THE NEXT DAY, Josh drove Penelope to Bow-Tie restaurant in Beverly Hills, giving her a full briefing of their cybersecurity findings along the way, which were pointing to off-shore media sites. She listened quietly, desperately missing Stefan; she had spent a sleepless night replaying their argument. She’d checked her phone several times this morning, hoping he might reach out to her, but his decision appeared final.
It was crucial that she find a way out of this mess and move on with her life. Being proactive, she’d called Aimee Winterhaus and had invited her to lunch to talk about her new ideas.
Josh held the door for her as she stepped from the SUV and looked around the front patio at Bow-Tie. The restaurant was busy, with tables of beautiful people chatting and cutting deals in the California sunshine, where on most days, anything seemed possible.
Aimee was already seated at a table under a turquoise striped umbrella with another woman on the patio. Penelope joined them. “Aimee, I’m glad you could meet me.”
“Your project sounds so new and fresh that I took the liberty of inviting Talia here,” Aimee said, smoothing her precision-cut black bob that had been her trademark style for years.
Aimee was a legendary editor, and Penelope was thrilled she was taking an interest in her idea. She knew it would take a lot of work to make it happen, but she was willing to put in the effort.
Wary of producers now, Penelope wanted to ask the chic, silver-haired woman a few questions. “Talia, how do you feel about reality shows?”
Talia lifted an eyebrow. “They might sell for a while, but you’re much classier than that. I hope that’s not what you’re considering. If it is…”
“No, not at all.” Penelope was immensely relieved.
The three women talked about Penelope’s concept for the global show. Penelope explained, “We’ll showcase international street style and traditional artisans’ high-quality work. It will be a unique look at how people are taking indigenous styles and putting new spins on them for today.”
Talia nodded, her ivy-green eyes intense behind her round black frames. “You plan to visit the local craftspeople?”
“That’s an important part of the concept,” Penelope said. “I want to highlight the workers, too. Many are incredibly talented.”
Talia stroked her chin. “That will personalize the craft. We might be able to get some women’s groups involved, maybe try to expand trade opportunities for women in underprivileged countries, too.”
Aimee interjected. “I think that would be a natural by-product of the show. I can commit to coverage in Fashion News Daily. This is more than a show for Penelope. This can be a global movement to support artisans, too.”
They ordered salads and continued talking about ideas. Penelope grew more excited as she listed to Talia and Aimee discuss how they could support the show. She asked for their advice for ideas on how to package the show, and asked Talia if she would be interested in it.
Talia said, “I like the concept and I’d like to buy it, with you at the helm, of course, but I’m not the sole decision-maker. Can you come in and talk with the rest of my team at the studio?”
“Anytime, Talia.” Penelope felt like screaming for joy.
Talia went on. “I’ll let you know how to prepare. My team can be a tough sell, so you have to be very clear, concise, and enthusiastic. Knowing who your audience is and what they like is especially important, too. You’ll get about ten to fifteen minutes and if you hook them, be prepared to answer questions and stay longer. Just steer clear of any talk about tabloid reality shows, even if they sound more excited about that.”
“I appreciate your guidance on this.” After the disastrous meeting with Cynthia, Penelope was thrilled and thankful that Talia and Aimee understood her vision.
After they finished lunch, the three women gathered their purses and got up to leave. As they were walking out, Aimee said to Penelope, “Are you going to the big yacht party that Kristo Demopoulos is throwing at Marina del Rey tomorrow night? He just arrived and it’s shaping up to be the party of the year. He’s celebrating the success of Master’s Revenge, his new game.” Aimee lowered her voice and leaned toward her. “One of the characters looks a lot like you.”
“I’m not planning on going.” Penelope had been ignoring Kristo’s texts. The last thing she wanted to do was visit him on his yacht again. She’d called Scarlett, who was preparing to serve him with a cease-and-desist letter.
“If you change your mind, you can go with me,” Aimee said. “We could get some new shots of you for our parties section. It’s about time you got some positive press.” She put a reassuring hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “The negative press can’t last forever. Hang in there. I know it’s been tough on you.”
Penelope assured her she was holding up. It wouldn’t do to wallow in self-pity. She said good-bye and stepped into the waiting SUV with Josh.
As they snaked through heavy traffic, ideas for the show percolated in her mind. She had a lot of work ahead of her, but the more Penelope thought about her idea, the more passionate she became about it because it was a win for all parties involved, from the craftspeople and local residents to the designers and those who would buy and wear the clothes and accessories showcased on the series. She loved the idea of helping people and spreading happiness and appreciation, and she had to do something to occupy her mind, channel her energy, and earn a living.
