Abby's Secret

By CW Johnson

Abigail Warren, a two time Academy Award winning actress is at the top of her game. A recent celebrity breakup, debilitating panic attacks along with the isolation of life behind the wall of fame foster deep sadness and disillusionment. A friend’s council leads her to the anonymity of the internet, from there an encounter and the last thing in the world she expected.

~~~

At twenty-three-years old Travis Taylor, an electrician by trade, has settled into the life of a single father. Between his job as a construction foreman and tending to his precocious four-year-old daughter, there is very little time left over for romance...but his life is about to take a turn for the surreal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CW Johnson
• Release date: Jun 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463450475

CW Johnson

In the year 1997 I was a traveling musician. 1997 was the year my travels took me to an ancient town in Germany called Rothenberg… more specifically, the Cathedral of the Holy Blood Altar. It was there I witnessed with my own eyes a very interesting relic; a capsule said to contain three drops of Christ's blood. This immediately piqued my imagination. What would happen if they actually found DNA within the capsule and cross-matched it with tissue found on the Shroud of Turin? What if it matched? This little flight of fantasy was the beginning of a journey that took me through dozens of false starts, years of writing and eventually through the never-ending editing process. The tale that emerged was as much a surprise to me as to anyone. It was very much like a story breaking free and escaping from my computer. I sincerely hope that you will find my novel entertaining and that you will continue the journey on through the next three books in the series. CW Johnson

Book preview

Abby’s Secret

CW. Johnson

Copyright ©2018, Charles W. Johnson

Smashwords Edition

Credits

Edited by:

Jana Brown

&

Neils Knudsen

Thanks to my mentor, Fran Porretto.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=fporretto

~~~

A special thank you to Jana Brown for her spot-on editing. Her professional contribution is exactly what this story needed.

To contact Jana go here:

[e-mail]

Another special thank you to Neils Knudsen for his friendship, his mentorship, his velvet prose and editing skill.

~~~

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Index

Chapter One:

Chapter Two:

Chapter Three:

Chapter Four:

Chapter Five:

Chapter Six:

Chapter Seven:

Chapter Eight:

Chapter Nine:

Chapter Ten:

Other Books by CW Johnson:

Contact Info:

About the Author:

Excerpt from The Son off Man, Book One:

Chapter 1

Abigail Warren had all she ever dreamed of, but her glorious childhood fantasies had never anticipated a cage . . . gilded though it might be. Rather than the glamour of being the adored A-lister she’d long anticipated, she fancied herself more akin to a zoo animal in a glass enclosure, on display and forever naked.

At times, she actually wanted to quit. However, those longings usually came on the heel of one mind-numbing intrusion or another. Like the time a crazy loon sheared off a sizable lock of her hair as she passed by. Or, this evening, when a flare of blinding terror invaded her world for no apparent rhyme or reason.

It had happened before. Bevaun said they were panic attacks, nothing to worry about, but saying that was his job, wasn’t it?

At the age of twenty with a few commercials, minor supporting roles, and a fairly successful production primarily marketed to children, