“I’ll come and make you dinner then,” she said.
I was usually okay if Nicky came alone, but I was looking forward to spending the week by myself. I was good one-on-one with those few in my inner circle, but my ritual required solitude.
I hugged Nicky and took the tiara off her head as my driver pulled up to the curb. Props helped me slip into a role and I would be practicing all week. “I need it for rehearsal.”
She pouted and immediately took out her phone and snapped a picture of me, then tapped a message to her boyfriend.
My usual driver hopped out, jogged around to the back passenger’s seat, and opened the door. I scanned up and down the street. There was something about the everyday shuffle of people coming and going that told me there would be no surprise cameras stuck in my face.
I tucked the tiara under my arm. With my head down and sunglasses on, I dashed outside, then slid inside the nondescript Mercedes sedan my personal assistant always requested. I didn’t look up until the door closed. No one looked my way. I smiled.
For once, I was just another person being picked up in L.A. Those actors who claimed to want anonymity but rode everywhere in limousines with an entourage of assistants and security, who looked like they just traded their machine guns and fatigues for Glocks and suits, didn’t really mean it.
I closed my eyes until we stopped at the guard’s booth outside of my house. My window rolled down, and I leaned forward so that the security guard could see my face on the security monitor. The gate opened and the driver circled my driveway. I hopped out before he could open his door.
“Good night, Ms. Abernathy,” he said. There was just enough professionalism in his voice, but I didn’t miss the sly smile he gave me indicating that he’d come upstairs and do his best to satisfy me just because I was the Lara Abernathy. Lara Abernathy wasn’t even my real name, just some amalgam of my parents’ names hatched up for me when I was five.
His car idled behind me as I punched in the code to the door and turned the key. Jesus, the sky looked like it was midnight instead of dusk. Was there some lunar event happening?
Maybe it had something to do with the endless rolling power outages.
I half-turned and waved the driver on, before stepping into the foyer and kicking off the shoes that felt like I had been walking on two blocks of steel all night. I stuck my feet in my favorite comfy black and gold bedroom slippers.
A soak in the tub with the jets on full blast and wine would remedy that. Afterward, thirty minutes with a toy from my treasure box at the back of my closet. Maybe.
In the kitchen, I took out a bottle of champagne from the wine cooler and uncorked it, pouring a crystal flute full of effervescent heaven. I took it through the living room to the solarium, where a copy of my movie script lay on the side table. I had already memorized my parts and could confidently prompt others when they stumbled; I was known for that.
I had been working steadily since I was five and would continue to do so as long as I maintained my professional demeanor. Some of my actor friends, more volatile than I, struggled with long periods without knowing when they would work again.
I put the tiara on my head. One read through of the script and I could soak until I was wrinkled, then slather my body from head to toe in oils and lotions.
As I walked by the French doors leading out to the pool, something white loped by. I stopped and looked across the pool to the other side. Nothing moved in or around the pool house.
If my neighbor’s Komondor had somehow found its way into my backyard again to leave a mess for my gardener to cleanup, I needed to send my housekeeper to talk with her housekeeper again. I should never have given the dog a treat the first time he sneaked by the gardener.
I unlocked the patio door and padded outside to check the side gate. It was locked. My gardener and housekeeper were always good about securing the house before they left.
I turned around.
Standing in front of the pool was some animal. Not a Komondor or any kind of sheep dog, but some kind of white furry animal with a big head, black eyes and long, thin legs. Not an animal I’d ever seen.
My heart rate ticked up. It looked at me intently with a focused wildness in its eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn’t on the list of allowed pets from the homeowner’s association. It would have easily fit in without any modifications on the movie posters displayed at the producer’s penthouse.
I just stood there. Don’t freeze, my self-defense instructor’s voice said in my head.
Wait a minute, this isn’t real. Nicky had followed me. The way she drove, she could beat my driver over here if she wanted. She, my manager, and agent were the only ones on the access list. In a week, I would be in full costume on a science fiction movie set. This was a joke. Not a funny one though.
Without taking my eyes from the creature, I stepped towards the house. Someone was not going to get the sweet Lara Abernathy reaction they expected.
“This isn’t in my contract, guys. Call my agent, my manager.” I kept walking slowly toward the French doors.
No one knew about this address. It was under an LLC only my lawyers knew about. Most people thought I lived at the condominium where my manager paid the landlord to pretend I lived. My agent scheduled sightings of me going in there occasionally. Some of the residents who lived there but had never seen me believed the press.
“Joke over, okay. Whoever sent you is in
