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Kelly flared her nostrils at Doghouse, but he just gave her a wink.
But Glenn wasn’t here to play. This was a big-deal client and a high-profile gig. He clicked ahead to some paparazzi shots, and we saw Jack Stapleton in a plaid shirt shopping at a farmers market. Jack Stapleton in a baseball cap crossing a parking lot. Jack Stapleton wearing—holy Mary, sweet mother of God—clingy board shorts at the beach, rising up out of the waves, and glistening like a Roman deity.
Taylor spoke for all the women in the room when she let out a long, low whistle.
I felt Robby glance over at the sound, but I didn’t look. Kept my eyes on the prize, as it were.
“Ladies,” Glenn said. “Let’s not objectify the principal.”
The men around the table murmured in agreement.
And just on the heels of that, Glenn clicked to a slide that got the other half of the room whistling. “And this,” Glenn said, “is his girlfriend.”
It was Kennedy Monroe, of course—running Baywatch-style along a perfect beach, not even one dimple of visible cellulite, as if she had the ability to live-photoshop herself in real time. Everybody knew they were dating, and gazing up in awe at the whiteboard, it was no mystery why.
She had a kind of weaponized beauty that made all its own rules.
A couple—ever since costarring in The Destroyers. They’d just been on the cover of People together.
That said, I’d always found it an odd pairing. She was, after all, most famous for the scandal where she falsely claimed to be Marilyn Monroe’s granddaughter and got sued by Monroe’s estate. And then Jack Stapleton had been quoted in an Esquire interview saying, “She’s like a conspiracy theorist—about herself.”
Wow. How did I know this much about them without even trying?
Kelly seemed to be having the same visceral reaction to her that I was. “Will she be here?” she asked, nostrils flaring.
“Nah,” Glenn said. “Just threw that one in for fun.” He clicked up another slide—this one of a guy who looked so much like Jack Stapleton that it made you want to rub your eyes.
“Is that the principal?” Amadi asked, like we were being tricked.
“It’s his older brother, Hank,” Glenn explained. Then he brought up a picture of Jack, and we studied the two side by side like a find-the-differences picture game.
That’s where Glenn paused the slideshow. “I can’t imagine there’s a person in this room who hasn’t seen The Destroyers,” he said. “And you probably all know the basics of how, right after opening weekend, Jack Stapleton’s younger brother Drew was killed in an accident. That was two years ago. Jack stepped out of the public eye, moved to the remote mountains of North Dakota, and hasn’t made a movie since.”
Yes, we all knew that. Everybody in America knew that. Babies knew it. Dogs knew it. Maybe even earthworms.
“The accident got covered up. I mean,” Glenn shook his head with admiration, “they did a fantastic job. There are no details anywhere, and I’ve had Kelly on this all day.”
We nodded at Kelly. She was the best dirt-digger we had.
“If I’d known why you had me on this,” Kelly said, “I’d have worked harder.”
Glenn stayed focused. “All you can find anywhere,” he went on, “are the basics: car accident. Jack and his younger brother were together. Only Jack survived.”
Glenn flashed a photo of Jack and his brother Drew at some premiere, in suits, smiling for the cameras with their arms around each other. We gave it a moment of silence.
Then Glenn went on. “But there are rumors. Rumors that Jack was driving—and there might have been alcohol involved. Kelly’s working to see if she can confirm.”
Kelly wrinkled her nose and shook her head like it wasn’t going well.
So Glenn went on. “What we do know is that, in the wake of that accident, the family has been estranged. In particular, there seems to be bad blood between Jack and the older brother. There’s no reporting we can find that explains the rift.”
Glenn flashed a photo of the family from before the accident—two sweet looking parents and three grown boys—a paparazzi photo taken in the stands of a stadium.
“Also, despite Stapleton’s stated intention of retiring from acting, he is still under contract to make the sequel to The Destroyers. He’s been fighting in court to break it, and it’s unclear at this point who’ll prevail, but he hasn’t left North Dakota for any voluntary reason since. Until now. He arrives in Houston today.” Glenn checked his watch. “Landed twenty-three minutes ago.”
“He finally comes out of hiding, and he picks Houston?” Robby said.
“Hey,” Kelly said, like she was offended. “We’re not so bad.”
