Typecast (28 page)

At the moment, her smile said she saw him as a hero. Some sort of knight in a vintage BMW who swooped in and saved her from the fire-breathing camera on set. “Only for you.”

“So, I guess I’m lucky I’m the only woman who gets the Logan who cooks and covers me up at night and makes sure I buckle my seat belt.” A small laugh escaped her throat. “You’re not the bad guy everyone wants you to be, or that you want to be, Mr. Alexander.”

“Again, only for you.” He gave her a light kiss, something he should have done instead of yelling at her and trying to push her away.

“Do you ever wish the world saw what I do?” She took her turn to kiss him and let her lips linger against his.

“I don’t know. Being the bad guy has some advantages.”

“But in my heart, I know you’re not the bad guy.” She pressed her palm to his cheek. “It doesn’t add up.”

Rather than shutting her out at the mention of the past, he needed to allow her to address it and not react like a lunatic or a bad guy. “Once the fanfare of the anniversary dies down, it won’t be as bad. It’s part of being with me.” His chest tightened.

“I know.” She gave him another kiss. “I’m fine. I just wish you didn’t have to go through it.”

He put his hand over hers. “I’ll live with knowing the one person who matters doesn’t think I’m the bad guy. Maybe it just doesn’t matter anymore. All right?”

She blinked.

“There’s a reason I asked you to let things be. It doesn’t affect us anymore.” While he may be the protector, she was the crusader. “All right?”

“All right.” Her answer was more of a sigh.

“Good.” Once more, he kissed her. If she went looking into the answers she wanted, he wouldn’t be the redeemed villain, and he needed to be her hero.

CUT TO:

EXT. GAS STATION – AMARILLO, TX – DAY

WILLIAM, CHARLES, and ROXY sit at the gas station waiting for Steven to return.

ROXY

Where do you think he went?

WILLIAM

Who cares? He’s been an ass this whole time.

CHARLES

He probably didn’t want us to see him groveling to his parents.

WILLIAM

He’s a jerk. We should’ve just taken this trip by ourselves.

ROXY

Don’t say that.

ROXY turns away.

WILLIAM

Why not? It’s the truth.

ROXY

At least he’s trying to fix it.

WILLIAM

He makes the messes and then makes you grateful when he cleans them up.

Chapter Seventeen

“This hotel has completely been remodeled.” Matt lifted his phone and took a couple pictures of the lobby.

“They redid the whole place after the fire ten years ago.” Ivy wrapped her arms around her shoulders to stop the shudders. The Beverly Garland hotel might have been redone, but decades’ old ghosts seemed to linger. Once the apex of Hollywood glitz, the place to be seen, the hotel had also been the hub for many scandals, not the least of which included Logan Alexander. After the fire involving yet another celebrity, the place had closed down and reopened with the old Hollywood glam replaced with Italian villa décor. The place instantly lost the “it” factor.

“Didn’t you tell me they filmed a scene for the movie here?” Matt snapped a couple more pictures.

“Yes, one of the hotel scenes had to be redone when the original place in the valley wouldn’t let them in, and they used this hotel.” She sighed. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“I’m glad you finally decided to do the right thing.” Once more, he scanned the room and shrugged.

“Matt.” She put her hand to her forehead. “I shouldn’t have called you about this. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “You’ve always relied on me, and I’ll always be here for you.”

Her chest constricted. If Logan knew where she was and whom she was with, he would flip, and he would have every right. Yet the moment he had announced he needed to go with Wilson to some restaurant supply shop, she had taken her first opportunity to put her plan into action. “I told you on the phone I’m not trying to frame him. I’m trying to clear him.”

“Are you prepared to find out things you don’t want to?” Matt led her over to a small couch in the lobby.

A flash of Logan’s expression when he saw Wilson’s bar nearly destroyed by graffiti gave her every answer. Even after the wall was painted, he still stared at it as if he could see the slurs. Later, she heard him ordering security cameras for Wilson’s place and a security team for both the bar and her apartment—actually their apartment. “I have to do this.”

“Then what?” He pulled his laptop out of his case.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you going to do with the information?” The ding of the computer powering up echoed through the quiet space.

“Prove he’s not the villain.” Her throat dried out.

“How?” He continued to fire questions at her.

“Matt, I need to know.” She powered up her own computer. “He deserves better. I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay, let’s do this.” He turned the computer toward her. “Sometimes the best way to go back is to look at what happened since the incident. We have to be able to find something. Let’s start with the charges against him.”

In coordinated clicks, they both typed on their respective machines. “Disturbing the peace, disorderly conduct, assault and battery, possession of drugs.” She didn’t need the Internet to recite the laws Logan had broken.

“What drugs?” Matt scrolled down his screen.

“Marijuana and other drugs.” The words left her mouth, and she stopped. “Wait.”

“Well, that explains a lot.” Her cohort laughed. “No wonder he loves to cook—constant case of the munchies.”

“Matt.” Their first breakthrough couldn’t be this simple.

“What’s wrong?” He turned to her.

“Logan doesn’t smoke.”

“Maybe he did before.” Matt countered. “Not that it matters. Just because someone doesn’t smoke cigarettes, doesn’t mean they don’t smoke pot.”