Reflecting on her relationship with Stefan, she realized that because of her inability to trust him, she’d brought many of her troubles on herself. Only she could turn it around now. Yet parts of the story between Stefan and Monica still nagged her. The only thing she couldn’t forecast was, would he cheat again? And was she a fool for even considering giving him a second chance?
That evening, Penelope stretched out as she cut through the water in the pool. Josh had wanted to stay with her by the pool, but she’d sent him inside when his phone rang. She needed to let off steam, and she couldn’t relax with a bodyguard hovering over her every move. In the pool, no one could see her tears.
Just when she seemed to have a tenuous grip on life again with Stefan by her side, she’d thrown it all away because she simply couldn’t bring herself to trust him. She wanted to, and she believed in the essential goodness of him. Would she ever understand why he had cheated on her?
She stroked her way through the warm water, the cool autumn air sharp on her shoulders each time her skin broke the surface. After a while, she was exhausted from the frenetic pace she’d maintained.
Lifting herself from the pool, she padded to the outdoor sauna. A blast of hot air hit her when she opened the door. It seemed hotter than normal, but she attributed it to the cool evening air outside. After just a couple of minutes, she could take the extreme heat no more and got up to leave.
The door was stuck, probably because she hadn’t used it in a while. She shoved it, and then again, but it didn’t budge. Sweating profusely, she tried to adjust the temperature, but the dial had been broken.
This was no accident. Panic welled in her chest, and she screamed for Josh. The sauna was at the rear of her property, removed from the house. Its thick walls were lined with wood. Inside the house, would Josh hear her at all? Wiping perspiration from her eyes, she realized he’d been right about not wanting to leave her alone.
Perhaps sending Stefan away had sealed her demise. Was this the price she’d pay for failing to forgive the man who loved her? The man she loved. What an idiot she had been.
At least her obituary would be ready.
She called for help over and over again, until her throat was raw. Feeling lightheaded, she leaned against the door and jiggled it one last time. However, this time it opened easily under her hand.
Penelope stumbled outside, drenched in sweat and gasping in the cool air. She plunged into the pool to cool off; though it was heated, it still offered relief.
At that moment, Josh charged through the door. “What happened? Several camera lenses were obscured. I was on the phone with the office. I knew I should have stayed with you. ”
“No, I’m the one who sent you away. Don’t feel bad. When I tried to get out of the sauna, the door jammed.”
“You need medical help?”
“Just check the door, will you? It’s never stuck like that before.” Penelope stepped from the pool and threw a towel around her. Josh had drawn a flashlight from a loop on his belt and was inspecting the door and doorjamb to the sauna. She watched as he ran his hands along the door and tested it.
“It’s in good working condition, but there are fresh scrapes. Appears something was jammed in here. Don’t use it again unless someone is around.” He handed her a robe. “Let’s go in, get you to safety. I’ll have a look at the security footage. Shall I call the police?”
“No, I’m tired of answering their questions.” They went inside and Penelope sat in the safety of her bedroom, gazing out over the twinkling lights of the city below. As she thought of everything that had occurred, and what Stefan had said, she knew what she had to do. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her terry cloth robe.
“Hello, Lele. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Doll, I’ve been thinking about you. How did your meeting with Cynthia go?”
Penelope grimaced, recalling the disaster. “We weren’t on the same page. But I have another idea.”
“Are you still up for walking in my charity show? I always make good on my word.”
“You can count on me.” The thought of working again lifted her spirits.
“So, what can I do for you?”
“Lele, I’m wondering if you can arrange a meeting for me.” She recalled something that Elena had said.
“Sure, doll. I owe you one.”
A minute later, Penelope tapped her phone off, feeling satisfied and empowered. She was going to get to the bottom of at least one mystery once and for all.
Josh emerged from the house. “Can’t make a positive identification from the footage. Six feet tall, thin frame. Baggy dark jeans and a hoodie.” He opened his hand and in it were several yellow sticky notes. “The perp put these over some cameras, but they couldn’t reach them all. Do you have any neighbors with security cameras that I can check with tomorrow?”
“I’ll give you their numbers in the morning.”
Penelope slid into bed, her mind already working on the meeting Lele was arranging for her. Depending on the outcome, this could determine her future.