Double Exposure Page 3

  “Why was Marvin his custodian?”

  “He said that no matter what else failed him, Marvin was the constant gardener in his life.”

  It sounded nuts, like some kind of wacky comedy. The crazy reclusive director. The loony studio owner who was about to go get him released. She opened the folio. There was a custodial agreement inside and her name was on it. There was also a key.

  “Why is he being released so late in the day?”

  “He lives about an hour away from the sanitarium. He likes watching the sun set as he makes his way home.”

  Kate let out a deep breath. “OK. I’ll go sign out a crazy genius. What’s this for?” She held up the key.

  “That’s to his house. If it’s any consolation to you, once he’s done with his movie, the studio will have another masterpiece in its vault. He always comes through. The stress you’re going to endure will be worth it for everyone involved, especially Max. Take him somewhere to get a good steak. He’ll like that. Oh, and I’ll alert the marketing and legal departments of his release tomorrow. They’ve become accustomed to weathering the verbal storm that is Max Garcia.”

  Kate nodded slowly, still reeling a little from this unexpected curveball thrown her way. She pointed to the envelope she’d brought Virginia. “Aren’t you going to open your belated gift from Marvin?”

  “It’s not every day you get correspondence from a dead friend. I’ll do it tonight over a glass of wine.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  After a grueling all-day session with Jack about their upcoming movie sequel, Chris took the corner of the winding road on his motorcycle at a much slower pace than he wanted. His instincts were screaming to hit the throttle and lean into it, but he’d play it safe. Kate wasn’t thrilled that he’d gotten a Ducati Multistrada 1200, but he assured her he’d cut down on the speed demon routine. Life had changed a lot since the accident that almost turned him into roadkill. He’d been doing his best to be more responsible so Kate wouldn’t worry. After the police had no luck finding the driver of the black car that had bumped him off the road, they’d written the whole thing off as “a dodgy night-driving hit and run by a passing car.” But he and Kate knew better. They’d both been healing from their brushes with death. Kate still had nightmares from that attempt on her life that night at Clara and Marvin’s house. She’d wake up screaming some nights, but she didn’t want to talk about it. His hands clenched so tightly on the grips it was a wonder he didn’t rip them off. The idea that someone out there wanted her hurt or worse made his blood boil.

  Although they were nominated for best supporting actor and best director for The Knock Around Boys, neither one of them won the coveted award. But the recognition had fueled Jack to make sure they had a great script. Jack’s vision for the sequel was right on track. The expansion of his character Danny was taking on a life of its own, in no small part thanks to the audience response to his performance in the first movie. His character was the anti-hero who never failed to do the right thing in the end. He’d been lauded as some great character actor when the truth was that Danny was just a fictional version of him. He’d gotten involved in some crazy situations over the years, but his moral code usually reared its head before he went completely off the rails.

  He’d been in the midst of gearing up for a wild lifestyle when he’d met Kate. He now stayed away from people and influences that would be harmful to both of them. Kate was constantly getting skewered in the press; he didn’t want to do anything to add fuel to the fire.

  He cruised into his neighborhood, looking forward to being home. He never tired of the California palms swaying in the wind or the smell of the ocean. The hot temps and dry heat of a grueling day usually gave way to cooler temps in the evening. A minute later, Chris pulled into the garage and cut the engine. There was a mound of scripts on the coffee table that his agent Stan had sent over to review, but right now Chris was only interested in surfing. These days he was more discerning about the work he’d auditioned for after the stress of doing that last movie with the hot love scene. Sure it was all make believe, but he’d leave the pretend sex to the hungrier actors were either single or didn’t mind rationalizing the whole fake process to their spouses.

  Turning down movies with the sexual component had limited him a bit, but he didn’t care. He liked being the last action guy. After three big movies, audiences expected him to do daring stunts that seemed impossible. It was fun, but it was also hard work, required peak physical conditioning, and took more of a disciplined mind than one imagined. On the set, he got homesick more frequently. Before he’d married Kate, being away from his everyday life for months at a time wasn’t an issue. Lately he’d been feeling that each time he went away their relationship went on hold until he’d returned from making movie magic. They’d talked about having kids, and he worried about disappearing from a child’s life too. It was funny how things worked out. The demand for him in films was reaching a fever pitch, and all he wanted to do was catch a few waves before Kate came home.

  He opened the panel to disable the alarm, but he saw that it had already been turned off. There were no other cars in the garage or the driveway. A flash of fear tore through him. His mind immediately went back to the danger that he and Kate had been in so recently. There could have been a reasonable explanation for the deactivation, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Chris grabbed a wrench off the table, turned the doorknob, and slowly eased into the house. As he got closer to the kitchen, he could hear the sound of the ocean. The patio door was open, but he didn’t see anyone sitting on the deck. He raised the wrench above his head and ventured out only to slam into the would-be intruder coming back into the house.

  “Scar! You scared the shit out of me!” Chris threw the wrench on the counter.

  “Nice to see you too Chris.” Scar eyed the tool. “What were you going to do? Tighten me to death with that thing.”

  “I was thinking more of a hairline fracture to the skull. What are you doing here? I thought you were guarding Kate all day.”

