Things Lost In The Fire (8 page)

They sat together in a corner booth at a high-end Italian bistro nestled in the heart of Rodeo Drive. Sadie glanced around nervously, as if someone might overhear. The last thing she needed was a rumor to get out that she might be recording an album with her mother.

Valerie smiled indulgently. “Just think of the publicity we would get. We could even do a duet together. Something upbeat and fun. Oh, it’d be fabulous.”

Sadie winced at the thought. “Um, I don’t really want to…”

“Sure you do. You’re just nervous. That’s fine, I understand,” Valerie pushed, her eyes bright with excitement. She reached across the table for Sadie’s hand, grasping it in her own. “I always wondered if you’d be able to sing. I’m just glad I got to you before Ben did. God knows he’d be dying to produce an album for you.”

Sadie doubted very much that her father would lift a finger to produce anything for her, much less an album. “This isn’t a competition.”

Valerie rolled her eyes and laughed, releasing Sadie’s hand. “With Ben and I, everything is a competition.”

Sadie digested the statement, hating how true it was. “I just write music for fun. I’m not that serious about it.”

“Why not?”

I don’t want to turn out like you
. Sadie sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Are you scared? I’ll make sure you’re a success, darling. You don’t need to worry about failing.” Valerie took a sip of sparkling water, seemingly oblivious to Sadie’s discomfort. “With your name and bloodline, everyone will be clamoring for a taste of you. I can just see the headlines now...
Daughter of Rock Goddess Charms Sold Out Crowds.
We’ll make history!”

Sadie felt a little sick at the thought. “I don’t think—”

“Oh, have some spine for once, Sadie,” Valerie snapped, getting impatient. “Fate brought you back to L.A. so we can make music together. Don’t you see that?”

“No, I don’t.” Sadie shook her head. Her hands were trembling as she lifted her fork to push arugula leaves drenched in balsamic dressing around her plate. “I’m not doing this with you.”

Valerie huffed. “I don’t understand why not.”

“I don’t want to.” Sadie lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s, unprepared for the hurt she saw in them. Anger she’d expected, but pain?

Valerie sniffed. “Okay. I can take a hint. You still hate me, I get it. I guess I can see why you feel that way, though I think it’s completely unfair of you.”

Sadie tensed and focused back on her salad, bitterness souring the taste of her tongue. Words she wanted so badly to say just couldn’t seem to make it out of her mouth.
If I hate you so much, then why am I here?

She waited for her mother to say something more, to launch into one of her emotional tirades. When it didn’t come, Sadie tore her gaze away from her food. Her mother’s face had a pale sheen to it, alarming her.

“Are you okay?” Sadie asked.

Valerie rubbed her temple, her eyes closing. She winced as if she were in pain, her other hand pressed against her abdomen. “I think I…oh, I’ll be right back.”

She fled from the table, bee-lining for the restroom. Sadie sat, helpless, wondering if she should go help her. After a few tormented minutes of deliberation, she rose to her feet and started after her mother.

Valerie appeared from the restroom, still pale but with a shaky smile on her face. She waved her hand when she saw Sadie approaching.

“I’m perfectly all right.” Valerie laughed, though her hands were visibly shaking. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing.

“I’ll drive you home,” Sadie said, tossing some cash onto the table and retrieving her purse. She looped her arm around her mother and led her from the restaurant, noticing a few people staring curiously as they passed.

Valerie held her head high and smiled, ever the performer. If she felt like dying, she certainly didn’t show it. Sadie found herself feeling grateful for that, at least. Making a scene was something they both abhorred.

By the time they got back to Valerie’s home, Sadie felt sicker than her mother looked. Concern filled her as she helped her mother out of the car and into the house.

Valerie swatted her hand away with a light laugh. “I’m fine, darling. No need to fuss.”

“Are you sure?” Sadie followed her inside, shutting the door behind her.

Valerie smiled. “Of course. Though I do want a nap and maybe another bath. Carla can make you something to eat.”

“No, that’s okay.” Sadie crossed her arms, feeling hollow. Scared. Never in her life had she felt the helplessness of a child seeing their parent broken and weak. That feeling of suddenly having to be the protector instead of the protected. Nothing could have prepared her for it.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Valerie started up the stairs, her hand tight on the railing to keep her balance. She hid her concentration under another vibrant smile. “You go practice that song of yours. Surely your father has a piano in that house.”

Sadie nodded, unable to speak. She watched her mother disappear upstairs, then released an unsteady breath. She heard Carla approaching from down the hall and quickly turned to leave. The last thing she wanted was to make small talk or excuses on why she needed to go.

When she made it back to her father’s home, she retreated to the backyard. She took a seat in one of the armchairs, pulled her knees up to her chin, and tried desperately to forget that look of weakness on her mother’s face.

B
RODY GRINNED, delighted at his good fortune. Well, it was half luck and half damn good investigative journalism, but he’d take it. Why did it matter
how
he’d gotten the images? The point was, he was about to be a hell of a lot richer.

