Escape (Chimera Club Stories) Read online

  CYBILL

  CAIN

  Escape

  Also by Cybill Cain

  Poker Face

  Coming Soon…

  Haunted

  Delicious

  ESCAPE Copyright © 2017 by CYBILL CAIN

  Cover art: CYBILL CAIN

  Queen Beta Services provided by Kathy W.

  Proofreading Services provided by Love2ReadRomance Proofreading

  Promotional Consideration provided by Indies Ink

  Advanced Reader Copies provided by Exclusive ARC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the storyteller’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions or locales is completely coincidental.

  For my muse, because sometimes we all need a little escape.

  Table of Contents

  1- A Change in Plans

  2- Escape

  3- Hidden Treasures

  4- The View from Here

  5- Every Breath You Take

  6- Dreaming of You

  7- Out to Lunch

  8- The Studio

  9- The Gravity of My Mind

  10- Storm Coming

  11- Falling For You

  12- Aftermath

  Epilogue

  Want more Cybill Cain?

  1- A Change in Plans

  Max

  “Annnnd cut! That’s a wrap!” Spontaneous applause erupted among the film crew to hear that they were done. I nearly joined them, but didn’t think it was appropriate to show how very ready I was to be done with this whole project.

  Sailor’s Moon would be my fourth “blockbuster” film, and was rumored to be the one to put me in the running for some real metal. My agent had been on cloud nine for months, blathering on and on about the Oscars, and the after parties where I could schmooze and line up my next award winning film. I just wanted a vacation.

  These projects that lasted for months were mostly special effects, and so filled with questionable dialogue and situations, they exhausted me. It was the impossible acting task. Act, but not too much. Feel, but don’t out do the leading lady. Be, but don’t hog the screen with anything near real talent, or it could turn into an “art film”.

  Personally, I preferred “art films”, and longed for the days when genuine acting talents were awarded the metal for bleeding out on the silver screen. If I had lived in the golden age of Hollywood I might have been able to find the happy medium between art and film that was elusive in today’s world of blow ‘em up movies.

  “You’re staying for the wrap party, aren’t you, Max?” my leading lady Cynthia Carmen pouted, cornering me on the way to my trailer.

  “Sure,” I told her, smiling, but gently brushing her hand off me. She’d been sending me clear signals for a while that she wanted to make our on screen relationship extend beyond the storyline we were portraying. She was pretty, and seemed nice enough by Hollywood standards, but dating another actor had little appeal for me. If I made it, I wanted it to be on my own merit, and not because I hitched my star to someone else, not to mention the press we would get.

  I suppressed a shudder at the idea of even more paparazzi following me because I was dating Cynthia. She was the darling of the flashbulb, barely able to brush her teeth without standing in front of a window so they could snap a pic. Everyone said it was just the price you paid for fame, but if you looked closely at their eyes when they said it, you could see that the attention they received was necessary to them.

  The fact that I acted, and received a paycheck for that performance, did not mean that every moment of my life was owned by the faces in the dark. I did the job, and kept what was real, straight in my head.

  “I’m going to grab a shower, and make some calls first,” I told her, already moving to prevent any further coercion on her part to make me stay. I would come back, it was expected, but it would be later, when hopefully she’d moved on to someone else. I would have a drink, and thank the crew for their hard work before making a discreet exit.

  I need a vacation, I thought again, as the hot water slowly released the tension I’d been holding all day. I leaned against the wall and let myself enjoy the sensation, while random thoughts of where I might go flitted through my mind. Switzerland sounded good, and I owed James a call back to confirm the tentative plan we had made for my visit to his mountain retreat.

  It’d been more than a year since I’d seen James Draven, my best friend from college. We’d kept in touch since school, meeting up in exotic locations all over the world when we happened to find ourselves on the same continent. I’d usually be doing a film, and he would be there for business.

  I might own the trade magazines, but James had staked his claim in the business section of every paper in the world as he grew Draven International Holdings. Our exploits were legendary, but six months ago he nearly died in a car accident in Montauk. I’d been in Africa at the time, and was unable to see him. By the time I was free, he refused to let me visit. At first, I’d been hurt, but had soon come to realize that it wasn’t just me he was pushing away. Since the accident, and his retreat to Switzerland, he’d shut everyone out.

  When I called him a few weeks ago, determined to get through to him, at first he was furious that his second in command at DIH, Morgan Lightner, had given me his private number, but after nearly an hour he’d finally agreed to consider letting me come to visit. I was looking forward to many late nights of drinking and catching up. I dressed and dried my short dark hair with a towel before calling James, but it wasn’t him that answered.

