Ch23

Claire was no closer to get any answers than she was after she'd first seen the pictures. She'd cornered Miller on the beach, determined to find out the truth, but once he'd seen the magazine, he clammed up. And then he cried. He actually cried! Claire's stomach twisted uncomfortably. It made her physically ill to see the anguish that covered his face, to see the secrets lurking behind his blue eyes as realization to what he was looking at had finally sunk in. She'd always been able to trust those eyes, but now she wasn't so sure. He was hiding things from her—and had been for who knows how long—and just when she'd managed to confront him, knowing he'd have no choice but to face the music, he'd managed to elude her once again.

Just as he was about to speak his cell phone rang out, alerting him to a text message. She'd silently begged him to ignore it, but he hadn't. He pulled up the message and quickly scanned over the words, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. Before she could ask what was wrong, her own cell rung out. On autopilot, Claire reached into the pocket of her thin maxi dress and retrieved her device.

Oliver McGee. What could he possibly want? She opened the message and quickly read through it.

"Given the unfortunate events that have recently unfolded and the heavy scrutiny you're all under, I would like to call a meeting for all former cast-mates of Paradise Cove. I may be able to offer some assistance in your time of need. You are not in a position to ignore my request. Please meet me tomorrow at my house in Point Dume, 4 o'clock sharp. I promise, it will be worth the trouble. I trust you will be there. Oliver McGee."

What was this all about? Scrutiny . . . was he referring to the magazine? 

Oh my God, the pictures must be all over the press! 

Their weaknesses were all on display for the whole world to see! How would this mess affect their lives? The pictures of her were the least of her troubles, but every single person she cared about most were bound to be tormented by the photographs taken. The insinuations that had been made . . . Claire closed her eyes and brought a hand to her head as an overwhelming darkness closed in around her. She tried to regulate the breaths that were coming in and out of her lungs much too quickly, just like the night before when she had collapsed.

Take it easy, she silently concentrated. Breath in . . . breathe out . . . Nice and slow. 

"Claire, are you alright?" she heard Miller ask. She'd almost forgotten he was standing there. The baby . . . the magazine . . . the pictures . . . the text . . . It was all too much to think about! "Let's get you inside. You don't look very good."

Claire felt a strong arm snake around her waist and vaguely perceived the sensation of being guided alongside the shore. "Miller, we need to talk," she heard herself whisper, but every time she opened her eyes to focus, her vision was met by a montage of shapes all swaying rapidly in front of her.

"We will talk, let's get you inside first. You need to sit. You're so pale . . ."

Before Claire could respond, she felt another presence on her opposite side. Brooks. She could hear his voice but was unable to make out what he was saying, he sounded so far away. She allowed them to chaperon her into the house and suddenly felt the cool sheets of her bed underneath her.

"We need to call an ambulance," Miller announced. "This is the second time this has happened that I know of."

Claire fought hard to open her eyes and focus on the men in front of her, the men who had been her closest friends for so long, but the way the figures danced in front of her made her stomach churn with nausea. Her lids quickly closed and she drew in a sharp breath. 

Why did they suddenly feel like strangers? Their worlds were spinning off axis and moving away from each other, every day that passed made it more and more evident. She opened her eyes again and watched in a blur as Miller pulled the cell out of his pocket and began to punch in some numbers. Gathering all the strength she could muster, Claire reached her hand up and swiped at the phone, knocking it to the floor. "Stop! I don't need an ambulance."

"Claire, you need to see a doctor! This is the second dizzy spell you've had, you need to get checked out," she heard Anna say, her voice tense with urgency. Anna was still there? How long had she been down at the beach with Miller? It had seemed like hours . . .

"I've already called the doctor," Claire lied quietly. "He said I probably have a virus, and it just needs to run it's course. But just to be safe he can fit me in tomorrow. He said to take it easy in the meantime." Her first prenatal check up was the next day, so she wasn't lying entirely.

She listened as the three voices merged into hushed whispers. They were all talking, talking about her. She tried to concentrate on what they were saying, but only managed to pick up on a couple of words. Without warning, Claire felt her eyes being to droop. She blinked slowly, watching as the three shapes blurred together into one. Don't close your eyes, you need some answers. Miller needs to talk.

It was the final thought that filtered through her mind before she gave way to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The pictures! Who the hell would have taken those pictures? Someone had been watching him and Marie. Someone had been hiding among the crowded streets and photographed them together! And to rub salt in the wound, they'd managed to capture pictures of Marie's body . . . 

Dammit! How could this have happened? It doesn't make any sense.

Miller needed some answers. Someone had sold those pictures to the magazine and had undoubtedly made a pretty penny off of Marie's demise. And he was going to find out who.

After getting Claire safely tucked into bed, Miller left the house, making sure Brooks promised to stay by her side until he returned. He hopped into his SUV and pulled out his phone, using voice command to call his personal lawyer. If anyone could get to the bottom of this, it would be Elijah Harrison.

"Miller, long time no see!" Elijah boomed, his thick Jamaican accent resonating throughout the vehicle. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?"

