Gemma Halliday - Scandal Sheet aka Hollywood Scandals

“You’re too skinny. You need to eat,” Millie protested.

I looked down at her shrunken form. “I’ll eat later,” I promised.

“Suit yourself,” Aunt Sue replied. “Millie and I are going down to the community room. They got bingo tonight.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” The idea of the hear-no-good, see-no-good twins gambling didn’t strike me as stellar.

But she waved me off. “Don’t worry, I only got ten bucks in my pocket. The way I play, I’ll be home by the time Jeopardy! comes on.”

“Have a ball,” I said.

“What?”

“Have a ball!”

“Well, sure you can go to the mall! Honey, you’re an adult, you don’t need to ask my permission anymore.” She kissed me on both cheeks.

Swell.

I saw them out the door, then slipped into my bedroom. It was still in a state of mild disarray from the night before, piles of clothes off their hangers, two slashed pillows facedown in the corner, the top of my dresser littered with the entire contents of my desk. I ignored it all, the sight just adding more tension to my already overtaxed shoulders. Instead, I waded through the chaos to my dresser, threw open the top drawer and, after digging only a few minutes, found my pink, polka-dotted bikini. I threw it on, added a pair of cutoff shorts, flip-flops and a towel and headed out, locking the front door behind me.

I slipped out the back, not wanting another confrontation with Cal, and headed toward the pool.

The Palm Grove complex consisted of thirty-three units, set in a series of connecting lanes that made a circular pattern. In the middle was a community center where senior yoga was taught in the mornings, watercolors in the afternoons, and movie nights and bingo in the evenings. Next to the center was the swimming pool that was largely occupied by aqua aerobics by day, but once the sun went down and the temperature dipped below eighty, was virtually abandoned. Like now.

I stepped out of my flip-flops, tossed my towel on a folding chaise, and ditched my shorts. I dipped one toe into the shallow end, testing the water. Crisp, cool. Perfect.

I walked around to the twelve-footer mark, raised my arms up, and dove in headfirst. The cool water washed over me, blocking out all sight, sound, and feeling but the energizing water. It was total sensory deprivation, and I loved it.

I surfaced, sucking in a long breath of air, then dove back under, kicking my legs behind me. Immediately I fell into a familiar rhythm. Arms pumping, legs kicking, steady, even breath breaking the surface in measured time. I reached the side, flipped around, then did it again.

Five laps in, I was beginning to hit my stride. My muscles felt relaxed for the first time in days. In the pool there was no threat, there was no boss, there was no perky Barbie doll vying for my stories. There was just me, the cool sensation, and muscles pumping in time to the steady rhythm of my breath as my body sliced through the water.

I’m not sure how many laps I did, but by the time I surfaced, I was breathing hard and the strain had seeped out of me, replaced by a lax, loose feeling that left my body sighing in relief.

One that, unfortunately, didn’t last for long.

I looked up to find Cal standing at the end of the pool, a lopsided grin creasing his face in the sparse moonlight.

“What?” I asked, wiping the chlorine out of my eyes.

“Cute bikini.”

Despite the cool water covering my skin, I felt my cheeks flush. “Can it,” I said, pulling myself out of the water. Self-consciously, I wrapped a towel around my middle. “What are you doing out here?”

“Watching you.” His eyes roved to my midriff as if to illustrate the point.

The flush kicked up a notch, and I tugged my towel higher. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” he argued. “There’s a reason Felix hired me. So, next time you leave the house, ask me first, okay?”

“No.” I felt my chin tilt up a notch.

Cal’s left eyebrow hitched in response. “No?”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. A slightly childish gesture, I’ll admit. But the truth was, I was tired of being bullied. By Felix, by Allie, by Cal, by the freak show who was threatening me. Even Pines was ordering me to buy him porn! I wanted some say in my own life again. And I was taking it.

Even if it was with childish defiance.

“No. I don’t need your permission to live my life, Cal.”

Cal rolled his eyes. “Bender-”

But I wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

“I’m sick and tired of being treated like I can’t take care of myself, like I can’t think for myself. I know you think I’m some ridiculous little chick-”

“That’s not true.”

“-but I got along fine on my own before you came along, and I’ll get along fine well after your taillights fade into the distance. I can handle this. So you can quit ordering me around like I’m your German shepherd or something. ‘Sit, stay, beg to leave the house.’”

“I know this arrangement wasn’t your idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. And I’m sick and tired of people thinking they know what’s best for me.”

“Maybe we do know what’s best for you. Look, I know you’re angry, and I know you’re scared by all this-”

“I’m not scared!” I protested.

“Well, I am,” he shouted back.

Which shocked me into silence. Looking at his compact build, sleek reflexes, gun bulging from his jeans (at least, I’m pretty sure that bulge was a gun…) I couldn’t imagine Cal being scared of anything.

“You are?” I asked quietly.

He took a step closer. Instinctively, I tried to take one back, calves coming up against the side of the lounge chair.

“Yes, I am. You’re reckless. You’re dishonest. You’re stubborn. You make enemies wherever you go.”

“Gee, way to flatter a girl.”

“You’re also vulnerable. Alone. And too smart for your own good.”

I swallowed, suddenly having to concentrate on the most automatic of body movements.

“I’m scared something’s going to happen to you,” he said, his voice low. Intimate. Close.

I shivered in the cool night air, goose bumps brewing along my arms as his gaze moved slowly over me, resting on my face.

His hand came up. I held my breath as he brushed a strand of wet hair from my forehead, tucking it behind my ear.

I licked my lips, wondering what he’d do next. Wondering what I wanted him to do next.

His eyes went dark, his features soft. He leaned in until I could smell the coffee on his warm breath as it grazed my cheek.

“Tina,” he whispered.

My heart was racing, my breath stuck in my throat, anticipation and fear mixing an uneasy cocktail in the pit of my stomach. Yet it was the best feeling I’d felt in a long time. Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to?

I stood on tiptoe, leaning in.

But I never got the chance to find out.

Sirens erupted behind me. Muted at first, but gaining intensity at a rate that completely broke the moment, both of us turning to watch as an ambulance screeched into the Palm Grove complex.

Quite frankly, ambulances here were not an unusual sight. Considering the average age of the residents was high enough to put half of them on the Grim Reaper’s waiting list, we were on a first-name basis with at least three local paramedics.

But the way this one tore through the complex, zipping up Paradise Lane, I could tell something wasn’t right. Something that became even less right as it turned onto Oasis Terrace.

And pulled to a halt right outside my condo.

I froze for a full ten seconds before adrenaline flooded my system, and I sprinted toward the flashing lights of the ambulance. I felt Cal a step behind me, his heavy boots thumping along the pavement in time to the slap of my bare feet. Somewhere near Haven Circle I lost my towel, but I didn’t care. My entire being was focused on my home, where a police car had just joined the ambulance, a pair of uniformed officers following the paramedics through my front door.