Under My Skin Page 5

“You’re such a fool. ”

  Her voice was thick with tears, and for a moment, Jackson was certain he must have misunderstood.

  “Do you have any idea what that means to me? That you have that much faith in me? That you’d trust me with the most precious thing in your life?”

  He stared at her, a little bit shell-shocked. Had he heard her right? Did she understand what she was saying?

  “I haven’t got a clue how to play Mommy,” she continued. “But I love you, Jackson—those aren’t just words, and they sure as hell aren’t temporary. ” She brushed her hand over his cheek. “Whatever you need, remember? And those aren’t just words, either. For better or worse, we’re getting through this. And we’re doing it together. ”

  He didn’t answer. Not yet. All he wanted to do was look at her. To breathe her in and let her words fill his head. Because they were damn good words.

  For better or worse . . .

  Someday, he thought. Someday she’d say those words to him again and he’d put a ring on her finger.

  But first, they had to survive everything that was yet to come.

  five

  Our destination—the office of Bender, Twain & McGuire—takes up three floors in 2049 Century Park East, one of the two iconic triangular shaped towers that comprise the Century Plaza Towers in Century City. They rise up ahead of us, shining against the night sky, as Jackson maneuvers his beloved black Porsche down Santa Monica Boulevard, cutting a straight path from my condo to our destination.

  I’ve always loved these towers—the sleek, clean lines and the soft gleam of the aluminum facade. The towers truly shine when they are set against the backdrop of the blue California sky. But even after dark, they stand like monuments, reflecting the power and prestige of the area and the people who live and work here.

  “He’s on my regret list,” Jackson says, pointing to the towers.

  “He? You mean Yamasaki?”

  Jackson grins. “I should have known you’d be familiar with him. Along with Frank Lloyd Wright, Minoru Yamasaki is one of the people I always invite to dinner when I play that game. ”

  “Who you’d have at your table, either living or dead?”

  “Exactly. Wright passed away before I was born, and I think I would have been about four when Yamasaki died. I was building things with my Legos back then, but even if I had clued in to my desire to be an architect, I don’t think he would have taken my call. ”

  I can’t help my smile. “Probably not. He’s on my list, too,” I admit. “There’s such an elegant majesty to his buildings, you know?” Minoru Yamasaki may have been the original architect for the towers in Century City, but he’s most well-known for the original World Trade Center.

  We stop at a light, and Jackson turns to me. “I haven’t taken you on an architectural tour of Los Angeles yet. We should do that soon. Maybe next weekend. ”

  “Don’t,” I snap, my voice harsher than I’d intended. “Don’t try to keep my mind off what’s going on around us. Don’t try to pretend that everything is fine. Like it or not, this is reality now. ”

  “Syl . . . ” The light changes, but he doesn’t move forward.

  “No, I mean it,” I say, as a car behind us honks. I turn around and glare at the idiot in the convertible—some overly made-up blonde who looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, then I turn back to Jackson, even more irritated than I was before. “Go,” I say, but he’s already moving.

  We drive in silence for another block. Jackson’s got both hands on the wheel, and an uncomfortable tension has filled the car, completely obliterating the sense of normalcy that had been between us just a few moments ago.

  Good.

  Because this isn’t normal. Nothing is normal. And we have to remember that. We have to fight it.

  Except, dammit, how do you fight the evidence? The police? A horrible reality that’s edging closer and closer?

  “Do you think I don’t understand the stakes?” Jackson’s voice is level, but firm.

  “I think you’re trying to make it better for me,” I say. “And you can’t. Not like that. ” I kick off my ballet flats and pull my legs up onto the seat, then rest my chin on my knees as I hug myself. “You need to do what they say, Jackson. Evelyn. The attorneys. I mean it. Exactly what they say. ” Page 18

  “Christ, Syl. ” I hear the temper in his voice. “I’m not paying them to then ignore them. ”

  “No, but you fly off the handle sometimes. ” I know that I should just shut up now, but I can’t seem to close my mouth. “You can’t do that anymore. You’re already on trial in the media, and you need to be careful. You need to be smart. ”

  He slows to make a right turn, and as he does the streetlights illuminate his face in the same moment that I am looking right at him. I see the hard lines. The harsh angles. “I know,” he says simply. No argument, no reproach. And just that simple acknowledgment makes me sag with relief.

