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JIMMY
“Idon’t care what you have to do, but figure out who the fuck leaked the info, Keane. I want someone’s head on a fucking platter. Do you hear me?”
One hand clenches at my side and the other grips my phone so hard the case squeaks in protest. Adelaide snakes her arms around my waist, but I shrug her off. I’m too pissed off to accept comfort. Hot rage poisons my blood when I think of what my daughter is going through unprepared because of someone’s betrayal.
“You need to calm down, James,” Adelaide says.
Through the phone, Keane says something similar. “I’ll get to the bottom of it. Right now, sit tight and don’t do anything stupid out of anger.”
I heave ragged breaths in an attempt to calm my racing heart. “I’ll do what I can. Just find out who it is.” I hit End and shove my phone into my pocket. “Fuck!”
“Honey, calm down. You’re going to give yourself a coronary.” Adelaide rubs my arm, and this time I allow her to ease my distress.
“All I can picture is Monica trying to get out of the driveway and those leeches screaming at her and trying to take her picture. She’s probably terrified.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. Her mother is with her.”
“Someone talked, that’s the only way they could have found out.”
“It was probably that pilot or the flight attendant. Maybe the motel guy really did recognize you.” She keeps on rubbing my arm. “What did Lilah say when you spoke with her?”
Her concern for Lilah, for a change, is nice. “She was freaking out. I could tell she was almost losing it. Didn’t know how to handle it or what to do.”
“Well, they’re on their way to a safe place now. You’ve done what you can. You just have to wait for the dust to settle and see what happens.”
I step away from her and pace the living room. “What kind of life is this for a child? The press trying to document your every move, never having any privacy and having stories written about you or your loved ones?”
Adelaide shrugs and sits on a breakfast bar stool. “That’s the reality of this business. You have to give them what they want, otherwise they’ll turn on you.”
“Yeah well, I’m not giving those cocksuckers my daughter. You can be sure of that. I’ll pay the price through my career if that’s what it takes to keep her out of magazines.”
“Don’t be so rash. Whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. I mean maybe…” She lets her words trail as though she’s baiting me.
“Maybe what?”
She slides her finger over the breakfast bar. “Maybe you let them take a picture of her and Lilah. Their interest will wane. The more you keep her hidden like some door prize, the greater lengths they’ll go to.”
I stop midstride and stare at her audacity to suggest that I’d put my kid in the public eye right this moment.
“Oh, stop looking at me like that. It was just a suggestion.” She stands and heads back to the bedroom.
Jesus Christ, who the hell am I marrying?
* * *
My phone must’ve runga hundred times today—friends and people I’ve worked with reaching out to see if what was reported is true, and a few members of the press whom I’m friendlier with than most. My response was the same to all of them—no comment. Anyone who needs to know about Monica already does, and for now, that’s how it stays.
My phone rings later that night and I release a heavy breath when I see Lilah’s number. Thank God.
“Lilah, where are you?” I stand from the couch where Adelaide and I are watching TV. Well, she is. I’ve been staring at the screen, running various scenarios through my head to try to figure out who told the press Monica is my daughter.
“Hey, we’re at the house.” Her voice is slow and languid. She must be exhausted—mentally and physically.
“How’s Monica? What happened when you left your place?”
“Exactly what you think happened. They screamed questions at us, snapped a million pictures—but I had a blanket over her—blocked the driveway, and made it near impossible for us to get out.”
There’s a boulder in the pit of my stomach. “Is she okay?”
