Page 52 of Hollywood King
Twenty-One
Heath
If she thoughtI’d disappear and wallow while she suffered through one of the hardest things she’d faced in her life, then she didn’t know me at all. Second lesson for ruling in Hollywood, have backup plans for your backup plans.
I called Hindley while I climbed into my car, and he arrived at my house before I did. Men can be motivated by money, and I could use that to my advantage. He glared as I led him to my office and gestured to the chair in front of my desk. Once I sat, I leveled him a glare which had melted more hardened men than him. “You remember all those years ago when you orchestrated a separation between Cathy and I?”
He opened his mouth to speak, and I shook my head. “No need to confirm or deny. It was a rhetorical. It’s time for you to make it up to me.”
For the first time in his life, he remained silent.
“Thisis the time to speak.”
“From what I’ve heard, you two have had no problem getting back together. What on Earth can I do?” The sneer on his face was meant to inspire shame. Hilariously, it never had, from the first day he refused to accept me into his family, until the day I took control over everything he held dear.
“Did you know Cathy’s cancer is back?”
Finally, a real reaction from him. Cathy always insisted Hindley didn’t care about her, but I knew better. She was his baby sister, and despite everything he put both of us through, he loved her. In his own fucked up way.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
I propped my hands on my desk interlacing my fingers. “Because she tells you every personal thing that happens in her life.” I couldn’t keep my contempt and sarcasm separate. “Before Father died, when was the last time she spoke to you?”
He flexed his shoulders back, avoided eye contact, and didn’t respond.
“That’s what I thought. Anyway, back to the point. You need to find out where she’s gone. They won’t give me the details because…” I grit out the rest. “I’m not family.”
No mistaking the look of pleasure shifting through his features at that declaration. “All I know is she’s in an experimental cancer trial. Eddy left for Africa, so I can’t question him about it either, even if I thought he might share.”
“Is this what Cathy wants? Maybe she left to get away from you.”
I gave him a chuckle, stood up and skirted the edge of my desk. My urge to punch him in the face started to eclipse my control at holding it back. I crouched beside his chair and clutched his shoulder hard. “Hindley, listen carefully. If you don’t find out where she went, then I will finish the job I started and strip you from Earnshaw Pictures all together. Hell, I might even change the name to Cliff Endeavors.”
The horror in his eyes at the idea told me he’d do exactly what I said.
I clapped him hard on the back and stood. “We’re done. Get out. You have three days.”
She’d been gone a month already. I thought after a week, maybe two, she’d call, ask me to come, or at the very least, reach out to speak with me. The limit of patience had been reached, and she no longer had the illusion of choice.
Hindley scuttled out the door, and I listened for it to slam. If anyone could find her, he could.
I sat back behind the desk and shuffled papers into piles. Backed up work and contracts I’d been neglecting since Cathy left. By leaving her alone, I may have lost her for good. She needed me, and that knowledge hurt her pride. She didn’t like relying on anyone.
The pile stared me down, and I dove into work. If I’d be leaving to help Cathy for two months, I should try to clear as much as I can before I leave. Nelly would kill me if I left all this for her to handle while I was gone.
Hours later, the light had fled and the paperwork started to blur together. I called it quits, loosening my tie, and shifting out of my jacket. My hands itched for something to do, and a few seconds later, I found myself in the kitchen running my hand over the clean cold counter tops. Cookies weren’t going to take the edge off tonight.
I scanned my pantry and the refrigerator contents. Butter…where did the butter go? Then I spotted the bowl sitting in the center of my counter top range. Nelly must have glimpsed my mood before Hindley arrived earlier. I weighted the contents of the bowl on a small scale. The perfect amount of butter. That woman was uncanny.
Instead of rolling my sleeves, I unbuttoned my shirt, stripped it off, and tossed it over a bar stool. Flour and butter were about to fly everywhere, so I didn’t want to have to wash it out of my clothes too. Some recipes were physical. Designed to be worked hard. My favorite when the tension of the day strung me too tight was traditional French croissants. Layer after layer of dough and butter, they would take this pent-up emotion and turn it into delicious flaky pastry.
I worked at the dough and let it sit and rise in my built-in proofer. Once it puffed enough, I dragged it out and started the rolling process. Continuing until my arms ached from the effort. Hours later, which seemed like a fog, I slid the pan in the oven and sat down. The process, as I hoped it would, drained me.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I dug it out. Hindley sent me a text. Nothing but an address. Oh, he thinks I care if he doesn’t actually speak to me. The address was enough, but I needed leverage. I didn’t know if a month alone was enough time for her to figure out what I already knew. If not, she’d throw me out again, this time even more painfully.
Backup plans to backup plans.
I watched the croissants rise and focused on my breathing. Meditation worked better with delicious things to eat at the end.
Once I set them to cool, I packed a bag with some clothes and necessary things I’d need to work out of the area. Then I called the airport and booked my flight on the private jet. I didn’t want to waste the time dealing with airline schedules and airports or people. I could formulate a plan on the plane to force her surrender.
I locked up, sent Nelly a text with the details of where I went, and boarded a plane to decide my future. The few hour flight crawled by, and when I exited to the tarmac, I knew I wasn’t returning home without my Cathy.
