The Grey Tier (20 page)

He stood. “No I can’t! You and me—no. We can’t. You’re a human and I’m not, and there are rules and . . . I have to go.” With those words, he was gone, and I was left speechless and in complete dismay.

Chapter Thirty

IT WAS HARD TO CONCENTRATE the next day while doing Simone’s make-up. Fortunately she didn’t have much to do for the day. She was kind of a grump for some reason and didn’t say much to me.

We were in her bedroom and she’d asked for a simple look.

“I want to go to a Starbucks and have coffee, but everyone wants a piece of me,” she said.

I wanted to ask her about the record producer but could see she was sulky and when she gets like that, the world becomes even more about her than usual.

“I want my pumpkin spice latte and to be left alone, but I want to be around people.”

“You can go in disguise,” I suggested, brushing a peach color blush across her perfectly angled cheekbones.

She picked up one of my brushes and threw it across the room. “I don’t want to go as someone else!”

“Sorry,” I said, retrieving the brush. Clooney, who had been asleep on her bed, lifted his head up.

“No. I’m sorry. I’m, well, do you think I’m getting old?” she asked.

“No. Why?”

“
The Hollywood Insider
has an article about who they think will age well and who won’t. I am on the ‘won’t’ list.” She pointed to the paper on her boudoir. I picked it up and read over the list.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “You’re beautiful, and you will age like fine wine. I am sure of it.” Not that I knew what fine wine really ages like, but the saying is out there so I gave it a shot. I flipped open the rag. “Why do you read this stuff in the first place?”

“I know. It’s stupid.”

“It is,” I muttered as something caught my eye. An article about Nick, and it was written by Jackson Owens. What the hell? “I’ll get rid of this for you. You look great. Do you want me to take you somewhere?”

“No.” She sat there texting on her iPhone. “I guess it’s silly for me to think I could ever go to a Starbucks as myself and sit there like a normal person. I only wanted to try and look pretty today.” She frowned and went back to her phone. “I think I need to spend the rest of the day in the movie room watching Ocean’s Eleven again. You can go,” she muttered.

I was a little surprised she didn’t insist I stay and watch with her, but as I pulled out of her front gates, I spotted Dwight’s car winding up the street toward her house and knew she had other plans. He spotted me through the windshield and gave a wave. I waved back. I still really did not trust that guy.

But exploring my distrust toward Dwight at the moment didn’t seem prudent. What did was reading the article Jackson had written.

Nick’s was closed during the days now. Becky had made the decision to open the bar at four and no more lunch servings. I could understand the thought process. Nick’s never did get much of a lunch crowd, and so I am sure Joshua and his mother were looking at it from a financial perspective. However, I did wonder what they planned to do with the place. In the back of my mind was Simone’s mention of purchasing the bar.

There was a sandwich shop close by Nick’s and I decided to stop in and grab a bite. I wished I had Cass with me, but I didn’t want to take the time to go all the way home to read the article.

After ordering an iced tea and a turkey sandwich, I sat at a table outside and opened up
The Hollywood Insider
to Jackson’s article, which was titled, “A Bar of Secrets: Finding Closure on the Death of Nick Gordin.”

I gasped. What was Jackson up to?

After several weeks of the ongoing investigation into Nick Gordin’s murder, it would appear the police don’t have much interest in solving the case.

However, as a journalist,
(I thought the guy was a screen writer)
I decided to take a closer look at those who knew Nick Gordin best. And I discovered a nest of secrets at Nick’s bar. Of course, I can’t print actual names, but it won’t be difficult for readers to put two and two together.

The regulars at Nick’s are a peculiar bunch. They include a former wannabe starlet who was once engaged to Gordin and now goes by a different name. This woman is believed to know more about the night Roger Hawks died than she claims. Her sidekick may also know something. In fact, Hawks and Gordin caused him his right eye and his job as a stuntman.

A long time friend of Gordin’s, from one of the most prestigious Hollywood families, appears to be on the verge of bankruptcy. Wonder what that’s all about and how it might tie into Gordin’s death?
Was he talking about Bradley Verne? He had to be.

Then there is the pretty, part-time bartender, part-time singer at Nick’s who had high hopes of meeting a music producer through Gordin. Looks as though Gordin may have been holding out a carrot. I can’t help wondering if someone was holding a grudge.

Why would he write such a thing? How could he even think of me as a suspect? I set my iced tea down, missing the table. The glass crashed to the ground, splintering everywhere. The cold tea splattered across the legs of my jeans.

“Oh no!”

A waitress came outside to help me.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Hey, it happens.” She said, smiling and starting to clean up the mess.

I bent over to help when I heard my name. “Evie?”

I stood and saw Joshua. “Oh, hi!” I looked down at the waitress and then back at Joshua. I knew my cheeks were bright red.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out and my cheeks burned even more. Wow. He was as good looking in the daylight as he was inside the bar. I, on the other hand, probably looked like a disaster. How embarrassing!

“My mom lives around the corner. I was taking Garbo here for a walk.”

I looked down and saw a very cute bulldog on the end of a leash. “She’s adorable! Is she yours?”

