Behind Blue Eyes

Chapter 1

Debbie Malone pulled off the Santa Monica Freeway and joined the drive-thru line of Double-Decker Burgers. She was only a couple of miles from her condo but only indulged in fast-food after a workout when she figured her metabolism was still in overdrive. Usually a patient person—Debbie had to be considering who her boss was—the current disparity between her definitions of "fast-food" and "drive-thru" and that of the franchise's owner quickly had her fingers drumming on the steering wheel of her red Corvette convertible. The long line of vehicles in front of her—she counted at least twelve—had only become apparent after she'd placed her order, turned the corner of the building and become trapped by the wall between drive-thru lane and parking lot, committing her to an order she doubted would be worth the wait.

Like many in the Greater Los Angeles area, the entertainment industry paid her bills and, with luck, would fund her retirement. She was fortunate to look the part and have access to many of the privileges and benefits associated with being an A-list celebrity, but she was neither an actor or musician. She was able to shop in the Marina Del Rey Costco without a single raised eyebrow of recognition from the cashier. The contents of her cart had never been photographed and published in the National Enquirer claiming she suffered from either a bowel disorder or a toilet tissue fetish. She could arrive at LAX and not have to run the gauntlet of paparazzi on the way to a taxi. In the nebula of stars waiting to be birthed, the twenty-six-year-old, single, mother of none, had never waited tables in the hope of being discovered. She'd had a career plan that didn't include acting in low-budget straight-to-DVD movies with or without her clothes on.

Glendale arguably had the smallest Irish-American contingent of the Police Brotherhood in the continental USA, but Debbie had grown up immersed in it regardless. She was proud of her family's multi-generational service but, unlike her sister and three brothers, had strived to not let it define who she was or would become. So while her brothers had pursued various careers in law enforcement—her sister Katie had been a paramedic until she'd had twin boys—Debbie had become the first in her family since the great westward migration to exchange the Sunshine State for the East Coast, where she'd earned a law degree from Harvard.

A Harvard law degree and MBA, without family connections, had proved insufficient to land a job at the prestigious law or public relations companies she'd coveted. Although female, her ethnic background was not one such companies had a quota for and, perhaps most galling, at five feet four in heels, petite and blonde, she'd sensed the hiring managers she'd interviewed with had written her off as a Valley Girl. On multiple occasions, she'd contemplated risking a broken nail to punch someone in the throat, but had had significant student loans and could ill-afford a lawsuit, even if she was capable of representing herself. She'd proven to be no Elle Woods and despite her bravado had been secretly relieved when Katie had presented a face-saving opportunity to her.

Katie's brother-in-law was Luke Dornan, lead singer with five-time Grammy-winning rock band, Blue Fusion, and co-judge on NoteWorthy, the primetime talent show ratings blockbuster. Dornan had amassed a not inconsiderable personal wealth—at least ninety million dollars according to various websites—from Blue Fusion royalties, Noteworthy salary, and product endorsements including a clothing line at Walmart, and a range of male grooming products. After a highly publicized split with his longterm manager, he'd needed someone he could trust. Debbie had needed a job—her landlord's daily frowns when she crossed him in the hallway of her apartment building being a constant reminder—but she'd no prior real-world business experience and mixing business with family didn't seem the greatest of ideas.

Debbie had hesitated long enough for Luke to fly to Boston to persuade her in person to give him a chance. Give him a chance? She'd wondered if there was something Katie hadn't told her. She'd only really known Luke as the geeky younger brother of her elder sister's equally annoying meathead boyfriend and, for his part, he'd seemed as equally unimpressed or unaware of her existence. In her own ugly-duckling high school years Debbie had never imagined the geek was merely a chrysalis that would undergo a metamorphosis into an icon for heterosexuals and the LGBT community alike. It was quite an achievement that had never impressed her much; she'd grown into no wallflower either and was never short of someone to drive her home or serve her pizza for breakfast whenever she was in the mood.

Business manager and lifestyle organizer to the famous had not been high on her list of career aspirations, but she'd had no real choice. And the two of them had somehow hit it off. She'd expected to be nothing more than Luke's personal assistant but he'd never asked her to do anything he couldn't do himself other than making a restaurant, hotel or airline reservation.

Debbie sighed with the lack of progress of the drive-thru line and pressed the button for the Corvette's roof to unfold itself from the trunk so she could turn on the air conditioning just as a call came in from Joyce de Roode, Luke's agent at Creative Artists Agency, with an addition to Luke's schedule. Luke was in the final two months of a six-month world tour with Blue Fusion. North America was all that was left before Luke rejoined the cast of Noteworthy. Now, while she was giving up hope on ever getting a crispy chicken sandwich with fries, she had to agree to somehow had to fit in a couple of days for him to shoot a guest appearance on some science fiction television series in Vancouver. Luke hated creativity when it came to travel arrangements since it frequently resulted in long layovers at airports that hardly deserved a regional, let alone international, designation in their names. Sometimes she wished she could just pick up his dry cleaning.

The truck in front of her finally drove away from the pick-up window, and she was able to pay and receive her own meal. She pulled her car into a no parking zone to check her order. It was beyond her how anyone could mistake a crispy chicken sandwich for a cheeseburger, but she didn't feel like getting out of her car to address the issue. She pressed Luke's number and then picked at the fries as she rejoined the freeway. She was in a bad mood and needed company.