In all, aches, pains, and abrasions aside, he had to note this down as a successful date. All he had been hoping for, after all, was to finally get his hand on Mindy's bare tit. At the same time, however, the sweet and wholesome image he had held of her had been altered a bit by the sixteen-hour sex marathon. But, all in all, it was not really a bad alteration. She was certainly better in bed — and on the floor, and in the shower, and in the tub, and over the sink — than he had been expecting when he'd started the relationship.
"Good morning, Mr. Kingsley," the doorman greeted as Jake came limping into the lobby. They no longer bothered enquiring where he'd been.
"Morning," Jake mumbled, going right past without slowing. As always, however, while he waited for the elevator to arrive he saw the doorman speaking into his phone, informing Manny that their wandering subject was home.
He rode up to his floor, limped down the hall, and then used his key to open the door to his condo. Manny was there to greet him, a worried expression on his face.
"Welcome home, sir," he said politely, sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose a little as he caught the unmistakable odor of Mindy's musk clinging to him. He had taken a shower before coming home but she had grabbed him as he'd come out of it, laying him down on the bathroom floor for one last ride.
Jake grunted an unintelligible response and closed the door behind him. As he stepped out of the entryway and into the living room he saw Shaver sitting on the couch, dressed in his usual tailored suit and sipping a Chivas on the rocks.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Jake asked Manny. "He's not welcome in this house. Is there anyone you won't let in?"
Manny chewed his lips nervously but before he could answer, Shaver did.
"Mr. Crow instructed him to let me in," he said. "There's something of importance I need to speak with you about, Jake."
"I have nothing to say to you, Shaver," Jake told him. "I thought we made that clear some time ago. You fucked us with your contract. You're raking in millions off of us while we're going deeper in the hole every day. I know we can't get rid of you, but we're done dealing with you."
"Jake..." Shaver said.
"If Crow or anyone else from National has anything to say to me, they can say it themselves. They already know that."
"This has to do with Mindy Snow," Shaver said.
Jake froze, feeling a burst of adrenaline go shooting through him at the mention of her name. What did they know? Obviously something. "What are you talking about?"
"Your girlfriend, Mindy Snow, the actress," Shaver said. "The story about you two is going to break in the next few days. Since I'm your agent, its me the reporters are going to be calling. Like it or not, Jake, you're going to have to deal with me on this."
Jake sighed, shaking his head. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed and get four or five hours of sleep, but it looked like that wasn't in the cards just yet. "All right," he said. He looked at Manny. "Manny, fix me up a rum and coke, heavy on the rum, and bring me a pack of smokes and a lighter."
"Yes, sir," Manny said, almost skittering away.
Jake walked over to the easy chair and sat down. "All right, Shaver," he said. "Tell me what's going on."
"You were at Point Dume beach with Ms. Snow yesterday," Shaver said. "There was a photographer there as well. He used a high magnification telephoto lens and shot almost a dozen rolls of film of the two of you lying on the beach, holding hands, rubbing suntan oil on each other, and playing in the surf. The photographer has been identified as Paul Peterson, a well-known independent who specializes in celebrity shots."
"A paparazzi?" Jake asked.
"Correct. We have yet to hear who he will be selling the shots to, but the most likely is the American Watcher tabloid. They have the biggest budget for shots such as this and he has a long history with them."
This was all just a little too much for Jake to process at once. He decided to take things one at a time, starting with the most obvious question first. "How do you know about all this?" he asked.
"Steve Crow called me and told me," he said.
Jake resisted the urge to yell. "Okay," he said. "And how does Steve Crow know about all this?"
"I'm not really at liberty to say. The information is accurate, however. I have no doubt about..."
Jake leaned forward, his eyes burning into Shaver. "How does he know?" he said, a hint of menace in his voice.
"Jake..."
"How?" Jake barked.
Shaver took a deep breath. "A private investigator in the employ of National Records was there on the beach watching the two of you," he finally said.
Jake shook his head in disgust. "A private investigator was following me?" he asked. Had he really thought that Doolittle was really going to let him live his own life? Had he really?
"Jake, I had nothing to do with that," Shaver said. "Had I been asked, I would have advised against it."
"Sure you would've," Jake said. "How long has this asshole been following me?"
"Ever since you met with Mr. Doolittle about which songs you would be recording."
"So they've followed Mindy and I everywhere we've been since our second date?"
"They know everything, Jake," Shaver confirmed. "They know she picks you up three blocks from here and you usually drive to her house. They know you drove up to her house once, that you drove around the rural part of the county on another occasion and had dinner in a restaurant together, and they know you went to the beach and then spent the night at her house last night."
"Those fucks," Jake said, enraged.
"Here," Shaver said, whipping out his little silver case. "Let me set you up a couple of lines. That way you'll be able to..."
"I don't want any of your blow, Shaver," Jake told him.
He seemed hurt but he put his case away. "Look, Jake. All they're trying to do is protect you. They've invested a lot of money in you and they just want to know that you're not putting yourself in any danger — physical danger or professional danger. And you have to know that this relationship you're in with Mindy Snow certainly falls into the professional danger category."
"Professional danger?"
"The relationship is bad for both of you. Your images are incompatible. It would be bad for her for it to be known she was seeing a rock musician and it would be bad for you for it to be known you're seeing a... well... a character actor known for family values roles."
"I'm not going to stop seeing Mindy because National Records doesn't like what it does to my image," Jake said. "Nor does their concern for all of this give them the right to send detectives after me." He shook his head in anger. "That fucker followed us everywhere?"
"Everywhere," Shaver confirmed again. "But you're missing the point. What we need to do is start worrying about damage control."
Jake wasn't listening. "How in the hell did this snooping fuck even know..." He stopped mid-question as Manny came into the room, carrying Jake's drink, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a crystal ashtray.
"How did he know what?" Shaver asked, ignoring Manny as he set his bounty down before Jake — at least until he noticed Jake glaring at the manservant in a knowing way.
"Is there something wrong, sir?" Manny asked, catching the glare as well.
"No," Jake said. "Nothing at all."
"Will there be anything else?"
"No," Jake told him. "Go find something to do."
"How about you, Mr. Shaver?" Manny asked. "Can I refresh your..."
"He won't be staying long," Jake interrupted. "Go find something to do."
"Of course, sir," Manny said. He bid a hasty retreat.
"What were you going to ask, Jake?" Shaver enquired once he was gone.