Page 19 of See You There
Dahlia switched the water off and put on a pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt. She twisted her wet hair up in a tight bun and sighed when Victor knocked again.
“Okay in there, Doll?”
She hated when he called her that. Most people thought it was an old-fashioned endearment. Dahlia knew it was Victor’s way of reminding her he knew her real name and where she came from. A reminder that he knew what Dahlia had done and that she was not the Lia persona he sold to the world. “I’m coming.”
Dahlia planted her hands on the dresser and stared at herself in the mirror until she could keep her face in a serene mask. She wouldn’t let him see how upset she was. Long ago, she’d thought Victor was on her side. That he genuinely cared about her. In reality, he manipulated any weakness she showed to his advantage.
Less than two weeks to go.
Victor handed her a glass with two fingers of scotch. “Tough night.” He slouched on the leather sofa the condo had come furnished with.
“Have you heard from Alan?” Dahlia asked, naming Chandler’s agent.
Victor took a sip of his drink. “He’s out of surgery, and Alan sent a plane for the kid’s parents. It was touch and go for a bit, cause all those steroids he was taking, but he’s stable now. He should be fine.”
Dahlia felt some of the weight on her shoulders lift and then frowned. “He’s taking steroids?” Dahlia had suspected as much when they’d met his trainer for his ‘vitamins.’ It also explained his new bulked up physique and mood swings.
“He had that audition coming up.” Victor’s mouth twisted. “If he’d gotten that role, his career could have gone in a whole other direction. I’m sure Alan will use his attempt to stop the robbery to build Chandler’s image as a hero.”
Dahlia sipped the fiery liquid, hoping it would warm the icy pit in her stomach. “What about the fact he’s gotten himself in over his head with a bunch of criminals?”
Victor shrugged. “If someone hasn’t already paid them, it will be taken care of. What are those guys going to do? A lot of cameras will be on Chandler now. My guess is they’ll be more concerned about finding the crew that rolled them.”
Dahlia tipped the glass up to finish the drink. “The guy who runs the place, Petrov, he made a comment to the robbers. ‘Do you know whose money this is?’ The police were interested, too. Who are they?”
Victor shook his head in disgust. “Yeah, this crew should have done their homework. That was a Bratva protected game.”
Chandler had gotten involved with the Russian mob? He owed them money? The alcohol roiled in her stomach.
“Whoever they are, they have a lot more trouble coming their way than just the police. Speaking of… how was that? I got Heather out of bed. Figured if ever she’s going to earn her paycheck as a publicist, it will be for this.” He came to his feet and set the glass on the table next to the sofa. “I’m sure she’ll call you tomorrow to give you the game plan. The studio will want to be part of it. United front.” Victor patted her on the shoulder. “Get some sleep. I think it’s going to be a long couple of weeks.”
Her phone began blowing up aroundsix a.m., and Dahlia gave up on any hope of sleep. She scrolled through the texts from people she’d worked with, the press she’d interviewed with, and some of the crew from her latest movie. Nothing from her family.
Staring at her phone, she saw the email from Josh Harrison the second it came in. The message was brief. I guess they decided they didn’t need her team’s input, Dahlia thought, rubbing her tired eyes. She felt numb, but knew she had to answer the messages she’d received before gossip made everything worse.
Dahlia typed out the script the studio wanted—she was safe at home and praying for Chandler’s swift recovery—and then copied and pasted it over and over. Vanilla, boring, no actual emotion. Just like she’d become. Unexpected tears sprang to her eyes, and she dashed them away.
She popped a hazelnut coffee pod into the machine and made the mistake of going online while she waited for it to brew. The media was already broadcasting photos of Chandler’s hospital and the house the casino used, surrounded by crime scene tape.
Most of the stories were full of speculation about what had happened at the house. It was being characterized as a home invasion at a high society party, and Chandler was being hailed a hero—good work, Alan. Dahlia noticed that while she was mentioned as a witness taken in for questioning, there was no mention of Matt being present. He’ll be happy about that, she thought wryly, sipping from her mug.
When Dahlia’s phone rang, her first inclination was to decline the call, but she saw it was Skye, the makeup artist fromLove in Arms. She was the closest thing Dahlia had to a friend on set—with Victor constantly hovering over her, it had been difficult for Dahlia to get close with any of her coworkers. But Victor hated the vanities trailer, so she was often alone with Skye and her gorgeous, young makeup assistant, Cara.
“I didn’t think you’d answer,” Skye said, and Dahlia smiled.
“Then why did you call?”
“I was going to leave a supportive, uplifting voicemail. But since you did… How are you doing? Are you okay? That must have been terrifying!”
Dahlia’s mind immediately brought up images from the night before—Petrov’s hard stare when Chandler didn’t produce the money, the gunmen bursting through the door only feet away from her, and then Chandler—Dahlia’s stomach churned, and she set down the coffee.
“It was.”
“They said Chandler saved everyone. Is that true?” Skye’s voice was careful, but her doubt rang through, and Dahlia smiled. Chandler had spent hours in the makeup chair getting his ‘war wounds’ applied, and Skye knew him probably as well as Dahlia did.
Still…“I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry. I’m sure they’ve got you on info lockdown. Is there anything I can do for you? Bring you food or something? You probably don’t want to go out today.”
