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Chapter Four
Cade
After stopping too many times—I didn’t take into account the fact my leg and hip wouldn’t enjoy sitting in a car for hours at a time—the sun was beginning its descent in the sky by the time I made it to Lake Tahoe, and as much as I was killing to get this show on the road, to talk Tatum into the movie and get her pretty backside on a plane with me to Vancouver, I realized that I was probably better off buttering the woman up in the morning.
Now though, I couldn’t sleep.
The hotel I checked into was a low-key place that was mostly used during ski season. While the room was far more…antique…than I was accustomed to, it was only for the one night.
It wasn’t the aesthetics—see, lack of class—that was keeping me awake though.
No.
It was Tatum O’Malley.
Apparently tonight was the premier of the last movie she’d been in, and sometime between leaving this afternoon and arriving an hour before, the news outlets started blowing up.
Where’s Tatum O’Malley? Your guess is as good as ours.
The ever-elusive Tatum O’Malley was nowhere to be found at the premier of 682.
“I haven’t spoken to her in months.”—Grant Maxwell, when asked if he knew where O’Malley was.
I read through the articles.
There was more speculation on the rumors that had circulated in the winter, back when Tatum was spotted and tarnished for being with Grant.
Back when the world called her a homewrecker, as pictures of Grant’s wife crying circulated.
Shaking my head, I go to the Internet app, and type in her name. I want to see more than the current headlines, and soon, I’m watching clips of her. Most are from her television days, from the primetime drama that apparently launched her career.
Even as a minor role, it was clear why the viewers enjoyed her character.
The woman was great.
Her audition reel was hardly even a sliver of what the girl could do.
I wanted her in this movie even more now, than I had last week.
She could act.
And she was gorgeous on top of all that.
I found myself fascinated with her voice.
Her smile.
Hell, even the pissed off look she tossed to her TV-dad on more than one occasion.
An hour after being sucked down the YouTube rabbit hole, I switched apps, moving into Instagram, only to find myself going back to the black-and-white image of Tatum laughing.
And I stare at the image frozen in time.
At the sad eyes that betray her joy.
Trying to figure out her story.
How did she go from a TV star, to a woman in hiding?
