Finding Shayla Read online

  ***

  “Remember,” Jazz said on the way to the studio, “you’ll get no preferential treatment. If I give direction, I expect you follow. Don’t take it personally if I yell cut in the middle of one of your scenes. I suspect I’ll be doing that a lot since you’ve been out of acting for so long. Please, don’t personalize it. I’m doing my job. And my job is to help you do the best you can.”

  Shayla nodded. She understood. She did. And directors could be temperamental. She knew this. Lord knows she’d worked with a couple of them back in her college days. And it was true that it had been years since she’d acted. Any other director and she’d welcome feedback. But how would it feel coming from Jazz?

  “I get that,” she said. “I do. And I’ll try not to take it personally.”

  “Our personal relationship ends once we walk in those doors. It’s all professional from there. And the two will not, cannot, overlap.”

  “Right.” It made sense. Jazz always made sense.

  They’d been shooting the new season for a couple of days and Shayla had hung around the set watching. Jazz was tough. She was demanding. Shayla vowed to do her level best not to upset her.

  She knew what happened when you upset your significant other. God knows she’d disappointed Robin enough. And she’d paid the price. Broken ribs, bloody noses, dislocated shoulders. And those were for the minor infractions. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think about what happened when she really upset him.

  “You okay?” Jazz said. “You’re ghost white. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want us on the same page.”

  “We are. And I’m fine. Sorry. Flashbacks.”

  “Oh, babe. I wish I could make those go away.”

  “They’ll disappear with time,” Shayla said. “And we’re totally on the same page. I’m going to rely on you to help me to be the best store clerk I can be.”

  They laughed together. Shayla’s bit part was a jewelry salesperson. One of the main characters was shopping for the perfect diamond necklace. The writers would maybe make Shayla a love interest for the character if she did a good enough job. Which she planned to do.

  She didn’t look forward to playing a mistress but would do whatever it took to keep working as an actress. She was excited and nervous. She took a deep breath. She needed her confidence. She was a hell of an actress and she knew it. Sure, she might be a little rusty, but it would all come back to her. Once the lights went on.

  They got out of the car and Jazz squeezed her hand.

  “You ready?” she said.

  “I am.”

  Gone was Shayla Gardner. She was now Alexis Murdoch and she was a damned good actress. Wit’s End was lucky to have her on their cast.

  It was after ten when Shayla finally got to act in her first scene. It was a mellow scene. She was helping some random person in the store. She just had to smile and look good, which she did. Jazz didn’t yell, “Cut,” until the scene was over. Shayla breathed a sigh of relief.

  One down and a few more to go. They didn’t get to any of her other scenes that day. So she watched as Daisy had to retake scene after scene.

  “Destiny,” Jazz shouted. “Vacation is over. Get your head in it.”

  Shayla jumped every time Jazz yelled at Daisy. This was a side of her she hadn’t seen. She told herself she was just doing her job, but she couldn’t ignore the flashbacks. Angry words. Hard fists. Intense pain.

  She left the set and went to the restroom to take some deep breaths. She wanted to splash some cold water on her face but couldn’t. She didn’t know if she’d be up again later. She carefully wiped the tears away so as not to smudge her makeup. When she felt she was in control she walked back out and was pleased to see people simply milling about. Jazz approached her.

  “Where’d you disappear to?” Jazz said.

  “I needed to use the restroom.”

  “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “We’ll talk about it in the car then,” Jazz said.

  Shayla felt like she was in trouble. She hated being in trouble. She hated disappointing Jazz, but she really hated being in trouble. She wasn’t a child anymore. And she wasn’t with Robin. She didn’t need to get in trouble at her age.

  So she set her jaw and walked with Jazz to the car. Her mind was made up. If Jazz started yelling at her, she’d leave her. She’d get another hotel. Or maybe her own apartment. She wouldn’t stay with someone who treated her poorly.

  They were in the car and Jazz was opening champagne.

  “What’s this?” said Shayla.

  “We’re celebrating.”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “You rocked your first scene, babe. I’m so proud of you.”

  Shayla grew warm all over. Jazz wasn’t mad at her. She was proud of her. Shayla smiled at Jazz.

  “Thank you. That means the world to me.”

  “We’re all meeting for dinner now. I hope that’s okay with you?”

  Shayla didn’t want to share Jazz with anyone at that moment, but knew she was being silly. They’d all worked hard that day and deserved dinner and drinks.

  The car pulled up at a restaurant outside of town.

  “Al Capone used to own this,” Jazz said with pride. “And it used to be a brothel. Now it’s just a really good place to eat.”

  “Wow.” Shayla knew of Jazz’s obsession with Al Capone. She thought it was cute. So, of course, this was where Jazz would want to have dinner.

  They went inside and found the cast and part of the crew at the bar. The place was packed just with them. Jazz ordered drinks for Shayla, took her hand, and led her outside. It was a very cold night and Shayla shivered.

  “What are we doing out here?” Shayla said.

  “I just wanted a couple more minutes alone with you.”

  “You’re so sweet. But it’s freezing out here.”

  “I need to kiss you, Shay. I can’t do that in there. So, come here.”

