The phone pulses again, at the same time as the security gate.
Max, my attorney, is here, and my manager is on the phone.
I buzz Max in, making sure he shuts the gate and re-activate the system once he’s inside.
I show him through while I chat with my manager, Jarred.
“Heard you had some trouble there,” Jarred starts.
“How’d you hear that?” I ask, noting Max’s guilty expression.
“Social media, actually,” Jarred adds defensively. “Those snakes don’t waste any time. You called Max yet?” he asks.
“He’s right in front of me,” I tell Jarred, deadpan, wanting to add that I’m thinking about suing him still too, but I think better of it.
I hear Jarred gulp audibly, which is enough for me.
I’ve had enough of all this for one day already.
I just want her back. I want my Ashlee where she belongs.
“Well, I’ve managed to smooth things over with Marcel. You can miss a few days of shooting, they’ll work around it.”
I shake my head to myself, this guy’s so far up himself.
“Oh, you smoothed it over with Marcel, did you?” I ask, not trying to hide my mood. He says something else but I hang up.
Asshole.
“Max, thanks for coming,” I tell him sincerely, making a mental note to ask him advice on finding new management and suing the one I have at some point.
But right now, I need Ashlee back. I need to hurt those pricks who are trying to make me out to be something I’m not.
“It’s cut and dry from what I gather,” Max says, thumbing his phone, tittering to himself.
Anyone else would think he’s ignoring me, but I know how he works. Six things on the go, and all at the same time. Max Schubert is always listening and he’s always planning his next move for his clients.
“Who’s the girl?” he asks, catching me off guard.
My face says it all, and without even looking up properly, he hums to himself.
“I see,” he murmurs, a coy smile playing on his lips.
“Oh, not you too Max!” I complain, but his hand is up.
“Easy, Tony, easy. I’m very happy for you. About time you found some peace in this life. A woman to settle down with, eh? I would never have thought I’d live to see the day,” he muses.
My own smile, then flushed face tells it all over again, I can’t slip anything by Max.
“This… mother of hers…” he continues without looking up, revealing how much he knows already.
“Foster mother,” I correct, making his brows arch and his pale gray eyes finally settle on mine.
“Foster mother then… even though the girl’s past the age of consent,” he concedes. “You know who she is?” he asks, a look of suspicion in his eyes.
“I have a fair idea, I think she’s…” I start to say, but the piercing wail of the security system makes us both jump, then Max covers his ears while I dash to the front of the house, killing the alarm before I reach the front door.
Swinging it open, I can see someone struggling to make it over the gate. More paparazzi.
Bastards.
“You’ll have to do something, and fast, Tony,” Max calls out from down the hall without getting out of his seat.
He’s older, and about three times larger than I am. Not the physical type and once he’s settled into a chair he likes to stay in it.
“I’d recommend swift civil and criminal action, the police are already communicating with my office,” he drawls, sounding disinterested but I can tell he’s enjoying himself.
Knowing he’ll win before he lifts a finger. It’s the kind of work he loves, why he became an attorney.
“We’ll start with that Kane fellow but moving along, we really need to do something about this girl’s foster mother,” he adds with a note of finality.
“You don’t need to worry about your movie either,” he continues.
“Cases like this, with the history that prick Kane has, his association with that woman… you’ll be rich,” he teases me, as we both know neither of them have any real money.
I’ll be paying more than anything I could possibly win in damages with his fee, but I’m a man of principle.
And where Ashlee’s concerned, it’s nothing. I need to clear my name and get her back, but getting her back means more than anything else.
“How long ago was it, Tony?” Max asks, suddenly. “Twenty… twenty-two years ago?”
I rub my chin with my thumb, hearing the stubble scrape and still tasting Ashlee, feeling her sweet drenched pussy in my mouth.
“How long ago was what?” I ask Max naively.
“You know,” Max says firmly, almost looking like he’ll stand up to lecture me, but thinking better of it, he decides to give me a serving from his chair.
“You should have pursued it back then!” he says. “See how these crazy fans never forget? They bear a grudge far longer than you can recall, long after they’re hushed up and forgotten about. I told you to file a restraining order back then and you ignored me.”
“That was before Ashlee,” I hear myself growl, getting defensive again, wanting her instead of all this crap in my day.
Things were going great until that prick started filming us, until her mother…
Her foster mother.
“Alright, Max. I do know her, I do remember. What do we do now?” I ask him, holding my hands out, palms up in resignation.
But not resigning myself from my own secret mission to bring Ashlee home.
The rest of the world can burn for all I care, I just want Ashlee.
I will have Ashlee.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ashlee
Stacy’s playing the underdog foster parent, all the way home and then all the way up the path to our front door. I pretend not to notice her schmoozing with the guy who drove us home, but figure she’s putting out a lot more than just photos and information.
Ugh.
If I had a real dad… hell, even a foster dad, now would be the time they pulled her up and asked her what the fuck she thinks she’s up to.
But, without that in
