Gemma Halliday - Scandal Sheet aka Hollywood Scandals

I stumbled out of bed, rubbing my eyes, making my way on autopilot through the house toward the scent of coffee. Cal was already at the kitchen table, sipping his cup, reading the paper. Aunt Sue was frying bacon. Or, more accurately, burning bacon.

I wrinkled my nose. “I think it’s done.”

“What?” she asked, over the sizzling sounds.

“I think the bacon’s done!”

“What did you say?”

“It’s burnt!” I yelled.

Aunt Sue looked down at the blacked strips in her pan. “Oh. So it is. Oh well, I guess we’ll just have eggs,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as she reached into the refrigerator.

Just in case, I popped a couple pieces of sourdough into the toaster.

“By the way,” Aunt Sue said, cracking eggs into a bowl, “your cell’s been going off all morning.” She gestured to my purse sitting on the counter.

I popped it open and looked at my phone readout. Four calls. All from Felix. I bit my lip. Apparently he’d read my column.

I was just contemplating putting the phone on mute, when Cal slammed his coffee cup down on the kitchen table behind me.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

I spun around to find Cal-a very pissed off Cal-holding up today’s Informer .

I guess Felix wasn’t the only one doing some early morning reading.

“Um…my column.”

“Obviously. Are you out of your mind?”

Aunt Sue angled around him to read it, then did a subdued little, “Oh, my,” her big, round eyes going my way.

I crossed my arms over my chest in a defensive posture.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Cal asked.

“What? I should just sit back and let this creep systematically destroy everything around me? I can’t go home, I’m being babysat twenty-four seven, my neigh-bor’s dead, and someone’s trying to blow me up! Everywhere I go this guy is threatening me. I’m sick of it!”

“The police-” he started.

But I cut him off. “The police aren’t doing jack. You saw them test the scene yesterday-they came up with nothing. I’m tired of chasing leads to nowhere. I’m calling this guy out in the open.”

“And if he doesn’t turn himself in?”

I sighed. “I’m not stupid. There’s no way he’s turning himself in.”

Cal narrowed his eyes. “Then what exactly do you expect to accomplish with this bluff?” He threw the paper down on the table.

“Don’t you watch any cop shows?”

He didn’t answer, just glared.

“If he doesn’t want to see his name in the paper as a murderer, he’s got to shut me up before I turn in my column for tomorrow.”

Something shifted behind Cal’s eyes. “Shut you up.”

I nodded.

“You mean-”

“I mean he’s going to come after me, and that’s when I’ll catch him red-handed.”

A muscle twitched in Cal’s jaw. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No way am I letting you use yourself as bait.”

“This isn’t about you letting me do anything. It’s about me taking my life back.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I countered.

Cal threw his hands up in the air. “This is dangerous, reckless, and about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” I thrust my chin up, hands on hips.

He ground his teeth together. “And just how, exactly, are you planning on catching this guy before he actually silences you?”

I bit my lip. “That’s kinda where you come in.”

“Me.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah. You’re the trained bodyguard. With you watching my back, we’re sure to get the jump on him before he does on me. Right?”

“No,” he said again, shaking his head.

“You have to. You’re being paid to keep me safe,” I pointed out.

“But not if you’re going to throw yourself into harm’s way!”

“Fine.” I squared my jaw. “I’ll do it myself.”

He stared at me, his nostrils flaring, his eyes flashing. “Like hell you will.”

I planted my feet shoulder width apart, matching him glare for glare. We stood like that in a totally silent standoff for a full minute.

Finally Cal broke the staring contest, threw the rest of his coffee down the drain, and slammed his empty cup on the counter.

“Fine. Let’s go to Disneyland.”

When I was a kid, Disneyland was just one theme park, and it was all about the kiddies. Lots of rides, no security gates, characters roaming throughout the park being mobbed by children of all ages.

Now, Disneyland has become a virtual city that’s as much for the adult members of your party as the little ones.

Downtown Disney spans a full mile of shops and restaurants, sporting such grown-up fare as the House of Blues, ESPN Zone, and Tortilla Joe’s, where the margaritas are to die for. (You know, if I was ever touching tequila again.) Past the movie theater, shopping mall, and street performers sit the two Disney theme parks-the California Adventure and the original Disneyland. While Disneyland is all balloons and lollipops in the shape of mouse heads, California Adventure is the big kid version, featuring a winery, a “beers of the world” stand, and roller coasters that launch you upside down at near NASA speeds.

I looked longingly at the twelve-foot-tall “California” sign across the walkway as the aunts grabbed me by the arm and propelled my toward the security gates on the kiddie side. Cal grumbled a step behind me, still put out that he had to leave his gun in the Hummer.

I watched a perky college kid search Aunt Sue’s huge beach tote and held my breath, hoping he mistook the Hello Kitty container for a sandwich and not our neigh-bor’s ashes. Luckily, he’d been trained to look for weapons and drugs, not dead people, and gave us a cheery, “Enjoy your day at the Magic Kingdom!” and waved us through.

I gave a mental sigh of relief.

Aunt Sue gave me a coconspiratorial wink.

Cal gave an eye roll.

Millie gave us a, “Let’s go on the pirates ride first!”

I put a hand on her arm. “Uh uh. No way. We’re here to do one thing. We’re going to do that, and then we’re going home.”

She pouted. “But I love the Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“And we did pay full admission,” Aunt Sue complained. “We should get our money’s worth.”

I clenched my jaw. “Fine. One ride.”

The two suddenly ten-year-old octogenarians clapped their hands with glee and led the way through the mass of tourists toward New Orleans Square.

Cal remained a silent shadow behind us.

Ever since this morning, he hadn’t said one word to me. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. He’d said. “Get in,” when he’d held the Hummer’s door open for me. That was it. Clearly, this whole bait plan didn’t put him in the best mood.

I’ll be honest, it wasn’t doing a whole lot for my nerves either. I’d looked over my shoulder a dozen times on the escalator ride down from the main parking structure. On the tram ride into the park, I’d done at least three double takes at the guy in the Panama hat and sunglasses seated opposite us before ascertaining that he was, in fact, just an innocent tourist and not some ominous stalker.

Even though I’d set up this whole thing, it was still a scary thought that I could, in theory, be staring straight at my stalker and not even know it. He knew what I looked like, but I had no idea who he was. Or even if he was a he for that matter.

I now knew how those ducks in a barrel felt at the county fair.

I kept my head down, staying close to the aunts, infinitely glad for the hulking bulk of Cal behind me, even if he was giving me the silent treatment.