what she told Drejohn.
"That's why I found you alone in the kitchen," he said, with amusement in his eyes, "fondling turkey sandwiches. Seems like loads of fun." He took a giant bite out of his roast beef squashed between two pieces of white bread. He chewed contentedly while holding her gaze from the corner of his eye. After he wiped a bit of mustard from the corner of his mouth, he spoke. "Did you come here with your boyfriend?"
Embarrassed to admit she didn't have a boyfriend, she smiled and looked down at the ground.
"What's the matter? You afraid your lover is going to go ballistic if he catches you here talking to me?"
Jerking her head up, it was Tiffany's turn to look out of the corner of her eye. "I don't have a lover," she proclaimed.
Suddenly, the man leaned in close and his voice dropped to whisper. "Have you ever had a lover, Tiffany?"
Her heart raced as she felt her face flush. She knew she shouldn't answer his rude question, but her training to be polite at all times weighed heavy. Wordlessly, she vigorously shook her head.
"Well, that's just fine," he said, his voice deep and low. "I think chicks today are too much in a rush to lose their virginity. It makes you even more special than you already are to know that you're still pure and untouched." He sat straight again and brought his voice to normal tone. "So if you're not here with a date, who are you here with?"
"Some friends," she said while she shrugged.
Suddenly, a commotion moved their way. "Tiff! Tiff! Where the hell are you, bitch?"
Brenda staggered toward the front of the house, her long hair tangled and standing at odd angles from her head. A bottle of beer was grasped in her perfectly manicured fingers. An equally inebriated male reeled with her, and behind them three or four other guys hoping to score if the first guy struck out.
"There you are! I'm tryin' to find Diana so we can go look at the dirty movies in the back."
Tiffany pointed toward the back yard. "Diana and Penny are outside dancing. Do you want to go out with them?"
Brenda's eyes opened wide as if seeing Tiffany for the first time. "Oh, Tiffany's found herself some choc…o…late. He's hot chocolate too," she said breaking out in peals of laughter. "I bet Tiffany would like to eat you all up," she mugged, letting out a sexy moan and running her tongue around the outline of her lips.
Tiffany wanted to crawl inside her soda can.
Brenda leaned over toward Drejohn, extending her hand, but more pointedly thrusting her breasts in his face. "I'm Brenda, and a forty-two double 'D'."
Drejohn, being all male, took a good look at Brenda's wares. He gave her hand a quick shake, "I'm Drejohn…and I believe you."
Brenda stood up and turned her attention back to Tiffany. "You want to go see the movies?"
"Thanks Bren, but I'm not in the mood."
Brenda leered at Drejohn. "I can understand why. If Diana asks, tell her where I am. 'Comm'n guys." Brenda moved back down the hallway with the trail of testosterone following after her.
"I'm really sorry, Drejohn."
He made a face. "Don't sweat it, but your girl can't handle her liquor that's for sure." His gaze followed the path Tiffany's friend had taken. "You know, it isn't safe for her to go back there by herself. Not only does she have ta-ta's to kill for, she's blitzed, they're showing porn, and she's in a bedroom with at least four guys. Let me go get her."
Tiffany stood up. "I'll go. I'm the designated driver tonight."
Drejohn turned to her and flashed a luminous smile. "Little princess, you wait right here. There might be movies not fit for princess eyes. Besides those guys aren't going to like me taking their toy away. Those dudes already think they've scored." He bent and gave her forehead a quick kiss. "It might get ugly."
Tiffany watched him stride down the hallway, and from the way he walked, she was confident that he'd return with her friend.
PRESTON – 13
Preston had overslept. He remembered Pilar giving him a kiss after a raucous romp before she'd left to head back to L.A. He'd fallen right back to sleep, and now it was light out and someone was discreetly knocking on the door. He glanced at the red glow from the clock radio announcing the time: six-thirty a.m..
He frowned because it was a rarity when someone intruded into his day before he was ready. Usually it meant bad news, and he could tell how bad the news was going to be by the identity of the person designated to deliver it.
"Give me a minute," he called. Hurrying into the bathroom, he relieved himself, combed his hair, swished some mouthwash, and returned to the bedroom where he put on a charcoal grey silk robe.
After marching to the door, he yanked it open to see Martin Bain pacing in the hallway.
"What is it?" Preston demanded.
