Chapter 3:

Playboy on the go

Celeste was pensively staring at the clear sky through her patio door, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn't hear him coming behind her.

-"She has arrived. You are sure you want to trust her to find him back?...."

-"If I had any other choice, I would take somebody else Clarence."

Her eyes were empty. He couldn't tell if she was sad, angry or even desperate. He never was able to tell. She was even more closed than him.

-"Keeping secrets from me, I am used to it. But if he didn't involve you, it means he won't let you find him. And he knows you well enough to find a way that you will never find him.'

She turned slowly to him, a weak smile distorting her lips.

-"As much as I dislike it, she is our last resort. Whatever she founds, it's always better than not knowing."

And she walked away.

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His body was firm and fit, still tanned from his last surfing trip. With his wet brown hair, quirky smile, and the water from the shower running on his muscled body, he was just an invitation to sin. Wrapping around his hips a towel, he smoothly made his way to the bed, jumping on it to join her.

-"So"….

-"So what?"

-"Well, I was thinking that we could probably just decide that dressing up and getting out is pointless, and that we should maybe stay in bed all day…". His fingers running on her skin, softly and gently reminding her of all the pleasures he could provide were themselves convincing. With a sigh, she detached her body from his sensual contact.

-"Logan, I have a photo shoot in 2 hours. I better get dress or I will loose it. You can not make Patrick Demarchelier wait. You just can't. And my agency is already mad at me for being always late recently."

Walking away from him as fast as she could, rolling her hips in a feline grace, she was going in the bathroom. Logan knew that she didn't had his freedom when it was concerning work hours, and blaming this society for slaving gorgeous women into schedules that were not pleasing him, he bounced out of the bed and grabbed her as she was getting in the shower.

-"2 hours still? Let's make the best out of them…."

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The couple, strolling down Soho streets, was a picture perfect of the American Dream. Tall and handsome, they were irradiating success, power and money. They were on their way to the photo studio, enjoying the frisky breeze, hand in hand.

A few pedestrians were stopping by, trying to catch a glimpse of their happiness with their mobile phones cameras. They were making their way through them, so used to it that they didn't bothered anymore.

Kissing her goodbye at the entrance of the studio, they split and Logan walked on his way back. Back to what? Logan was asking himself.

New York did treat him well. There were no waves, not as much sun, but since he inherited the whole fortune of his dad, he could escape anytime to go wherever he wanted. He started with books under a pseudonym, and being quickly recognized, he decided to unveil his real identity. His books had even more success afterwards. He knew it was because of his name. Logan Echolls, son of Aaron Echolls, fallen star of a Holllywood murderer. Some days it was bothering him, others he didn't cared at all.

But happiness never had been a part of his life. Well it HAD been… but it was a long time ago, and SHE had her own life now. Like she would care about him. She was a P.I. If she wanted to see him, she would find him.

Feeling his mood getting darker, he shook his head, hoping to chase the ideas that were making him loose his smile. Hopping on a taxi, he gave his address. 500, 5th avenue. An Echolls never lives anywhere else than in the better neighborhoods. Lost in his thoughts, he was looking at the buildings flying through the window, being reduced to simple cement towers, losing their identity and individuality as he was getting closer to his penthouse.

Stopped at a red light, Logan was letting his eyes desire the gorgeous creatures that would walk close to his sight, waiving at the ones with the most… potential. Daniella was a sweet creature, but not enough to keep Logan Echolls attached. All smile and feeling his joyful self back, he gave a last glance at the street while the engine was starting again. And then he saw her. Petite, blonde, pesky… looking practically lost and harmless in this big city.

She turned her head in his direction. Their eyes connected while the taxi was driving away…

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Veronica was maybe clueless and feeling drawn by the possibilities with no answer to keep her head out of the water, but she wasn't giving up.

She was looking at the surveillance pictures for hours when she finally saw something on Jake Kane hand, on the train station ones. Scribbling? Scanning the picture, she focused it until it was big enough to be read by a human being. Rotate it. Clean it, Focus again. Clean it… et voilà! It wasn't as clean as she would have hoped so, but it was good enough: 315W54S. A code? Nobody would write on their hands a code. And Jake Kane was far from stupid. What would somebody scribble on their hands? A code, which as been ruled out, a phone number, a PIN code… or an address? Being in NYC, it must have meant 315 west 54th Street.

Jumping on her feet, grabbing her coat and her bag, she left her room in a hurry. She had no clue what she would find over there, but she was sure that it would always be better than elaborating scenarios in an hotel bedroom.

For once, there were no taxis in front of the Waldorf. Impatiently, Veronica decided to walk and catch one on the way. She needed to get in action, to start thinking. What could she find over there? Unless the holy saint spirit would lead her way, she was totally in the blue. Trying to sort her ideas, she was blindly walking straight, not sensible to the crowd surrounding her, when she felt it. It was warm. She felt wrapped into this warm regard, feeling of possessiveness, of belonging. Turning her head towards the street, her eyes connected to his eyes while the taxi brought him away…