“All things I will gladly embrace for the joy of having a child in the household,” she said. “I am very excited about this Jake, and I support your decision wholeheartedly.”
“Thank you, Elsa,” he said, pleased by her enthusiasm. A part of him had been afraid she would just quit once the baby was born.
“Of course, you will increase my rate of compensation when the blessed event happens,” she added, in all seriousness.
Jake chuckled. “Of course,” he promised.
His cell phone began to ring in his back pocket. This was a bit unusual. Though he carried the phone so he could be in communication if necessary, it was not usually necessary. Everyone he had given his cell number to knew that Jake was not a fan of talking on the thing, particularly not incoming calls. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the small screen. It was the number for Pauline’s office in KVA’s studio. He pulled the antenna out and flipped open the phone (noting a disapproving look from Elsa, who was strongly of the opinion that there should be a law against talking on a phone and driving—like that would ever happen, Jake mentally scoffed).
“This is Jake,” he said into the phone.
“It’s me,” said Pauline’s voice. “I tried to get you at home but just got the answering machine. Same deal at Granada Hills. Are you coming into the studio today?”
“I am,” he said. “I want to work a little more on culling down the tracks we’re doing for V-tach. The boys are there, right?”
“Yep,” she said. “They’ve been here since nine and they’re grinding away in the studio. Where are you?”
“Just left Whiteman. I brought Elsa with me so she can start her vay-cay. I’m gonna drop her off at Granada and then head on in. What’s up?”
“I got an email here that you’re going to want to take a look at,” she said. “It was forwarded to my address by an entertainment reporter and then she followed up with a phone call asking for commentary on it. Since then, five other reporters have forwarded it to me as well and they are all asking for the same.”
“What’s the email about?” Jake asked.
“It appears to be a complete and total fabrication that any idiot would disregard, but it seems that most of the idiots are not disregarding it.”
“What is it?” Jake asked.
“I think you should see in person,” Pauline said. “It is very inflammatory if people are actually believing what is written here.”
“Can you give me the abbreviated version at least?” he asked.
“You and Teach are being accused of kidnapping an underage transgender person from Venezuela and using her as both slave labor and a sexual toy.”
“What?” Jake said, incredulous. “Are you serious?”
“I am completely serious,” she said. “And there is a picture attached that purports to be of you, Teach, and the transgender person in question.”
“A picture? Of Laura and I and a tranny? What the fuck? We haven’t taken any pictures like that.”
“As I said,” she said, “I would like you to review the email in person and tell me what this picture actually is. How long until you’re here?”
“About twenty minutes,” he said. “I’ll drop Elsa off and head right over.”
He actually made it in only seventeen minutes, as his foot had been heavy on the pedal between Granada Hills and the studio in his eagerness to see what the hell this was all about. He parked next to Ben’s car and went inside, not even saying hello to the receptionist at her desk. He went down the hall and through the open door of Pauline’s office. She was sitting behind her desk, looking at her computer screen when he came in.
“Come sit over here, next to me,” she told him.
He slid the desk chair around to her side and sat down. She turned the screen toward him and he saw a color photo was displayed. He recognized it immediately. It was the shot of he and Laura with that ramper that worked at the Pocatello airport, the photographer guy. What had been his name? Jake could not remember that.
“That’s a ramper that works at Pocatello Airport,” he told his sister/manager. “He took a bunch of shots of the plane and a few of me and one of the other rampers who was an Intemp fan. But somebody has doctored this photo.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The guy was wearing a sweater with the name of the FBO on it,” he said. “And the sweater was not pink.”
“Interesting,” she said. “And you’re sure it was a guy?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Jake said. “He was a bit effeminate in appearance, but definitely male. He wasn’t even really setting off the old gaydar.” And as a celebrity who had lived in Los Angeles for more than ten years and who interacted with actors, producers, and upper-echelon record executives, Jake’s gaydar was quite sensitive and accurate.
“A ramp worker, huh?” Pauline said. “I figured it was something like that.” She clicked her mouse and the picture disappeared. She clicked again and the body of the email came up on the screen. “Here. Read what is being circulated about this picture.”
Jake peered at the screen and began to read.
JAKE KINGSLEY AND HIS WIFE ARE KEEPING AN UNDERAGE VENEZUELAN SEX SLAVE!!
My brother-in-law, Jose, is a ramp worker who works for the FBO at Sandpoint airport in northern Idaho. His family is originally from Mexico and, though Jose is an American citizen, he speaks fluent Spanish. Recently, singer Jake Kingsley and his wife Laura flew in to the Sandpoint airport in their multi-million-dollar airplane for a week of skiing at the world-famous Schweitzer ski resort. Jose, who had been assigned to take care of the Kingsleys’ plane, saw they were traveling with a young Hispanic woman who seemed to be frightened and intimidated by the couple, and for good reason. They spoke to her harshly, making her carry their bags for them, and barking at her frequently in rudimentary Spanish.
While the Kingsleys were arranging for their transportation needs to Schweitzer, Jose approached the young woman and spoke to her just so he could be sure she was all right. It turns out that she is very far from all right. In the first place, the young woman, who says her name is Maria, is not actually a woman at all, but a transgender male who has the original name of Martin. Maria became acquainted with the Kingsleys during a recent visit the couple made to Barquisimeto, Venezuela, with singer Celia Valdez. Maria is only seventeen years old and was basically sold to the Kingsleys by her family, who do not support her life choice to identify as a female. Maria says the Kingsleys paid ten thousand American dollars for her and she has been living and traveling with them as a virtual slave ever since. In addition to being forced to be a live-in maid, Maria says that both of the Kingsleys regularly sexually abuse her, sometimes individually, sometimes at the same time. She cannot escape from their control as she does not speak English, has no friends or family in the United States, and has no access to money as she is not paid for the work she does.
Shocked by this story, Jose called the Idaho State Police and they sent a trooper to interview Maria. Maria, however, refused to talk to the officer and, when he tried to at least identify her and determine her age and if she was in the country legally, the Kingsleys quickly lawyered up and snuffed the attempt.
While all of this was going on, Jose did manage to get a picture of the Kingsleys and Maria standing next to the plane. This is the shot he took. Please circulate this email and the attached photograph far and wide so that, hopefully, someone will come forward to identify Maria and help extricate her from the hell she is in.
“What the fuck?” Jake asked when he finished. “Who the hell wrote this?”
“There is no name on the email,” Pauline said. “The original came from a Hotmail account with the address “none of your business”, spelled B-I-Z on business. Since then, it has been forwarded nearly a hundred thousand times and has been appearing in inboxes everywhere in the world where email currently exists. It is also appearing on thousands of bulletin boards and hundreds of websites that deal with celebrity stalking.”