  “Hello, Mr. Alexander, this is Thomas Meenan. I work for James, and he asked me to speak with you when you called.” I fell down on the sofa in my trailer, surprised and not, at the same time. James had finally agreed to consider a visit, but he’d sounded less than thrilled at the prospect.

  “I don’t understand. Is James all right?” Meenan hesitated before answering me.

  “At this time, Mr. Draven is adamant that he not have visitors.”

  “That’s not an answer.” He ignored me pressing on.

  “However, he has made alternate arrangements for your time off that he believes will be most suitable for you.” I sat back, recalling other times that James had made arrangements for me. They’d never disappointed. Most of my more memorable experiences in life came from James’ arrangements.

  “That’s fine, but answer the question. Is he all right?” He hesitated, telling me that whatever pretty lie he was about to give me was one that even he had trouble swallowing.

  “He’s…existing, Mr. Alexander.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “Yes, I understand, but at this time, Mr. Draven is not receiving guests.”

  “I’m not a guest. I’m his friend.”

  “If that’s true, then please accept what he is offering, and understand that even this much is progress for him since the accident.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “There must be something I can do.” Meenan sighed.

  “There is. Accept his gift.”

  “All right, what is it?”

  “A month in Upton, North Carolina at a B&B called Escape. Mr. Dr
aven understands that you like to retreat from the public eye from time to time, and feels that this remote location would be ideal for your needs. The house is owned partially by Mr. Draven, in partnership with the local who ran it before he invested.” Several objections came to mind immediately, but before I could voice them, he continued.

  “The co-owner is Ms. Anne Clemons. It’s right off Route 12. She’s been informed of your visit, and has accepted our rental of her entire establishment for a month, agreeing to cater to you exclusively. You’re still in Wilmington, I believe, Mr. Alexander?”

  “Yeah, but I’m done here as of today. I can leave now.”

  “And you can be there in four hours. Just take I-64 East. I’ll text you the precise address when we hang up.”

  “Will you call me if there is something I can do that will help him?” He hesitated again.

  “Yes. Of course, Mr. Alexander.” That would have to do, I decided and hung up. True to his word, the address came in less than a minute later. I looked at it, still not sure this was what I needed. While I was considering what to do, someone knocked on my door.

  “Max? Come out to the party!” Cynthia called through the door. I rolled my eyes, and took a deep breath. I could do this. Then I would check out James’ retreat. I could always leave if it wasn’t what I was looking for.

  ***

  When I finally got on the road it was nearly midnight. I thought about staying in town and heading to Upton in the morning, but I was anxious to leave this experience behind me. The road stretched out in front of me, empty and desolate because of the late hour, but I loved it. It was one of those rare moments when it felt like I was alone in the world. Solitude in my line of work was sometimes hard to come by.

  Maybe I could find some time to work on my screen play while I was on vacation. I’d been trying to finish for a year, but couldn’t find the ending I wanted for my story about a man who wakes up and finds that everyone but him has disappeared over night. The empty road made me think of it again, and I wished for what must be the thousandth time that I was talented enough to get the feeling I had right now down on paper.

  Eventually, I wanted to write and direct my own films, but I couldn’t seem to find the jumping off point to make that happen. I’d saved most of my movie money, planning to finance my first projects myself if investors weren’t interested, but money burned away pretty quickly once things got moving. I could go through my savings in record time if I didn’t plan it out carefully.

  That’s just an excuse, the cynic in me piped up. You’re afraid to fail. It’s your pride that keeps you from taking a risk. I sighed and tried to find the volume button on my inner critic. I would make the jump when the time was right.

  2- Escape

  Annie

  “You have a guest arriving tomorrow, Ms. Clemons. He will be your exclusive guest for a month.”

  “Do I need to leave this time?” When Thomas Meenan had invested in my B&B, and taken over financial responsibility under the Chimera Group three years ago, we’d made a deal. He could use the property whenever and however he wished, in exchange for his financial support. I’d been upside down on a double mortgage, and on the verge of losing my family legacy when he approached me.

  “Chimera sometimes has need of locations like this for special private events. You may stay in your residence when they are in progress, or we will put you up in the hotel of your choice at our expense for the duration.”

  “Are these events legal?”

  “If they aren’t, you needn’t worry. None of the participants will be in a position to cause trouble for you.” I wasn’t exactly comfortable with that answer, but the check he handed me helped get me there.

  Escape had been in the Clemons family for over a hundred years, first as the home of my great grandfather, a fishing boat captain. As times changed, it became a B&B for tourists. My mother’s long term illness, the downturn in the economy, and several bad storm seasons had forced me to leverage the property for maintenance and upkeep. The upswing I’d been hoping for never came. Meenan was the dark angel who helped me sleep at night. I was the last Clemons. I couldn’t be the one who lost what so many had fought so hard to keep.

