She’d been working almost nonstop ever since she came to Hollywood two years ago.
“Well? Will you help us, Seth?” Charles asked.
Seth frowned, unwilling to commit to something so . . .
Big.
“I thought it was par for the course that Hollywood highfliers suddenly had a problem with their memory when it came to testifying about anything they saw in a case that could compromise their career . . . or their life. Why’s Gia doing this?”
“She
is
very ambitious, so I can’t really say for sure. She personally knew McClarin’s victim, so she likely relates. The victim’s mother is her hairdresser, and Gia would go to their private residence to have her hair done. That’s when she witnessed the rape. Gia’s a relative newcomer, especially given her current status on the Hollywood A-list. She’s only twenty-four years old. Maybe she hasn’t absorbed some of the nastier habits of Hollywood yet. Truth be told, I’d be sorry to see the day that happens . . . if it does ever occur,” Charles mused.
A flash of familiar anger went through Seth, but he quickly repressed it. He’d thought Gia was twenty-five two years ago, that night they slept together. He’d thought that because Gia had
made
him think that. The day after she’d flown back to New York, he’d learned the truth. Liza, his intern, had innocently revealed that Gia had misled him. Apparently, Gia was somewhat of a prodigy. She’d skipped several grades in elementary and high school. Yes, she’d graduated from college at the same time as Liza, but she was nearly three years younger. She’d been twenty-two,
not
twenty-five, on that night he’d let his guard down and made love to her like a man possessed.
Did two or three years really make all that much difference?
To Seth it did. He didn’t like being lied to. He didn’t know which of Gia’s lies of omission bothered him more—the fact that she’d misled him about her age or the fact that she belonged to the profession he routinely avoided when it came to sex, relationships and romance. Yes, she’d worked on Broadway at the time, and not in films, but she was already being sought out for the title role in
Glory Girl
, her film debut. He had good reason to believe she had omitted the truth about her profession on purpose.
Seth didn’t do actresses. And most people who worked with him, including Gia’s friend Liza, knew that.
“If she really is that ambitious, maybe she doesn’t regret all the press. It wouldn’t be the first time in history an actress thrived on publicity,” Seth said.
“She can’t have wanted what happened to her and her driver yesterday, being run off the road like that . . . Seth?” Charles prodded, and Seth realized he’d become lost in his thoughts. “We could really use you on this.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Charles.” He nodded toward the door and the makeup room. “You saw what I’m dealing with out there.”
“You said on the phone this is the final day for shooting this movie,” Charles said. Seth rolled his eyes, both resigned and frustrated, he’d revealed that tidbit of information before he knew exactly what Charles wanted.
Charles chuckled, knowing he’d caught him out. “Will you just meet us for a consultation at least? Madeline really wants you,” he persisted, leaning across the desk and handing Seth a card. Seth glanced stonily at the card with the Los Angeles County district attorney’s address on it. “Tomorrow at noon?”
“Does Gia Harris know what you’re planning?” Seth asked pointedly.
Charles shook his head. “No, and she’s not going to like it when we tell her. Especially the part about Madeline maneuvering to have her shooting postponed. But given what happened yesterday, we’ve got to convince her that it’s not feasible—or safe—for her to continue as if everything is normal. A lot is hanging on Gia’s testimony, not only for us, but for the feds’ future case.”
Seth
Emily White
Dara Girard
Geeta Kakade
Dianne Harman
John Erickson
Marie Harte
S.P. Cervantes
Frank Brady
Dorie Graham
Carolyn Brown