“I did,” Alix replied. “That I could use a hand with. Thanks.”
Layla and Dad went with Alix out the front door, and I hung back a moment. As soon as they were gone I pulled my phone out of my pocket and hit speed dial. It was only about five thirty, and while I figured Vince might have taken off for the weekend, I knew he carried his phone with him all the time.
I was right—Vince picked up in only two rings. “Hey Kade, what’s going on?”
Vince knew I wouldn’t be the one initiating a call unless there was a serious reason for it, and he was all business from the beginning. It was time to put Vince’s instincts on the trail, whether I was mixing business with family or not. A bitch to her mother, sure. An ungrateful stepdaughter? Absolutely. But that didn’t mean she deserved to be abused, and what was on her face was a textbook abusive beat down.
“Vince, I need to you to track something down for me. I don’t have a lot of info, so just start with this and if I find out more I’ll send it along. You know my stepsister, Alix Nova, right?”
“You’ve mentioned her,” Vince said. Vince was a fan of the model type, although he struck out frequently with them whenever he had a chance to talk to one. “But yeah, I know who you’re talking about. Why?”
“I need to know more about a photo shoot she was involved with today. She said it was for Men’s Health. I want to know who else was there, and what happened there today. Think you can do that?”
“Timeline?” Vince asked.
“Send me what you can find out by midnight. I’ll touch base again Monday at noon,” I replied. “Sorry if I’m interrupting Friday night plans.”
“Not a problem. Is this a billable thing, or no?”
“No, no tracking of hours. Just a bonus next paycheck from my pocket.” While there were certain risks to not telling Vince it was for a client, specifically that it didn’t incur attorney client privilege, I’m not in the habit of lying to my employees if at all possible. “Think you can get something?”
“Let me get on it. I’ve got a frat brother down in Los Angeles in the publishing industry. Maybe he can get me some information.”
I saw Alix, Layla and Dad walking back in from the front and I quickly ended the call, putting my phone away as the door opened. “Sorry guys, I got a call from the office. Nothing major, just a client who needed their hand held on a contract negotiation.”
“Oh? Anything pressing?” Dad asked, a bit of anxiousness in his voice. I smiled and shook my head, putting him at ease.
“Not at all. The guy’s still got nearly a season and a half left on his current deal,” I said, quickly pulling a client profile out of my head but carefully avoiding saying any names. “He just wants to get more guaranteed money locked in before the trade deadline. He thinks if he doesn’t, he’s going to be put on the trade market for some big free agent or something. Here, I’ll carry Alix’s bags upstairs for you guys.”
Layla laughed, and Alix gave me a shy smile, one that, for the first time since I’d seen her step into the house, actually looked genuine. Still, I wasn’t totally at ease, even as I walked up the stairs and dropped the bags off on her bed. I just couldn’t get the image of her bruised eye out of my mind, nor the way she tried to play it off.
Chapter 5
Alix
The first night home was actually one of the more pleasant ones I’d had in a long time. Derek Prescott isn’t a bad guy, I just felt bad for him being taken in by my mother. Still, there were none of the probing questions from her, and even Kade seemed nicer than usual as we went out to dinner at Studio at the Montage, a really top-flight restaurant in Laguna Beach. I blushed when about halfway through our dinner, a teenage boy who couldn’t have been older than fourteen came up to our table and asked me for an autograph. The staff was about to escort the boy away and maybe even throw him and his family out when I waved them off and instead asked my server for a pen. Used to accommodating any request within reason, I soon had a marker in my hand and signed the boy’s magazine, which looked like it had been rolled up or carried in a book bag for quite a while. He blushed when I gave the picture a kiss as well and handed it back.
“That was nice of you,” Derek commented to me. “Do you do that for every autograph?”
“I don’t get asked very often,” I replied, “but even then, no. It’s just that, well, you know this place. That boy’s family probably won’t get reservations for the next year after that little stunt of his, and he just looked so tied up in knots when he came over to ask. And he was nice about it too, you know. Kind of sweet.”