“I don’t know, but it seems off. He barely takes an aspirin. His cure-all for everything is soda water.” She returned her focus to her computer screen.

“All right, let’s table that for right now. What did he do right after he got out of rehab?”

“After rehab and pulling out of the sequel, he tried some acting jobs.” She recited his history from memory.

“Okay, after
Hollywood Stardust
there’re like two bit parts listed on his résumé, all within the first couple of years, then nothing.” Matt hovered his fingers above his keyboard. “What does he do now?”

She licked her lips.

“Ivy,” Matt prodded.

“Well, he cooks . . .” She hooked her hair behind her ear. “And he does a lot of investing, like in the bar and in his friend’s lab and in Ryder’s movie.” Of course, she enjoyed his new career of being in front of the camera with her.

“Where did he get the money for all this investing?” Matt shut the computer.

Her first instinct was to shout out
Hollywood Stardust
or an inheritance, but she knew he didn’t have any family money. “The actors on
Hollywood Stardust
famously did the movie for ten thousand a piece.”

“Unless he invested every bit of that money in a really awesome stock, he either has more to do with marijuana than you think, or he’s getting it somewhere else.”

“Matt.” She barked out a warning.

“Fine. I’m sorry, but seriously, haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘Follow the money’?” he asked.

“Follow the money,” she repeated.

“His car alone is close to six figures and new.”

She gazed out at the lobby, but her vision blurred. Logan never mentioned money, and his answers about work were nebulous at best.

“I don’t think being a sometimes cook at a bar will pay his bills,” he added. “What kind of investing does he do?”

Her phone vibrated, and she slipped the device out of her pocket.

The alone thing isn’t working for me.

No matter how many times Logan texted, her heart fluttered all the same.
You aren’t alone. You are with Wilson.
She hit the send button and giggled.

“Okay, I know I can’t compete with the sexy texts.” Matt patted her back.

Logan’s next message appeared on the screen.
Fine, then the without you thing isn’t working for me. Come home and we will get some work done together.

“I’m sorry.” She wrinkled her nose.

“As I told you before, I’ll always be here for you.” Matt packed his items, stood, and saluted her. “Follow the money first. I have a feeling it may lead you somewhere.”

She gave Matt a quick hug and immediately returned to her phone.
What are you going to do when we don’t work together anymore?

We don’t need to work.

As she typed her next message, her heart seized.
Why not?

I’ll provide for us. Don’t worry.

She toggled between wanting to hug the phone and smash it. Instead, she answered.
On my way.
She needed to follow the money.

“Ivy?” Logan took silent steps down the stairs. “Ivy?”

The banging together of pots and pans reverberated from his kitchen.

He tightened his hold on his laptop case, pressed his back to the wall, and slid toward the door. “Ivy?” With one eye closed, he tried to peer into the room. Nothing. Though he promised he would stay out until she called him, he couldn’t resist.

As Wilson’s opening neared, they had stayed at the bar the last few nights to help get ready for the big event. When they had woken, Ivy had announced she would make them breakfast. Even with his protests, she’d insisted, telling him she wanted to take care of him. He had caved, and she’d bounded into the kitchen.

Yes, she might want to take care of him, but he wanted to reciprocate. Well, not exactly. What he wanted was to show her he had them covered. Since the vandalism, she seemed overly concerned about his money situation or his job. While she did not come right out and ask him, he heard the true questions behind the ones she masked with nonchalance, and he somehow needed to give her some security without telling any semblance of a falsehood. Women craved security. They also hated lies.

Breakfast was usually the fastest meal to prepare, but she had been down here for over an hour. He looked at his watch and nodded. “Ivy, I’m starving.”

“All right, hungry man, come on in.” Her voice came out strained, followed by another clash of metal on metal.

He rushed through the swinging door and stopped. Nothing was currently on fire, but there seemed to be a definite potential for combustion. A quick glance at the sink filled with almost every cooking utensil he owned told him she might have had some difficulties, and the charcoal aroma and haze in the air confirmed his suspicions.

She lifted two plates off the counter and approached. “I made French toast.”

He only prayed she didn’t put egg-soaked bread actually in the toaster, and he couldn’t stop from looking over at the little chrome appliance. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he fought the urge to clutch the toaster to his chest and run for safety.

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean up while you get to work.” Her weapons at the ready, she stalked closer.

Ah, another one of her little comments about work. At last, he would call her bluff. “In fact, I have some personal work I need to get done now. Why don’t we eat in the main room?”

“Okay! Can you grab the coffee?” Her face lit up with a smile, and she lifted her chin in the direction of the coffeemaker.

“Sure.” He retrieved the two mugs, and unless she decided to use a chicory blend, he discovered one of the sources of the charcoal aroma stinging his nose. “Let’s go to the big booth.”

“I already put the syrup and butter on your plate for you.” She leaned over the table and arranged her dishes.

Well, his mouth watered at her rounded backside in her jeans. Maybe a diversion was in order. “Why don’t we take a break and go back upstairs?”

“I made breakfast, and you said you had work?” She spun toward him, her brow furrowed.

“I know, but you just look so luscious, I can’t help but to want to feast on something else.” He slipped into a booth, pleased he managed to save the situation and tell the truth.