I clutched my camera, ready to start pressing the shutter button. Staying on my side of the red roped border, I stood in anticipation with the other paparazzi waiting for the arrival of megastar Brock Hanson and whoever was his latest arm candy of the moment.
A black limousine stopped at the curb and a man in a dark suit opened the car door. Before one finally dressed leg could emerge from the limo, the screams of fans filled the air. I rolled my eyes. Taking pictures of spoiled Hollywood royalty was not how I had envisioned my career going. I wanted to be a reporter. Still, if I had to work for a tabloid, Hollywood Tribune would be the one to work for.
Brock emerged from the limo and posed for the cameras, his killer smile in high voltage. He waved, then glanced around the crowd as if looking for someone. His gaze clashed with mine. He winked and smiled before turning to help a woman in a form-fitting black dress from the limo. They posed, waved, and strolled down the red carpet into the building amid screams and tossed roses.
Lauren Mayfield, Hollywood’s newest star and, according to rumor, Brock’s most recent love interest. Her smile looked pained. Of course, I didn’t listen to gossip despite working for a tabloid. I sought the truth. Always. Someday, I’d work for a top newspaper and win a Pulitzer.
My boss had gotten me special privileges to enter the awards hall and interview the stars, Brock and Lauren. Surprisingly, they’d both agreed upon hearing it was me who would be doing the interviewing. I smiled. Perhaps my reputation preceded me. Most likely it was my father’s career as a well-loved actor turned real-life detective that had them agreeing to see me.
I flashed my badge which proudly displayed my name, Kelly Canyon, reporter, to the guard at the door and entered through a back door. The fans outside might be in a frenzy at seeing their favorite stars walk the red carpet, but inside…the stars were just as excited. The air crackled with energy.
I located Brock’s dressing room toward the end of the hall, rapped three times, and waited. Within seconds, Lauren, one hand clutching a glass of white wine, opened the door and ushered me in with a wave of her slender hand. I was petite at five-foot-two-inches and a hundred and sixteen pounds, but I felt like a moose compared to the almost anorexic frame of Lauren who stood at least three inches taller than me without her heels.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” I perched on a straight-back chair and pulled a notepad from the over-sized bag slung across my shoulder.
“Not a problem.” Brock smiled, doing funny things to my stomach. It wasn’t hard to see why he’d been voted the world’s most handsome man last year. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a million-watt smile.
Lauren sprawled across a deep green sofa. “Ask away. We have less than thirty minutes before we have to take our seats.”
“My apologies.” I glanced at Brock. “Have you always wanted to be a movie star?”
“Ever since I was three.” He tilted his head and flashed that famous smile again. “I’ve always entertained…family, friends, strangers in the store. Acting is something I was born to do.” He cut a glance at Lauren.
“What?” She frowned. “I’m not born to act?”
Uh-Oh. I detected tensions rising for reasons I wasn’t aware of. “Miss Maxwell, what about you?”
She gave a sad smile. “I was discovered in a bar in San Diego. I wore lingerie as my costume. Because of that, I’ve been accused of sleeping my way to stardom.” She tossed back a big swallow of wine.
“Did you?” My pen poised over the paper.
She shrugged. “I did whatever it took. Not everyone can be as lucky as dear Brock.”
His face darkened.
I got the impression they didn’t care much for each other and that their supposed relationship was nothing more than publicity. “This question is for both of you. Your movie, A Killer Pose, is a blockbuster. What do you think your chances of winning are?”
“We’re up against a heart-wrenching drama,” Brock said, “but I believe we have a good chance. Action films don’t always score as well as tear-jerkers.”
True. “Mr. Handsome, uh Hanson.” For crying out loud, Kelly, you’re a professional! “You’re involved with charity work. What are you working on lately?”
“I’m helping Habitat for Humanity.” He tilted his head. “Perhaps you should come help, too. We’re building a house this weekend.”
Lauren made a sound deep in her throat. “Why would any woman want to get her hands dirty hanging drywall?”
A muscle ticked in Brock’s jaw. “It doesn’t hurt to give back, Lauren.”
“I worked hard for what I have.”
“And steamrolled over other people to get there.”
“Don’t believe all the stories of dumped wives and girlfriends, sweetie. I couldn’t possibly have done all the things I’m accused of. I’m good, but not that good.” She finished off her wine and poured another glass.