Martin's face was pale and creased with worry, which only alarmed Preston more. "I'm sorry Governor, it's Tiffany."
Preston glanced down the hall towards his daughter's bedroom. "Is she sick?"
"No. She's missing."
Preston pushed past his chief of staff and strode to the closed bedroom door belonging to his daughter. Giving the barrier a quick rap, he threw open the door and ricocheted around the room looking for his daughter. Next, Preston searched the attached bathroom.
Something niggled in Preston's brain. "Wait! She was spending the night with Penny Ritter. Tiffany is in L.A., that's where she is." Relief washed through him, but something about Bain's body language told him that wasn't the explanation.
"Uh, actually sir, she was with Miss Ritter, but apparently, the two girls gave their security detail the slip. Miss Ritter is at home, but Tiffany isn't with her."
"What do you mean they gave the security detail 'the slip'? Those guys are supposed to protect my daughter. I want to talk to everyone involved." Striding down the hall he spotted his personal assistant hovering at the top of the stairwell wringing her hands. "Patricia, cancel everything on my schedule today. I don't care what the hell it is!"
"Yes sir." His assistant scurried off to complete the directed task.
Preston's mind reeled. He needed to get showered and dressed. He stomped back to his room with Bain trailing. Preston snatched his cell phone off the nightstand and speed-dialed his daughter. The call went directly to voicemail. Checking the display, no calls or texts from Tiffany were registered. God damn it, where are you Tiff?
He turned his rage on Bain. "Get me Penny's parents on the phone – now! I want to talk to Penny."
Bain closed the door to the bedroom. "Governor, the Ritters are beside themselves with worry. I talked to them earlier this morning."
"Good! They should be worried. They were supposed to take care of my daughter and now they don't have any idea where she is!"
"The Ritters called us." Bain's voice was calm and low, which was driving Preston crazy. "Apparently, Tiffany and Penny went to a party and Penny had too much to drink and got alcohol poisoning. She's currently in the hospital E.R. It doesn't look to be too serious."
Preston let out a large breath and sat on the edge of the bed while his anger disintegrated, to be replaced by fear. Where was Tiffany? Had she gotten drunk, or worse, taken drugs and was lying somewhere in need of medical attention? "Have the local police agencies been notified?"
"Um…uh, I'm not sure, sir. We contacted the CHP since they're your assigned security detail. I'd assume they'd let local authorities know, along with the FBI."
"Forgive me for not wanting to risk my daughter's life on your assumptions, Bain. Go find out who's been notified and what they're doing. I'm going to get cleaned up." Preston moved toward his bathroom, then stopped and faced his chief of staff. "By the time I'm out of the shower and dressed, I want my plane ready to go back down to L.A. By the time I land, I want anyone who has any knowledge of what happened to Tiffany last night at my Bel Air house, and that includes Penny. See if you can get whoever is heading the investigation at the meeting as well."
"Yes sir!" Tension was etched in Bain's face.
"Most impo
rtantly, I want to see the security detail that was assigned to Tiffany last night when she 'gave them the slip.' I will not accept any excuse for them not being at the meeting. I'm not interested in what their boss has to say, although I want him there too. I want to know from the horses' mouths how those bastards lost my daughter."
TRAVIS – 14
Travis Divine turned his head slightly. Bad move. Throbbing pain pulsated in his skull. He must have really tied one on last night. Squinting to keep searing light from his eyes, he tried to remember where he was.
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the top of the couch he'd slept on and pulled himself to a sitting position, expecting the worst. Slowly opening his eyes, his gaze met with bikini-clad bodies of a half a dozen beach bunnies. He immediately recognized the life-sized poster that hung over the fireplace of his late partner, Dave's, cabin near Big Bear Lake. Many a night, they'd guzzled beer arguing about the attributes of the six tanned, bleached-blondes dressed in microscopic scraps of fabric.
A feeling of hopelessness sucked what little breath he had from his lungs. Dave was dead. Never again would they sit on this couch analyzing tits and asses…or anything else for that matter.
Travis raised his face to the ceiling. So many things had changed. He wanted — no, needed to talk with Dave. But he'd never do that again either. Sighing, Travis forced himself to his feet. The floor was littered with at least a dozen empty beer cans. Unsteady, he almost fell. Seeing a pizza box in the