Page 97 of Fame And Secrets
“I’m so sorry, Pheebs.” Leaping forward, she sandwiched Iris between us. “I wasn’t being careless, I swear.” She walked toward the door. “It was nice to focus on a happy marriage for once.”
I couldn’t berate her. She looked so lost. I wanted to tell her everything would be all right, but that’d be a lie. Armando Mottola’s face was plastered on every tabloid across America. Three days ago, her husband had been found in an orgy with three Brazilian models who were doing lines of coke and shooting heroin. Of course, being a millionaire with connections in Hollywood, Armando had been released without a charge against him. The models weren’t so lucky. The moment their noses lifted from the straws, their careers were over. They’d have a public defender and orange jumpsuits for the next twenty to life.
Guess beauty isn’t everything.
Still, Faith had to live with the public shame of Armando’s constant philandering. Not that she hadn’t been doing some shaming of her own with Zane. I didn’t fully believe in an eye for an eye, but Armando had it coming. The man hadn’t been faithful to his wife a day in his miserable life. Just from what I’d heard, his dick had been in more zip codes than FedEx.
I squeezed her shoulder. “Faith, don’t beat yourself up. It was bound to happen sooner or—” The doorbell rang, interrupting me. Rolling my neck in frustration, I sighed. “Just wait, okay?”
“No,” she said, waving a hand. “I’ve got it. Keep feeding her or you’ll be all lopsided.”
With silence below me, I glanced down at my peaceful and angelic daughter, finally asleep.
I wanted to cry, because I knew I had to sit in the chair for hours. The moment I moved, she’d wake up and want to eat again. The only way I’d get any rest would be sitting in the weird J curved position no spine should ever be subjected to.
For the first time in forever, I missed my sister. I missed home.
“Sure, uh-huh. Thank you.” Faith closed the door with a brown package in her hand.
“What’s that?” Dumb question. As if she knew.
“Don’t know.” She flipped the package around a few times and shrugged. “No return address, but it’s addressed to you.”
“Well, I’m not waking the little princess here, so you’ll have to open it.” She slid a knife under the plain brown packing tape when the door pounded twice and busted open. First, I screamed, then Faith screamed, then Iris wailed like a half-crazed banshee. “What the actual fuck?” I shielded her as the lock splintered open and two security guards barreled in with guns drawn.
“Sorry, Mrs. Bale.” The taller one with a military style crew cut held up his palm as if to calm me. “McKellan here neglected to secure the perimeter from all incoming parcels like he was instructed by Mr. Bale.” His eyes shot to his side and narrowed. McKellan scowled, scrunching his face.
“Oh, Mr. Bale instructed mail fraud, did he?”
His eyes shot back to me. “No, ma’am. Not mail fraud. Mail scanning. Our instructions were clear. All incoming packages to you are to be opened by McKellan or myself, ma’am. It’s for your protection.”
“Mr. Bale is a little overprotective, don’t you think?” I shook my head at my husband’s paranoia. “I think government scanners do a pretty good job of protecting me.”
He stood at attention with his chin raised. “With all due respect, Mrs. Bale, in 2001, government scanners couldn’t protect a senator from getting a letter full of anthrax delivered to his office.” He holstered his gun. “Please allow me to do my job, ma’am.”
Closing my eyes, I took in the sight of my daughter. The innocence in her face seemed to ask why I hesitated in answering him. My stubbornness had to be checked at the now splintered door.
“Fine, Mr…”
“Everson, ma’am. My name is Everson.”
“Fine, Everson. You do what you have to.” I moved from the recliner to the kitchen. “Just never call me ma’am again or you’re fired.” His eyes widened and the stoic expression momentarily wavered. A small smile played on my lips. “It’s Phoebe…and I’m kidding.”
“Yes, ma—I mean Phoebe.”
Faith and I watched as they removed the packaging with pained accuracy. Finally, after I was ready to tear into it with a fork, they removed the brown paper wrapping and opened the box. Glancing inside, they exchanged confused stares.
“What is it? What’s inside?” I demanded.
Neither spoke. Everson pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures in rapid succession. As he started to close it back up, I lost it.
“Don’t ignore me! I want to know what’s inside.” Handing Iris to Faith, I rounded the kitchen island and wedged myself between them. As I reached for the box, McKellan grabbed my hand.
“Mrs. Bale, please, you don’t want to do that.”
“It’s Phoebe…and I’m pretty sure I do. Open the goddamn box.”
Everson sighed and nodded to his counterpart. As McKellan opened the box, I leaned my head inside, appraising its contents.