bug. Maybe they already know. But the postcard—” He stops himself, and I watch an odd mix of emotions play across his face. Uncertainty. Determination. Maybe a little worry. “I don’t want them jumping to any hasty conclusions,” he says at last. “Not until the PI has a chance to give us a report.”
“Hasty conclusions,” I repeat, not sure I understand. “You mean, like—that I’m the target?”
He nods once. “I want to get the facts before we bring everyone into the loop.”
I can’t decide if I’m flattered by his protectiveness or exasperated by how controlling he is. Can I be both?
“Do you think it’s about me?” My voice is a whisper, barely audible over the rush of water.
Dean hesitates. Drops his hand from my arm. “No.”
His silvery eyes search mine, and I watch him swallow again before turning. This time when he starts up the steps, I let him get ten ahead of me before I begin climbing again.
“There are plenty of people who hate the Judsons,” he says. “Individual family members or all of us collectively.”
“Oh?”
I wait for him to elaborate, not sure he will.
“There’s the Dave Wienerman scandal,” he says slowly. “The film director accused of assaulting all those women.”
“He was shot at your brother’s premiere.”
“Yep.” Dean clears his throat. “Some are pissed Gabe worked with him in the first place. Wienerman’s defenders are pissed he got shot. Others are pissed that he’s dead and won’t stand trial.”
“That’s a lot of anger aimed in one direction.” Or is it multiple directions? It’s not like all the fury is aimed at the Judsons, exactly.
Dean keeps climbing. “I’ve got my own fair share of enemies.”
“Yeah?”
His shoulders lift like he’s sighing. “When it came to business deals in Hollywood, I was always fair.” There’s a hesitation, both in his voice and in his step. “But I wasn’t always kind.”
“I got that from the headlines.” If I had a nickel for every one that referred to Dean Judson as “ruthless,” I’d be lying on my private island in the Caribbean instead of climbing these slippery stairs. “You don’t think it’s enough for someone to come after you, do you?”
“I don’t know.”
He stops short, and I bounce into the tube again.
“For crying out—”
“Sorry.” He catches me by the waist this time, dropping the tube. It goes bouncing down the stairs behind us, smacking against the wall fifteen feet down.
Neither of us moves. I watch Dean’s throat as he swallows. “Look, I don’t have any idea what’s going on here.”
“With the threats, you mean?”
He hesitates, and I’m not sure at all that’s what he means. “Right. Maybe it’s a prank. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“What do you mean?”
“People love to fuck with celebrities.” He shakes his head like he can’t believe he used that word to describe himself. “Gabe’s a big name, and Lauren. Cooper, too. But all of us have been in the spotlight since we could crawl, and people get off on messing with that.”
“Example?”
His arm is still looped around my waist, and I can’t believe how good it feels.
“Let’s see.” He frowns. “Right after Gabe got that Mustang, he came out to find this three-foot scratch all the way down the driver’s side.”
“That’s awful.” And maybe not surprising. I’ve seen firsthand the resentment toward people with flashy cars and money.
“Yeah, it wasn’t real, though. You know how you can pull those long, sticky threads off strips of duct tape?”
I nod, not sure I get where he’s going. “I think so.”
“That’s all it was. But someone took the trouble to make one that long and to stick it on so it looked like a deep scratch. One helluva prank, really.”
“Damn.” That’s impressive. “Fairly harmless, though.”
“Yeah. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, only we never found out who did it.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t just a coincidence?”
He shakes his head. “Someone had scrawled ‘fuck you’ on the windshield with a Sharpie marker.”
“Ah, okay.” That does sound a bit more targeted. “So that’s one example. Any others?”
He hasn’t let go of my waist, and I wonder if he realizes he’s still got an arm looped around me. I can’t bring myself to mention it.
“Another time, someone leaked Lauren’s mug shot to the press.”
“Lauren has a mug shot?” Everyone knows Cooper as the family bad boy, but I had no clue about Lauren.
“It’s one of those things we tried to keep under wraps,” he says. “But shit has a way of getting out. We contained it, so everything was fine, but still.”
“Yikes.”