“My mom’s, but she’s taken a liking to me, and honestly, we needed to get out of the apartment. Living with my mom is stressing me out. And, it’s only been a couple of days!” He laughed and it was warm and nice. “I’m not used to being cooped up with my mother.”

“I’m sure. African vs. an LA apartment. Big difference.”

“Definitely a change,” he agreed.

The waitress smiled at Joshua, as taken with his good looks as every other female

(and even a few males) in the nearby vicinity were. He smiled back. She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, and said she’d be right back with a fresh glass of iced tea. I thanked her and then was stumped for words as what to say next. I finally said, “Um, I’m having lunch. Want to join me?”

“Yeah sure. That would be nice. Come on, Garbo.” They came through the small gate and sat down at the table with me. Garbo lay down at Joshua’s feet.

I reached down to scratch her between her ears. “How old is she?”

“Only a year, but lazy already. But I think that comes with being a bulldog.” He laughed again.

The waitress brought my tea and took Joshua’s order.

“So, do you think you’ll stay here long term or are you considering returning to Africa?”

He shrugged. “Hard to say. After you left and we closed up last night, my mom told me the truth.”

“The truth?”

“I assume you already knew Nick was my father.” He grimaced. “Actually, I suspect a few people already knew and she had to tell me, otherwise someone else would.”

I didn’t like secrets, and I didn’t think it was right for her to keep something so huge from her son, so I was relieved she had done the right thing. She had redeemed herself in my eyes . . . for now.

“I did know, and I’m happy your mother told you. It was the right thing to do.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I love my mom and all, but this whole thing has been difficult. I’m kind of upset with her. I mean, I know she kept secrets from me because she loves me, but the kind of secrets she kept . . . well, I’m a grown man, and I wish she had more confidence in how well I’d take these things.”

“I think when it comes to family and friends—people you love—you have to find a way to forgive them, and your mom was only protecting you. I think that’s how she sees it.”

He nodded. “Maybe you’re right.” His green eyes sparkled as the overhead sun beat down on us.

“You don’t have to like what she did, but you do have to forgive her. She’s your mom and she’s family. That’s my two cents.”

“I know. Not easy though, and now I really wish I knew who killed Nick, especially in light of who he was to me. I wish I’d known him.” He stared at me intently. “What was he like?”

“He was a real decent guy. He was kind, and he loved to cook. He seemed to really care about people. As different as he was from my dad, I kind of saw him as a father figure.”

The waitress brought our sandwiches, and in-between bites, we chatted further. He was incredibly easy to talk to. Which is why, not long after, I did something I probably shouldn’t have. I invited him and Garbo over.

“Hey, you know, if she needs more exercise, why don’t you bring her to my place and let her play with my dog Cass some time?”

“Really? That would be great. What are you doing until we open?”

“Nothing really. I was heading home after lunch.”

My only real plan had been to finish reading the article Jackson had written, but I had to admit, Joshua’s company was a bit more desirable at the moment, and frankly, after what I considered a flat out rejection by Lucas, maybe having a human man visit me in my home would be a good thing.

He gazed off into the street. “I really don’t want to go back to my mom’s place.”

“Well then, you can come with me, and if you can get a ride home from work, we can ride in together.”

“Great!” He signaled to the waitress for the check. Once we’d taken care of the bill, he stood, unwinding Garbo’s leash from the foot of his chair. “Come on, Garbo. It’s play date time!”

Once he said
date
, I started to second guess my impulse to invite him over. What if Lucas showed up? What would he think? Then again, why did it even matter what he thought? The reality was, this guy was now my co-worker, my boss at the bar, and maybe he could be a friend, too. I am allowed friends. Even very good looking ones.

I was further embarrassed by my van. I would have thought I’d gotten over it after driving Simone around and having her berate me about what a piece of crap it was. But although Joshua didn’t seem to mind at all, something about having him in my piece of crap van did make me feel a bit uneasy.

Back at my place, I took a good look around before letting Joshua too far into the house. No pot. No spirits. Just Cass and Mac. Happy to play with another dog, Cass bounced and twirled, taking off like a rocket along with Garbo, who, bless her heart, tried to keep up. Let’s just say bulldogs aren’t known for their speed or grace.

I took the paper with Jackson’s article out of my purse and set it on the kitchen table while Joshua played outside with the dogs. I wanted it to dry out so I could turn the page and finish the article without tearing it. I grabbed two bottles of waters and some brownies I’d baked the day before. I glanced outside, and watching the dogs and Joshua put a smile on my face. As he bent over to hug Cass, those stupid butterflies swarmed in my stomach. The same kind I got when Lucas was around.

And that was when I heard someone say my name. “Evie?”

I snapped around and Lucas was in my kitchen next to the fridge, just a few feet from me.

“Lucas! You startled me!” I lowered my voice to a loud whisper. The last thing I needed was my new boss thinking I was schizo or something.

“I’m sorry.” He came closer. “Who’s the guy?” He nodded toward Joshua playing with the dogs. Cass, sensing him inside with me, bolted towards the back door.