“You are replacing my car, Detective Parker,” she said with a sly smile. “How kind of you.”
“I
“And when will this miraculous thing happen? Before I am as old as my father-in-law and too blind to drive on the streets?”
“Today,” he promised. “The Hollywood police are finished with your car. I called them personally to have them bring it back to you today.”
She pretended to pout. “But now I like this car better. You will trade perhaps?”
Parker laughed. “You have an appreciation for fine things, Madame Chen.”
“Of course,” she said, her dark eyes twinkling. “My tastes are very simple, Detective. I like only the best.”
“Then you’ll say yes if I ask you to be my girlfriend?”
A blush tinted the apples of her cheeks. “I will say no such thing . . . until you take me for a ride in that car.”
Parker put his arms around her and gave her a hug. She protested and chattered at him in Chinese, but when he stood back, she was blushing and trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl.
“I’ll take you for a drive up the coast one day,” he promised. “We’ll have lunch and I’ll try to ply you with wine and charm. I’m full of charm, you know.”
She gave him a look. “You are certainly full of something, Detective Parker.”
“Kev!”
Tyler’s shout came over the side of the roof. Half a second later, the boy came bursting out the door.
“Wow! Cool car!”
“You think?” Parker said. “I came to take you and your brother for a ride.”
“Excellent!”
Ten minutes later they were on the road, the Jag growling beneath them, the wind in their hair, Tyler and Jace squished together in the passenger’s seat, sharing one seat belt.
“Isn’t this illegal?” Tyler yelled.
Parker cut him a quick glance. “What are you? A cop?”
“Uh-huh. I have a badge now.”
Parker had given the boy an honorary junior detective’s badge in appreciation for his exemplary service the night they had nailed Eddie Davis.
He found he liked playing uncle very much. Tyler Damon was a terrific little person. And Jace was something too. Brave and good. Both of them were damned amazing, considering the tough lives they’d had.
Parker suspected Jace had been born an adult. At nineteen he had a larger sense of duty and responsibility than ninety percent of the people Parker knew. Jace had geared his life to raising and protecting his little brother, doing what he had to do for Tyler to have a better life. Working two jobs and taking the train to Pasadena City College a couple of times a week to work toward getting a degree.
It seemed to Parker that no one deserved a break more than Jace Damon did. And he was about to give him one.
He turned the Jag in at the entrance to the Paramount lot and pulled up at the guard shack.
“Hey, Mr. Parker. Good to see you.”
“You too, Bill. My young friends and I are here to see Mr. Connors.”
“Who’s Mr. Connors?” Tyler asked.
“A buddy of mine,” Parker said. “Matt Connors. I do a little work for him on the side.”
Jace looked over at him, suspicious. “Matt Connors the movie director?”
“Writer, director, producer. Matt wears a lot of hats.”
“What kind of work do you do for him?”
“I . . . consult,” Parker hedged. “I was talking with him last night. He’s anxious to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve got a hell of a story to tell, kid,” Parker said. “And you might as well tell it to Matt Connors.”
He parked the Jag and they all piled out. Having been alerted by Bill at the gate, Connors met them at the car.
Matt Connors was good-looking in a younger Paul Newman kind of way—forty-five, handsome enough to work in front of the camera, but smart enough not to. On the list of successful people in Hollywood, Connors’s name was not far down the list from people like Spielberg.
“Kev Parker, my long-lost friend and script savior!” Connors rejoiced, throwing his arms around Parker. Then he stepped back and said, “Where the hell are your notes on
“I’ve been a little busy saving the city from violence and corruption,” Parker said.
Connors rolled his eyes. “Oh,
“More like secret undercover agents,” Parker said. “This is Jace Damon and his brother, Tyler. I was telling you about them.”
“Right,” Connors said, sizing them up as if he was already casting their roles in his head.
The three of them shook hands. Jace looked suspicious of the whole setup. Tyler was wide-eyed.
“Can we see somebody doing special effects on a computer?” Tyler asked. “I’ve been reading all about the latest technology in computer animation, and . . .”
The boy rattled on like an audio encyclopedia.
“Tyler has an IQ of one sixty-eight,” Parker remarked.
Connors’s brows went up. “Wow. That’s more than you and me put together.”
“So we get to look around?” Jace asked. He was already looking, Parker noticed, and trying very hard not to appear excited about it.
Connors spread his arms wide. “Matt Connors, personal tour guide, at your service, gentlemen. Let’s take a walk. I’ll show you where all the magic happens.”
They started down the lot, Parker and Connors flanked by the two boys, the California sun spilling over them like molten gold, the world of dreams spread out before them.
“So, Kev,” Connors said. “What have you got to say for yourself?”
Parker put a hand on Connors’s shoulder and said, “My friend, have we got a story for you. And for a generous price that would put him through college and graduate school, I’m guessing Jace here would be happy to tell it to you.”
Connors nodded, turned to Jace, and said, “How about it, kid? You want to be in the movie business?”
Jace stared at him, his brain stalling out. “A movie? About me? About what just happened?”
“Right,” Connors said. “I already have the perfect title. We’ll call it
BANTAM BOOKS
BY TAMI HOAG