  My life was quiet and remote out here on the edge of the ocean, but I loved it. I loved opening the windows and seeing the ocean, I loved the roar of it singing me to sleep every night. The solitude that would have made some people crazy, fed my soul, and served as inspiration for my art. Occasionally, there would be a regular tourist who found me on the web, and several times a year Chimera booked me for private events, other than that I was left to myself and my own pursuits.

  I could get lost in my head for days, reading, watching movies, and painting in the attic where I had my own studio set up, or just walking on the beach. I also looked after the lighthouse on the edge of my property on behalf of the county. It wasn’t just a tourist lighthouse. This one was used for real storm emergencies along the coast, and its upkeep earned me a modest stipend. Technically, I owned it, but in hurricanes it had saved lives, so the county wanted to make sure it was in tip top condition in case it was needed.

  It wasn’t hard work. I checked it a few of times a month to make sure everything was working properly, and no vandalism had occurred. Once I’d found some empty beer cans and scrawled graffiti on the side, but that was the worst that had happened since it had come under my care.

  “No, Ms. Clemons. You are expected to stay and provide care for your guest. He’s a celebrity, and might not wish to draw attention by leaving the property. You may need to shop for him, and take care of any other needs that arise while he is in your care.” I rolled my eyes.

  I’d had famous writers, government officials and movie stars stay here several times since Chimera had stepped in, and it was always exhausting. Special bottled water, egg white omelets and expensive food items that were almost impossible to find on our small seaboard town were one thing, but the tantrums that inevitably resulted when they were disappointed were exhausting.

  “I’ll be texting you a list of items to procure for his arrival. Use the company card, of course.”

  “What time should I expect him?”

  “His schedule is fluid. I can say only that he will be there, and it is my sincere hope that you will make his stay enjoyable.” Did he think I was new at this, or was there something about this guest that made them more important than the others?

  “Who’s coming?”

  “A close friend of my employer.” That’s what made this a big deal. Meenan was formidable. I could only imagine what his boss was like.

  “Got it. I’ll take care of everything.”

  ***

  Later that day, as I strolled the aisles of the local grocery store gathering items from his list, it occurred to me, as it had many times before, that I was not made for the customer service industry. Often I lacked the patience to gracefully withstand the sheer magnitude of ego that sometimes walked through my door.

  This list, however, was a bit surprising. Most of the things on it were pretty ordinary for a famous celebrity. Usually, the fancy people who had stayed at Escape were annoying about their specific beverages and food requirements. Things had to be exact, or they acted like the world was ending, and I had disrespected their humanity if their water wasn’t carbonated.

  This list just said coffee, not some complex cappuccino espresso beverage. I could make those, Meenan had made sure of it when he redid my kitchen. I had nearly every high end appliance a chef or guest would need. There wasn’t even a specific brand of coffee listed here.

  Honey was the next item on the list, and finally two cases of Corona to go with the limes I’d picked up in produce. I added another case for me. I loved the stuff, too. Nothing was better after an intense painting session than a cold beer with a wedge of lime. I usually drank it on my porch, where the wind would brush against my paint covered skin, making me feel kissed all over. I liked to paint nude, and thankfully, my house was far e
nough off the beaten path that I had all the privacy I needed to indulge myself when I had no guests in house. I was loading it all into the back of my SUV when a voice behind me made me jump.

  “Shopping, huh? Expecting a guest?” I made myself take a deep calming breath before turning to face Todd Barnes, the last person I wanted to see. He owned the most successful seafood restaurant in town. I’d worked there for a few months before Chimera and Thomas Meenan had bailed me out. He’d creeped me out the whole time I’d been forced to stay there, but any other gig waiting tables in town would have provided half the tips I got at his place.

  He’d asked me out to the point of harassment, but every time I’d explained patiently that I thought it would be wrong to date my boss. When I’d finally quit, he’d pressed his case that much harder, saying that now there was no excuse to not go out with him. He seemed to discount taste in the equation.

  There had been another guy there, a waiter named Jackson who had also tried to get me to go out with him, but he had taken my no more gracefully, and not asked again. Eventually, we’d even established a causal friendship, but I hadn’t seen him since I quit the restaurant.

  “Hello, Todd,” I answered, avoiding his question. It was none of his business. “Good to see you, but I have to get going.” It was a lie, it sucked to see him, but I wanted to get moving.

  “Hold up,” he said, placing his hand on my door, preventing me from opening it. “What say you put those groceries away, and come over to the restaurant tonight? I’ll have something special prepared for you. At sundown we can take a walk on the beach. Maybe go back to my place for a night cap?” He was standing too close to me. I took a step back, and tried to remain calm.