––––––––
“Bassano.”
“Hi Detective, it’s Clarissa Gregory. December Brown’s agent. I apologize for calling so early.” Clarissa really didn’t want to have to speak to him after their last meeting but this was more important than her pride.
“No worries, Ms. Gregory. I was just about to call you. I have good news and bad news.” He answered, in a crisp, clipped way belying his increased heart rate at the sound of her voice.
“I need some good news this morning.”
“Well, I’m holding in my hand right now a signed restraining order against Mr. Darren Singh, as well as his parole officer’s information.”
“Oh, that is fantastic news. Thank you so much.” Clarissa gushed.
“No thanks necessary. If it wasn’t for Damien’s call a few hours ago, I wouldn’t have been able to get the restraining order done so fast. After the phone-, after Mr. Singh made contact, it gave probable cause to request December’s phone records which showed that the call did indeed originate from his listed whereabouts according to the parole board.”
“Well, he also sent her multiple text messages to her cell phone. That should prove that he’s already violating his parole, right?”
“There’s bad news too, Ms. Gregory.”
“Call me Clarissa and just give it to me straight, Detective.”
“Well Clarissa, the thing is Darren Singh hasn’t checked in with the parole officer. Nor was he at his last known address. The officers sent to that location found it ransacked but empty of all his belongings.”
Clarissa felt faint, her legs suddenly rubbery. She grabbed hold of the kitchen island for stability as she let Peter’s news sink in. Her mind went blank. From somewhere far away she vaguely heard Peter saying her name. He was still talking but she couldn't make out a word he was saying. How could she tell December that even with the help of the police, she had no guarantees that her stalker wouldn't try to contact her again?
“I failed her.” She whimpered, hot tears brimming in her eyes.
“You didn't fail her, Clarissa. We're going to find him. Just have faith.” Peter's deep voice resonated with sincerity and despite herself, Clarissa desperately wanted to believe him. She took a steadying breath.
“How soon can you get to December's apartment? Our security team is about to meet up within the next thirty minutes or so.”
“I'll be there. It would be good to work together on this for when we find him. And we will find him.” Peter vowed, hanging up shortly afterwards.
––––––––
“I get that living in a movie trailer for a week is little daunting but think of it like camping.” Tom's disembodied voice called out as the bedroom door opened, allowing December to step out fully dressed in jeans and a red oversized knitted sweater.
“I am and that's why I think we can stay in a hotel.” She grumbled, seeming less than impressed with their current conversation.
“So you're saying you don't want to spend a few measly days in close quarters with me, the love of your life?” He followed her out while still yanking his long sleeved t-shirt over his disheveled short black hair. The navy color of his top only served to make the baby blue of his eyes even more striking.
December paused on her way to the living room to check him out. She couldn't help it. Even when was driving her up the wall, he still took her breath away. Tom caught the look she was giving him and smirked at her.
“I'm sorry, what are you two talking about?” Clarissa questioned, sticking her head out of the kitchen.
She positioned her face from her friend's direct line of sight, knowing December would pick up on her red rimmed eyes and general upset if she didn't.
“Ooh, Clarissa! Listen to this: I just calmly asked Tom if maybe we should stay in a hotel for a day or two. Just to break up the monotony of living in a rectangle box for seven days and he's trying to convince that it'll somehow be a romantic adventure.” December explained in disbelief, as if it was an automatic given that nobody in their right mind would want to do what Tom suggested.
Clarissa chuckled despite herself; she needed the break from all of the negativity going on behind the scenes. Knowing that after the night the couple had just dealt with, they needed to let off steam somehow. If having a mini argument about something so trivial helped then she would humor them by playing along.
“That's right. And apparently, she disagrees entirely by the look of disgust on her face at the very idea.” Tom's eyes twinkled in amusement. All he had to do was keep answering and December would take the bait.
“It's like my boyfriend has been abducted by aliens and they brainwashed him into thinking he’s Bear Grylls or something. What next? Should we get a dog next?”
“Why not? What's wrong with that?”
“See! When we first got together, we were on the same page. The outdoors was something other people did. And pets? Thomas, think of the fleas!” December cried out overdramatically.
She flung herself on the overstuffed couch and covered her face with a fluffy purple cushion.
“Okay, I'm refereeing before we have to get smelling salts out for our Ladyship. Tom, what's going on? Are you secretly into camping now? And what about the fleas?” Clarissa inquired, not even bothering to hold back a grin.
“I've never been, I just thought it would be a laugh. Besides, I hardly think living in a decked out trailer on a closed film set counts as toughing it out in the wilderness.” Tom answered, shrugging. Honestly, he still agreed with December about the outdoors and he was actually very worried about the fleas.
“See, Dee? Nothing to worry about. I'm sure Tom will realize how terrible it is to live in cramped quarters with you when you start complaining about every single thing under the sun. Especially since you'll still be on Ronnie's master cleanse. He's been so lucky that he's missed most of it this past week.” Clarissa stated helpfully.
“Master cleanse?” He wondered softly, looking slightly horrified.
“Yup, I'm hungry all the time and all I can have is clear vegetable broth.” December chipped in, shuddering.
