JOSH TURNED THE SUV into Lele Rose’s atelier on Melrose Avenue. Penelope peered from the backseat. The popular boutique was an ivy-covered cottage the designer had bought years ago before the street had become popular with international fashion designers. But Lele Rose’s designs remained a favorite among celebrities in Los Angeles, especially with younger ones who flocked to her downtown studio in the arts district.
“Park in the back,” Penelope directed.
“Sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Josh asked, lowering his sunglasses.
Penelope expelled a breath to calm the jitters in her stomach. “No, I’ve got this. Better that I meet with her alone. I’ll buzz you if I need you.” She checked the device attached to her purse to make sure she had the volume turned off.
Lele had been more than happy to set up the meeting for her. “Hope you get what you’re looking for,” Lele had told her.
Penelope wasn’t sure if she would. This could be a complete disaster, but she wasn’t backing out now. She straightened her shoulders and stepped from the car to head toward the rear door. She knew what she had to do.
Lele’s office was in the front of the salon. Through the cracked door, Penelope could hear her talking. She waited quietly outside.
Presently, Lele came out and closed the door. When she saw Penelope, she pressed a finger to her lips. “Go on in,” she whispered.
Penelope nodded in appreciation and pressed the door open, pausing at the sight of the woman who’d been the source of so much pain in her life.
Monica was even more emaciated than the last time she’d seen her. She wore a short lime-green dress with studded, spiked heels. With dirty hair tucked behind her ears and day-old mascara, she looked more Hollywood Boulevard than Park Avenue.
Startled, Monica rose from her chair, shock on her face.
Penelope locked the door behind her.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Lele?”
“Relax,” Penelope said. “I have the check Lele promised you.” When Lele had called her, Monica asked to borrow money. Lele relayed her request, and Penelope agreed. It would be money well spent, she hoped. Penelope turned her palms up. “Even though you tried to kill me in the sauna.”
Monica’s mouth fell open, and she vehemently shook her head and jiggled her leg.
“Thanks for having second thoughts,” Penelope added in a wry tone, recalling Monica’s nervous tic.
“That was only meant to scare you,” she said, her voice subdued.
“The photos hit the internet even faster this time.” Photos of her stumbling from the sauna, collapsing on her knees from the extreme heat and dehydration before she pulled herself to the pool. Supermodel Suicide Attempt, the headlines screamed.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Whether you do or not—and I think you do—that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” Penelope perched on the edge of the desk in front of where Monica sat. She recalled her earlier attempt years ago at arming herself with a bottle of premium vodka—what Monica seemed to live on—to chisel the real story of how she’d stolen Stefan from Monica’s cold lips. It hadn’t been a satisfying experience. Would she talk now?
Monica squirmed. “Whatever happened, it was only because I need the money. Nothing personal.”
Penelope peered at her. Monica seemed to be shriveling inside her skin. No wonder she wasn’t getting work. Dark circles under her eyes, lackluster hair, sallow skin, jittery nerves—all pointed to one thing. “I don’t know what you’re on, but you need help.”
“I’m not taking anything,” Monica said, feigning innocence.
Penelope waved the check in front of her. “This isn’t going for drugs.”
“I need that,” said Monica, rising from her chair and grabbing at it.
“Not so fast. I need some answers first.”
As Penelope watched Monica plop down with insolence, the anger she’d harbored for so many years dissolved into pity. She’d once thought Monica had ruined her life, but now she saw that Monica had ruined her own life instead.
“Tell me about Stefan.”
“I’ve gone through everything he gave me in the divorce.” Monica sniveled. “Wasn’t nearly enough. I need more money. Can you tell him that? I know he’s working for you. And I know how much you make.”
If I can ever work again. Penelope let the comment about finances slide. “Maybe I can, if I can get through to him.” Penelope leaned in closer to Monica. “He’s got a big wall around him, and he’s really protective of his emotions. If you can tell me how to get to him, then I can help you a lot more. Not just this measly bit.” She waved the check again. “You deserve more from him, Monica.”
“I do, don’t I?” Monica sucked in a breath in anticipation.
“So how can I get to him? How’d you do it?”
Monica hung her head, peeking up at her through her clumped eyelashes. “You hated me for what I did, but I had to, don’t you see?”
“I don’t hate you anymore.” As Penelope uttered the words, she realized they were finally true. She pitied her. “I forgave you. We were friends long before Stefan came around.”
“We were, right?” Monica’s face brightened. “Well, go ahead, girlfriend. It’s your turn at him. And you can take care of me now.”
Penelope gritted her teeth in a smile. Monica’s thought process was twisted and disgusting. Had she ever known love in her life?
Monica pitched forward in the chair, her elbows on her knees. “Here’s what you do. First, spike his drink. When he wakes up in the morning, rave about how fabulous the sex was.” She slapped her leg. “Guys are so macho, they’re thrilled to think they got laid.”
Penelope stared at her. “You didn’t sleep with Stefan that first night?”