  Shayla stepped into Jazz’s arms and tilted her head up. Jazz planted a powerfully passionate kiss on her, and Shayla returned it in kind, growing warmer with each passing second. Jazz finally broke the kiss.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.”

  “Anytime, Jazz. Anytime at all.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Cayenne got home late Sunday night. She was tired, but too keyed up from her trip to sleep. She knew jet lag would set in soon enough and she should go to bed, but she didn’t want to.

  She turned on the TV to get caught up on Wit’s End. She’d just finished an episode when a bit came on advertising some behind the scene preview for next season or something like that. She moved to turn it off, but her curiosity got the better of her. She was hooked on the show whether she wanted to admit just how hooked or not.

  Cayenne took a swig of beer just as the picture of the newest addition to the cast, Alexis Murdoch flashed on the screen. She spit her beer out as she stared at a picture of Shayla. She froze the screen and stared. The actress had dark hair and eyes. Could it be? Yes. It was definitely Shayla. She pressed play again and watched the interview.

  There was no denying Shayla’s voice, her demeanor, her beauty. Cayenne realized she was sitting on the edge of her couch. She was engrossed in the interview, not because she cared about the show anymore. No. She was caught up in the fact that Shayla was okay. She was not in jail or lying in a ditch somewhere. She was healthy and happy. And she was about to be a star.

  Cayenne almost felt guilty about dragging her back to Lazu. What a bummer that would be to Shaya, but it was going to happen. Cayenne needed her to stand trial for the murder of Robin Gardner. She didn’t have a choice. She was bringing Shayla in.

  Her heart raced at the sight and sound of Shayla, but her body cried out, “No more.” She went to bed and fell into a hard sleep.

  She woke the next morning feeling better than she had in weeks. She was rested and ready to take on the world. Or at least
Shayla. She pulled into the station and found Farris there with a pile of paperwork he wanted to review with her.

  “What the hell happened while I was gone?” Cayenne motioned to the stack.

  “Not much, really. I just wanted you to go over these with me to make sure I didn’t miss anything before we file them.”

  “Great. Pull up a chair.”

  She spent the next hour and a half poring over the paperwork. Making sure i’s were dotted and t’s were crossed. She was antsy as hell when they finished. She sent Farris off to patrol and pulled up Wit’s End on the computer.

  Cayenne searched high and low for the name of the studio and where it was located. She knew Wit’s End was set in Chicago, but where was it filmed? She finally found it. Chicago. It was filmed in Chicago. So that’s where Shayla was. Bingo.

  She jotted down the name and address of the studio, booked a plane ticket, and told Farris he was in charge again for another few days.

  “Why, boss? Where are you off to now?”

  “I’m going to arrest Robin Gardner’s murderer. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  She stepped outside and bumped into Karen and Linda.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Karen said.

  “I’m off on business. What are you two doing here?”

  “We were just coming to ask you to dinner,” said Linda.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be out of town for a few days.”

  “Raincheck then?”

  “Sure.”

  She sidestepped them and got in the Bronco. She drove home, packed some warm clothes, made a reservation for the flight from Casa Grande to Chicago, and drove to the airport. She had a few hours to kill but didn’t want to sit around at home. She needed to be on her way, en route to Shayla.

  The flight was uneventful, and she arrived in Chicago in the afternoon. She rented a car and drove to a hotel where she checked in, showered, and dressed in a clean uniform. She put her coat on and drove to the address she had written down.

  Cayenne arrived at the large building that housed the studio. She flashed her badge at the front desk and was told the cast was not in. They were filming on location that day. Cayenne found out where they were filming and sped off.

  She got to the spot to find no sign of Shayla. She inquired and was told the filming was over for the day and everyone had left. The people at the store were friendly but not too helpful. They had no idea where she could find Shayla. Or anyone who might know. So she went back to her hotel, changed, and headed out for dinner.

  ***

  Shayla was in heaven. She loved being involved in acting again. And she was good, really good. At least that’s what Jazz kept telling her. She was crazy about Jazz, but still, something was holding her back.

  It was more than just her PTSD. Jazz was wonderful. Caring, gentle, gorgeous. But something wasn’t right. It was nothing Shayla could put her finger on. She certainly didn’t want to leave Jazz, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay with her either.

  Still, she more than enjoyed their time in the pool, the hot tub, their kissing, and cuddling. But she couldn’t convince her heart that Jazz was the one. Why not? She had no idea. She didn’t focus on it. She simply savored their time together and the attention Jazz lavished on her.

  Work was different. There was no coddling or anything like it when they were on the set. Jazz was strictly professional, and Shayla tried her best to be the same. She acted her heart out on every scene she had, and Jazz had only offered direction a handful of times.

  She felt more comfortable, more confident, with every scene she was in. She felt she was following direction well and Jazz’s direction only made her better. They were in the hot tub one evening after a long day of shooting and Jazz told her how wonderfully she was doing.

  “They’re going to make you a regular next season,” she said.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am. They love you. You’re a natural.”