  “It’s just that—” I draw in a breath, then spit it out. “I don’t know if you killed him or not, Jackson. I don’t know because you haven’t told me, and that’s fine because I get that Charles doesn’t want you to say. But whether you did or not, I know you could have. Hell, I know you probably wanted to. And if I can see that—”

  My voice breaks and I draw in a breath before trying again. “If I can see that, then what is a jury going to see?”

  There is fear underscoring my voice, and I know that he hears it. But he doesn’t reach for my hand. He doesn’t try to console me. I’m grateful; right now, I need harsh, cold reality. Not platitudes.

  “You see me,” he says simply. “You know that I’d do whatever is necessary to protect you. To protect Ronnie. ” He draws a slow breath. “But a jury won’t see that. That’s my heart, baby. And my heart is only for you. ” He reaches over and strokes my cheek. “It will be okay. ”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I have to. ”

  The underground parking garage is huge, but he manages to snag a guest slot near the elevator bank. As we walk that way, I check my phone one more time. Not that I’m loving being inundated with the social media bullshit, but I can’t ignore it. If we’re going to talk about the entire picture of Jackson’s defense, handling the media is going to come up. And not only do I need to know for Jackson’s sake, but also for the sake of the resort. Dallas Sykes may be completely on board, but I’m still not confident about the rest of the investors, and too much bad press just might tip them over the edge.

  For the most part, what I find as I surf is more of the same—speculation about the assault and the movie and just general tabloid style gossip.

  But as we step onto the elevator, I’m knocked sideways—literally—by the tweet that flashes across my screen, and I grab on to Jackson’s arm to steady myself.

  “Are you okay—oh, shit,” he says when he sees my face. “What is it now?”

  I don’t want to show him, I really don’t, but it’s not like I can avoid it. I pass him my phone, trying very hard not to cringe in anticipation of his reaction.

  “Motherfucker. ”

  I wince despite myself, then glance over to see the screen even though what it says there is already burned into my mind: Damien Stark Half-Brother Jackson Steele Wanted for Questioning in Murder of Robert Cabot Reed #Scandal #Stark #Sordid #Steele

  “Yeah,” I say grimly. “That just about sums it up. ”

  There’s a link, too, and Jackson tries to follow it, but of course we’ve lost the signal. Doesn’t matter. If there’s one tweet, there are a thousand, and we both know that the press is now all over the fact that Jackson Steele and Damien Stark are brothers. And that both of these men have been on the wrong end of murder investigations.

  “How the hell did they find out?” He turns his attention from the phone to me. “It’s not like there’s any connection to Damien on my website. If that son of a bitch leaked it—”
>
  “No,” I say firmly. “He wouldn’t do that. Not without telling you. Not at all. ” But even as I say these words, I wonder. I truly don’t think that Damien would reveal this secret maliciously, but what if Evelyn said he needed to get ahead of it? What if she insisted he leak the story even while Jackson was still on the plane?

  I don’t know, so I don’t suggest it, especially since Jackson is so clearly on edge. As we rise, I stand beside him, feeling a strange mix of relief and sympathy. Sympathy that yet another piece of his personal life has been hijacked by the media. And relief that this time I am not the cause of the tension in his posture or the tight set of his jaw.

  When the elevator doors slide open on the twenty-fifth floor, we’re greeted by a willowy blonde who introduces herself as a legal assistant and offers to lead the way. Although it’s almost eight on a Sunday evening, over half the offices that we pass are populated by young associate attorneys, their faces glowing in the reflected light of their computers. A few assistants and secretaries man desks in the interior cubicles, and the clickety-clack of fingers on keyboards gives the office a busy, vibrant feel. Page 19

  Bender Twain is one of the country’s top law firms, and the activity in these halls—especially so late on a Sunday—goes a long way to explaining why.

  Charles’s office isn’t as large as Damien’s, but it’s still massive and easily holds Charles’s desk, a large oval conference table, a couch with two twenty-something men on it, and several comfortable chairs. Not to mention the bookshelves filled top to bottom with legal treatises, historical fiction, and stacks of files.

