Stalk Me by Jillian Dodd Page B

flip flops to wear shopping with Sander. I didn’t think about how my shirt would match his car until he pulled up in it. 
    When he got out of the car, I about fainted from shock. All Sander’s gorgeous perfectly highlighted brown hair is now a dark shade of chestnut. 
    “Ohmigawd, Sander! I would not have even recognized you. You look so different!” He grins at me as I study him closely. “But good. Like, damn good. Did they darken your eyebrows too?”
    “Yeah, they had to. So, you like?” He holds his arms out and spins in a circle like the girls do when they put on their little fashion shows.
    “I do. Wow.” The way he looks almost makes me wish I wouldn’t have broken up with him. “I may have to rethink this breakup.”
    His smile dazzles me. 
    “No, no. I’m the brokenhearted one. You’re moving on, leaving me in the dust. Get in. Let’s go find me something a little less preppy.”
     
    We hit some of the shops in the Malibu and find a great vintage-looking deep-brown leather jacket, skinny black jeans, black motorcycle boots, an assortment of solid T-shirts, and classic aviator sunglasses.
    I look at everything we have piled at the cash register. “I think you’re going to look more like James Dean than Danny Zucko.”
    He puts his hand to his chest. “Be still my heart.”
    In case you couldn’t tell by his dogs’ names, James Dean is his idol. Except he doesn’t want to die young. He wants to be one of those actors who gets better with age. I can’t help but laugh at how dramatic he is. 
    “I’m starved. You’re gonna have to feed me before I can shop anymore.”
    He turns to the sales clerk and says, “We’ll take it all.”
     
    After a late lunch of my favorite fish tacos, Sander drops me off. I quietly open the front door in case the girls are down for a nap. I’m shocked to discover a bunch of people sitting in the living room. No one ever sits in the living room. 
    And Mom shouldn’t be home. She’s been working late and on weekends because they’re trying to get the film she’s working on wrapped quickly. She and Tommy are due to leave for Vancouver in August to start filming a romantic thriller together.
    I don’t recognize two of the men in dark suits. 
    I freeze. 
    Mom is wearing the exact look she wore when she learned my dad’s plane crashed. 
    I feel like I’m eight again. 
    I put my hand to my chest and frantically scan the room for Tommy. 
    He’s nowhere. 
    Please don’t let him be dead. 
    Mom’s always telling him that he needs to slow down when he’s driving whichever one his exotic cars he chooses to drive that day. 
    Please don’t let him be dead. Please don’t let the girls grow up without their daddy.
    Everyone is deep in a heated conversation. 
    James, my godfather and head of family security, speaks. “You’ve got to be able to do more. This is ridiculous.”
    Someone sneaks up behind me and laughs in my ear. “What’s with all the suits?”
    It’s Tommy!
    “Tommy, I thought you were dead!” I jump into his arms. 
    “No way, baby. I’m too tough to die.”
    I love Tommy. I really do. He and Mom seriously need to get married already!
    All the heads in the living room turn toward us. Tommy extricates himself from my death hug, strides toward Mom, wraps her up in his arms, and kisses her forehead.
    “What’s wrong?” I ask.
    James replies. “That fan of your mom’s got into her set trailer early this morning.”
    “That’s creepy.”
    Mom comes out into the hall, hugs me, and whispers, “It is kind of creepy. He always sounds super sweet in his letters, so it’s not like I’m that worried, but we’re pretty sure he stole one of my photos. It pisses me off that security is so lax that anyone could walk in off the street and get into my trailer, but now the studio is blowing it way out of proportion.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Hey, do you have plans for tonight? Tommy made reservations for that new fusion place. You