Brock stood. “Thank you, Kelly. I see you’re allowed into the party later. We can continue the interview then. It’s time for us to take our seats.” Back in acting mode, Brock took the glass from Lauren’s hand, offered her his arm, and together they stepped back into the hall and headed for the auditorium.
Thank goodness I had never aspired to be an actor like my father. Even he had gotten tired of the back-stabbing and made a name for himself in law enforcement, especially after Mom ran off. He’d immersed himself in his job. If he hadn’t been killed during a bust, he might have run for office someday. I had too hard of a time pretending to like someone I didn’t, as it was.
I took my place at the back of the auditorium and snapped pictures of other beautiful celebrities arriving, producers shaking hands, and seat-fillers with stars in their eyes. Those pictures were for me, not the tabloid. My favorite snapshots were of real people living their everyday lives.
The lights dimmed. The only bright spot in the room was the stage. The emcee came out, cracked a few jokes, and the awards ceremony began.
While Brock’s movie didn’t win best picture, he did walk away with best actor. Lauren, her smile strained, took home best supporting actress.
Afterwards, I stepped into the room where the party was being held, snapped more photos, and tried my best to be invisible. In my black suit, I was a spot on the sea of brightly colored, expensive gowns and tuxes.
“There you are.” Brock approached and took my hand. “Come get something to eat. You’ve had a long day.”
I pulled back. “I couldn’t. This is for the nominees and winners.”
“Nonsense. It’s for everyone here.” He handed me a glass plate. “Besides, half of these women will only have a bite. Most of the food will go waste.”
The buffet consisted of everything from crab legs and butter to cucumber sandwiches. I spotted boneless chicken wings at one end. There was truly something for everyone. I put some shrimp and cocktail sauce on my plate, added some fruit, and searched for a place to eat.
“Standing room only, it seems.” Brock pulled me to a relatively empty corner. “I requested you for the interview. Did your boss tell you?”
“Yes. Why did you?” I stared into his face.
“Because you’re known for telling the truth and I admired your father for the same reason.” He smiled. “I like that. So few people in this town are honest.”
Lauren, now in bare feet, staggered in our direction. She poked Brock in the chest with one long scalloped nail. “I should have won best actress. You know that. What did you do to sway the vote?” Her words slurred.
“I have nothing to do with that, Lauren. Why don’t you go to your dressing room and sleep off the wine?”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Get me out of the way so I can’t tell everyone what a suck up you are.” As if she’d just noticed me, she turned and grinned. “Brock deserted his pregnant girlfriend for his first acting role. Did you know that? Dear, sweet, Brock. Mr. Handsome isn’t as squeaky clean as he would appear to be.” She patted my cheek a bit too roughly and made her way, swaying, down the hall.
“Not true.” Brock popped a popcorn shrimp into his mouth. “She’s had too much to drink.”
I studied his face. What if Lauren was right? If Hollywood found out that their golden boy was tarnished it would turn the town upside down.
“Stop looking at me like that.” He set his plate down. “You’re always searching for the truth. You’ll find out soon enough that what she says is nothing more than a lie.” He shook his head, shoved his hands into the pockets of his tux pants, and headed toward his dressing room.
What a strange evening. I’d done nothing but snap photos and eat, yet, I found myself with the beginnings of the biggest story of the year. I bit the inside of my cheek. Would Lauren reveal more information when she was sober or would she forget everything she’d said? It wouldn’t hurt to ask. I’d be calling for an interview first thing in the morning.
I finished the few items I’d put on my plate, then set the plate on a sideboard. I weaved in and out of the mingling celebrities, snapping photos until 1:45 a.m. Fifteen minutes and the party would be over. I put my camera back into its bag and headed for the exit.
A harried looking man called out, “Does anyone have a key to Miss Maxwell’s room? She isn’t answering her door.”
I turned, instincts kicking in that there might be a story in the making. “Brock Hanson, maybe?”
I followed the man down the hall. He knocked on Brock’s door. Brock, dressed in designer faded jeans and a tight tee-shirt answered his door. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been sleeping. A scratch marred his left cheek.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a key to Miss Maxwell’s room?” The man asked.
“Sure.” He pulled one from his pocket then unlocked the dressing room belonging to the actress. He shoved the door open.
I gasped.
Lauren laid sprawled on a ruby red chaise lounge. Sticking from her neck were the remains of a crab leg.