.”

He frowns. “Why would I do that?”

“Because it was stolen from his country a few weeks ago.”

“How could that be? Babette said she bought it from a reputable antiquities broker!” He takes a closer look. “Are you sure?”

I nod.

“How do you know?”

Gulp
. “Don’t ask. But I would strongly suggest you honor him with its return. Think of it as a great photo op, and an even stronger tie to one of the wealthiest nations in the Arab Emirates.”

He laughs, “I’m sure Babette will be disappointed. For saving me from my first international incident, I’d like to invite you and Jack to my birthday celebration dinner tonight. I’ll personally introduce you to our honored guests.” He frowns. “And one who is not so honored. Carl will be here, too, along with some other IC directors.”

“Lucky you. Seriously, Lee, I think I’ll pass.”

He takes my hand. “Please don’t, Donna. I wouldn’t mind rattling his cage. It’s a good strategy.”

He’s got a point.

“And besides, I’d enjoy having another beautiful woman at the table.”

“Oh, is Donna joining us?” Lee and I look up to find Babette at the door.

Lee forces a smile. “Both the Stones, in fact.”

“You mean all three of them, don’t you? We can’t forget your new Director of Intelligence.” I don’t know if her brittle smirk is meant for Lee or me.

Not that it matters. I shake Lee’s hand.

This time, when he leans forward to kiss my cheek, I don’t pull away.

“I’ll walk Donna out,” Babette murmurs.

Our stroll down the long hallway is silent almost to the grand foyer’s front door. There is no small talk. The battalion of Secret Service personnel we pass are as still as the furniture. But when we reach the front door, she turns to me. “I know your game plan, Donna. And I can tell you to forget it. Lee is leading you on.”

I glare at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Seriously, Babette, there’s no reason to be jealous—”

“Wait—are you being serious? Do you really think I’m jealous?” Her laughter rings through the foyer’s two-story rotunda. “Poor Donna! You really are as naïve as Carl says you are!”

“I don’t know what you mean by that. The last thing my husband would call me is naïve.”

“I don’t mean 
Jack
, dear. We can all call him that now, can’t we?” she smirks.

“I hadn’t realized you’re so close to 
Carl
,” I throw back at her.

“We are. In fact, he’s found me a wonderful shoulder to lean on during this whole ordeal of false accusations.” She narrows her eyes. “I know the whole story.”

“No, you just know his side of it.”

“The only thing that matters is being on the 
winning
 side.”

“You’re the First Lady, Babette. It doesn’t get better than that.”

She shrugs. “I’m never satisfied. It’s the cross I bear.”

I’d like to personally nail her to it, but I only got one get-out-of-jail card and I’ve already used it, so instead I start the long trek home.

I come home to Dominic’s to find the front door open. Giles is nowhere to be seen.

“Mary?” I call out. “Jeff? Trisha?”

“We’re in here, Mom!” Jeff calls out.

Not good. His voice is coming from Dominic’s grand salon—a room he has specifically requested stay free of kiddie cooties.

I walk toward it. “What are you doing in there? You know Mr. Fleming’s house rules! In the kitchen—
now
! I’d like your help getting dinner ready for you. Your father and I will be eating out tonight.”

“Are we?” Carl stands in the doorway of the salon. He is holding Trisha’s hand.

No.

No, please. Not now, and not this way.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Trisha runs toward me.

I take her in my arms and hold her tight.

He will never touch her again. I’ll make sure of that.

Mary and Jeff come running up as well. Neither of them is smiling.

“Mary, you and Jeff can start dinner. Take Trisha with you.” They recognize the tone in my voice. It tells them all they need to know: 
I’m not happy with what I see before me.

They practically run down the hall toward the kitchen, nearly knocking over Giles, who has stepped out of the library. The tray in his hand totters precariously for a moment. Ice tinkles against glass, and glass trembles against sterling silver. “The gentleman’s libation,” Giles murmurs.

Carl smiles. “Thank you, my good man.”

But before he can reach for it, I snatch it up and belt it down. “Party’s over,” I snarl at Carl. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Shhhh,” he warns me. “We mustn’t fight in front of the children.”

I point toward the front door. “Get out—now!”

“What? No niceties at all? What happened to the gracious wife who used to greet me with a drink in hand, a gourmet meal on the table, and wearing one of those cute little sundresses accessorized with a pearl necklace”—He gives me the once-over—“you know, like this yellow polka-dotted number. Isn’t it the one you wore when you met with our old pal, Serena La Costa? I also like dainty housecoats, like that pink one you wore when you visited my old pal, Eric Weber.”

