Gemma Halliday - Scandal Sheet aka Hollywood Scandals

“Yeah, well you can start by ditching the binoculars, buddy,” I shot back.

We rode the rest of the way home in silence. A long silence. It was rush hour in L.A. We were lucky to move an inch in twenty minutes. I was seriously jonesing for my Rebel when we got stuck behind a pileup on the 101. How easily I could have weaved between the cars and simply zipped my way home. Instead, I was stuck in a tank, getting dirty looks from every eco-friendly Prius driver who passed us.

By the time we pulled up to Oasis Terrace, I was tired, hungry, and really had to pee.

“Well, thanks for the ride,” I said, throwing open the door and dropping the two feet to the ground.

“I’ll walk you in.”

“You really don’t need to,” I protested.

“I’d feel better if I did.” And before I could stop him, Cal had beeped the car locked and was already following me up the front path.

“Look, I’m a big girl. I think I can walk myself to my front d-” But I trailed off as we approached the condo.

The door was open. The wood splintered near the handle as if someone had kicked the thing in. Hard.

I felt my heart jump into my throat, the breath suddenly knocked out of me as my mind latched on to one horrible thought.

Aunt Sue.

Cal reacted immediately. In an instant his gun was in his hands, held straight-armed out in front of him, his stance low and guarded, one hand holding me back as he slowly approached the door.

Not that I was going anywhere. In fact, my entire body felt frozen with dread, my feet suddenly encased in lead. My breath sped up as I watched Cal slowly push the door open and ease inside the condo.

God, if anything happened to Aunt Sue…

No. I didn’t even want to think about that. I shut my eyes, giving myself a mental big-girl talk, then followed a step behind Cal, adrenaline backing up in my chest at what horrible sight might greet me.

The kitchen was trashed. Cupboards open, pots and pans strewn all over the floor, broken glass in the sink, an entire box of spaghetti noodles dumped over the counters. And the living room hadn’t fared much better-coffee table overturned, vases smashed, sofa cushions slashed, the stuffing bulging grotesquely out their sides.

I watched as Cal slowly circled the room, then entered the bedroom on the left, Aunt Sue’s. I held my breath, tension building in every part of me.

“What in God’s name happened here?”

I jumped. And may have even peed my pants a little.

I spun around to find Aunt Sue standing in the doorway, her eyes bulging behind her bifocals.

“Oh, thank God!” I rushed her like a linebacker, squeezing her in a hug that had her making strangled little gurgling noises in the back of her throat. “You’re okay!”

“Of course I’m okay,” she mumbled, disentangling herself.

I sniffed back a tear of relief. “Where were you?”

“At Hattie’s. I was trying to get her lasagna recipe, but the old bat wouldn’t let it go. Said her mother brought it from the old country. Baloney. I know for a fact she got that sucker off the back of a Ragu jar.”

I couldn’t help it. I hugged her again.

“What happened here?” she asked, her gaze pinging around the room, unsure where to focus.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I think someone broke in.”

“Wait, what was that?” Aunt Sue asked. “That sound?”

I froze. But before I could answer her, Aunt Sue picked up a frying pan off the counter and lunged toward me, screaming like a banshee.

On instinct, I ducked.

Unfortunately, the guy behind me didn’t.

“I got him!” Aunt Sue yelled, a sickening crunch filling the apartment as her frying pan connected with his nose.

“No!” I grabbed Aunt Sue’s arm, pulling her back.

Cal grabbed his nose. “Sonofabitch!” he groaned.

“Oh, God, Aunt Sue, that’s not the intruder. That’s Cal.”

She cocked her little pink head to the side. “Who’s Cal?”

“My bodyguard.” I grabbed a towel from the kitchen, quickly pressing it to Cal’s nose, which was oozing red stuff all over the linoleum. Not good.

“Are you okay?”

“I think she broke it,” he said, sounding like he had a cold.

“Why do you need a bodyguard?” Aunt Sue asked.

I snatched the frying pan from her hand. “Because someone’s been threatening me. Do you need to sit down?” I asked Cal.

He shook his head. “Ice.”

I picked my way over the broken debris on the floor, filling another towel with cubes from the icemaker.

“Who’d want to threaten you?” Aunt Sue asked, her wary gaze still ping-ponging between the frying pan and Cal.

“Someone who doesn’t like my column. Here.” I handed Cal the icy towel. As he switched them out, I got a good look at his nose. Yikes. Marcia Brady had nothing on this guy. He was right. I think she broke it.

Cal winced as the cold hit him.

“Thanks.” “Sorry,” I said. Then nudged Aunt Sue in the ribs.

“Sorry,” she echoed.

Cal looked from Aunt Sue to me, to the frying pan. “That’s it. I’m charging Felix double.”

Three hours later we’d eaten pizza for the second night in a row-much to Aunt Sue’s delight-managed to clean most of the broken glass off the floor, and I’d explained as best I could to Aunt Sue what was going on with my creepy caller turned vandal. Not that I was entirely convinced she’d remember by tomorrow.

After promising that I’d call a locksmith to fix the front door, I tucked her into bed with Tom Brokaw in the background to lull her to sleep.

I came back out into the living room to find an open bottle of wine, two full glasses, and Cal trying to shove the stuffing back inside the sofa cushions.

“It may be time for a new couch,” he said.

“Ya think?” I sank down onto the only unmolested cushion, leaning my head back against the wall. If this day had been any longer, it would qualify for Guinness.

“Thought maybe you could use a drink,” he said, handing me a glass.

Oh, mama, could I. Gratefully, I sipped at it. “Thanks.”

“You okay?” Cal asked, righting the coffee table in front of me. I put my feet up on it.

“I will be.”

“Nothing’s missing. No one was hurt. Chances are whoever did this just wanted to scare you.”

I nodded. Though I hated to admit just what an effective job they’d done. While my heart rate had slowed, my hands were still shaky enough that my merlot was bouncing in its glass.

“I’ll be fine,” I repeated. Hoping I’d believe that at some point.

“Right,” he said. “But, just as a precaution, I’d feel better if your aunt wasn’t here alone tomorrow.”

I nodded. “I’m sure I can find someone to sit with her.”

“Good.” He paused, picking up a bent picture frame from the rug. He looked down at the image inside, his lips curling into a lopsided smile. “This you?”

He held it up. A little girl with dark hair and pigtails sat on a pink Big Wheel. Wearing a tutu, cowboy boots, and a plastic Viking hat.

I nodded. “Yep.”

“Cute.” He placed it on the coffee table. “Even then you had your own style, didn’t you?”

I looked down at my funky T-shirt. Was he making fun of the way I dressed? “So sue me if I’m not an Abercrombie zombie.”

Cal put both hands up in a surrender gesture. “Take it easy, Bender. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

I bit my lip. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little on edge.”

“Apology accepted. And I’m glad you’re on edge.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t. When you’re on edge, you’ll be careful.”

I nodded. “Right,” I croaked out, my throat suddenly clogged with emotion at how real this whole situation had become. Annoying phone calls and emails were one thing, but this guy had actually broken into my home. What would he have done if he’d found me, or worse yet, Aunt Sue?