Clint rubbed the back of his neck and slammed his apartment door behind him as he entered. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and took a seat on the couch, glaring down at the script in his hand. He could tell this was important to Nikki, he’d be an idiot not to, but he was very skeptical over the contents of the script itself.
Why couldn’t she just take a trip or get a pet like any normal person who wanted a change, he thought dourly. He had a bad feeling there was going to be trouble and he wasn’t sure how to avoid it.
There was a knock on the apartment door.
“Come in!” he yelled without bothering to look up. It wouldn’t be Nikki, so there was only one person who’d be coming by to see him. “Hey Peter.”
Peter crossed purposefully over to the couch and stood hovering over it. “I’m just dropping by to see if you’ve found any photographs yet.”
Clint sighed and lowered the script. “No. I’ve looked through everything I could get my hands on. I called in so many favors; I’ve talked to several agencies. I’ve gotten tons of pictures of her with about every other man in Hollywood. But nothing of Layla with anyone even remotely resembling Alan. I haven’t even been able to place them at any of the same events together. So either we just don’t know where to look, or you’re wrong about them.”
“I’m not wrong about them,” said Peter firmly. “And I’m going to prove it.”
“How? With the fingerprints?”
“It was your idea to begin with.”
“Yes. And I still think it was a pretty good one. But you need a copy of his actual prints to match up with those found at the apartment. I don’t suppose you managed to swipe his glass at that party last night or something?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “You do realize that isn’t as easy the movies make it out to be. Especially while he had his hands all over Holly,” he growled under his breath. But Clint heard and grinned.
“Well maybe you should have checked her for fingerprints then.”
Peter took an intimidating step forward, and Clint quickly held out his hands soothingly. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”
Peter just shook his head and turned away. “I’m going to get his prints.”
“I’m going to break into his trailer on set.”
There was a stunned silence. “You’re serious?” asked Clint.
“You know how much trouble you’re going to get into if you get caught?”
“Do you know how much trouble Holly could be in if she’s with a man like that?” countered Peter angrily.
Clint studied him. “You think you can get onto the studio lot?”
“I still have my ID. That shouldn’t be a problem. I can make sure Alan’s filming a scene; I go into his trailer, grab something and leave. It’ll take less than five minutes and I’ll be out of there.”
“I don’t know Peter, there’s got to be an easier way.”
“I can’t think of any. He doesn’t trust me so there’s no way I can get the prints from him naturally. Holly doesn’t know about this, you’re paparazzi so he won’t trust you either for different reasons, Evelyn would just lecture me about moving-…this is the only way. I was up most of the night thinking, and I’ve decided. I’m going.”
“Now? Maybe you should do a little more thinking.”
“No. I’ll drop by afterwards with whatever I take, and you can send it out to that friend you mentioned who could run them for us. I’ll see you later.”
“Peter-” The apartment door closed.
For second Clint considered going after him, but he shook his head. It wasn’t his business. If he owed Peter anything, he was paying him back already for it and it wasn’t his job to keep Peter from committing felonies.
Though, he admitted to himself absently, if Peter was prepared to break in to Alan’s trailer for this he must be pretty certain the prints would match. What would it prove if the prints did match? He tried to sort it out in his head.
He flicked open the script and tried to concentrate but ended up tossing it aside. He crossed the room to the corner where Peter had left the box from the lawyer, and started fishing through it, looking for something.