Page 30 of Faking the Pass
“Right. Just got them now.”
“How’s Rosie doing?” Wilder asked.
“Not great, as you can imagine. She’s freaked out that they got some shots of her. And well, you know what happened with her wedding?”
“Yeah, I know enough. Asshat.”
“You said it,” I agreed. “I’ve never even heard of balls that big. Do people know about the pregnant girlfriend yet?”
“Not that I’ve seen. I’ve got a couple people monitoring all the online information,” Wilder said.
“Speaking of that… do you think you can do anything to block the media from finding out I own the house?”
“Already on it, little brother,” Wilder said. “I’ve got my best cybertech person scrubbing the records as fast as he can. Your car’s in the garage, I hope? Don’t want any drones snapping a pic of your license plate.”
“Yeah, it’s in there. So what now?”
“The next move is to plant some false stories that she’s left the house already and has been sighted somewhere else,” he said.
“You think they’ll buy it?”
“Hope so. One of my female employees is wearing a blonde wig and parading around the private airfield at this moment. We’ll see if they go for it. At least maybe some of them will leave your place to go check it out.”
“That would leave only a fewdozenor so to deal with,” I said in a surly tone.
“Hang in there, brother. Oh, and it goes without saying thatyoudon’t leave the house right? Or let Rosie set one pinky toe outside again.”
“Right,” I said.
The implications of this thing were just beginning to hit me. I sat down as I listened to Wilder’s additional warnings.
“Don’t get too close to any open windows,” he said. “We don’t want them getting any more shots of her—or you. You can imagine the shift in the headlines if they were to figure out she’s not staying there alone.”
I literally shuddered at the thought of what it would do to both our lives if we were to be linked in this way.
“Got it. We’ll hunker down. How long do you think it’ll take for the paparazzi to get tired of waiting and give up?”
“Hard to say. Depends on whether we can get them to believe she’s gotten on a plane and left the area,” Wilder said. “Maybe a couple days? Oh—you should put a hold on mail delivery for the next week. I’ll do my best on this end. In the meantime, is there anything you need there?”
“We’ll be running low on groceries by the end of the day,” I told him. “But I’m not sure how to get them here without giving away my name. I usually order online and have them delivered, but if those vultures out there see a delivery truck from Food Planet they’ll be all over it and have my order info in minutes.”
“I’ll figure out something,” Wilder said. “Can’t have you starving—or deviating from your meticulous recovery diet.”
There was a teasing note in his voice. My family thought I was too rigid about my nutrition, but I knew the ribbing was good natured.
“Thanks, man. I literally don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” Wilder said. “I’ll be back in touch soon.”
Ending the call with him, I sat back and looked around. Through the wall, I could hear the faint noise of the tub water running.
And that was when it really struck me.
I was trapped in my housealonewith Rosie James. For possibly several days.
Rosie James, who I used to fantasize about pretty much nightly in high school.
Rosie James, who I then avoided like the plague during daytime hours because she’d been too much of a distraction.
