“Where ya headed?” Alex asked. “Out. Just going to hit the grocery store. Be back.” Billy clipped his lieutenant badge to his belt along with his off duty weapon. He noticed both Adam and Alex’s gaze move towards it as he did. “Does it suck having to carry a gun everywhere?” Adam asked. “No.” Billy pocketed his phone and made sure he had his wallet. “Be back soon.” He left, walking through the kitchen door that connected to the garage and tapped the button as he did, raising the double garage door up. He hopped into his pickup truck and removed the paper with an address out of his pocket. Seeing it was in Malibu, Billy headed to the highway, putting on his sunglasses and drumming his finger on the steering wheel impatiently. Since it was Saturday and not rush hour, it didn’t take more than an hour. Billy slowed down as he came closer to the address. He drove by it and then spotted a black Mercedes coming from the opposite direction, also slowly driving down the road. “What the fuck?” Billy flashed his headlights to get the driver’s attention. When he did, he caught Steve gaping at him in surprise. Billy signaled for Steve to turn his car around, then drove beyond the beachfront home and parked. In his side mirror, Billy watched Steve make a U-turn and pull his car behind him. They both got out and met between cars. “Son-of-a-bitch,” Billy said, shaking his head. “Jeff told me you already asked him for the address when I called.” “Where’s Mark?” “He and Jack went to look at horses.” Steve leaned on his car and gazed at the beach house. “Not far from Adam and Jack’s place. Our luck they’ll drive by and catch us stalking.” “Fuck that.” Billy leaned against the car beside Steve. “I want to go knock. I want a face to face with this guy.” “What if it fucks up the contract for Alex?” “I thought about that. But Adam is signing it now with Alex. So, done deal.” “Huh.” Steve and Billy stared at the house. “I won’t be happy until I talk to him.” “You?” Billy shook his head at the absurdity. “It seems as if he’s straight.” “That’s a front. He’s never seen with the same woman twice.” “Yeah. I guess. Thirty-eight, never married, no kids.” “Yup.” Billy folded his arms. “How do we do this?” “Ya can’t go in on police biz, Sharpe.” Steve tilted his head at the gun and badge. “Wasn’t planning to. But thought it was a good intimidation factor.” “He’s probably not home.” “Don’t know until we knock.” “Fuck it. Let’s knock.” Billy armed his truck with a chirp, and he and Steve walked across the street and down the block. The home was slightly set back from the road and not overly huge. But in California, it was location, location…and beachfront property in Malibu was ‘location’. Both he and Steve stopped at a gated drive. “Two car garage, pretty typical.” Billy leaned on the rail. “Nicely landscaped. He’s got the money to have several homes, you know that, right?” “True. God knows what that fucker earns. You know what they’re paying Alex?” Steve glanced at Billy. “Christ. Do I want to?” “Five grand a day.” “Fuck!” “And Alex isn’t even a film star. My guess is this guy makes millions for each picture.” “He’d better be straight.” “What are we supposed to do if he’s not?” Billy looked around the area. “Beat him straight?” Steve laughed. “I’m going for it.” Billy pushed a button for a buzzer. Steve kept a lookout from behind. “Yes?” a voice came from the intercom on the pillar near the gate. “I’m looking for Randy Dawson.” Billy met Steve’s eyes. “Who are you?” “Lt Billy Sharpe, LAPD.” Billy shrugged at Steve. “It’ll get us in,” he whispered. Indeed a buzzer sounded and the electronic gate swung back. “We’re in Malibu. Doesn’t the fucker know you have no jurisdiction here?” Steve said as the two of them walked up to the front door. “He knows why I’m here.” Billy ran his hand through his hair. The front door opened and a man wearing a robe and swimsuit stood behind it. “Well, well,” Randy smiled, a pure white Hollywood grin. “Lt Sharpe of the LAPD.” “This is Steve Miller.” Billy tilted his head to Steve. “Mark Richfield’s hubby. Yes. I know who he is. Come in.” Randy opened the door. He was holding a cocktail and his robe was parted, showing off his fabulous body. “Care for a mimosa?” Steve muttered out of the side of his mouth to Billy, “Gay.” “I’ll pass,” Billy said. “I hope we’re not intruding.” Billy took in the sunk-in living room, fireplace, a view from the back of a deck, above the white sand, right to the ocean. “You didn’t have to come armed, Lieutenant.” Randy smirked, showing the men into the living room. “Regulation.” Billy looked for photos in the room, hoping to see one of Randy with a woman. The script for the film was on a coffee table, as if Randy had been reading it while he was sipping his mimosa. The sliding door was open, a breeze coming from outside. “I was on the deck. Care to join me? Or would you rather stay indoors?” “Let me just get to the point.” Billy crossed his arms. “Ah yes. Alexander.” Randy sipped the drink and glanced at Steve. “What about him? What’s his point?” “Alex is only twenty-four.” Steve walked towards the coffee table. Billy knew he was inspecting the magazines for clues of a preference. “I know. And?” Randy set the glass down and closed the sliding door.