  We’re the last to arrive, and before I can even get my bearings or scope out the room’s occupants, Jackson strides past me, my phone still in his hand. “What the fuck is this?” He’s aimed like an arrow toward Damien, and I doubt that he sees anything or anyone else in this room.

  Damien is standing beside the conference table and barely even glances at the outstretched phone as Jackson approaches. But he does look up, his eyes cool and calm on Jackson’s face. “I didn’t say a thing,” he says evenly. “Believe me. I’m coming to terms with the idea of having a brother, but I wasn’t ready to go public yet. ”

  Damien glances at Evelyn, who is seated at the table with an open folio in front of her. “We’ve been talking about how to handle that announcement, and I wasn’t too happy that someone beat me to it. ” He almost smiles. “I thought it might be you, but based on your reaction, I’m thinking not. ”

  “It wasn’t,” Jackson confirms, and when I see the way his body relaxes slightly, I know that he believes Damien.

  “So how are you holding up?” Damien asks.

  “Fine. ” Jackson’s voice is clipped.

  “Bullshit. You’re scared,” Damien says. “And if you’re not, then you’re not as smart as I thought you were, because you should be. ”

  I stand frozen next to Jackson, and despite my rant in the car about facing reality, Damien’s words are making my stomach twist so violently, I fear I might actually throw up.

  “If you did it,” Damien continues, “you’re afraid that someone’s going to figure that out. If you didn’t do it, you’re even more afraid that you’ll end up in prison with a tight grip on the soap and your back to the wall, all because you told the wrong guy to fuck off, and that guy ended up dead.

  “It’s a screwed up situation. ” Damien’s voice, which had started out harsh, now takes on a more conciliatory tone. “And that’s why we’re all here. To make sure you don’t end up fucked. ”

  Jackson glances at me just long enough for me to see relief in his eyes. Then he turns toward Charles, who is approaching from where he’s been standing with a familiar-looking woman by the window near the bookshelf.

  “Let me make sure you know everybody,” Charles says. “Damien and Evelyn are givens, obviously, and you’ve already met my paralegal, Natalie. Those two are UCLA law students,” he says, pointing to the sofa and giving us the interns’ names. “And this is Harriet Frederick,” he adds, and I have to stifle a little gasp as he gestures to the woman with whom he’d been talking.

  Harriet Frederick is one of the most prominent criminal defense attorneys in California. Probably in the country. She’s poised and sharply dressed, but still has a semi-casual “working on Sunday” look about her. Her long hair is clipped back at the nape of her neck, and she wears minimal makeup. From what I can see, she doesn’t need much. She comes off as competent and sharp, and even if she’d just been one of the interns, I would be glad she’s on our team.

  But I’m even more glad because Harriet Frederick has been all over the news, and I know she consulted a few times with Charles from stateside when Damien’s trial went forward in Germany with local defense counsel. I knew that Charles was bringing someone else on board for Jackson’s case—while he was more than capable of bailing Jackson out after the assault, his specialty is corporate law, not criminal. But I hadn’t anticipated we’d get Harriet, and seeing her here is more than a relief—it’s like getting a shot of undiluted hope.

  She moves confidently across the room to shake Jackson’s hand. “Mr. Stark’s right. Being nervous is par for the course, but if you listen to me—if you’re honest with me—we’ll have a better chance of keeping you a free man. ”

  I lick my lips, hating what she’s not saying, but what I already know. That there are no guarantees. And even though she’s one of the most famous and well-regarded criminal defense attorneys out there, even Harriet Frederick cannot guarantee that I won’t lose the man I love to prison. Page 20

  “We’ll apply for a change of venue, but we won’t get it. And that means the jury is coming from this community, and this is a community that loves movies and celebrities—and that includes Reed. So that means I want you on your best behavior, Mr. Steele. ”

  “I understand. ”

  She looks him up and down as if taking his measure, then she nods in what I hope is approval. “Well, I guess we’ll see. ” She gestures to the table. “Why don’t we all sit down and get started?” We all sit, but she remains standing. “It’s unfortunate that we weren’t able to get ahead of the reveal about your relationship with your brother, but it’s relevant only to the extent that your overall persona is relevant. Unfortunately, in a high profile murder trial, your persona will be very relevant. ”

  Jackson is frowning, and I try to catch his eye. I want to know what he’s thinking, but he’s focused on Harriet, and I’m left to wonder.