  “Oh, Jazz.” She hugged Jazz and Jazz kissed her full on. It was apparent how much passion for her Jazz had and Shayla felt guilty holding out on her. But was she really holding out? She only felt guilty until she realized she wasn’t ready for anybody to touch her intimately. Jazz or anyone else.

  “What are you thinking, babe?” Jazz said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Shayla began to cry.

  “Why? What for? You should be happy. We’re celebrating here.”

  “I know you’ve got to be tired of waiting for me.”

  “Tired of waiting? Not even close. If anyone is worth waiting for, it’s you, Shayla.”

  “Do you mean that? You’ve got to be frustrated.”

  “Sure I am. I’m only human. But, I’m also patient. And when you’re ready, we’ll consummate our relationship. Don’t worry. I’m not going to force myself on you or anything.”

  The words were meant to calm her but had the opposite effect. They sent her reeling with a horrible flashback to a particularly horrible incident when Robin had been angry at her for his steak being just past medium rare. He’d thrown her on the gravel in the back yard by the grill and forced himself on her. Her back and hips were ground into the rocks and the pain was as excruciating as what he was doing.

  Shayla hurried out of the hot tub and wretched into the plants. When she was through, Jazz was there, gently rubbing her back.

  “Are you okay?” Jazz said. “I realize what I said and I’m so sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  “It’s okay,” Shayla sobbed. “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is. I was crass and I feel horrible about it.”

  They climbed back into the hot tub and Jazz poured Shayla a glass of champagne.

  “Here,” Jazz said. “Let’s get back to celebrating.”

  Shayla forced a smile and took a sip of the champagne.

  “This is delicious. Thank you. And I’m happy to be thinking about becoming a regular on the show instead of having flashbacks.”

  “Me, too. I knew the first time I saw you that I wanted you. On that show and in my life. I’m so happy you’re becoming a permanent fixture in both.”

  Shayla smiled wider.

  “Me, too.”

  They went to bed a little later and this time Shayla put on a nightgown.

  “What’s with the nightgown? I won’t touch you inappropriately. You have to know that,” Jazz said.

  “I’d just feel better. I’m sorry. I just need to tonight. I feel too vulnerable naked. It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “Okay, babe. If it makes you feel better. Now, come on and let’s get some sleep.”

  Shayla woke the next morning to Jazz holding a tray over her.

  “What’s this?” Shayla said.

  “Breakfast in bed. Sit up, sleepyhead. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Shayla scooted to a sitting position and gazed at the crepes on the plate. She loved crepes and Jazz’s cook made the best. She sipped her coffee and ate a biscuit. It was all delicious and she ate voraciously.

  When she was through, the cook came and took the tray.

  “Okay, beautiful,” Jazz said. “We’d better get a move on. Can’t be late.”

  “Okay. I’m getting up.”

  They showered together then got dressed and left for the studio. Shayla relaxed in makeup while they applied it and brushed and styled her wig. She was ready for her scene. She only had one, but she planned on making it count.

  She hovered in the background until it was her turn. She slipped into Alexis mode and was rocking her scene when a commotion at the door of the studio interrupted the filming. Jazz was up and heading for the door. The bright lights made it impossible for her to see what was happening.

  Shayla heard Jazz admonishing whoever had come in.

  “We’re shooting. That’s why the sign is on the door. No one is allowed in or out.”

  Shayla’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the response. She recognized the deep, melodic voic
e. Her body betrayed her, and she quaked all over. But she also knew why she was there, and fear creeped over her, leaving her cold and shaking.

  “Who are you here to arrest?” Jazz said incredulously.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” she heard Cayenne say.

  Shayla stepped out from the lights and approached the two of them.

  “Hello, Cayenne.”

  “Shayla.”

  “You know each other?” Shayla saw disbelief and something else in Jazz’s eyes. Jealousy?

  “Shayla Gardner, you’re under arrest for the murder of Robin Gardner.”

  “Murder? What?” Jazz sounded as confused as everyone else looked.

  “You have the right to remain silent…” Shayla quit paying attention. She was looking at Jazz and seeing the betrayal in her eyes. Cayenne placed handcuffs on Shayla and escorted her to the door.

  “I’m sorry, Jazz,” Shayla said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’ll get you a lawyer,” Jazz said. “Where are you taking her?”

  “Back to Arizona. We have lawyers there,” Cayenne said.

  “I’ll fly out,” said Jazz. “Where in Arizona?”

  “Lazu.”

  “No,” Shayla said. “I need to do this. Alone. Thank you though.”

  Cayenne opened the door and escorted Shayla out. They took the elevator down to the main lobby. Cayenne walked Shayla out to her car and put her in the passenger seat.

  “I should have gotten a police car,” Cayenne said.

  “I’m glad you didn’t. I’m not going to try to get away. I deserve this. In a way this is a relief.”

  “I’m glad you think so. We have to talk before we get back to Lazu.”

  “What about?”

  “I want you to plead self-defense. You were protecting yourself from an abusive husband. You’ll get off. And then you can come back here and pursue your career.”

  “Or I could stay in Arizona.” Shayla couldn’t deny her attraction to Cayenne, regardless of the fact that she had just arrested her.