the fact their every move was still national news.
Naturally, they’d want anyone who worked for them in any way, shape or form to sign a confidentiality agreement.
“If I take the job, I’ll be more than happy to sign a confidentiality agreement. But you know as well as I do that won’t survive a subpoena, if it ever came to that.”
Loren gave me a faint smile. Of course he’d thought of that, the smile told me. “You will be paid by me, so you are acting as my agent, and are bound by client privilege.”
I nodded. “All right. What do they want me to do, Loren?”
He stood up. “Why don’t we let them tell you themselves? They’re waiting in one of the conference rooms.”
Jillian Long was a great beauty, with long thick beautiful red hair, porcelain skin, and the hugest, most amazing gray eyes-hauntingly beautiful eyes impossible not to notice and admire. But she was more than just another beautiful actress-her talent as an actress surpassed even her flawless beauty. She’d won an Oscar for one of her first films,
I’d lost track of her marriages, divorces, and lovers-it really wasn’t any of my business. But it was hard not to be aware of her personal life when headlines scream at you in line at the grocery store. When she’d hooked up with Freddy Bliss, a major new male star twenty-odd years younger than she was, it was as though entertainment journalists had died and gone straight to heaven-especially since Freddy had left his wife to be with Jillian. Freddy’s wife, Glynis Parrish, had been on the cover of every magazine telling her story of ‘heartbreak’ and moving forward. I think she may have even written a book, but I could be wrong. I don’t really pay that much attention to that kind of thing.
But one thing I liked about them was that ‘Frillian’ seemed dedicated to using their fame for charities and to help underprivileged people; not only in this country but around the world. Jillian had long earned a well-deserved reputation as an activist-and traveled the world on good will missions for the United Nations. Even before they met, Freddy was doing the same-but for inner-city neighborhoods and schools. Individually, they’d accomplished a lot. Together, they were accomplishing more. I’d been one of the people who’d been pleased when New Orleans recovery became one of their issues. The country had moved on from the disaster as though it had never happened-and they were working to make sure New Orleans wasn’t forgotten.
Even though I knew they were just two normal people, like me or anyone else, I felt more than a little nervous about meeting them in person.
When Loren led me into the conference room that opened just off his office, the first thing that struck me about them was that they were both rather, well, small. Granted, I’m six-feet-four and weigh 230 pounds, so I’m usually one of the bigger people around. But when Freddy Bliss rose from his chair and stepped toward me, flashing that big toothy smile that lit up movie screens and inspired the kind of passions in teenaged girls that frightened their parents, my first thought was,
I felt like I was grinning like an idiot, but couldn’t seem to stop. “Yes, sir, I did. I played four years, lettered three. And it’s Chanse.”
“Freddy’s become a big fan.” I turned and watched as Jillian Long rose from her chair in a steady languid motion, her face going from impassive mask to friendly warmth. Jillian Long was always picked for those ‘most beautiful women in the world’ lists, but I’d always assumed her great beauty was assisted by make-up, lighting and camera work. However, in person, with little or no make-up, she was even more beautiful than on film. Her skin was pale white, but had a strange shimmer and sheen to it that reminded me of mother of pearl. Her long, thick, reddish hair hung loosely past her shoulders, contrasting with her black cashmere sweater. Her thick lips were a pale pink, and I could see tiny blue veins in her neck.
Her large gray eyes looked as though they had a thin sheen of ice over them. She was shorter than Freddy, perhaps not even five feet tall. She was also wearing dirty white sneakers and worn-looking jeans. She was wearing very little make-up, and her voice was deep and throaty, which seemed strange given her slender frame. There were slight wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but she showed none of the tell-tale signs of having corrective work done. She looked very delicate, but her small hand gripped mine tightly.
“Every Saturday during football season, we live and die with the Tigers. I’m Jillian Long. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chanse.”
“The pleasure’s mine.” I somehow managed to pry the stupid grin off my face, and assumed what I hoped was a confident, professional smile.
“But you’re so young.” She frowned, and turned to Loren. “You didn’t mention he was-“ she waved one of the delicate hands in a graceful, fluttery move, “-so young.”
“I’m thirty-one.” I replied. What did my age have to do with anything? “And my record speaks for itself.”
Her eyes widened for just a moment, the pupils expanding and retracting as the hand she’d waved went to her throat. She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, of course. My apologies.” Her face relaxed into a charming smile. “I was just startled-I was expecting someone older. Do forgive me.”
“Not a problem,” I said, my face filling with blood.
I may have been only thirty-one years old, but I felt much older. I’ve killed two men in the course of my career-both times in self-defense, but it had taken a toll on me emotionally. My partner Paul’s death, the hurricane…in my thirty-one years I’d already seen a lifetime’s worth of tragedy and death and destruction.
“Let’s be seated. Does anyone need anything?” Loren asked, moving over to the end of the table where they’d been seated. He sat down at the head of the table. Freddy and Jillian went back to their seats, and I sat directly across the table from them, with Loren to my left. The chair was expensive, made of black leather, and so comfortable it seemed to wrap itself around my body.
“Are you willing to sign the confidentiality agreement?” Freddy asked, taking Jillian’s hand.
“It’s really very important to us.” She opened her eyes wider. She turned first to Freddy, then Loren, and finally looked me directly in the eyes. Her eyes were amazing, mesmerizing. The gray was flecked with gold, and they did seem to be sheathed in ice. It was impossible to gauge them, to get a sense of what she was thinking. “This is an incredibly sensitive matter. This cannot get into the press under any circumstances.”
A part of me wanted to say yes- which surprised me. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed, forcing down the unusual desire to please. “But you’re not willing to tell me anything until I sign it-and I’m not willing to sign something without knowing why I’m signing it. Or letting my own lawyer look at it first.” I smiled. “But in these four walls, it’s just us. Anything you tell me-well, all you’d have to do would be to deny it, right? And Loren can go along with you. My word against yours-and who am I?” I didn’t expect her to buy it, and I wasn’t disappointed.
“You’d be surprised.” Jillian said. Her voice was tired. “Everyone has their price, Chanse. And you’d be surprised what they’ll print-and what they’re willing to pay for it.” She closed her eyes. She fluttered her hand again. “You have no idea what it’s like.”
“No, you’re right, I don’t. I can’t even imagine what it’s like, and I don’t expect you to trust me right off the bat, either. So, we’re kind of at an impasse. I can’t help you unless…“ I pushed my chair back, and paused.
It worked.
“I’m getting threatening e-mails.” Freddy cut me off. Jillian spun her head quickly to stare at him, while Loren started to clear his throat. He held up his hand as Loren started to speak. “We want you to find out who it is.”
I stared at him for a moment, confused. Threatening e-mails? Why on earth did that need to be kept a secret? They had web-sites, surely, Myspace pages, you name it-there were any number of ways to send e-mails to them. And then I got it. “You mean on your private account? You think it’s someone you know, don’t you? Someone close to you. And that would be a scandal.”
Loren broke in. “Regardless of who it is, it would be tabloid fodder.” He started drumming his pen on the