  “Damien and Evelyn were putting together a plan to get ahead of this revelation. Now we’ll rework that to get on top of it. ”

  Evelyn nods. “I’ll have something ready by tonight. I imagine the vultures will be circling Stark Tower tomorrow, not to mention the Beverly Hills PD. ”

  “We’ll take Jackson in and out through the back,” Harriet says. “No face time with the press tomorrow. And while much of this case will be tried in the media, our primary focus still has to be the evidence and what it’s going to look like to a jury. ”

  She crosses her arms as she studies Jackson, looking much like a stylist in a high-end clothing store. “You’re not testifying. You’re not answering their questions tomorrow. You go, I answer for you. You’re relying on the Fifth Amendment, Jackson. ”

  “Won’t that make him look guilty?” I ask.

  She turns to me with a small shake of her head. “Better than him admitting he was in Reed’s house. Or, worse, not mentioning that he was there, and getting sideswiped when the forensics team finds evidence. Stay quiet, the police may never know. They’ll have a hard time proving Jackson killed Reed if they can’t prove he was at the crime scene. ”

  I nod. I understand all that—and I even get that pleading the Fifth doesn’t automatically mean a defendant’s guilty—but I can’t deny that the thought of it scares me, because I know that’s what the media will think. And the speculation will be everywhere.

 
“Sylvia. ” Harriet’s voice is gentle, and I realize that I’ve been staring at the tabletop. I look up at her. “As far as the press is concerned, he already looks guilty. Taking the Fifth won’t change that. But how he interacts with the public can, which is why he’ll be personable and likable. And,” she added with a quick glance toward Jackson, “he won’t lose his temper. ”

  “Damn right, he won’t,” Evelyn says. Evelyn Dodge is a Hollywood establishment and knows her way around PR better than anyone. I’m thrilled she’s on Jackson’s side. I’m even more thrilled that she’s a friend.

  She indicates Charles and Harriet. “We’ve been strategizing for the last few hours, and it comes down to you being gracious and charming. ” She lifts an eyebrow. “Assuming you can handle that. ”

  Jackson almost smiles. “I’ll do my best. ”

  “Don’t approach the press, wave them off if they get in your personal space—that’s fair. But when you comment, you’re charming. You’re accessible. You’re likable. ”

  “Am I?” Jackson says, and across the table, Damien chuckles.

  Evelyn raises a brow, and she reminds me of a mom trying to keep her kids in order. The thought makes me smile.

  “You hit him—that’s fine to admit, it’s not like we can hide it—but the rest of it? Well, you toss it back to Harriet and Charles. Damn attorneys making you stay quiet, otherwise you’d spill all. Just like talking to your best friends. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Jackson says.

  “You have a temper, young man,” she says once again, as she firmly meets his eyes. “Keep it under control. You don’t, and you’re fucking the case and yourself. Do you understand?”

  His jaw tightens, and I know he’s fighting back a retort. Because of course he understands. But all he says is, “Yes, ma’am. ”

  And it’s that “ma’am” that breaks the tension. Evelyn tilts back her head and guffaws. “Good lord, Jackson, that wasn’t meant to piss you off. ” She lifts a shoulder in an apologetic shrug. “This, though . . . well, this may rile you up a bit. ” Page 21

  As she speaks, she’s pulling a photograph out of her folio and sliding it across the table.

  I gasp at the same time Jackson says, very firmly and very evenly, “No fucking way. ”

  The picture is of Ronnie.

  “We need to get ahead of it,” Harriet says gently. “She’s in your life. And, honestly, there’s not much the press likes more than a single dad fighting for his kid. You want the press to love you? Let them see you caring about that little girl. ”

  Jackson says nothing, but he puts his palm over the photo, as if doing that can keep his daughter safe from all this.

  For a moment, no one says anything. Then Damien stands, circles the table, and leans back against it beside Jackson. “It’s going to come out. ” His voice is firm, but gentle. “And when it does, everyone will see the connection between your daughter and the movie—and it will be crystal clear why you didn’t want the movie to go forward. Get on top of it, and we can soften the impact. Wait, and it’s going to be brutal. ”