Page 10 of Gluttony
Nice?
The weight of her stare buzzed against his skin. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
Heat flooded his cheeks. “I didn’t play match-maker, if that’s what you’re thinking. They were being annoying. I wanted it to stop. That’s all.”
“Right.” She rolled her lips to try to hide an obvious smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think the dolls are Sloan’s doing.”
Still scowling, Tony averted his gaze. It didn’t matter who the prankster was. If anyone seriously thought about taking him on, they were in for a surprise. Just let them come. He may be a little rusty around the edges, but he knew how to protect himself.
Suddenly the trailer air became stifling, and he had to get out of there. He jogged down the steps and plonked his skateboard down, stopping it expertly with a boot. With a furtive look down Trailer Row, he checked for oncoming foot traffic. The majority of production had finished months ago, and today’s take was only a make-up session. Most actors had gone home shortly after the final scene take, and the only staff left were preparing for the party. Food carts were gone or shifted. It was a ghost town.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bailey asked, doing that hands-on hips thing, looking down at him from the doorway, all traces of softness gone.
“I’m leaving. I have a party to get ready for.”
Her lips pursed. “Get inside. We’re not done.”
“Babe, we’re going,” he stated. “I got places to be.”
“Don’t call me babe. It’s Bailey. And I said, get your ass back in here, Lazarus. We need to talk about this. I need to know what I’m up against before we go parading you in the streets. Then I need to update your producer.”
“It’s Trailer Row. It’s hardly a street, and you can call Donatello on the way.”
A shout from further down the laneway drew Tony’s attention as a male co-star on his way out waved. “See you tonight, Tones.”
“You want to air your dirty laundry in public, be my guest,” Bailey hissed. “I can talk about it down there.”
She had a point. He’d thought everyone was gone, but obviously not.
“Fine.” He stomped on the skateboard tail to flick up the top and grab. Then he went back inside.
Bailey slammed the door behind him. “Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Take this seriously. You have dolls hanging from your ceiling. Not just hanging, but with blood painted on them.”
“The blood’s not on my doll,” he joked.
“Why on earth wouldn’t the studio call the police?”
Fiery eyes pinned him, giving him a taste of that x-ray attention again. He held back a squirm. This was ridiculous. He was better than squirming under a lady’s attention. With a forced exhale, he loosened up.
“Guess they don’t want another scandal,” he answered.
“We need to find out who did this, or you’ll be a sitting duck. You’ll permanently need a bodyguard. Is that what you want?” He opened his mouth and she shut him down, continuing to berate him like a child. “Don’t answer that. I’ll answer for you. No. You don’t want a long-term bodyguard, because next time, it won’t be me, it will be Tom-Tom or Daymo if you refuse to act like an adult.”
He leaned back and rested an arm lengthwise over the top of the sofa. “All right, Scooby-Doo. What do you suggest?”
A muscle in her cheek twitched. “The stalker had access to your trailer. I’ll need the studio records of who’s been allowed on the lot. We can start there.”
“Sloan can get in anywhere without a trace. You know that, right? So if it was her, you wouldn’t know, anyway.”
“And exactly how does she manage to do that?”
The world thought Sloan was a slacker gamer, not a hacking and tech-wise vigilante. He’d said too much.
