“No notepad either. I forgot to bring it.” Trena stopped at an intersection and scrutinized him. He seemed to be warming up. She took it as a good sign. “Perhaps I misjudged you. Maybe you don’t have the eye for detail I thought you did. Should I drop you at the mall, or the library instead?”
He rolled his eyes, and it reminded Trena so much of Aster it was like they were twins. Never mind that Javen was three years younger, and slightly prettier, which seemed impossible, even though it was true. “Fine,” he huffed. “A metaphorical notepad. Whatever. At any rate, I’m in. If it’ll help Aster, it’s worth it. And I hate to say it, but this is turning out to be the most exciting thing that’s happened all week.” He frowned. “Which, by the way, is off the record. You put that on your show, I’ll lose half my Snapchat followers once they get a true glimpse of how tragic my life has become.”
Trena maneuvered through traffic, taking surreptitious looks at him. With his smooth olive complexion, wavy dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, and large brown eyes with those ridiculously long lashes, he had a face that was made for the spotlight. Though strangely, unlike most beautiful people she’d met in LA, Javen had no interest in fame. Unfortunately, because of the mess involving his sister, infamy had found him.
No wonder he preferred a low profile. Couldn’t be easy being gay in a family like that. From what Trena had gathered, the parents were traditional, conservative, and extremely strict. For a moment, she considered turning around and dropping him back at school where she’d found him. But she needed him, and he wanted to help. And so, she kept driving.
“Clearly you’re not here to chat or lure me into an episode of carpool karaoke, so what’s really going on here?”
Trena grinned. Now he reminded her of Layla.
“I need help,” she said.
He gazed out the passenger-side window. “Obvi.”
Trena laughed. It’d been a while since she’d spent time with a fifteen-year-old. “The kind of help that will hopefully help your sister as well. I need you to go deep on a few people.”
“Listening . . .” He drummed his fingers on the armrest.
Trena swerved into the underground parking structure of her building, claimed her designated space, and said, “I need a few background checks.”
“Something a little more than a Google search, I’m guessing?”
“I need you to dig up whatever you can on Paul Banks and Kevin O’Dell.” She turned off the ignition. “See if their paths converge. If they come together at some point.”
“I know what ‘converge’ means.” He shook his head. “I’m in honors English, you know. Thing is, those are pretty common names. Any way to narrow it down?”
“Not to worry.” Trena climbed out of the car and led him toward the elevator bank. “I’ll give you everything I’ve got, along with a few suggestions on where to start. You can take it from there.”
“What about MaryDella Slocum? You forget about her?”
“Her too,” Trena said. “I know it’s a lot to ask.” She pressed the call button and frowned.
“Generally speaking, it’s not. But since I’m guessing you’re expecting me to hack into a protected database or three, then yeah, it kinda is.”
“Well, if you can’t do it, or don’t want to . . .”
Javen stared openly. It took Trena a moment to catch on to the fact that he’d just switched to negotiating mode.
She entered the waiting car and pushed the button for the thirty-fifth floor. She never should’ve underestimated the kid. He lived a pampered, somewhat sheltered life, but he still had his share of street smarts. Not only was she on the spot, but also annoyed with herself for being so slow to catch on.
Still, might as well get to the point. Trena turned to him. “What is it you want?” The second it was out, she realized she’d blown it. She’d basically tossed him the ball and told him to run with it. She’d negotiated a killer contract with the network’s top brass, but when it came to a teen, she was out of her league. She’d just forfeited the game before it even started.
“First and foremost,” he said, his tone professional, brisk, “I want to be clear that this is about helping Aster.”
“Of course.” Trena nodded, watching as the doors opened to a short hallway, just a handful of steps to her apartment.
“Because Aster is innocent, and she’s in desperate need of our help.”
Trena readily agreed and ushered him inside.
“In fact, maybe we should take a moment of silence for—”
“Don’t push it.” She needed his help, but she still had her limits.
Javen crossed the spacious room to the floor-to-ceiling windows and took in the expansive city view. “I know you’re eager to get started,” he said. “An
d I’m guessing you plan to share whatever I find on your show so you can raise your ratings, broaden your audience, and further promote your agenda.” He looked over his shoulder, and when she failed to confirm, he continued, “In which case, I think it’s only fair I get something out of it too.”