Per Verse Vengeance Page 4

  Nicole stands up, still holding the folded pizza in her hand, and walks over to the picture. “Your mother must have the greatest plastic surgeon in the world.”

  “My mother would never have any work done. That’s the way she’s always looked.

  “I swear I’ve seen her before,” Nicole remarks.

  “If you read fashion magazines you’ve probably seen her a lot. She’s been on the cover of every major publication in the world.”

  Nick walks out of the room and returns with a handful of magazines with his mother on the cover of each one. He shows them to Nicole who looks through the magazines with intense interest.

  “How old is she?”

  “Forty-seven.”

  “Amazing! You would think with a mommy this beautiful that you would have inherited some of her looks.”

  “I got lucky in other ways.”

  “So your fortune comes by way of mommy. Real sweet … wish I had a mom like that.”

  “My wealth has nothing to do with my mother.”

  “So what’s your secret?”

  “It’s not important. Why don’t you have another slice?”

  “I’m lucky I was able to finish two.”

  “Too bad! I was hoping to split another beer with you.”

  Nicole sits back down at the table and looks across at Nick. “Why so secretive?” she asks.

  “My life is pretty much an open book,” he counters. “I would think that an enterprising young lady like yourself would have had the total lowdown on my life and career by now.”

  “The internet was down at the hotel.”

  “Well that could certainly impede any type of investigation.”

  “By the way, do you have a computer I could use somewhere in this palace? I need to investigate a rich stalker hot on my trail.”

  “As long as you promise not to investigate your next target.”

  “I promise.”

  Nick leads her into a large, wood-paneled study that looks more like a library. Each wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves holding thousands of books … some hardcover but mostly paperbacks.

  “Okay, please don’t lie to me and tell me that you’ve read every one of these books,” Nicole says.

  “Every one. My mom, Natalie and I promised each other that no book would go on any of our bookshelves unless they were read by all three of us.”

  “Impressive! So Miss Universe and little Bobbie are a lot more than just pretty faces.”

  “Don’t call them that,” Nick says angrily.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I was complimenting them.”

  “You were insulting them.” He walks across the polished hardwood floor to a large, beautifully designed desk in the middle of the room, turns on the computer, pulls out the chair for her and then heads to the door. “Have fun doing your research.”

  “Hey, I need the password,” Nicole calls out to him.

  “Why don’t you try your favorite Renaissance artist?”

  Nicole types in Raphael and looks up at Nick in wonder. “Thanks,” she says. “And where are you off to?”

  “I’m going to look at a movie. When you’re finished, take a left and walk straight down the hallway to the last door.”

  Nicole quickly types Nicholas Righetti into the computer’s search engine and a mountain of material appears:

  Nicholas Righetti, famed Hollywood director, producer and screenwriter, discharged from the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany…

  Hollywood director and producer Nicholas Righetti said to be in critical condition after shielding fellow soldiers and civilians from a roadside bomb…

  The reported death of beloved Hollywood director and producer Nicholas Righetti sends shock waves throughout the film industry…

  Nicole strolls down to earlier articles as she shakes her head in disbelief. She sighs as she says out loud, “My God! So this is the famous Nicholas Righetti. I knew I recognized the name last night at the hotel desk.” She continues reading…

  Nicholas Righetti joins the military and is said to be deployed overseas…

  Where has Nicholas Righetti disappeared to? Hollywood executives and family members remain silent…

  Nicole finally stands up and stretches as her eyes take in the beauty and the wealth of knowledge that surrounds her. She heads down the hallway, glancing at rows of family pictures hanging on the walls, and opens the last door on the left, a screening room that sits about fifty people. Nick is sitting in the middle watching A Charlie Brown Christmas. Nicole sits beside him.

  “How are you still alive?” she asks.

  “I got lucky. The bomb maker was a real amateur and my doctors were professionals. They did a great job putting me back together.”

  “Let me get this straight … I’ve never been to the Bronx, but isn’t it like a half a step up from the shithole I come from?”

  “I come from a nice neighborhood.”

  “So you had running water and air conditioning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow! You really are a jackass. You make it all the way up from the gutter, without a helping hand from relatives in the business, and you still enlist and go fight for a country that doesn’t give a shit about you and a government that only cares about itself.”

  “I guess I was searching for a higher purpose.”

  Nicole smirks. “And did you find it?”

  “I did save two fellow soldiers who are both married with kids … and a boy who might one day grow up to be a doctor or a teacher and do wonderful things for his country.”

  “Yeah, and one day I might find my virginity again.”

  “Your patriotism is quite refreshing.”

  Nicole glances at the screen. “Do you always look at A Charlie Brown Christmas at the beginning of summer?”

  “There’s no time frame on genius. You know that. Chuck is the most well defined character in all of fiction … in my humble opinion.”

  “Well, I’m more a Snoopy-type girl.”

  “Nothing wrong with Snoopy. It might do you well to emulate him.”

  Nicole shakes her head as Nick reaches over and hands her a package.

  “What’s this?”