Miller's pulse began to slow at the sound of Elijah's comforting voice. Smart, no-nonsense and to the point, exactly what he needed right now. "Elijah, I need your help," Miller began hurriedly. He pulled his Range Rover out of the drive and started heading down Pacific Boulevard toward Beverly Hills, the midday sun hanging heavy between thick clouds that were just starting to toll in off the ocean. Elijah's firm was located on Rodeo Drive and if he drove straight though, making one quick stop to pick up a copy of the offensive tabloid, he could get there in about an hour. "Some pictures have surfaced in a magazine called Celebrity, pictures that were purposely taken out of context."

"Absolutely, Miller. Who were the pictures of?" Elijah asked, his tone quick and concise.

Miller released an ill-humored laugh. "Actually, they're of every single person I care about, including myself and Claire—" he admitted, shaking his head. The way Celebrity had presented the images made it seem as though she were distressed because of a relationship between himself and Marie. The girl was just a child, for crying out loud! The very idea was deplorable.

You know, the more he thought about the images plastered across the pages of the tabloid, the more he wondered if they were somehow connected. Was it really just a coincidence that every one of his best friends had been targeted in the same issue? Ashton, Juliana, Brooks . . . Claire? It seemed awfully suspect this would all be random. The pieces just were not fitting together the way they should. And poor Marie. She didn't deserve to be disrespected like that. She was so young, too young, the victim of unfortunate circumstances. Whoever did this was going to pay dearly, he would make sure they did. 

"Sounds almost premeditated," Elijah suggested.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I want to find out who did this and I want to press charges. My friends are going to suffer a great deal as a result of these images, and I want the person who sold them found quickly and prosecuted." 

"I understand and agree with you completely, Miller. I see no reason why we wouldn't be able to file a lawsuit."

"Great, Elijah, thank you," Miller said with a sigh, already feeling a slight weight off his shoulders. "I'm on my way to your office now, will you be able to fit me into your schedule? I want to get started on this right away."

"Absolutely. I'll have my secretary reschedule my afternoon meeting," Elijah announced. "Don't worry, Miller, we'll get this straightened out."

God, he hoped so. And the sooner the better.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Is this Brooks Kennedy?" a young female asked from the opposite end of the phone.

"Who wants to know?" Brooks asked suspiciously. He didn't recognize the number that popped up on his screen and normally he would have avoided answering it all together, but with so many things hanging in the balance because of the break-in he didn't have that luxury. 

The female awkwardly cleared her throat before speaking again. "This is Brianna Walters, we . . . uh . . . met several weeks ago at the Film Awards."

Brooks' heart dropped into his stomach and a cold sweat covered his flesh. It was her, the teenage girl in the photographs! God, as bad as he felt over what had happened, he didn't need her calling him right now. How the hell had she gotten his number anyway? He knew with absolute certainty he had not given it to her.

"Look," she continued, not bothering to wait for a response. "I'm going to cut to the chase. We had sex that night - if you have trouble remembering just take a look at the latest copy of Celebrity," she added sarcastically. "And now I'm pregnant." She hesitated slightly, as if letting the news sink in. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if the baby is yours or not and there's no way for me to know at this point in time. However, my father knows we were together and he is totally pissed."

Brooks felt the blood drain from his face. Pregnant? Pissed-off father? This cannot be happening, not after everything else! How much more could one man take? He glanced up from the chair he was sitting in and observed Anna as she sat on Claire's bed watching over her friend, concern lingering in the depths of her eyes. Quietly, he stood up from his seat and made his way into the next room, searching for a private corner so he could speak.

"What do you mean you're pregnant," he hissed back. "We only had sex once!"

"Well, I guess that's all it takes," she quipped back, her voice heavy with annoyance. "I just wanted to warn you that my father is looking for you."

"What do you mean he's looking for me? What does he want?"

"I'm guessing he wants to congratulate you," Brianna mocked. God, American girls had such smart mouths!  "What do you think he wants, Brooks? He's planning to kill you."

She couldn't be serious! Alarm raced through every vein in his body. Jonathon Walters was notoriously uptight when it came to his only child. Everyone had heard the story about how he'd chased away that young actor she'd been seeing on the sly. He'd run the poor kid right out of town! Juliana had warned him before, but no, he hadn't listened. He let his dick do the thinking for him, not his head. Typical.

"He's headed over to your house right now," she added.

Jonathon Walters was headed to his house? Thank God he wasn't staying there! He'd left no forwarding address so that should buy him some time, her father would have no idea where to find him. But that wouldn't last forever. Eventually, this would all catch up to him.

"What about Avi," he asked, suddenly remembering the story his friend had relayed. "He said you slept with him, too."

"Yes, but my father doesn't know that. What his does know is that there are pictures of his daughter having sex in the backseat of a Porsche, and your name is plastered all over the article. Right now, that's all he cares about. By the way," she added arrogantly. "Do you always let the paparazzi film you having sex?"

"What?!" he asked, outraged. "You think this is my fault?"

"Well, it certainly isn't mine."

This girl was unbelievable! And now she was pregnant, possibly with his child! A tidal wave of nausea swept over him and he leaned against the wall for support. There was a strong possibility he would be connected to this spoiled brat for the rest of his life!

And he had no one to blame but himself.

How does Brooks really feel abut becoming a father? Find out in Chapter 24!

Hello, and welcome to Fast Lane! If you enjoyed this chapter, I ask that you please consider leaving a vote/comment.

(Chapter 23 approx. 2, 300 words)