  “She got a call from Virginia. Sounds like she’s going to have a late afternoon at Pinnacle. So she sent me on an errand.” She leaned against the counter. “How was your meeting with Jack that I wasn’t allowed to go to?”

  “You know Jack. He bounced some ideas around, but I don’t think he really needed my help. He’s thinking about taking on a fantasy trilogy and asked if I was interested in one of the roles.” He opened the fridge and took out the orange juice decanter.

  “Are you interested?”

  “Not really. The shooting schedule would be insane, and I don’t want to be away from home that long. I’d also have to don a cape and sword, grow my hair out, and there are some prosthetics involved with the character’s look. Can you imagine me as an elf king?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “And I peeked at the script. I draw the line at proper grammar. From what I read it seems like a friggin’ flute should be playing every time the elf king opens his mouth.”

  “Be that as it may, it will probably be a monstrous hit. Fantasy is still pretty big.”

  He grinned. “I’ll deal with that regret in three years when it’s released.”

  “I read some of the scripts on the table. Anything catch your eye?”

  “It’s all run-of-the-mill.” He laughed. “Action, moderate violence, and gratuitous sex. There’s one set in outer space. They seem to think it has blockbuster potential. They said I’d enhance the true A-listers already on board because my popularity quotient is up. Although, I could do without the sex romp. Can you imagine me in a space suit? That’s about as crazy as me in Victorian garb pretending to be an English nobleman. I got a script for that the other day.”

  “Mutton chops would not be a good look for you.” She scrunched her nose.

  “Stan says I should stay away from science fiction and period movies. I’m not hopeful on this one. I practically Skyped in my audition.”

  She smil
ed. “You have a very contemporary look. You belong in the here and now.”

  “I suppose I am. Kate has anchored me to reality better than I could have ever hoped.” His stomach growled. “Since Kate will be working late at the studio, how about I make us something to eat?”

  “I could go for a bite,” Scar replied.

  “What do you want?”

  “She raves about your Mexican food. Whip me up the best taco I’ll ever eat.”

  Chris’s cell phone rang. He looked at the display. It was his old Darwin. “Hey man, long time no hear.”

  There was silence for a moment, then Darwin finally spoke but sounded garbled. “Chris, man, I’m in trouble.”

  “Darwin, I can barely hear you. Speak up.”

  “I need your help. I messed up, man. I was supposed to drop off a truckload of chickens and was half way to New Mexico when someone jacked the shipment of chickens. Now these chickens are all running loose and I can’t catch them! And my suppliers are threatening to wring my neck.”

  First of all, Chris knew the chickens Darwin was referring to had to be drugs. Either that or his friend had finally gone off the deep end for good. They’d known each other for three years before he realized that when his friend said he was going to get a two piece from the Colonel, he was really talking about scoring dope. Over the years there was always something crazy going on with Darwin. How the police had given him a ticket for operating a petting zoo without a license. How he had spent all his rent money on pizza bites and couldn’t afford bail. Everything in him screamed call the police, but he was pretty sure Darwin had enough strikes against him and would end up in prison for at least twenty years.

  The hairs on the back of Chris’s neck stood up as he listened to his friend’s frantic tale. Since the people couldn’t get their “chickens” back, they wanted sixty thousand dollars. And they’d kidnapped Darwin and were holding him to make sure they got their money. “Where are you? OK, I’ll see what I can do.”

  Darwin was able to rattle off an address before the line went dead. He hadn’t spoken to his friend in a while, but it was no surprise he was in trouble again. Mutual friends said they’d also lost touch with the mechanic.

  “Fuck!” Chris paced the kitchen.

  Scar folded her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “That was my friend Darwin. Sounds like he’s in trouble.”

  Scar frowned. “What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind that requires sixty grand to get him out of it or he’ll start losing body parts.” Chris avoided her meeting her gaze.

  “Is he a good friend?”

  “What?”

  “Is he a good friend?”

  “When he’s not drugging, he’s the best.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have sixty grand lying around. I can go to the bank in the morning.”

  Darwin hadn’t been right for a while. He’d been Chris’s first friend when he’d come to California to pursue his acting dream. He’d met him on the beach after he’d wiped out for the fifth time that day. Darwin told him his technique was crap and he could show him a few pointers if he bought him lunch. They’d bonded that day over surfing and shared their pie-in-the-sky dreams of making it big. Now that fun-loving guy who loved to surf was long gone. The recreational drug use at parties had morphed into an everyday event.

  Scar went over to her duffle bag next to the end table by the couch and opened it. Chris was shocked to see the bag was stuffed to the gills with money neatly arranged in stacks with money wrappers. More than enough to cover what they needed.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Why do you have a crapload of money just sitting in a bag in the living room?”

  “It’s my go bag. Don’t you have one?”

  “Uh no. Merlot could have taken a piss on it.”

  “I doubt that a dog with a diamond collar would take a whizz on a bag full of money.”

  “Scar, I can’t let you do this. I don’t know what we’ll be walking into when we get there.”

  “Which one of us is the bodyguard?”