  “Ten thousand dollars. The easy five thousand I cost you with your former client Bernard … the two thousand I cost you by forcing you to leave that beautiful outfit you were wearing on the desert floor to have the vultures feed on it. And for the record, you looked absolutely stunning in that outfit. And three thousand for the miscellaneous expenses I promised to pay you for driving me back here.”

  Nicole looks down at the money, tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair. “You are simply amazing,” she remarks as she shoves the package into Nick’s stomach. “And I really hope that hurt, a lot.”

  “Drop the histrionics. Unlike Bernard, I’m not asking for anything in return.” He holds the money out to her again.

  “I’m not a charity case, but I will be kidnapping my baby sister, Caroline, before my loving parents have a chance to sell her off. Raising her will not be cheap.” She takes the money. “That’s a promise I have every intention of keeping.”

  “I know you have a lot to offer. Maybe, if you give me a chance, I can help.”

  “I’m not going to get you involved in my life. That would be cruel…”

  Nicole leans her head back and sighs heavily. “How much pain are you in?”

  “If I don’t think about it, not much. And if I took my medicine, probably none at all, but the side effects are awful.”

  Nicole leans forward and rests her arms and her chin on the seat in front of her. The closing credits for A Charlie Brown Christmas roll off the screen as Nick pushes aside Nicole’s hair and looks at the incision on her neck.

  “How does it look?” she asks.

  “Like it’s healing nicely. Does it hurt?”

  “No,” she replies with a small laugh.

  “I do have one small favor to ask of you if you have the
time. I have a doctor’s appointment in two hours. He’ll be shooting me up with a bunch of cortisone and probably won’t want me driving. It won’t take long.”

  “No problem,” Nicole replies as she sits back, folds her legs and looks into Nick’s eyes. “Not a problem.”

  Five

  Nicole turns onto Coldwater Canyon as Nick reminisces about the many times he drove over the canyon on his way to work at the studio after he purchased the house in Beverly Hills. He always left extremely early and for the longest time was accompanied by his sister Natalie. Nick and Natalie always worked as a team, whether they were producing, writing or directing a film. It always bothered Nick that she got so little credit when she was such a major part of their success. She eventually made her contributions known when Nick left the business and Natalie produced and directed two blockbuster films on her own in less than two years … a string he had no doubt would have continued if he hadn’t sidetracked her with his ill-fated injuries.

  Nicole follows Nick’s instructions and turns right onto Ventura Boulevard and enters the lovely and quaint Studio City, one of the few areas of Los Angeles that Nick truly loves. It’s like a different world from Beverly Hills, Brentwood, Bel Air and Malibu. It doesn’t reek of Privilege and Wealth. The houses are one and two stories, mostly colonial, with small yards, nicely manicured … and with actual children playing throughout the neighborhood. Nick and Natalie often talked about buying a house in Studio City or the adjacent Toluca Lake, but that’s off the table at the moment … if not forever.

  Nick did a fairly thorough search on Nicole, back at the house after leaving her room, and virtually nothing came up. No bank records, no social security number, not even a driver’s license. The only thing that made him believe that she wasn’t using an alias was that a Nicole Tyler and an Elizabeth Porter rented the same apartment in Vegas for nearly seven years. The owner of the complex described Nicole perfectly and was grief stricken over the death of Elizabeth. The company that Nicole worked for did an amazing job of keeping their talent off the radar.

  Nicole is quiet throughout the ride and Nick knows that this does not bode well. She, undeniably, has other targets on her hit list and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that at least one of them is right here in Hollywood. Nick knows that any one of his former associates could be on that list, and he also knows that she is the most dangerous type of assassin. Her outrage is totally justified and her thirst for revenge is not going to dissipate with time or be bought off with money.

  They drive past the major studios in Burbank. “Feeling a little nostalgic?” she asks.

  “I have a lot of good friends here. Wonderful, creative people…”

  “Yeah, and how many of these wonderful people came to visit you when you were on your deathbed, or were they too busy cozying up to your beautiful sister?”

  “It’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

  “Is that so,” Nicole remarks as her eyes dance across the movie billboards advertising upcoming releases. “So, when did the creative spark that made you so rich burn out … before or after the blast?”

  “It’s still there. Actually, the whole ride over here I’ve been thinking about writing a script … a psychological thriller … about a psychotic paranoid assassin.”

  They glance at each other.

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a blockbuster,” Nicole says.

  “I could always use a write-off.”

  “So is that what I am to you … a write-off? A pathetic charity case?”

  Nick shrugs his shoulder and remarks, “It must be really difficult to live a life where you see everything as a threat. Doesn’t give you much time to enjoy the simple pleasures.”

  “You have it all figured out, don’t you?” She parks in front of the doctor’s building. “Pick you up in like an hour?”

  “Why don’t you park in the garage?”

  “I’d rather drive around and look at all these glorious studios and their decorative water towers.”

  “If you’re that interested in the history of Hollywood I could give you a personal tour.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Yeah, and if you behave, I might even buy you a souvenir.”

  Nicole drives into the garage and parks. They get into the elevator and Nicole snuggles up to Nick. “Tell me, my little baby boy, the real reason you want me to go with you is so I can hold your hand while the nasty doctor sticks you with those big needles.”

