Secrets, Sex & Celebrity
an excerpt

It took her a good fifteen minutes of talking before she realized that not only was he not listening, he was not breathing. Her own breath caught in her throat as she reached out and touched his bare chest.
Cold.
A bit clammy.
She pulled her hand back and swallowed hard, looked around as if someone might see her. The hotel room was empty. Just her and her fiance.
Her dead fiance.
She shivered and closed her eyes as a chill ran up her spine like a spider up a wall. Think. She had to think. She held one hand to her stomach, fingers spread. For his sake, she had to think. Her eyes darted around the room and she saw the two bottles of prescription pills on the nightstand.
She closed her eyes and sighed, then whispered to herself, “Chris, darling, what did you do?” She grabbed the pills and glanced at the labels. Both were made out to his mother, but they were in her legal name, Roxanne Jodee Prince. Candace frowned at the doctor’s name, so long it took up two lines on the label and completely inpronouncable. Probably got his training in some dirty, nasty, third world country medical school that sold degrees to anyone who had the cash. She looked at Chris again, who looked like he was napping. He was beautiful, just like his mother. Natural blonde hair, high cheekbones, and full lips.
She blinked back tears and hurried into the bathroom, where she opened both bottles and flushed the contents. She returned to the main room and tucked the plastic containers into the very bottom of her purse, then picked up the phone and called the front desk. She bit her lower lip, and then bit her tongue as hard as she could. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Help me, please! Call an ambulance! Something is wrong with my fiance!”
While she waited, she knelt on the bed and leaned over the love of her life. Tears ran down her cheeks, and landed on his pale shoulder. Vaguely, she realized that she missed him already. And that she had been missing him for several months now, even though just that morning they had showered together before going to the hospital to visit his mother. That was a call she dreaded, and wondered briefly if some official would make the call for her or if perhaps her own mother would do so. Maybe Roxie would take it better coming from a good friend.
Moments later, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of a key in the lock. Candace looked up with red-rimmed eyes. The hotel manager swung the door open, and two paramedics rushed into the room.
“Excuse me.”
“Out of the way, ma’am.”
They spoke at the same time, as they each snapped latex gloves onto their hands. She slid off the bed and stepped back until she felt the sliding glass doors behind her. She pressed her hands against the cool glass and watched, as if she were a bystander watching them work on a stranger.
The female paramedic took charge and immediately ran through the basics. Checked for a pulse, listened for a breath. The other guy followed suit, checking the same things the woman did. They glanced at each other, then at Candace. It was as if time had slowed, and sounds were amplified in the close quarters of the room. Candace was certain they could all hear her own heart pounding. The hotel manager was still standing in the doorway, concerned. She doubted the man had any true feelings for either the dead man lying in the bed or for her, but suspected that he was instead wondering how this would affect business.
Good thing this was Vegas. News happened quickly here. Tomorrow’s news would cover this up, no problem.
There was a click and a flash, and everyone spun into action. Candace wailed loudly, like the women on the six o’clock news who are rocking themselves while plain wooden caskets are carried through the streets. One paramedic pulled the sheet up over Chris’s body, covering his face, and the other stood, blocking the view. And, belatedly, the hotel manager slammed the door shut, but not until two more flashes illuminated the room.
Damned paparazzi.