Chapters (64)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- CHAPTER1
- CHAPTER2
- CHAPTER3
- CHAPTER4
- CHAPTER5
- CHAPTER6
- CHAPTER7
- CHAPTER8
- CHAPTER9
- CHAPTER10
- CHAPTER11
- CHAPTER12
- CHAPTER13
- CHAPTER14
- CHAPTER15
- CHAPTER16
- CHAPTER17
- CHAPTER18
- CHAPTER19
- CHAPTER20
- CHAPTER21
- CHAPTER22
- CHAPTER23
- CHAPTER24
- CHAPTER25
- CHAPTER26
- CHAPTER27
- CHAPTER28
- CHAPTER29
- CHAPTER30
- CHAPTER31
- CHAPTER32
- CHAPTER33
- CHAPTER34
- CHAPTER35
- CHAPTER36
- CHAPTER37
- CHAPTER38
- CHAPTER39
- CHAPTER40
- CHAPTER41
- CHAPTER42
- CHAPTER43
- CHAPTER44
- CHAPTER45
- CHAPTER46
- CHAPTER47
- CHAPTER48
- CHAPTER49
- CHAPTER50
- CHAPTER51
- CHAPTER52
- CHAPTER53
- CHAPTER54
- CHAPTER55
- CHAPTER56
- CHAPTER57
- Dedication
- Acknowledgements
- Books by Jonathan Kellerman
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“Maybe that’s part of it,” he said. “I always figure, it’s God forbid they do anything for themselves.”
“Do you handle groceries and stuff like that?”
“Nah, that goes through her staff at the compound.”
“What do you buy?”
“ ‘Special purchases.’ ”
“Meaning?”
“Whatever she feels like.”
We walked half a block before he stopped again, drew me to another display window. Manikins who’d have to plump up to be anorexic were draped in black crepe garments that might be coats. Blank white faces projected grief. Nothing like a funeral for selling product.
He said, “I’m going to tell you this so you’ll understand, okay? One time—I don’t know this personally, I was told it—they actually set up a scene so she could fill her car up and look like a regular person. They picked a gas station in Brentwood, Apex paid to clear the place out for a day, masked it off with those silver sheets photographers use so no one could see what was going on. They gave her a car that wasn’t hers, something normal, and she pretended to fill it up.”
I said, “For one of those stars-are-just-like-us deals.”
Another contemptuous look. “Five takes for her to get the hang of putting gas in a fucking car. She had no fucking clue.”
“Unreal.”
“Her life is unreal, man. So what’d she need those bugs for?”
I smiled.
“Okay, I get it, shut up and cooperate.”
“Do your purchases get audited?”
“Every month a prick from accounting goes over every damn thing. I charge a pencil that can’t be explained, my ass is grass. A girl who used to work in the next cubicle, she bought for—I can’t tell you who—she got busted for a bottle of nail polish.”
I said, “Sucks. So what’s the most expensive item you’ve ever bought for her?”
“Easy,” he said. “Last year, time share on a Gulfstream Five. Seven figures up front plus serious monthly maintenance. She never uses it.”
I whistled.
“That’s the point, dude. Doing stuff no one else can do, to show you’re God. One day I’m going to find a real job.”
“How long have you been at Apex?”
“Little over three years,” he said. “Started out doing messenger shit. Which was basically bringing envelopes from one schmuck boss to another, picking up lunch, all kinds of scut. When I signed up, I figured it would be temporary. So I could save up enough and go back to school.”
“What were you studying?”
“What do you think?”
“Acting.”