Malibu Love Story: A Novella

Chapter 4: Making a Few Decisions

Reed managed to propel herself down the meandering length of driveway, trying not to lean too far forward, as there was a slight downhill grade, and she didn't want to get going too fast and fall, especially as she was sure he was watching her, and she was definitely feeling a little dizzy from the pain pills. The ocean was starting to turn wonky colors, too, but she doggedly continued, feeling herself beginning to perspire as she neared the huge, glass doors.

They opened as she got to the porch, and Duncan himself was standing on the threshold, hair in crazy corkscrews all over his head, indicating that he might recently have been lying down. He was using crutches, and wearing baggy shorts and a loose T-shirt. His hazel eyes looked tired, irritated and surprised in equal measure.

"Ms. Halliwell," he said. "I'm very surprised to see you here. I thought you'd be recovering at your home."

"Well, that was my intention," Reed replied. "Thanks to some crazy girls that I believe are your fans, though, I no longer have a home to recover in."

"Sorry?"

"Well, I should hope so," Reed responded acidly. "May I come in? And maybe have some water? I'm a bit thirsty from my trek down your driveway."

Without thinking, Duncan opened the door wider and did his best to get out of her way with his crutches so Reed could come inside. "Sorry," he said again, "but what did you say about my fans?"

"May I have the water first? I'm parched."

Duncan clumped to the kitchen of the spacious, light-filled house and clumped back, saying, "Please, have a seat—" as he entered the main living space. He stopped when he saw that Reed had already sat down on the large, comfortable sofa. "Oh. Well. Here you go." And he tossed her a blessedly cool bottle of water.

Reed surprised herself by reaching up and actually catching it, one-handed. "Thank you," she said as she cracked it open and took a long swallow.

Duncan sat across from her, setting his crutches aside. "Now, what were you saying about my fans?"

Reed capped her bottle. "When I got back to my apartment, I found that it had pretty much been burned to the ground by some absolutely rabid girls who seem to think I murdered you with my car."

"What?"

"You heard me. I pulled up in the car with Ramon and the place was crawling with police and the fire department. My little apartment was a smoking ruin, and all of my stuff is gone." And, even though she had no intention of doing so, Reed began to cry. The pills were definitely affecting her. "Some of the girls saw my face and began to chase after the car, so I had Ramon drive away. I had nowhere else to go, so I had him bring me here." She flapped her hand against her thigh in a gesture of futility. "I have nothing left, Mr. Browne. My clothes, my furniture, my books, my novel, all of it was in that little apartment, and now it's all charred ashes."

Duncan sat back, nonplussed, obviously not sure what to make of the weeping woman in front of him.

"I'm sorry, but are you serious?" he finally asked.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Reed responded, reaching into her purse for a tissue. "I got to my apartment and the fire department had just finished putting out a huge fire, Mr. Browne! Everything I owned was in there, and now it's gone!"

"Have you been drinking? You're slurring your words a bit."

"I took some pain pills in the car, if you must know, but I assure you I'm as shober—sober as a judge," Reed told him with dignity, trying to stop crying.

"Tell you what," Duncan said, pulling out his phone. He punched in a number and spoke into it for a few seconds.

"Yeah, listen, I need you to check on something for me," he said. "Find out what happened this morning at—" he looked expectantly at Reed. "Your address, please?"