“But you hate broths. You said consommé was the Devil's soup.” Tom said, bewildered.
“It is and I still do.” She nodded with unbridled glee on her face.
It took all of Tom's theatre school training to keep a straight face while she looked so happy. He wanted to slide his fingers through her tousled curly tendrils and kiss her face off in that moment, but he didn't want to give in so easily.
“What have I gotten myself into?” He muttered, shaking his head as he sat down next to her, lifting her blue jean clad legs and resting them on his lap. December smiled at him in the most patronizingly, sympathetic way possible.
“I'll make reservations for the weekend, then.” Clarissa mused out loud, wandering back into the kitchen.
––––––––
“So I heard you were doing some late night texting.” Damien joked, causing the living room filled with six bodyguards, one police officer, two celebrities, and an agent to glare at him.
“Too soon?” He asked, looking around the room with an unapologetic, mischievous grin.
“And in poor taste, you big jerk.” December responded, hitting him in the face with a striped cushion. He laughed and scooped her up in a bear hug. She hugged him back, knowing it was Damien's way of coping with the situation by breaking the ice.
He trailed after her as she worked her way over to the kitchen to get refreshments ready.
“Trace had to go back to Vancouver but he offered the services of these two gentlemen as additional security detail until this creep is caught. And he sends his love and regret that he couldn't stay.”
“That was really nice of him. I'll call him later. How’s Sophie feeling?”
“Better. It was her first ear infection. I think it was rougher on us than on her to be honest.” Damien replied, as he opened the refrigerator in search of orange juice.
Peter hovered around the entrance to the dining room, looking slightly uncomfortable. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Clarissa who sat at the table studiously ignoring him by pretending to be busy typing on her phone. December shook her head in dismay at their awkwardness. She didn’t have any experience in playing matchmaker but how hard could it be?
“Hey, Peter. Thanks so much for coming. Clarissa told me you were off duty and yet you’re still here. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.” December said sincerely, placing a mug of hot coffee into hands.
“Anything for my favorite singer.” He replied with a fond smile.
“He’s so sweet. Isn’t he sweet, Clarissa? So where are you taking your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day?” She queried in a slightly too loud voice.
Clarissa rolled her eyes. Peter bit his lip to keep from laughing at her lack of subtlety.
“Uh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Oh, that’s very interesting. Isn’t it, Clarissa?” December asked, staring pointedly at her friend. She even wiggled her eyebrows for effect.
“If I push you out of a sixth floor window, I can claim I was provoked.” She intoned, the tips of her ears reddening slightly. Peter’s smile widened.
Clarissa didn’t embarrass all that easily; coming from a large family with many opinionated people didn’t allow for that. Rejection didn’t faze her much either. She’d developed a thick skin over the years as a young female agent making a name for herself in the sometimes brutal music industry. She wasn’t even thirty yet and she was an agent coveted for both her fierce loyalty and meticulous ruthlessness. Running away wasn’t even an option.
Yet here she was wishing she could hide away in embarrassment because her big-mouthed best friend couldn’t help trying to meddle with a guy who was obviously not interested in her.
Clarissa refused to look up from her screen, fearing the look of utter disgust on his face. It wasn’t that hard since she was playing one of the dozens of Facebook games she was addicted to playing. She was one of those annoying players who kept sending everyone on her friend list two million invites a day without any care that no one else was playing that particular game. So naturally, everyone who personally knew her quietly unfollowed her. She was a social pariah on that particular social networking site. Even December had to do it.
That didn’t faze her either. It kept her looking busy and really isn’t that what it’s all about?
“Add me on CaféVille.” Peter said, peeking over her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed when he moved behind her.
“You play?” Clarissa asked, incredulously. Only December’s adoptive mother, Sister Florence, also known affectionately as Nunny by December, had an account but she never checked on her café so she didn’t really count.
“I’m on level eighty nine. It’s kind of my thing.” Peter bragged, dragging a dining chair over to where she sat.
“I’m on ninety. I guess I could add you.” She said begrudgingly, secretly relishing the fact he was into Facebook games as well.
“Ugh, now there are two of you! I'll add you Peter but I swear I'm going to unfollow you two seconds later.” December groaned.
“Hey, you play Candy Crush, so you can't judge.” Clarissa pouted.
“Which is literally the only game you don't play so...”December shrugged, whipping out her phone to accept Peter's friend request.
“Do you hear the way she talks to me? Unbelievable.” Smirking Clarissa turned to Peter to share in her mock outrage. He winked at her, setting butterflies loose in her tummy. She looked away, biting her lip.
––––––––
“Peter, I just wanted to thank you personally for helping us out. We greatly
appreciate it.” Tom said patting him on the back.
“Hey man, no worries, just doing my job.” Peter responded, trying to play it cool, like he knew tons of celebrities and it was no big deal. It was mind blowing how quickly his uneventful life changed in less than twenty four hours.
“Clarissa told us that you’ve been promoted to Detective. That’s fantastic. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, I worked my butt off to get it. Great timing too, I guess huh?” He gestured vaguely to their surroundings. Tom nodded in agreement, taking the seat next to him.