The payday from the photos of vixen actress Kyla Gold locking lips with her director Hugh Lovett would stave off the bill collectors for a good three or four months. He couldn’t ask for better than that, even if he did have to pay Kyla’s supposed best friend thirty-percent for the tip on where he could find the cheating lovers stealing a kiss. Lovett’s wife wasn’t going to enjoy seeing the pictures, but what did that matter? He was doing her a favor, really. The bastard had it coming and if she was smart, she’d divorce his ass and take half his money.

Brody had hidden out of sight in the bamboo that bordered a little public park off a low key sushi restaurant the two preferred to rendezvous at. He’d waited nearly two hours for them to show up, which put a crick in his back but he’d beat it out at the gym another day. Right now, all he wanted was a cold beer and to get the photographs uploaded onto his computer so he could bask in all the adulterous glory.

He cruised through the streets of Venice, making his way home. The sun was setting, basking the whole world in a vivid orange glow. With the windows down, he felt like he was soaring through the sky and coasting on the wind.

On the radio, Steven Tyler wailed about being back in the saddle again. Brody sang along, tapping his hands on the steering wheel to the beat. When he turned onto his street, he spotted his brother’s shiny black Mercedes. His mood immediately soured as if a switch had been flipped.

“Well, shit,” he grunted, pulling into a spot across the palm-tree-lined street. He saw Chase exit his car and walk toward him, waving with a smile.

Brody sighed and rested his head against the steering wheel, proceeding to beat his forehead against it. He could hear Chase approach, but didn’t stop his defiant act of self abuse.

“Hey,” Chase greeted. “Everything okay?”

“It was,” Brody lifted his head and eyed his brother with a sarcastic grin. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was in the area—”

“Liar. You never leave the Beverly Hills bubble except to come bug me.”

Chase frowned. “Bubble?”

“Never mind.” Brody grabbed his camera and pushed out of the car. He started for his apartment complex, his brother trailing behind him.

“So did you decide if you’re coming to Dad’s birthday party?”

Brody grumbled something rude under his breath as he took the stairs two at a time.

Chase followed him, his smile faltering. “What’s that?”

“Sure. Yeah. Unless something better comes up.” Brody stalked to his front door and hastily unlocked it. When he stepped inside, he left the door wide open. Chase paused before entering, eyeing the clutter inside curiously.

“That’s great. I’m glad.”

Brody set his camera down on the coffee table, then went to the fridge for a beer. He grabbed two Coronas, lifting one up. “Beer?”

Chase shook his head, looking sheepish. “No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Brody closed the fridge door with his hip and popped off the top on the Corona. As he took a long swig of beer, he made his way to the couch and settled in.

“So…what are you working on?” Chase asked, venturing inside and closing the door. Brody caught him staring around the room again with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“Come here. I’ll show you.” Brody tapped into his computer, uploading the photographs he’d taken of the actress and her director. He clicked open the best one, admiring it as it filled the screen. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Chase frowned as he peered down at the image. “Is that—”

“Kyla Gold. Yep.” Brody sat back against the cushions, sipping his beer. A proud smile lit his face. “You know how much these photos are worth?”

“I can only imagine…” Chase murmured, straightening as he turned to his brother. “I don’t know if you know this, but Hugh Lovett is a client of ours.”

“No shit?” Brody laughed, honestly surprised. He looked back at the image, shaking his head. “What a delightful coincidence.”

“I can’t in good conscience leave here without convincing you
not
to release that photo.” Chase crossed his arms, standing firm as they met eyes again.

“Consider your duty fulfilled, then. Nothing you say will change my mind,” Brody told him, offering up a cocky grin. He lifted his Corona with a nod. “Maybe I shouldn’t come to that party after all.”

Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “No, it’s important for you to come.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re family,” Chase said simply, as if it was obvious. “Anyway, I gotta run. I’ll see you next weekend.”

“You gonna tell Dad I took those pictures?” Brody asked, not sure why it mattered to him that his father know. Maybe it was the rebel in him wanting to defy the man, just one more time.

Chase shrugged. “I suppose he’ll find out eventually.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll brag about it a bit and he’ll use it as an excuse to kick me out of the party.”

“I’ll convince him not to talk about it.”

“Like you convinced me not to release the images?” Brody chuckled. “Admit it, your persuasive skills are a little rusty.”

Chase cracked a smile. “I still convinced you to go to the party. So there’s that.”

Brody raised his beer in another toast. “
Touché
.”

“Take care of yourself, buddy.” Chase looked around the apartment once again. “And get a damn maid with some of that tabloid cash, okay?”

Brody laughed as his brother left, amused despite everything. He downed the last of his Corona, then set out to email those photographs. Maybe a maid wouldn’t be a bad idea, he thought as he gazed around at the empty take out boxes and stacks of newspapers. Then again, he didn’t have anyone to impress.