“Hell no, at least, not in the biblical way.” She snorted with laughter. “Then, you have to stick with them for a couple of weeks.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. If they think they have a willing partner, they’ll be all over you. Stefan was different though. He ran right back to you.”
Penelope’s skin crawled. How could she ever have been friends with someone like Monica? She’d been duped, too. How many times had she loaned Monica money, though she never seemed to get it back. Monica would repay her with clothes and trips—at someone else’s expense. Monica was a swindler, a hustler, a grifter. Penelope forced a conspiratorial grin. “You’ve done this before with others?”
“Yeah, duh? Most of them pay you off so fast. Some demand a paternity test, so I just move on. Plenty of other suckers out there.”
Listening to her, Penelope felt sick to her stomach.
“Next, hang around a free clinic, talk to girls who’re pregnant. Works best if they’re in the first few months, so you have to get chatty and ask. Tell them you’re playing a joke on someone and offer them a hundred bucks to pee on a pregnancy test strip. Brilliant, right?” She started laughing at her plan.
It was all Penelope could do to keep from curling her lips back in disgust. What a vile, cruel trick. She felt physically ill, but she had to know more. “You weren’t pregnant.”
“Course not.” She made a face.
Mortified at how Monica had played them, Penelope swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. How could Monica have even imagined such a horrid act?
“Mr. Honesty wanted to do the right thing,” Monica said, putting air quotes around her words. “He’s such a straight edge.”
“After you married, you faked your miscarriage?”
“What do you think?” Monica sat back, satisfied with herself. “Living on easy street, until he got all moral about representing murderers. Like he thought they were innocent. Pu-leez.”
“That was truly an amazing plan,” Penelope said. And sick and twisted. She pressed a hand against her abdomen. She felt like throwing up.
“So, do I get the check now?”
Penelope walked to the window, trying hard to digest what she’d just heard. How much of this did Stefan know about? She swung around to face Monica once again. “Did you ever tell Stefan any of this?”
“Do I look that stupid?”
Penelope could hardly speak, and certainly couldn’t answer that question. Clearing her throat, she held out the check. “Guess you’ve earned it.”
Monica stood on shaky legs. “If you snag Stefan, maybe Kristo will back off. He’s so intense.” Monica shivered and reached for the check.
“What do you know about that?” Penelope snatched the check back.
“If he wasn’t so obsessed with you, I’d love to take advantage of him, too.”
“Obsessed? Are you talking about the game?”
Monica wiggled her leg impatiently. “He told me you didn’t know anything about it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The sauna. All his crazy stuff. New York.”
“He put you up to that sauna trick?” When Monica nodded, Penelope stuffed the check in her pocket and grabbed her by the shoulders. “What do you know about New York?”
“I didn’t do anything there,” Monica cried.
“Was Kristo behind it?”
Suddenly, Monica looked scared. “I-I don’t know. Only thing I know is that he always wants pictures. Lots of them. That’s all I know.”
Penelope couldn’t stand to listen to her anymore. She had what she came for, and now, maybe even more. What was Kristo up to? “Here,” Penelope said, thrusting the check toward Monica.
Studying it, Monica frowned. “Hey, this isn’t made out to me. And where’s the rest of the money?” she asked angrily. “What’s this address?”
“The rest of the money has been paid to that rehab facility in your name. When you check in, you’ll get the benefit of it. And I know someone who has agreed to be your sponsor.” Penelope jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “She’s waiting, too.”
Her anger turning to anguish, Monica whispered, “I don’t need your help.”
“Look at yourself, Monica,” Penelope replied, wrapping her arms around her old friend. “Look at what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“It’s too late for me. I’m ruined.”
“It’s never too late.” Even for one as psychologically demented and drug addicted as Monica. Given her dysfunctional family background, she’d hardly had a chance. There were programs and medications Monica could take advantage of to lead a healthier life if she wished.
Penelope turned and walked out, holding the door for the sponsor who’d agreed to meet Monica. Glancing over her shoulder as the older woman greeted Monica, Penelope hoped her old friend would get her life together. At least she’d given her a real opportunity.
Josh stood just outside the door. “Everything okay in there?”
“I’ve got some information for you and Stefan.”
“I’ll pass it on. The boss is on another job,” he added, as he helped her get in the car.
“Where?”
“Not at liberty to say, sorry. But I’ll make sure he gets your message.” He shut the door and got into the driver’s seat.
As Josh backed out, Penelope drew a hand across her forehead. Monica had been almost gleeful in her recounting of the con she’d played on Stefan. The saddest part about it was that Stefan had recognized that Monica needed help and was willing to give it to her, even though she’d taken advantage of him. Did he know the extent of her deception?
When Penelope checked her phone, she saw a message from Talia, asking if she could meet with her team right away.
Frowning, she saw more texts from Kristo. Considering what Monica had said, she leaned forward and touched Josh on the shoulder. “We have a party tonight in the marina.”