Authors: Sorcha MacMurrough
“Maybe he thinks I’m in England
with Brad.”
“Maybe, in which case, you can
ring the paper, pretend you're there.”
“All right,” Zaira agreed, chewing
her bottom lip.
“Look, it can’t make things any
worse, can it?”
“No, I suppose not.
I just keeping having this niggling
fear in the back of my mind that I’m missing something here.”
Kelly frowned.
“Like what?”
“I married him. I know a bit about
how Jonathan thinks.
The porn
charges wouldn't necessarily stand up now, since it's been established that
Brad was in New York, not LA. If I come out and confirm it, he'll have to move
on to the next line of attack, the drugs.
Just what can he do to frame Brad if he is away?”
“Plant them!” they both gasped in
unison.
“If he hasn’t done it
already!
That’s the problem,”
Zaira agonized, running her fingers through her hair.
“But wouldn’t the police have gone
through Brad's things by now?” Kelly wondered.
“I mean, all they have are those photos of him supposedly
dealing, but they're just as bogus as the porn ones, and Jonathan knows
it."
"He thought the phots would
be enough."
"So when he knows they're
not—"
"He'll go on to plan B."
"Damn," Kelly swore
softly. "He's a clever bastard, isn't he."
"You have no idea."
"Well, Brad would have stood
no chance if you hadn't figured it out and not abandoned him when the first of
the fake photos were published."
Zaira slumped against the back of
the sofa and wrapped her arms around herself, chilled to the bone.
"Don't remind me."
"We’ve got to search Brad’s
house, and Cormac’s and the Studio offices, and then set up security
cameras.
If Jonathan shows his
face, we’ve got him.”
“I’ll ring Cormac and set it
up.
Let’s hope you're right.
If we see him, film him, we may be able
to put him behind bars,” Zaira prayed.
Zaira phoned Cormac, and then
contacted the papers. She told her side of the story, and waited.
She couldn’t quell the sick feeling
inside of her that something was going to go disastrously wrong, and she began
to grow thin and pale, and frequently became ill as the days of stressful
suspense passed.
Another week passed, with Zaira
notcing that Kelly was watching her more and more closely.
One morning she could stand it no
more, and called her friend on it.
"Come on, Kelly, out with it."
"With what?"
"Come on, I know you well
enough by know to see you looking at me out of the corner of your eye all the
time. So out with it."
Kelly brought two mugs over from the
countertop, and sat across the kitchen table from her. “All right, there is
something."
"Well, come on, tell me
already, will you, before I really start to get worried." She took a sip
of the chamomile tea, gripping the mug with white-knuckled fingers.
"Zaira, I hate to add to your
worries, but I really think you should go to a doctor.
You’re not looking to well.”
“I’ll be all right, it is just the
worry.”
“I think it’s more than that.
Female problems maybe?” she asked,
looking at Zaira sharply.
“Why no, I’ve missed my...”
Zaira lapsed into a miserable
silence.
“Great, just what I need
now, of all times.”
“Babies have a nasty habit of
popping up inconveniently.
You
could always go to a clinic.”
“No!” Zaira gasped, clutching her
belly.
Kelly nodded. "There's your
answer, then. Your decision about what to do has already been made."
Zaira took a deep breath, and
said, “Wow, you're right. It won't be easy, but it was that simple to make up
my mind. It's Brad’s baby, and I love him.
Even if I never see him again, it isn’t the child’s fault my
life is such a mess.”
Kelly patted her on the
shoulder.
“I know it's just one
more thing added to your list of worries, but it could be a blessing,
really.
It will give you hope,
something positive to look forward to in the middle of all this chaos.
I’ll give you the name of my doctor.
You make an appointment straight away, do you hear?”
“I will,” Zaira said. "Thank
you for telling me.
I don't know
how long I would have fone on in denial if you hadn't spoken to me just
now."
"Don't mention it. Just start
taking better care of yourself, okay? And if there's anything we can do for you
or the little guy, just ask, all right?"
"I will, thanks."
"You see, every cloud has a
silver lining. If not for your ex, we would never have met, and I wouldn't get
to be an auntie. That is, unless you already have—"
"No, no one.
Auntie it is for sure, if you don't
mind my odd extended family of actors and academics too."
"You have a ton of love to
give, so I'm sure it won't be a problem for us all to share you. Just so long
as Brad doesn't mind."
"Oh, Kelly, I'll be lucky if
he ever speaks to me again, let alone—"
"He'll do more than speak to
you, girl, I just know it. Just be patient a little bit longer, and then you
can start telling him the truth.
And planning a future for three."
"I sure hope so, and this
side of a jail cell too," Zaira sighed, hugging her friend as the tears
began to fall.
The next day, the doctor confirmed
she was pregnant. Zaira was so stunned, she could barely take it in.
Brad’s baby.
It was almost too wonderful to imagine.
Zaira immediately began to take better
care of herself, reading up on nutrition and taking more exercise, which
helped take her mind off the
investigation, and how much she missed Brad and longed for him with every fibre
of her being.