“Lucky for us actually, right Clarissa?” Tom added with a not so subtle wink her way.
“You’re severely allergic to peanuts, aren’t you?” She replied, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Tom, stop bothering Clarissa. Clarissa, quit threatening Tom.” December tossed out as she wandered back into the room with a large serving plate filled with granola bars and assorted fruits.
Peter chuckled, resting his arm on the back of Clarissa’s chair.
“Okay, so do you guys have Darren under surveillance or something?” December asked, sitting down besides Tom at the dining table after gathering the rest of the group into the room. She looked pointedly at Peter then Damien. Peter glanced at the side Clarissa's guilt ridden face, quickly figuring out that she hadn't told December the news. He sympathized with her, realizing how hard it would be to have that conversation.
“We're working on that. There's an APB out for him in both New York and New Jersey. However, currently we are not aware of his whereabouts.” He admitted, steeling himself against the possible hurled accusations and anger that normally accompanied an answer like that.
Tom crossed his arms, fighting a losing battle to keep a neutral expression. He was incensed and wanted to lash out. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of December's trembling hands. Reaching over, he covered them with his own, lending some comfort.
“Damien and Peter will be working together from now on, so you don't have anything to worry about, okay?” Clarissa added, reassuringly.
“Thank you, everyone, for your hard work. I need to go finish packing now.” December announced, storming into her bedroom. A second later, she came back into the living, her hands balled in to angry fists as she stood in front of everyone.
“What's the plan exactly? What happens the week after when Tom goes to New Mexico to film his big battle scene? I can't go with him because I have charity events that I will not cancel. What are we going to do then? Or are we just going to wing it?” When no answers were forthcoming, she continued:
“I will be back in the city next week, like it or not. I'll stay with you, Clarissa, if you'll have me. If nothing is resolved by then, I guess I'll have to take my chances, won't I?” She raised her eyebrow, casting a disparaging glare at everyone in the room, ignoring the look of pride and adoration on Tom's face.
“A bodyguard will be with you for however long you feel is necessary.” Damien stated confidently.
“No offence, but that doesn't guarantee me anything. I've never told anyone about that night but I guess today's the day, right?”
“December, you don't have to do this.” Tom pleaded softly, reaching out from his seat to grasp her hands. No longer its usual soft warmness, they were cold and clammy. Her finger tips were practically icicles and he could bet blood was pounding in her ears. She gratefully squeezed his hand but she shook her head in refusal.
“I know it seems like I can't defend myself but I lived in an orphanage as a scrawny little girl with a big puff ball of hair. I could never fit in because I didn't know who I was, but I did learn how to fight for myself when it counted and I've had to do that before and I'll do it again. When Darren Singh showed up in my hotel room four years ago and held a knife to my throat, I thought I was going to die.” December shut her eyes as she let herself remember that faithful night.
“I didn't even get a chance to move before he was lying on top of me, whispering and whispering. Telling me things that I'd done to anger him, to make him have to come to punish me.” A sole tear trickled down her face as she recounted what happened to her. Even with her eyes closed she looked shaken.
“I tried to talk to him but it only made him more irrational to the point that he started choking me and cursing me. Which was actually a good thing, I guess since he let his knife drop on the bed and I grabbed it. I stabbed him in the shoulder and he punched me in the face. Then, he rolled off me because he was in pain and bleeding everywhere, so I crawled out of bed to the phone.” December's free hand reached out to the ghost of the phone.
“I was going to call for help. I nearly had it but he was on me again. He had that damn knife again. Slashing and slashing at my pyjamas, then he started kicking me. Over and over and over...”
Every person in the room was riveted, staring mournfully as December continued, wishing it would end. Clarissa gripped Peter's arm tightly as he stood next to her, as if it were a life line.
“He dragged me up by my hair. I had it in this ridiculous bun to sleep in, you know? And he just yanked it until I struggled to my feet but I grabbed something on the way up. I hoped it was something pointy but it was my frigging blanket. I just flung it at him and got away. I picked up the lamp and hit him in the face with it, but he wouldn't go down. So I kicked him in the privates and beat him with the base of the lamp until I was so tired that I could barely pick my hand up again. Apparently I was screaming while doing that which alerted security who burst through the door and there you have it, the worst night of my life. Any questions?” She finished with a tight, bitter smile.
“I'm sorry I ever wondered, to be honest.” Damien said, with no trace of humor this time.
“I told you all that so you know why I'm scared. Why I'm counting on you. I am terrified what at what this man might do to me if he gets his hands on me again. Please, please, please find him.” December implored, finally allowing the tears to flow freely.
She felt deflated after letting down her guard completely, and in front of strangers, after holding on to that secret for so many years. She felt Tom wrap his arm around her shoulders, kissing the side of her head.
“Come on, sweetheart, I think you've had enough of this for now. You need some rest.” He whispered, leading her back to the sanctuary of their bedroom.
Tom didn't have a clue how to console her. He felt overwhelmed, and he was devastated that December had gone through all of that alone. And for her to have to relive it? He wanted to throttle someone, preferably Darren Singh.