Page 2 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
When I’d spent a few minutes with each of them and felt like I literally couldn’t stay on my feet another minute, I started looking around for my shoes.
Weird. They were gone.
“Did any of you pick up my shoes?” I asked the security staff.
They looked at each other then at me, shaking their heads.
“Well, okay then. I guess they’re gone. I’m probably going to find someone selling vials of ‘Jade’s authentic foot odor’ on eBay.” I joked. “Goodnight guys. Thanks for everything.”
Pulling open the passenger door of Hap’s car, I dropped inside.
“Hey there, Kermit.” My big brother’s nickname for me.
When we were kids, I’d hated it—he’d claimed my vivid green eyes reminded him of a frog. But now the good-natured taunt and the familiar sound of his voice only made me smile.
I’m home.
“Hey thereBobby,” I said as payback, calling him by his hated childhood nickname.
It had been replaced by the stage name Happy and later shortened to Hap, which he’d liked enough to keep in real life.
He started the ignition and gave me the same dimpled grin that had melted the hearts of tweens everywhere back when he’d been the star of Happy’s Family.
The weekly series had run for nine years on network TV, earning him an Emmy award, a Golden Globe, and enough money to keep him in comfort the rest of his life. The residuals from syndication of the reruns were probably enough to fund the state budget of Rhode Island where we both lived.
“Caught most of the show,” Hap said. “You sounded great. I almost forget you’re my baby sister when you’re up there—I just get into the music.”
“Thanks. I’m shocked I even have a voice left after two years on the road. Please remind me never to sign on for such a long tour ever again.”
“I will... but you’ll do it anyway,” he teased. “You’re the hardest-working billionaire I know.”
I laughed. “I seriously doubt that. Didn’t your former roommates specifically move in together so they could work round the clock on Chipp?”
Until recently, Hap had lived with six of his closest friends from high school. Together they’d rented a subdivided mansion on Eastport Bay’s glamorous Oceanview Avenue, living and working there while the others all prepared for the launch of a new software company and Hap got his TV producing and directing career going.
The unconventional living arrangement had earned them the dubious nickname of the Seven Dwarves among the locals.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Hap said. “Maybe what I meant to say is thatI’mthelaziestbillionaire I know. But Iaman excellent chauffeur.”
“That you are.” I grinned. “Seriously, though, thanks for coming to get me. I amwaytoo tired to drive tonight.”
“I’m surprised there wasn’t some kind of party for the end of the tour.”
“There was. After last night’s show. Which is another reason I’m worn out. We barely slept last night. My body weight is about ninety-eight percent Coke Zero right now.”
“Okay, well, caffeine queen, I’ll have you home in an hour and a half, but feel free to doze on the way there if you need to. We can catch up tomorrow.”
“I might not be able to help it,” I said apologetically. “I’m glad mom and Dad won’t be home from their cruise till Tuesday because I might just sleep until then.”
I must have fallen asleep because I was awakened sometime later by Hap’s voice.
“What the hell?”
The alarm in his tone had me alert in an instant. I sat up, looking around in the darkness. “What is it? Where are we?”
“At your house. Something’s wrong.” He pointed at the windshield, indicating the scene outside.
There were squad cars parked along the street outside the gates of my estate and two inside of it on the circular drive. All had lights flashing, though there were no sirens.
