“There must be tons of guys who’d love to be your date for the party. Why not ask one of them?”
“Because I’m going to need all my focus to be on this movie. I don’t need the distraction of a new relationship.”
Becca was right. The last thing she needed was a new romance to take her focus away from this role. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Thank you. I’ll bring you an outfit to wear.”
Aubrey ended the call on a laugh. Another thing they didn’t have in common was love of fashion. She’d always chosen comfort over style, and Becca was of the mind that if an outfit looked fabulous, it was worth a little pain.
Standing, she went to the window that overlooked the large hotel pool. Several people were already swimming or lying on the lounge chairs, soaking up the morning sun. She wished she were home so she could swim in the privacy of her own pool. When she traveled, she never bothered to bring a suit. She knew she wouldn’t be swimming. The scars on her body didn’t define her, and she wasn’t ashamed of them, but the looks and speculation were tiresome. She had learned to ignore them and the occasional rude question, but it was just easier not to reveal them to those who didn’t know her.
That last day, before her ransom had been paid, was a mind-blurring day of agonizing pain and terror. She had t
hought they were going to torture her, use her against Lion to get whatever information they thought he had. And it had been torturous, but what had happened to her had had nothing to do with Lion.
She’d been beaten and then left alone. That was when she’d heard that a ransom had been offered and accepted. She’d been in a near state of euphoria, knowing she would be going home soon. Then everything had changed. The man with the British accent had spoken again, and she’d barely comprehended his words before the new nightmare had begun.
He’d said, “We’re to send her home with a message.”
When she’d woken up in the hospital days later, she’d had multiple stab wounds all over her body. None of the wounds had been to vital organs, none intended to kill her. She still didn’t know who or what that “message” had been for.
She had told the men who’d come to talk to her, both from the FBI and the State Department. Though they’d been kind, no one had offered any concrete ideas on what those words had meant. She’d been told that it had likely been part of her torture. She didn’t think so, but without knowing who had taken her in the first place, she’d had to let it go. She doubted she would ever know the real reason behind it all.
The scars had healed. Some had almost disappeared, but several hadn’t. She rarely thought of them any longer. They were part of who she was. And though the scars on the inside were still with her, she’d learned to let them motivate her.
Had she made a difference? Yes. Was she through? Not by a long shot.
Lawrence Medford’s genius would have been invaluable and would be sorely missed. However, she was determined to get this film made. Nothing and no one would stop her from telling this story.
Chapter Twelve
Beverly Hills, California
The party was in full swing, and Aubrey felt like a fifth wheel. Becca was in her element and had danced with so many men, Aubrey had lost count. Not that she minded. Seeing her cousin enjoy herself was a relief. After their get-together a few nights ago, it had become apparent that the breakup with Chad had hurt her cousin more than she’d let on. It was good to see a smile back on Becca’s beautiful face.
Wearing a black silk and cotton Halston cocktail dress that fit her like a glove, Aubrey had enjoyed her share of male attention. She had even danced a couple of times, but big parties were simply not her thing. She much preferred fewer people and a quieter venue.
Not that she had much of a social life. When she wasn’t working, she was sleeping. At that thought, she scrunched her nose. Her dad had always claimed she was born with an old soul. They’d had a special bond she would always treasure. Little more than a year after her ordeal in Syria, he was gone. Even though his daughter had come home alive, Matthew Starr had never really recovered from her abduction. His heart had simply given out on him.
Since his death, she and her mother weren’t as close as they’d once been. Though she never came out and said it, Elizabeth Starr blamed her daughter for her husband’s death. Aubrey understood that. She blamed herself, too. If she hadn’t gone to Paris, none of that horror would have happened.
Even though he was long gone, she often felt as though he was still with her, guiding her. On occasion, she would catch a scent of his cologne or just get the feeling that he was watching over her. She could almost feel him now, and she smiled at the thought.
There was another reason that her heart felt lighter, too. Just before she’d walked out the door to meet Becca in the hotel lobby, her phone had rung. It had been an out-of-area call, and she had hesitated to answer. The feelers she’d put out for a new backer would all come from a California area code. The last thing she wanted was some kind of sales call. Besides, considering the response she’d gotten from the people she’d contacted, she didn’t anticipate anyone in the industry funding her project.
Something inside her told her to answer the call. She was glad she had.
“This is Aubrey.”
“Hello, Aubrey, my name is Kate Walker. Lawrence Medford was a dear friend of mine.”
“Hello, Ms. Walker. I’m so sorry for your loss. Lawrence’s death was a blow to many of us.”
“Yes, it was. He told me about you…about your project. He had high hopes that you would be able to work out your differences.”
“I believe we could have. He was an incredibly talented producer and my first choice for this project.”
“I wonder if you would mind taking a detour before you head back home to Florida. I may be able to help you.”