Money Shot, N.J. Harlow [thriller novels to read txt] 📗

her forthe moment, but the familiar sounds she heard were crystalclear.

Cameras.

Dozens of them. Firingaway.

Her vision adjusted to thelight and her eyes grew wide as the 'razzi descended.

On her.

What the hell?

A television photogbrought his lens within a foot of her face. "Why did you destroyDesmona Jackson, Roxanne? What's your agenda?"

"How did you create thosephotos?"

"Does the Grapevine wantits money back? How much did you get?"

She put up her hand andbacked up, reaching for the door that was not yet familiar. Thetelevision lights grew even closer and blinded heragain.

"Roxanne Rizzo?" said amale voice.

"Yeah," shesaid.

She felt a strong handgrab her own and slap a stiff envelope into her hand. "You've beenserved. Have a nice day."

She finally found the doorand backed into her house, quickly sliding the door as the 'razziand media pounded on it with fists and questions. Her eyes adjustedto the light again and she opened the envelope.

Desmona Jackson wassuing her.

Her adrenaline spiked asshe unfolded the document and quickly looked through the legaljargon for something understandable. One word told her all sheneeded to know.

Fake.

The actress was claimingthat Roxanne Rizzo, a/k/a The Vulture, had used highlysophisticated technology to create the photos that appeared in theHollywood Grapevine. That she had single handedly destroyed DesmonaJackson's career and reputation.

Roxanne heard a commotionat the front of the house. She peeked out a window and saw a row oftelevision satellite trucks, liked up with their dishes pointed tothe sky like a row of electronic petunias. Firing up theirgenerators like they were getting ready for a NASCARrace.

She dropped the legaldocument on the kitchen table and ran to the television, fired theremote, and got a high-definition close up of her new house on a52-inch plasma set.

"We just got a brief lookat Roxanne Rizzo," said the blonde anchor fembot. "The paparazziaccused of faking the now famous lesbian photos of Desmona Jacksonand her longtime agent, Nicole Wine. Now let's go live to theestate of Miss Jackson."

***

"Good morning," saidDesmona. She paused for a moment, looking out at the hordes oftelevision cameras and photographers.

And gave them the famoussmile that had charmed millions of children.

"For years you have allknown me primarily by the parts I play. The roles I have chosenover the years are those I believe have conveyed solid familyvalues and inspirational themes. I realize that I have becomesomewhat of a role model to millions of children, and I take thathonor seriously.

"Recently, as you allknow, I was involved in an incident which was the result of areaction to medication. I apologize for those actions and promisesomething like that will never happen again, but that is not thereason I am here today.

"Today, I have filed alawsuit against Roxanne Rizzo, a member of the paparazzi whoelectronically created the photos that you have all seen on thecover of the Hollywood Grapevine. I was devastated when I saw thesephotos, as was my longtime agent and close friend, Nicole Wine. Asyou can imagine, these last few days have been very difficult forme, Nicole, and all my loyal fans.

"I am not suing theGrapevine, as they were also unwitting victims in this fraud, and Iam sure they will want to take legal action to recover theirinvestment in these… photographic creations. While I do not condonetheir style of reporting, they are not at fault in this matter.They are, as I am, a victim of a hoax.

"Actors have sued tabloidsin the past, but this is different. This goes straight to thesource, to those who invade our privacy and seek to ruin what wehave worked so hard for.

"And now I'm going to turnthis over to Reverend Jeremiah Dixon, the leader of the ReligiousRight and one of my closest friends."

***

What the hell isthis?

Roxanne leaned forward onthe edge of her sofa as conservative blowhard Jeremiah Dixonstarted firing volleys in her direction. She was not just amoney-grubbing vulture.

She was a wanton harlotwho had shattered the beliefs of little girls.

She was adream-killer.

A flaming liberal whowanted to destroy one of the last pure things inAmerica.

And she had to pay for hersins.

Then, as if on cue,Roxanne heard the chants outside her door.

Tell the truth,Roxanne!

The television coveragewent back to a split screen, with Reverend Dixon on oneside…

And a line ofBible-thumping picketers on the other.

They were heading down thestreet toward her home, growing louder.

Chanting hername.

Carrying signs that boreit.

Suddenly she had to getout. She grabbed her purse, her camera bag, and the envelope thatheld the precious memory stick.

For the first time, TheVulture knew what it felt like to be on the other side of thelens.

Just as the rock camecrashing through the window.

***

Nicole came running out ofthe den. "She's on the run!"

"Who?" askedDesmona.

"Roxanne Rizzo. TheVulture has flown the coop. All the stations have itLIVE!"

They quickly moved intothe study. Desmona smiled as she saw what had to be every Hollywoodactor's dream.

A televised car chase of apaparazzi.

The ultimatepayback.

***

Roxanne Rizzo had to getto the bank.

And she was kickingherself for not going yesterday.

Incredibly, she had keptthe most valuable piece of property she owned sitting on her diningroom table. She thought she had sold it and was done withit.

Now it was her only sourceof proof.

She needed to get it intoher safety deposit box.

The short run to her carthrough the cameras had been bad enough. She thought she'd get somepeace in the car once she got out of the driveway and through theconservative protestors, but then she'd heard the rhythmic beat ofthe helicopter rotor blades from above. She slid the moon roofopen, and saw two choppers jockeying for position as she headeddown the highway.

Meanwhile, she was leavinga trail of media, protestors and the rest of the 'razzi in herwake. All honking their horns at her as they tailgated. She sawphotogs hanging out driver's side windows, shooting pictures asthey drove.

She was determined not tobreak the law as she drove under the speed limit. She was not goingto stop. The bank was just a few miles away.

She would get to hersafety deposit box, drop in the memory stick, and then get as faraway from Hollywood as she could.

How she was going to dothat was another story.

The Vulture knew all theescape tricks, and the rest of the 'razzi did too. It didn't helpthat it