Page 73 of Greed
“You’re a good journalist, Lilo, and you’ve got good instincts. If you feel there’s a story there, then keep following it. I think your eye witness account will be a very strong story. If you need to, get more facts. Do a follow up. Interview anyone else present there to see if they corroborate your story. Two eyewitness accounts saying the same thing are better than one. Put all of them together so it supports your claim. That’s how you do it.”
She accepted the draft paper back from him. “Thanks, Fred.”
“Now, do you want your name kept out of this?”
“No. I think I’m okay with it in there.”
“Good. Because writing it with a personal spin would be great. Include your history with your father and his business—but stick to the public facts.” He sat back and stared at the article. “It would be nice for people to see you don’t have to choose the life you’re born into. You’re a pillar of the city, Lilo. I hope you know that.”
She blushed furiously. “Thank you, Fred.”
“It’s a pleasure.” His expression flattened back to boss mode. “Please revise the article to remove anything regarded as opinion and have it back to me in time for the late edition.”
She got up to leave.
“Lilo?”
“Yes?”
He scratched the white scruff on his chin and looked at her with pained eyes. “Like I said, you have great instincts, and a nose for smelling out a story, but don’t let this job be everything. What you did last night was way beyond risky. You deserve a life, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
On the night of Hell’s grand opening, Griffin dressed in his favorite custom made Prussian Blue cotton-poplin shirt that fit snuggly, sleeves quarter rolled. Black pants, no belt. No tie, but he’d kept his black-framed glasses and his Garmin watch. Nerves skittered in his stomach. There would be a lot of people there, a lot of noise, and of course, Lilo.
After she turned him down, he spent half a day in his office trying to come to terms with it. When he first met her, he wanted nothing to do with her. Now she wanted nothing to do with him. He hated it.
He’d watchedCasablancaanother two times and tried to understand what she loved about the movie, but each time, he came up with nothing. It was beyond his scope of understanding. It just seemed like a black and white movie about a war, a woman who cheated on her husband, and a man who liked to drink a lot.
Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe she just liked the way the actor looked.
When Griffin traveled in the Lazarus Building elevator, he activated the timer on his watch. Technically, he was going to Hell because his brother requested the presence of the entire family, not for Griffin’s own gain. But then again, Lilo would be there.
In the end, he turned the timer off.
The doors opened to the ground floor lobby with Heaven on one side, and Hell on the other. Because it was the Lazarus’s apartment private entrance, they constructed each side of the hallway out of two-way mirrors. They could see into the establishments, but the patrons couldn’t see into the lobby. Not that it helped much where Hell was concerned. The interior was dark with glowing red lights. There were a few people in there, but he couldn’t make out faces, only greedy sin-signatures.
Griffin exited the apartment lobby to the street.
Paparazzi blocked his path into Hell. He’d have to go around the photographers to where a red carpet led from the street curb to Hell’s gate. At the door, a big, burly bouncer stood guard. Griffin hadn’t met him yet, but he was vigilant and didn’t slouch. Along one side of the building was a bollard that separated the paparazzi from the red carpet, and on the other side of the building, a line a mile long held back the enthusiastic wannabe patrons, dressed in designer clothes and sparkly jewels. They wouldn’t get in. It was well known the event was invite only. Considering it was still officially winter for another few weeks, he didn’t know why they bothered, but then again, the irrational desires of the everyman were often misunderstood by him. If they wanted to shiver in the cold on the off chance of getting in, who was he to complain?
He walked around the line of paparazzi to the street, then walked back along the red carpet toward the gate where a woman he recognized waited with a clipboard, ready to sign off the invited guests.
The tall, buxom red-head was the Lazarus Industries publicist, Amelia the Amorous. Amorous because she was also a woman he briefly dated and was a little over excited in the bedroom. She would scrape her nails over his back, to be precise. Needless to say, he didn’t enjoy the sensations.
The moment she saw him, she grinned.
A hundred cameras and questions pointed his way. Bulbs flashed, words were hurtled.
“Who are you?”
“Are you important?”
“Who are you wearing?”
Griffin put his hands in his pockets. Outwardly, he had a blank face, but on the inside, he smiled. He liked that he was one of the more anonymous members of the Lazarus family. He ignored them all and walked up to Amelia.
“Griffin, babe, you made it.” She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, then rubbed her thumb to wipe her lipstick stain off. The residue felt thick on his skin.Irritating.