Her own articles defending Brad
appeared in the papers, and Zaira also persuaded Dave to tell the papers to run
the story on the photos being missing.
If Jonathan wanted to give the police more evidence, he was going to
have to fabricate it quickly, which meant even more opportunity for him to slip
up and add to their growing dossier they could soon hand over to the
police.
The team watched him like a hawk
for another week, and finally they hit the big one.
Jonathan was filmed buying a very large amount of cocaine
from his supplier down on the docks, and the Tremaines kept the dealer under
surveillance as well.
Then, just when they were giving
up hope, several days later Jonathan moved to plant the cocaine, first at the
office, in a few places around the Studio, and then at Brad’s house.
Kelly got films of all his
activities, including snaps of him at the Studios.
“Listen, if he's planted them, the
police are going to raid there any minute.
I think we're going to have to tell the police now.
If they go in on one of the busiest
days in the Studios, the publicity is going to look awful,” Kelly said to
Zaira.
“But Jonathan’s already thought of
that, don’t you see!
It will be a
side show for all of LA.
No, it
has to go ahead. If we tip off the police before he does, he’ll run for it.”
“But Zaira, think of the damage!”
Kelly begged.
“We have films of him planting the
stuff!
We can handle it if
it ever comes to an investigation.
But it won’t.
We're going
to have to get more of a link with Brad’s situation than this." She
thought for a moment, pacing up and down restlessly in front of her small
makeshift desk where she had been working on another romance novel to pass the
time while she waited for news from Kelly.
At length she looked up at Kelly.
"Get Cormac out now. Make him go out of town for a few
days so the police can’t drag him into all of this.”
Sure enough, the police raided the
Studios, offices and house in an incredible sweep that made front page news for
days after.
Zaira sighed as she read the
papers, and prayed she had done the right thing in letting Jonathan's game
continue to the bitter end.
At the end of a frantic week,
Kelly argued with Zaira desperately, “Please, we have to go to the police.
They're crucifying Brad. Don’t you care
that he's innocent and helpless in all this?
Zaira, for heaven’s sake, this has to stop!”
Zaira tried to remain unemotional,
though her fear was overwhelming.
She said in as flat a tone as possible so as not to betray her own
unease, “We've gone too far and risked too much to change course now.
If we show our hand, all of this
suffering will have been for nothing. Jonathan will get a few years and be back
out on the streets and after us all again, me most of all. You know it, and I
know it."
Kelly
sighed, and nodded. "But that bastard—"
"I know. But I also know him.
I told you, we just have to stick to our guns a llittle while longer.
Jonathan thinks he’s won.
He is going to get careless.
Don’t let him out of your sight for a
second.
We have to know exactly
what his movements are, where he's going to run for cover when all this blows
up in his face. He won't have any place to run, and he'll be lucky he doesn't
get life once all the charges against him are added up.”
"All right, Hon, you're the
boss. Just make sure you're not sentencing yourself and that baby of yours to a
living hell at the same time."
"It doesn’t matter about me,
but—"
"It does. And it will matter
to Brad too. He may never recover—"
Zaira shrugged one shoulder as if
it didn't matter in the least, though her stomach churned. "Any publicity
is better than none.
He'll be
fine.
He's a great director.
Like I said, once everyone sees what
we've seen, knows what Jonathan has been doing for months, he'll be seen for
the innocent victim he is."
Kelly gave a pointed look at the
phone. "You haven't phoned him in days. Don't you think you should let him
know—"
"I will, thanks.
In a minute. Let me just pull myself
together, okay?"
She patted Zaira on the
shoulder.
"Sure thing. And
listen, I don't mean to come down heavy on you, it's just that—"
"I know. I've been a great
friend."
"One who wants this over, and
to see you all happy."
"Happily ever after for for
novels and the movies, Kelly, not for people like me."
Kelly hugged her briefly.
Zaira accepted the bear hug with a
sigh.
"Phone him."
"I will. I swear."
"And tell him—"
"Plenty of time for
that."
"Yeah, seven months or
so," Kelly said with a pointed look.
Zaira sat down at her desk
heavily. "Please, Kelly, one thing at a time."
"I'm sorry. Like I said, I
just want all this to be over and you guys to be happy." She gave a small
wave and vanished.
Ziara pushed back the heavy fall
of hair from her eyes, and reached for the phone.
She dialled Brad's London number, carefully blocking her
own. She calculated the time difference in her head as she heard ringing on the
other end.
She was almost going to
put the receiver down because she did the math and realized she might be waking
him up, but at his hopeful, "Hello, is it you, Zaira, Sweetheart?"
she felt her heart skip a beat.
"Yes, it's me."
"Thank God. I've been so
worried. And thinking, well, I don't know what. All sorts of stupid things.
Zaira, why haven't you called—"
"I was waiting for
news," she said hurriedly, and it was only half a lie she told. She was so
on edge whenever she spoke to him, sure all her secrets would come tumbling out
of her mouth, that she had hardly dared phone.