His remarks bring on a cold dread that makes me shudder. “I know you had your people kill her. If you’re saying you found her through me—”

“Read my lips, dear wife—yes, you were indeed the hound who sniffed out that pretty little fox. Sebastian planted a GPS bug on your dress so that the Quorum could trace your whereabouts while you traipsed through the ’burbs of 
la ciudad capital
.” He pauses in thought. “Hey with your new connections, here’s something you can pitch Hollywood—‘The Housewives of Caracas.’” He pumps the air with his fist. “
Viva la revolución bonita, sí
?”

He asked for it. A moment later, I have my Glock between his legs—pointed upward. “Why are you here, Carl? Answer quickly, unless the thought of being eunuch appeals to you. It would certainly put a smile on my face.”

He winces. “You’re on the guest list so you should know why—the big shindig over at the POTUS palace, for Lee’s birthday. Hey, maybe we’ll be lucky and it’ll be dinner and a show! What are the chances they’ll play some footage from your—
our
biopic? At least the good part—you know, where you almost get washed out to sea.”

I tap him with my gun to remind him he’s taking a chance with the family jewels.

He nods. “You’re right. The odds are slim to none. That’s okay. I hear the book is much better. Perhaps you’ll let me read it some time—or at least the sexy parts—which I presume are all your scenes with me, because I’m sure Jack’s a snore in the sack.”

I guess Sebastian told him about my diaries after all.

Oh…
shit
.

I blush at the thought. “Not on your life, or mine for that matter.” Time to change the subject, and quick. “Carl, what I’m asking you is how long you’ve been 
in here—in this house
.”

“Long enough to introduce myself to my children.”

“You mean—you told them?”

He shrugs. “Was I supposed to wait the rest of my life for you to do it?”

“No! …I mean, yes! … I mean…” I take a deep breath. “It was up to me to tell them!”

He looks down at me. His eyes hold no sympathy for me.

Only pity.

“Then do it, Donna. Or I’ll have to.”

I let his arm drop.

He’s right about one thing. Maybe it’s time.

He straightens his jacket as he walks away.

I stumble back into the house. I take my time walking to the kitchen. The children have a pot boiling on Dominic’s state-of-the-art Wolfe range. Mary is cutting up a green pepper, I presume for spaghetti sauce. She stops, though, when she sees me. “You can put the bag of noodles in now,” she commands Jeff.

He nods, but he’s got his eyes on me, too. He wonders why I reacted the way I did to the stranger who seemed so friendly.

Mary grabs my arm and walks me back down the hall. “Mom, wasn’t he the man I met when the Russian president was here?”

I nod, but the lump in my throat is too big for me to speak.

“I remember he has the same name as us—Stone. But, who is he?”

I swallow hard. This is the moment I’ve dreaded since I found out the truth about Carl.

Right here, right now.

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come out.

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter because Mary isn’t listening to me, anyway.

Instead, she’s running into Jack’s arms.

So are Jeff and Trisha. “Daddy is home,” Trisha squeals.

They’ve missed him terribly. They always do when he is gone longer than a night or two.

I guess it brings back the memories of all the years they had without a father.

But no one could be sadder about life without Jack than me.

He takes us all in his arms—Mary, Trisha, Jeff, and of course, me too. The group hug is tight and warm.

It is the sweetest moment, one I will cherish forever.

Yes, their father is home.

The children are the first to break away. They are hungry, and by now, the noodles have turned to mush, anyway.

The girls back down the hall, toward the kitchen. Jeff starts after them, but then stops to ask, “Can we order a pizza instead?”

“Yes,” I answer.

He rewards me with a fist pump. “Yeah! Pizza night!”

Then I lose myself in Jack’s bear hug, and in his kiss, and in his murmurs of how much he’s missed me.

I hush him as he mutters about his surprise at seeing Carl drive away from the house, and through his vow that he’ll kill Carl if he so much as laid a finger on any of us.

“Kill him anyway,” I laugh through my tears.

Does he know I’m kidding?

For now, anyway.

Still, I reassure him Carl swore to leave it up to me to tell them the truth.

Not today, but soon.

Jack pulls away slightly, but still he won’t let me go. “The truth? That’s easy. The truth is that I’m their father.”

Yes, it is the truth. Enough said.

We go inside so that I can call the president’s secretary and send our regrets, for the most important reason of all:

It’s pizza night, and my children’s father has come home.

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