The Homewreckers(58)

“I guess it could be a really pissed-off neighbor. Or maybe someone who’s really pissed off that I bought his house ‘out from under him’ as he put it.”

“You’re talking about Holland Creedmore,” Mak said. “Maybe it’s time Junior and I had a discussion.”





29

Almost Famous




Mo was standing in the bathroom, shaving, when he heard his phone.

Da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum, dum, dum, dum. The ringtone was unmistakable. Every time he heard it he pictured Roy Scheider backing away from the hull of that fishing boat in the shark-infested waters of Cape Cod. But it was barely six A.M. in Savannah. What was she doing up at this ungodly hour on the West Coast?

“Rebecca?”

“Mo! You’re a genius. OMG, these photos are priceless.”

“What photos are we talking about?” He went back into the bathroom and unplugged the electric shaver, looked in the mirror. His face looked like an unmade bed. He tried to remember the source of the quote, but it was too early.

“On TMZ. Your stars. Hattie and Trae. Staring into each other’s eyes, kissing, caressing each other’s faces. Caught in action. These photos are perfection.”

He put her on loudspeaker and typed “TMZ” into the search engine on his phone. Right below the stories of a spectacular Hollywood divorce and an even more spectacular story about a married US senator from a blue state being caught red-handed with a same-sex lover, he spotted the headline: DASHING HPTV DESIGNER GETS STEAMY WITH SAVANNAH COSTAR.

The photos had the blurry, sleazy tabloid quality that sold advertising and launched or sunk celebrity careers, depending on the public’s mood that day. And just as Rebecca had said, they showed Hattie in a series of candid, candlelit shots, kissing and mooning at Trae Bartholomew, who was gazing at her with the look of a starving leopard considering a baby giraffe. From the look of the photos, they’d been taken at a local restaurant. And from the look of it, Hattie wasn’t exactly fighting Trae off with a steak knife.

For a moment, he saw red.

“Fuck.”

The accompanying story was breathless and riddled with hyperbole and sly insinuation. The gist of it was that Trae was shooting a new hit HPTV reality show called Homewreckers, and that he and his costar, a lovely but unknown local talent, were already getting along “like a house on fire.”

“Mo! Are you looking at the photos? How did you even manage this?”

He closed the browser window. “It wasn’t hard. You were right. The chemistry was there, all I had to do was light the match.”

“That’s the idea! Listen, I’ve already called Andrea in PR to alert her. We’re going to pitch this story to every outlet in the country: People, The Today Show, Headline Hollywood, Entertainment Weekly, Good Morning America…”

“And don’t forget The National Enquirer,” Mo said.

“Yes! Of course! Those supermarket tabloids aim squarely at our demographic.”

“I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” Rebecca said. “Also, what’s this about a fire at the house? You didn’t actually start a fire as a publicity stunt, did you? I mean, I’m not saying that’s a bad idea, but for insurance purposes…”

“What fire?”

She sighed. “Mo, don’t you even have Google Alerts? There was some kind of fire there last night. All I got was a brief digest item, but I think it was on your local news there.”

Mo walked into the living room and turned on the television, switching channels until he found one that wasn’t talking about the capture of a ten-foot alligator in a local family’s swimming pool.

“And up next, fire threatens the restoration of a historic home on Tybee Island.” His eyes widened as he viewed orange flames billowing into the night sky. Another shot showed the Creedmore house from the front, with smoke pouring from the rear of the house.

The newscaster was the same guy with the slicked-back hair who’d showed up at the house after the discovery of Lanier Ragan’s wallet. Aaron something.

“Fire officials say the blaze was discovered around nine thirty last night. It apparently started in a dumpster, and came dangerously close to the vacant hundred-year-old house. Fortunately, members of the Tybee Fire Department quickly brought the flames under control. The cause of the fire is under investigation. An alert neighbor sent us this video, but we’ll be following up in our six o’clock news hour.”

“Jesus! Rebecca. I gotta go.”

“All right, but keep me posted. Honest to God, Mo, this story just gets better by the minute. I’ll call Tony later, because I think this means we ramp up a major fall preview campaign.”

He texted Hattie. No answer. He got dressed, found his car keys, went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. “Face like an unmade bed.” He snapped his fingers. “Got it. Orson Welles.”





30

After the Fire




It was Ribsy who nudged her awake just after six the next morning. He jumped onto the bed and began pawing at her back. When she turned over, he planted his entire body on her chest, resting the top of his head just under her chin.

“Ughhhh.” She gently pushed his face away. “Dude, your breath!”