Page 40 of The Show

As the driver opened the door and I stepped out of the car, a shadow appeared at the top of the plane steps, and all the nerves crashed back through me with the force of a tsunami. Penn had changed out of his jeans into a low-slung pair of sweatpants. A tanned stretch of golden skin was visible across his lower abs from his t-shirt rising as he clung onto the doorframe above him.

I swallowed thickly.

I was going to be wildly out of my depth.

8

Penn

Jupiter Reeves was not a man who did things by halves, something I appreciated very much.

I pulled up to the gates leading down the exclusive community living here along the cliff edge in Malibu. You wouldn’t get much change out of twenty-five mil for a pad along here, and that was for one of the smaller houses, sans ocean view.

Jupiter’s was not one of those, apparently.

To find out exactly which one, I’d had to call in a couple of favors. Or Dylan had. But seeing as she liked to brag to me that she’d once attended a party at the house next door to his, I figured she was the easiest person to hit up for exactly what I wanted: namely the comings and goings of the sports star neighbor; and on home game days, he apparently liked to start his mornings at his place.

I lowered the window as a burly looking security guard walked out of his sentry box; the type of guard you’d employ if you didn’t want your life disturbed, or people turning up unannounced. Much like how I was now. I knew full well the desire for privacy - even if my current behavior said otherwise.

“Hi, I’m here to see Jupiter Reeves.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“Yes,” I lied. “Penn Shepherd. My name should be on the list.”

My name wasn’t on the list he was currently searching through, but he would then have to call Jupiter to confirm, something he was about to do. I’d also put on a Dodgers cap and taken Dylan’s Lamborghini Urus, which Rafe once calleda car only driven by someone with absolutely no discernible taste, but it would hopefully give the impression I wasn’t a try-their-luck fan; he might even mistake me for a teammate, if I was lucky.

“I have a Penn Shepherd here to see Mr. Reeves. He said his name is on the list, but I ain’t seeing it.”

There was silence, and I could tell the security guard was waiting for a response given he hadn’t hung up and told me to fuck off. Then I felt a buzzing in my pocket, and grinned as I pulled it out to see Jupiter’s name flashing on the screen.

You might ask yourself why go through the rigmarole of subterfuge when I could have called him up and asked. And I’ll tell you - it’s because I didn’t want him to say no.

But it was more than that. I’d asked him to come to New York so many times I’d lost count. And every time he’d said no. This time, I wanted him to see my face and understand how deadly serious I was, possibly more serious than I’d ever been when I’d asked the same question previously.

I’d also brought him a case of his favorite Chateau Petrus 2005, which was only released as a limited edition once a year, and I’d had to beg Murray to give me one of his. He had, but only after I’d given him a sworn oath that Barclay could become the bat dog for the first game of the Lion’s season, and then have a permanent spot at the Jungle Kings.

“Hey, Jupe.”

“Why is my housekeeper telling me the gate security is on the phone saying you’re outside?”

“Because I am. Surprise. Let me in, will you?”

There was silence and then muffled mumbling, then silence again as he hung up. The guard was nodding, then the enormous wrought iron gates swung open.

“You need to follow the road for two miles round to the left. It’s number five four eight seven; you’ll see a break in a row of tall olive trees; that’s the start of his driveway. The gates will be open.”

“Thanks!” I saluted and took off, following directions as instructed.

Five minutes later, I found what I was looking for and eased my way up the driveway between the trees, just like he said. Least I assumed it was the correct one, but there was no indication beyond a set of hefty security cameras.

This community was nothing but a maze of houses with an eight-figure price tag and a homely feel; the perfect balance between privacy and normalcy. I’d even passed a fire station and a post office. It was pretty cool, not unlike the neighborhood Dylan and Decker lived in with their kids, where everyone could come and go as they pleased, because it was next to impossible getting through the gates at the entrance, there was no need for another set.

My assumption was confirmed as the drive slowly opened up; reminding me of Rafe’s Hampton’s house, except this was the Pacific Ocean glittering on my left as I accelerated up the driveway.

If there was one word to describe his house, it would be zen. Zen, however, was a direct contrast to the expression Jupiter was wearing as he waited for me, his Goliath biceps crossed over his chest; the constellation of tattoos up his arm almost glaring at me for daring to turn up unannounced… especially the pair of eyes which peeked out from each of his hefty triceps. Jupiter, however, looked more quizzical than annoyed.

I pulled to a stop in front of him and got out, albeit a little sheepishly. Even for someone accustomed to getting his own way ninety-five percent of the time, and talking his way out of the other five percent, I knew this was pushing it.

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