Chapter 3

      She’d planned to tell no one what happened last night. Especially Paige, because Nicki knew she would worry. But a few days later, while Nicki waited with Paige for the pop star’s car to arrive, the words tumbled out.

      “If my neighbor hadn’t come out when she did,” she finished, “I don’t know what might have happened. A part of me wants to believe this was just a scare tactic to see if I could be frightened into sending the cash.”

      Paige’s look was doubtful. “And the other part?”

      “Really wishes those store cameras could have captured their images so that I’d have concrete evidence of how they harassed me.”

      “But their car was on the tape?” Nicki nodded. “Then take that along with a statement from your neighbor and file a police report. You can’t ignore this, Nicki, or wish it away. I hope that night was the end of it, but if not, you’ll want to have everything that happened documented. Do you still have the messages Vince left on your phone?”

      “I think so.”

      “You need to keep all of that, and if he ever calls again, record it. And you need to tell Julian.”

      “Why would I do that?”

      “Because the more people who are aware of what’s happening, the better any future case might be. And because he’s the man who loves you.”

      Joe waved as he pulled the car to the curb.

      Nicki waved back and turned to walk away.

      Paige called after her, “Where are you going? Joe will take you home.”

      “And get used to such lavish star treatment? I’m fine on the subway.”

      Paige waved off the comment and walked toward her. “Marry Julian and you’ll have your own driver.” She lowered her voice. “I know your real reason for preferring the train. To get off the subject of telling Julian what’s going on. This business with Vince is out of control. He needs to know about it.”

      “I’ll think about it.” Nicki started walking again. Tossed a parting line over her shoulder. “See you mañana.”

      She headed to the downtown trains, jumping on the Brooklyn-bound number three. Passing a couple empty seats as the car swayed and wove its way through the underground tunnels, she placed a shoulder against a pole with the practiced ease of a native New Yorker, checking emails and reading texts. One was from Julian. He’d wished her merde, a dancer’s good luck, as he did most nights. Made her think of Paige and the proposal that had happened months before Julian began his internship.

      It had been lovely. Lit up on the marquee in the heart of Times Square. He’d gone to one knee, pulled out a telltale blue box and everything. A crowd had gathered, oohed and ahhed. He’d looked so hopeful. But she couldn’t say yes. She’d smiled and hugged him excitedly, making the crowd think she accepted so he wouldn’t be embarrassed. But later on she broke the truth. New York was her soul, Broadway her goal. That’s when he decided they needed a break.

      And then Vince happened. She’d heard there’d been no shortage of women vying to claim the spot as Julian’s girlfriend that she’d vacated. A couple of them she knew. Word was he hadn’t dated, had focused on work. Once they got back together, she found out why and felt even worse about her rebound fling. Her rejection had hurt him as deeply as he loved her, a love so strong that when she reached out to him several months later, he took her back, no problem.

      The train reached her stop. It was late. Only one other person got off with her. She walked to the stairs and climbed up them, trying to ignore the fearful thought that the duo she’d started calling Bert and Ernie might be waiting for her. Time for a diversion. It was either that or a panic attack. Pulling out her phone, she called Julian. Contrary to Paige’s advice, she would not tell him about what was going on. Julian didn’t know about that ill-fated tryst. She intended to keep it that way.

      “Hey, babe. Thanks for the encouraging text. Didn’t read it until after, but the show was—” Nicki drew in a sharp breath as she watched a dark-colored sedan race toward her. Instinct took over. She ran against the light, chancing a look back as she crossed the street. Caught the first two letters on the license plate as the car zoomed through the intersection and continued on its way. Not after her. Just in a hurry. She remembered the license number Miss Frances had given her. The one she’d just seen wasn’t it.

      She eased out of the storefront entryway, feeling silly. Paranoid much? She felt someone’s gaze and looked up to see an old man watching her intently. Could only imagine how she must have looked, running when no one was chasing her. Hiding from someone that he couldn’t see. She looked down and realized the call to Julian was still live. God, no. Had she made a sound? Nicki quickly pushed the end button, praying that somehow in the frenzy a message that would sound weird at best, maybe even frightening, wouldn’t go through. Minutes later a text came through. Her prayer had not been answered.

      Babe, what’s going on? Where are you?

      She continued the short distance to her house, formulating an answer on the way. Just inside her home, she dropped her bag and texted back.

      Sorry about that. Just wanted to beat the light, that’s all.

      Nicki continued up the stairs to her bedroom, hoping the casual answer would suffice. After several minutes had passed, she thought it had. She took a shower, washed her hair and slipped into a pair of comfy cotton pj’s. Grabbing her phone, she continued downstairs for a cup of chamomile. Julian had called. Left a message and a text. Not only did he not buy her lie, he told her he’d see her on opening night, in person, to find out the truth. Damn, damn, damn!

      * * *

      One week after that text exchange and ten minutes before curtain, the Drake entourage entered the theater and were ushered to the third row in the orchestra’s center section. They’d flown in for opening night on a company plane. A limo service met them at the private airstrip, with premium champagne and appetizers for the thirty-minute ride into the theater district. The men debonair, the women beautiful, they commanded the attention of the entire audience. Julian took the center seat. To his right was his oldest brother, Ike Jr., with his wife, Quinn. No question whose decision it was to accept his invitation. Ike, ten years older than his pretty wife, detested hip-hop or any similar sounding music. Or he had, until Quinn came into the picture. Of all Julian’s brothers, Ike’s temperament most closely matched his own. That the conservative executive who almost slept in a business suit tonight sported a matching shirt and slacks set from their fashion designer brother-in-law Ace Montgomery’s collection was proof of how Quinn had relaxed him.

      Julian loved observing the laid-back Ike, almost as much as the fact that California’s next senator sat on his other side. After serving as mayor of Paradise Cove for several years, another brother, Niko, two years younger than Ike, was on a tireless campaign to represent the Golden State in the next election. He and attorney wife Monique crisscrossed the state tirelessly, so much so that the family staged a mock intervention to force a weekend of rest. The bribe? Tickets to Nicki’s sold-out show. A Monday morning meeting with a political think tank had been thrown in also, but Julian chose not to focus on that. His brother was here, relaxed, laughing with Terrell, Julian’s next oldest brother, in town with his wife, Aliyah.