Page 20 of Hollywood Undercover
“Yeah, you would know.” Sebastian playfully jabbed Clint in the shoulder and got up, sauntering past him. “I’m off, buddy. Are you still coming to the firehouse shindig at my place thisweekend?”
“Yeah. We’ll bethere.”
“Great. Be there by five. We’re getting Jeff’s retirement party kicked off early Friday night since his geriatric ass goes to bed before eight o’clock these days. And, bring Beth with you this time, would you? You don’t want her thinking I’m getting you out of the house to pick up chicks, youjerk.”
Clint wheeled around the card table in his electric wheelchair and followed Sebastian to the door. “Nah. She understands. She gets girl’s nights, and sometimes I want to hang with the guys. I’ll bring her for sure. Can’t wait to see that old fart, Jeff. I wonder what he’s going to do when he isn’t working anymore,” Clint said pensively. “This job gets in your bones, and soon it’s hard to separate it from the man. Even if you don’t have an ending like mine, it’s hard to give it up and move on to somethingelse.”
Sebastian stood at Clint’s front door. He looked back to survey his older friend who lost both his legs fighting a fire at his side a few years back. It tore at his chest. Clint’s world had been so drastically changed by their line of work, and no matter how many visits he made, he would never get used to seeing him likethat.
“I’ll see you later, buddy,” he said softly. “Takecare.”
Clint shook his head and let out a wry laugh. “Don’t give me that ‘sorry for you’ look, Bash. Stop that shit. I’m glad you dropped by. Take care of yourself, and make sure you bear down and get that knee checked out like you’re supposed to. Jesus H. Christ, you need a woman to keep you in line. Hey, why don’t you invite over a plus-one for nextweekend.”
“You’re kidding me, right? I don’t need a plus-one from my phone list. Besides, I’m feeling pretty confident about that speed dating thing.” He gave Clint an eyeroll.
Other than Sebastian, Clint rarely got visits from the rest of the old crew. Few of the guys made it out to see him. It was too much of a reminder of what could happen to any one of them on any given day. The line of work they were in had a tendency to kill and maim. Sebastian worked his knee, flexing the leg up and down to loosen the stiffness. Coming out to see Clint was almost too much, but his loyalty went too deep to abandon the mentor who gave him hands-on training back when he was a rookiefirefighter.
“See you later,man.”
He made his way down the ramp to his Jeep with a mild limp. The pain in his leg was a lot less disabling since he had started physical therapy. With a sigh, he shook off his mood and drove home. As he pulled up to the house, he noticed someone he didn’t recognize, sitting on Maxwell Storme’s front porch. As self-appointed neighborhood watchman and curious cat, Sebastian studied the teenage-lookingstranger.
He climbed out of his Jeep and waved at the kid. Then, he squinted. The kid’s face was…vaguelyfamiliar.
“Afternoon!” he called out, deciding to step over and be neighborly—and to get a closer look. He smiled pleasantly and moved across the narrow stretch of grass separating his house from Mr.Storme’s.
“Hi there! How’s it going? Sorry for bothering you, but I was expecting a package today…and um…” he trailed off, mouth wide open, finger pointing back to his house. He dropped his hand, losing his train of thoughtentirely.
What is Alexandra Storme doing sitting in front of her dad’s house? Isn’t she supposed to be on the French Riviera? And…why the hell is she dressed like a teenageboy?
Sebastian pushed his fingers through his dark hair, rubbing at the back of his neck, trying to figure out what was really going on. “Um…did you see a delivery guy stop by?” He tried torecover.
Her glossy, black hair fell around her face in short, tousled curls. Wide indigo eyes with an upward tilt stared out from her face, and her pale pink lips slightly parted in surprise at beingaddressed.
“Oh, I’ve only been out here for a minute,” she stammered. “I’m waiting for my da—for my uncle’s assistant to get here so we can go to thehospital.”
Sebastian could tell she was trying to deepen her voice, but it wasn’t nearly masculine enough. Not by a longshot. He moved his gaze up and down, from her AC/DC t-shirt to her baggy jeans and Chuck Taylor sneakers. She could easily pass for a boy from a hundred feet away, but having grown up living next door to Alexandra Storme, he wasn’t fooled. He had pictured that face so many times as a teenager, he could have drawn her from memory. The triangular tip of her nose, the slightly full chin with a hint of a dimple in the center, the lips he pictured kissing—she was the samegirl.
Only…indisguise?
He made a snap decision to play along. She had to have her reasons. He thought about the entertainment channel he had been watching at Clint’s, and figured it had something to do with avoiding the media. Still, he couldn’t resist asking a few questions to feed his own rabid curiosity about what she was doing here—dressed as a boy, purple hair gone and replaced by the short blackcurls.
“I’m sorry, I’ve never seen you around here before. I’m pretty good friends with my neighbor, Max. I was just wondering if you two are related? You kind of look like him. And don’t mind me if I’m asking too many questions.” He scanned her face, turning away to hide a smirk. Out across the yard, the convenient sound of a neighbor starting a lawn mower helped him hide some of hisamusement.
Alexandra squirmed when he looked back ather.
Did she just check meout?
He smiled broadly, unable to contain it anymore. He could tell she wasn’t at all comfortable speaking to him. Her eyes shifted around as if looking for someescape.
“I’m…uh…I’m his nephew, Alex Roberts.” Her cheeks glowed pink, now that she had just got caught checking himout.
Sebastian suppressed a laugh, and stuck out his arm for a handshake. “I’m Sebastian Sullivan. Everyone calls me Bash. So, you’re related to his latewife?”
He knew the entire family. Juniper Roberts-Storme had been close friends with his mother before her passing. Maxwell Storme was a little less sociable, and Alexandra Storme was…well, she was a famous rock star sitting on the front stoop of her old house, trying to pass for aguy.
Stranger things have happened, but not aroundhere.
She took his hand, and he held the handshake a touch longer than he should have, mostly to watch her blush a deeper shade ofred.