  “You. But—”

  “Then let me fix this. You can pay me back tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” he growled. “But I’m going with you.”

  She gave him a long, measuring look. “It’s my job to keep you out of danger. But let me guess, you’re not going to back down are you?”

  He only crossed his arms and stared back at her.

  She smirked. “Well then, what are we waiting for, Mr. Action Hero?” She turned, grabbed her car keys, and headed for the door.

  “Scar,” he called after her.

  She stopped and glanced back, eyebrow raised.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She only nodded. They left together. Headed into God-knew-what.

  * * *

  Chris had a bad feeling and the sketchy neighborhood and seemingly abandoned factory they were headed toward didn’t make him feel any better. The last time they’d spoken, Darwin said he’d bought a garage to restore custom cars. He was happy and sober. Chris had thought his friend was on the mend.

  And now this…

  The factory was surrounded by a gated fence, so Scar parked near a gaping hole that was big enough to walk through on the west side of the building. As soon as she put the parking brake on and cut the lights, a knot formed in his stomach. What was he doing? Endangering Scar’s life for a criminal friend. It was one thing to watch over him, but to ride shotgun to pay off some thugs who’d kidnapped his friend was above and beyond.

  She hadn’t said much during the ride, but he’d noticed she’d hit a button on the console that had activated the GPS. He’d thought about calling Kate, but he didn’t want her to worry. This was insane, and she’d surely talk him out of the half-assed rescue mission. He was halfway to talking himself out of it already and just letting the police handle it. It was funny how Darwin’s bad habits were the reason he’d met Kate in the first place. But he certainly didn’t want to have those same bad habits to cost him Kate.

  Chris followed Scar’s lead as she got out of the vehicle and opened the trunk.

  “Put this on,” she said sternly, handing him a bullet-resistant vest. She took off her jacket and proceeded to put on her own vest.

  Chris pulled his shirt over his head, strapped on the vest, then put his shirt back on.

  “These people in this building don’t care anything about you, me, or Darwin,” Scar said grimly. “Your friend said they wanted their money and let’s hope he’s not lying. When they find out we’re in the building it is going to get hectic real quick. Your objective is to get Darwin out of there alive. Here.” She opened a black bag and handed him a 9mm pistol. “Be careful. It’s loaded.”

  “What’s this for?”

  “Well…” Scar took out her own gun and checked the magazine. “We’re going into a dilapidated building with sixty thousand dollars to rescue your friend, the ex-drug addict. To say this sounds fishy would be a gross understatement.”

  “Then why not make them come out to us?”

  “This isn’t Saturday at the swap meet. Because there’s a bigger chance of being seen if we’re out in the open trading your friend for a bag of money. And being seen means cops. And cops mean your friend does hard time for his role in this.”

  Chris looked at the gun. It felt different from the prop guns he’d used in his movies. This one felt heavy, like it had the weight of the world on it. “I guess I can’t yell cut if real bullets start flying our way.”

  “We’ve been to the range together. You’re a good shot and have good instincts. Only shoot if you have to, and I mean that as a last ditch measure. There’s no taking back a bullet once you fire it at someone.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “This is a simple retrieval mission. I’ve done it a thousand times. Stay on my six and move when I move. We’re here for Darwin, but you’re still my priority. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  They eased through the fenc
e and made their way to a loading dock. They went in through an unguarded back door and searched each room one by one. Finally they found the room where the men were. Scar had told him in the car to be mindful of his surroundings and sounds. Chris counted four men in the room, and someone could be heard milling around in a smaller room. From the distance he could see Darwin in there, tied to a chair and groaning. He looked he’d taken a beating, but thankfully he was alive.

  Scar held her finger to her lips and motioned for him to keep moving. They were only a few feet away when the men realized they were in the room too and aimed their weapons at them.

  The leader, a tall scruffy-looking dude wearing a black leather vest, spoke first. “Stop right there.”

  “We’re here with the money.” Scar held up the bag. “Sixty grand in compensation for your lost chickens.”

  “Count it.” The guy nodded to the big burly dude in the Hawaiian shirt who was eating his dinner.

  Hawaiian Shirt put down the rotisserie chicken leg he’d been gnawing and wiped his hands. He then took a swig of his soda before coming over and grabbing the bag. He took his sweet time counting the money and when he was finished, he nodded to his boss. “It’s all there.”

  A guy wearing a grimy denim jacket stared at Chris. “Hey, aren’t you that actor, Chris Cavanaugh.”

  Chris looked at Scar. Of all the times to meet a fan, this had to be the most inappropriate. Not knowing what to say since he was accustomed to blurting out “yes,” he said the first thing that came to his mind.

  “If I were movie star Chris Cavanaugh you’d think I’d be here doing a money exchange? I’d be on a beach somewhere with my hot wife. The name’s Cage.”

  The men looked at each other, confused, then they burst into laughter. Finally one of them spoke.

  “Too bad for you, then.” Grimy Jean Jacket Guy said.

  Scar interrupted. “You have the money. Where’s Darwin?”

  Scruffy Tall Dude looked at Big Hawaiian Shirt Guy. “Tiny. Go get that idiot.”