  “I’d be a real fool if I said otherwise.”

  She runs her fingers across the top of his chest. Nick stands his ground, looks down at her and smirks. “Not quite there yet, are we?” he says, gesturing to a pizza stain on her blouse.

  “Well, we still have time to practice … unless of course you want to take me out on a real date to a fancy restaurant and serenade me over oysters, steaks and champagne.”

  “We can definitely do that.”

  “Not afraid being seen with me might tarnish your Boy Scout reputation? After all, I might run into a former client or two.”

  “Surely, you don’t think they’ll remember you?”

  She laughs as the elevator door opens and they walk down the hall to Dr. Ronald Cotlair’s office.

  Dr. Ronald Cotlair, a middle-age specialist with a gray, receding hairline and a neatly trimmed beard, looks up at Nicole as she hovers over his shoulder. With Nick waiting in a separate room, Nicole takes this opportunity to look at an image of his injuries on Dr. Cotlair’s computer. As she leans in, the doctor cringes and taps his fingers repeatedly against his desk.

  “Remind me again, why you’re here?” Doctor Cotlair asks Nicole, his strong Brooklyn accent matching his directness.

  “I told you, I’m Nick’s ride.”

  “I get that, but usually someone’s ride remains in the waiting room … especially when that person is not a close relative.”

  “I’m here to provide support and comfort … to hold the poor child’s hand.”

  “The poor child jumped on a bomb. For some reason, I don’t see him needing someone to hold his hand while I give him three shots.”

  “Apparently, you don’t know your patient as well as you think. Anyone stupid enough to jump on a bomb is psychologically unstable and needs all the support he can get.” Nicole points to three red dots on the computer screen. “Is that the damage? Is that where you’re going to inject him?”

  The doctor taps more rapidly as the cringe hardens.

  “Fine, don’t answer. Be rude. See if I care. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t go ahead and zap all the nerves in that area and block their connection to the brain?”

  Dr. Cotlair looks up at her. “Because I prefer not to paralyze my patients. Are you a WebMD enthusiast by any chance?”

  Nicole waves him off. “I read it in the New York Times. Kill the nerve that’s causing the pain. Simple enough.”

  “No, not simple.” Dr. Cotlair remarks, nods his head, and laughs. “Apparently, you’re a very smart young lady. Why don’t you apply to medical school if you’re that interested in medicine?”

  “Because that would require that I finish high school and I simply don’t have the time. Sadly, I wasn’t fortunate enough to be raised in a loving household like you and Nicky.”

  Dr. Cotlair rolls his chair back from the desk and stands up. He takes his thick-framed eyeglasses off and cleans them with a Kleenex.

  “You have a real problem with women, don’t you?” Nicole asks him.

  “I have two daughters and a lovely wife. Why would you even suggest such a thing?”

  “Because you’ve been nothing but rude to me since the moment we were introduced.”

  “Maybe it’s you … or to be more specific, your motives.”

  “My motives? For your information, the boy wonder latched himself onto me.”

  “That’s what every successful con artist wants you to believe,” Dr. Cotlair remarks as he reaches into a sterilized compartm
ent and takes out three large needles. He fills the needles with cortisone and turns toward Nicole with one in his hand. She looks at the needle as her eyes glaze over. “Maybe you would like to give the first injection?” She wobbles as she reaches out and tries to grasp onto something. She faints as the doctor grabs her before her head slams against the floor.

  He places a pillow beneath her head, checks her pulse and breathing, and then picks up the three needles and walks into the adjacent room where Nick lies on his stomach covered by a blanket.

  “Your girlfriend just fainted.”

  “At the sight of the needles?”

  “Yes. She’s okay. Would you like me to wake her up?”

  “No, no. She’s a lot less dangerous when she’s asleep.”

  Dr. Cotlair pokes around Nick’s back with his hands. “Feels totally numb?”

  “It feels wonderful,” Nick remarks as Dr. Cotlair picks up a needle.

  When Nicole wakes, Dr. Cotlair is there to help her to her feet.

  “Wow! Did I faint?”

  “Yes, you were quite gone. How do you feel?”

  “Okay. I guess this rules out a profession in medicine. Where’s Nick? Is he okay?”

  Dr. Cotlair looks at her thoughtfully and his tone is softer when he answers. “He’s fine. He’s getting dressed.” He hands her a cup filled with orange juice.

  “And did it work?”

  “Hopefully, but we really won’t know for at least a few days … and maybe not even then. Nick is not the type to complain.”

  Nicole shakes her head and smiles faintly. “Definitely not the type.”

  “But, at least for a few more hours, I can guarantee you that he won’t be in much pain. He’s still numb from the anesthesia.”

  Nicole begins to walk toward the adjacent room, but Dr. Cotlair’s words stop her. “Tread softly. There will always be someone watching and the consequences may be painful.”

  Nicole turns back to him. “I’ve been hearing that warning my entire life,” she says.

  Six

  Nicole stops at the red light at Hollywood Way and Riverside Drive where delightful characters depicted across the Warner Bros. Water Tower look down at the passing traffic.