Joey and Marlie left Saddle Peak Lodge in Marlie Stevens’s “California car”, a silver Jaguar XKR convertible. Marlie said she’d had ‘one too many’ and asked Joey to drive. With the top down they cruised through the tunnel on their way toward Malibu. A white Denali approached from behind at high speed and its driver flashed the headlights as he moved close to the rear end of the Jag, but he didn’t pull over to pass. Joey stepped on the accelerator and pushed the XKR up to eighty. The joker in the Denali stayed behind her and kept flashing his lights as though he wanted to warn her. Or did he want to distract her?
With Joey's driving skills, outrunning the SUV would have been easy, but something bothered her and when she rounded the next curve she understood. A second SUV pulled out and blocked her lane of the road while the one following pulled up beside her. She had no option other than to slide dangerously to a stop on a gravel turnout area. The car spun around and Joey brought it to a safe halt, but a thick, disorienting cloud of dust surrounded them. Without warning cameras started to flash. Joey pushed Marlie down in her seat and whispered “Don’t react. Don’t do anything.”
She walked calmly up to the man who had been driving the SUV sitting in her lane and asked, “Are you boys alright?”
“Sure, Jemima, we’re fine. How about you?”
“Never better. How about your friend? Is he ok?”
“I’m great, Jem. Who you with? Where’s Brian Stone?” asked the chubby one wearing cheap shorts and an expensive bowling shirt.
“Guys, you both say you’re OK, but I have to wonder if you've been drinking, or maybe doing something stronger. What about your friends?” Joey waved in the direction of the Denali. The two louts’ cameras flashed the entire time taking one photo after the other.
“No, Jemima, nobody else is here. Looking for some weed? Not a good idea considering the wreck you almost caused.” The one with bad skin and worse hair grinned and slithered close enough for her to smell his fake designer cologne.
They wanted to punch her buttons and she got a new perspective on what Jemima and Marlie went through every day.
“I'll give you all the pictures you want, but let's talk over a couple of things first.” She gave her best movie star smile and kept moving toward them.
“Sure, Jem, sure. Why don’t we take a couple of your friend, too? How 'bout we make sure that poor woman wasn't traumatized by your dangerous driving.” The smirking photographers began flashing away in the direction of the Jaguar.
Joey smiled and started turning around allowing them to take pictures of her as she maneuvered into a position between the two men. She continued turning and distracting them.
“First, you guys are the ones who are dangerous drivers. You could get yourselves or someone else hurt.”
“Hasn’t happened yet. The way we roll the other guy’s always at fault.” Mr. Expensive Bowling Shirt gave a snide and self satisfied laugh.
Joey laughed too as she continued, “Second, the car and its occupant are off limits. Period.”
Neither one could ignore that kind of enticement. They both moved a step toward Marlie’s car.
“Oh, one last thing, assholes. I AM NOT JEMIMA BURCK!”
Positioned in front of both cameramen Joey began to turn like an Olympic hurler as she thrust her foot into the groin of the guy with the cheesy cologne. He landed flat on his back with a thud and a gasping kind of groan. As she completed her turn she delivered a single stunning chop to the neck of the dude with the silk shirt. Frank taught her well. She’d held back a little with both blows in hopes of dazing them without a lot of physical damage.
The first target was still on his back and in considerable pain while his accomplice remained on his knees. The fog lifted from in front of his eyes in time to see Joey pick up their cameras and check the Denalis to make sure no other cameras or cameramen lurked inside. Satisfied she had the only pictures in her possession she turned back to the paparazzo as they regained their equilibrium.
“Sorry, guys, but you should be more respectful of people’s privacy.”
One of them sucked in some air and said, “Hey, you get in show business and this comes with the territory.”
“Mistaken identity. I told you I’m not Jemima Burck or JemStone or whatever. Next time you see her ask if she has one of these.” Joey held up her left hand and displayed the platinum and diamond wedding band Frank gave her. The ring definitely stood out but stopped short of being garish. The men's faces fell as the possibility started to sink in.
“Whatever. Nobody got hurt,” Mr. Bowling Shirt said laboring to get to his feet.
“You guys don’t look so good to me.” Joey headed back to the Jag with their cameras still in hand.
“Hey. Whoever you are! What about our cameras?”
“Cost of doing business, fellas.”
“Hey, they’re worth some serious money. You can’t just fucking steal ‘em.”
“You’re right. Here's the deal. Stop by and pick them up at the Malibu Police Station tomorrow.”
Joey got into the Jaguar and drove off. A half mile down the road Marlie pulled herself upright and stretched a little.
“That was awesome, Joey. I feel a lot safer with you on the job.”
“What do you mean, “On the job”? They chased after me, not you.”
“Well, now you understand what my life is like. You did a hell of a job anyway.”
Joey stayed within the speed limits as much as she hated to waste a winding road and a fine car. She kept check on her rear view mirrors, but everything behind them remained dark until they turned south on the PCH near Marlie’s house in The Colony.
10.