Remember My Name. Havana Adams

filtered through his brain, then he caught the knowing smirk on the cop’s face and he forced himself to rein his imagination in.

      “Sure thing,” Alex nodded, as the cop snapped a photograph with her phone. Back on firm ground, he smiled widely watching in the rear-view mirror as she walked back to her squad car.

      By the time he finally pulled up outside Shay’s apartment, what little alcohol there’d been in his system had dissipated leaving him stone-cold sober. He left the engine running, looking up at the Art Deco block of apartments as it occurred to him that he had no idea what number Shay’s apartment was. But short of ringing all of the forty or so buzzers, he’d have to call her and hope she was ready to talk to him. Alex flicked the engine off. Then he groaned a sigh of frustration as he realised that he’d left his cell phone at the house.

      He grimaced, unfolding his tall frame from the car. He’d already walked up the path towards the apartment block when he realised that he’d left the car unlocked with the keys in the ignition. As he turned to go back to the car, Alex spotted movement at the entrance to the building, a chance to get in. He approached the doors quickly as a woman emerged from within and a tiny dog on a leash immediately beginning to yap.

      “Nice dog.” The woman, a petite redhead in a pink velour jogging suit, looked up at him and then a smile burst across her face.

      “Wow, you’re Alex Golden,” she said. “Shay really works for you?” Alex loved these chatty types.

      “Yes, do you know her?” He turned on the charm, giving the blonde the full benefit of his blue eyes.

      “Sure, she’s right above me.” Alex nodded.

      “That’s 4…” He trailed off, hoping.

      “No, 5b.” Alex shot her another smile as he manoeuvered past her into the building.

      “Thanks,” he called back over his shoulder.

      “What the fuck?”

      It was not the welcome he’d have liked but still Shay hadn’t kicked him straight out and he was sprawled on a tiny sofa, in her doll’s-house-proportioned apartment. Alex looked around, disconcerted. He cleared his throat.

      “Shay, I pay you well, don’t I?” Shay padded back into the living room. She watched Alex, shaking her head with irritation and with a measure of affection that she couldn’t quite hide.

      “Why have you driven all the way here in like the middle of the night?” She set down the steaming mug of coffee on a coaster on the table.

      “You weren’t answering my calls.”

      “Because I didn’t want to talk to you.” Alex looked hurt and Shay clicked her tongue until he cleared the hound dog expression off his face. She’d quickly grown immune to his charms in her first months working for him.

      “What am I supposed to do without you? Everything’s fallen apart since you left.” Shay took a deep breath and tried to remember all the reasons why she’d quit working for Alex. “Avital’s screwing me and now Max Maguire has signed up to do Defender.” Shay sighed, as her quiet evening watching back episodes of Medium receded further away. “Do you think I’m past it?”

      “Alex, it was one bad opening, it wasn’t your fault.”

      “Is that what you really think? That I’m just being paranoid?” Shay took a deep breath as she weighed her answer. Sure she’d walked out on Alex, but she expected that he’d talk her round as he always did and she’d go back to work for him. But if she told him the truth now, she knew it might end their relationship. There was that mantra she’d seen once: ‘In Hollywood truth and business don’t mix’, yet even as she resolved to say nothing, the words were already spinning out of her.

      “Alex, the films are shit and you’ve turned into just another Hollywood cliché – fast cars, fast life, easy women. It’s tired. That sexy English guy, that’s what we wanted and you’ve gone all Hollywood and not in a good way. Max Maguire is sort of you five years ago.” Shay took a deep breath as the words finally stopped tumbling from her.

      “Don’t hold back,” Alex snapped and Shay sighed.

      “You asked for the truth.” She read the confusion in Alex’s eyes and once again an overwhelming desire to protect him rose up in her. But she squashed it down quickly; she’d been in LA too long. She was 27 years old. Old enough to know that Alex Golden was no vulnerable man-child in need of her mothering or her advice even. He was The Modeliser; he’d be fine. Men like him were always fine and yet, as she stared into his troubled blue eyes, she wondered if the depths she sometimes sensed hidden didn’t hold more vulnerability than Alex liked to admit. Shay shook off the thought; she had to protect herself. If she stayed working for Alex she would never progress her career and would probably end up embarrassing herself over him.

      “What do I do? Even if I wanted to, how do I go back to being that guy?” Alex asked the question quietly.

      “I don’t know, Alex, I really don’t know.”

      They continued to sit facing each other for a long moment as their coffees went cold. Finally Alex stood, his tall frame making her tiny apartment seem even more miniature in size.

      “Will you come back?” Alex asked. The hint of vulnerability was gone, Shay noted, and now he was all business.

      “I’ll think about it,” she replied and Alex nodded.

      “Well, while you think about it, could you help me figure out how to access my messages? I had a little accident with the phone.” Shaking her head, Shay reached for her phone, quickly tapping in a number, and then when prompted an access code. She flicked the phone onto speaker, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee.

      “You have six new messages,” the automated voice informed them.

      Alex dropped back onto the sofa, closing his eyes. Shay watched him, in the dim orange light of the room. How often had she fantasised about him being here in her apartment; on the sofa, in her bed. The convoluted, ridiculous scenarios she had dreamt up that would lead him to her, that would make him see her as anything more than his girl Friday. Shay was startled from her musings by the sharp English accent.

      “Alex, call me.” The message clicked off abruptly.

      “Shit, Helena. I’ve been meaning to call her back,” Alex said, slowly sitting up as the next message clicked on and began to play.

      “Christ, Alex, call me back, it’s important.” Shay leaned forward and frowned. She’d rarely heard Helena, Alex’s sister sound so clipped. And yet beneath the formality of her stiff messages, there was a thread of something. She watched as Alex too straightened up; he’d heard the catch in his sister’s voice. Another message clicked on.

      “Alex, it’s me. It’s Gramps. He’s dead. He died. Please call me back.” And then the sound of soft broken sobs before the message clicked off abruptly. Shay watched Alex rise to his feet; the colour had drained from his face. The easy grace with which he normally carried himself was gone and he stood like a newborn deer, awkward and ungainly, faltering. Shay was filled with compassion for him.

      “Oh Alex, I am so sorry.” He turned away from her, as though looking around the room for something. Finally he looked at her, a bleakness in his blue eyes that she had never seen before.

      “I have to go. I have to get to London.

       CHAPTER 7

      Shit! Shit! Shit!

      Talia sat stiff as a board, her spine straight as she waited in the empty office for her boss’s appearance. Though he had asked to see her, Rick himself had yet to turn up and Talia stared stiffly around his office, her eyes darting at the papers and notes pinned up on the corkboard that lined the walls on either side of the room. As her eyes ran down the list that marked out