Read Online City of Mirrors by Melodie Johnson-Howe - Free Book Online

done”? I wanted to confront him, but I had promised her not to say anything.
    I assessed the plate of food that Ben had left on the balustrade. Adjusting the urn in my arms, I grabbed the plate, leaned over the railing, aimed, and dropped it. It landed perfectly—crashing and shattering just behind where he stood. Food flew in all directions.
    In one swift movement, holding his cell in his left hand, he reached inside his jacket with the other and spun around looking up toward the balcony. Seeing me, he stopped in mid-action, hand still inside his windbreaker.
    His aggressive response startled me. Gathering myself, I said, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Heath, or is it Mr. Ward?”
    His hand fell to his side. “You can get hurt doing something like that.”
    â€œDo you like to hurt women?”
    His forehead wrinkled and he cocked his head to one side, still looking up at me. “I think I liked you better naked.” A waiter rushed to him and started to pick up the pieces of plate and food. Heath turned on his heels and strode away.
    Son-of-a-bitch.
    As applause erupted from the marquee I went downstairs and across the lawn, the grass sucking at my heels. Stopping at the door to the guesthouse, I could hear Ryan muttering “Ouch. Ooooh. Ouch.”
    â€œI’m not hurting you,” a voice as thin as the blonde whined.
    â€œI’m sunburned.”
    I pushed open the door. Ryan, his Bermuda shorts and briefs hanging down around his Uggs, gaped at me. The Sliver was on her knees in front of him, mouth open. Ryan clamped his hands over his genitals.
    â€œIf you want me to drive you home I’m leaving now,” I announced.
    â€œ This minute?” he gasped.
    â€œI’m sure she can take you home.”
    â€œI’m not driving all the way out to Malibu and back,” the Sliver whined.
    â€œDo we have to discuss this now? I’ll take a cab.”
    I looked at the Sliver. She was young. Maybe Jenny’s age.
    â€œYou want to be an actress?”
    â€œWho doesn’t?”
    â€œThen get up off your knees.”
    â€œWhat are you trying to do to me, Diana? You’re a bitter woman.”
    Ryan’s words stayed with me as I made my way back across the lawn toward the valet. What could be worse than a bitter woman? A beat-up woman. A murdered woman.

CHAPTER TEN
    W hen I was a child I believed Sunset Boulevard could take me anywhere I wanted to go, from the Pacific Ocean to downtown Los Angeles, to New York, even to Paris, where mother had once shot a movie. As I grew more aware of my surroundings, I was shocked to discover Sunset Boulevard had its limitations. And I began to understand the limitations of my own life.
    It was 10 p.m. when I curved down Sunset onto Pacific Coast Highway and drove past my house to Celia’s. I had called her and told her I was coming. She thought I wanted to talk about Jenny Parson’s murder, which was now all over the news. But I didn’t. I needed to tell her that Zaitlin was doing business with the man who had beat her up. And I knew it was going to turn her world upside down.
    Sitting at the pine farm table in Celia’s kitchen, I stared at Jenny Parson’s smiling face spread across a wide plasma screen, the sound off. It was the perfect headshot of a hopeful young actress. But then, according to Jenny, she wasn’t a hopeful young actress. She had only been doing what her father had wanted her to do.
    I glanced at Celia, who was wrapped in a white terry robe, her long hair tied back into a haphazard ponytail. The bruise on her face was darker and meaner-looking than it had been in the morning. I had told her about the call from the Bel Air Hotel and finding Jenny’s body. Smelling the homey aroma of the waxed wood surface and hearing the hum of the spotless stainless steel refrigerator, two things happened: I realized I was starving, and my unexpected tears began to flow. Again.
    Celia took my hand,