“I promote Jewel. Another of Ira Redman’s clubs.”
“That works too.” Trena pushed her way outside, assuming Layla would follow.
She gazed back at the stage, a bunch of blah-blah about how much fun they all had working together, when the truth was, they probably all hated one another. More Hollywood bullshit. The PR wheel never stopped spinning.
“Wait up!” she called, pausing long enough to toss her coffee in the trash before following Trena into the sun.
FORTY-FIVE
NOWHERE GIRL
Was It Murder?
Following a very public breakup from former boyfriend Ryan Hawthorne after discovering his indiscretion with Aster Amirp
our (a promoter for Ira Redman’s Night for Night nightclub), America’s Darling and tabloid staple Madison Brooks has seemingly fallen off the face of the earth.
Ms. Brooks is one of the world’s most photographed celebrities, so the lack of sightings, along with the failure of the star to show up for scheduled appearances on Ellen, Conan, the Today show, and the press conference where she was first discovered missing, is troubling those closest to her, though the LAPD doesn’t seem to share their concern.
“There are a variety of reasons why a person voluntarily disappears,” claims Detective Sean Larsen. “Not all missing persons are victims of foul play. And being a voluntary missing person is not a crime in itself. We ask the press to keep that in mind. All of this wild speculation is probably only serving to drive her farther away. After all she’s been through, the poor girl is probably just looking for some privacy.”
Maybe so. But according to Madison’s longtime assistant, Emily Shields, there’s one thing Madison Brooks would never abandon. “Was Madison upset about what happened between her and Ryan? Of course, who wouldn’t be? But even if she did decide to hide out for a while, she never would’ve left without Blue. That dog is her best friend in the world. He cries all day without her, like he senses something’s wrong, and it’s breaking my heart. If anyone out there knows what happened to Madison, please, please speak up. We need your help, since the police don’t seem to care.”
At what point will the LAPD wake up and realize what the dog knows?
Something’s gone terribly wrong with Madison Brooks.
Trena Moretti skimmed the article she’d written, then adjusted the font until the screaming headline filled up the screen.
Was It Murder?
Inflammatory? No doubt.
Attention-getting? Definitely.
But then, wasn’t that the point?
It’d been days since anyone last saw Madison, and the usual rumors tossed around by the press had failed to satisfy her reporter’s quest for the truth.
Madison’s on the set of a top secret project, they’d said. Highly unlikely given that Madison herself had declared a hiatus, and from what Trena had gathered, Madison had done nothing to make her think otherwise.
Madison’s holed up at the Golden Door, overcoming “exhaustion.” The usual overused euphemism (along with dehydration) churned out by the Hollywood PR machine, which usually meant the star in question was suffering some sort of addiction, depressive episode, or maybe even an overdose—none of which applied to Madison. Not only had Trena contacted the Golden Door, but also Miraval, Mii amo, even the Ashram—a decidedly luxury-lacking starvation retreat inexplicably adored by A-list celebrities. Only the truly rich and spoiled would think nothing of spending thousands of dollars for a week of rigorous exercise, minuscule food portions, and austere rooms with shared bathrooms. And though Madison was undisputedly one of the most spoiled of all, according to Trena’s sources, she hadn’t checked into any of those places.
Madison and Ryan are reconciling on a remote island paradise. Another unlikely scenario, considering Ryan had become more visible than ever—there wasn’t an interview he wasn’t willing to grant. He basically repeated the same unbelievable refrain, claiming he’d felt Madison pulling away and so he’d hooked up with Aster Amirpour in an attempt to make Madison jealous. It was undoubtedly immature—an act he deeply regretted. According to People, US Weekly, and OK! magazines, not a day went by when he didn’t wish he’d handled it differently. More than anything, he wanted Madison to return so he could offer the apology she deserved. Though he entertained no illusions about her taking him back, he was sure she was off somewhere licking her wounds, wounds he’d undoubtedly caused, but she’d show up eventually. In the meantime, after all she’d gone through, she deserved a little space and privacy. He even went so far as to plead with the press to back off the story and show some respect.
Trena had dutifully slogged through the interviews, and as far as she was concerned, Ryan Hawthorne was giving the performance of a lifetime.
There was something far darker at stake.
Madison wasn’t quite the girl she pretended to be. She worked hard to maintain her party image—yet she clearly preferred her sobriety. She seemed to spend a lot of time shopping—yet she spent very little of her own money, since most of the clothes she wore were given to her by the designers themselves. A single photograph of the right celebrity wearing the right dress was enough to boost a designer’s profile, not to mention their profits, as it usually amounted to thousands of fans spending their hard-earned money to own the same thing. The result was an enormous return for a meager investment, and Madison was a willing participant in the game.
From what Trena could determine, Madison’s house was her one major extravagance. Though the number of gates and security measures she’d taken made it seem more like a fortress.
Who was Madison so desperate to keep out?
Who was she afraid of?
For someone as famous as Madison, it was like hiding in plain sight.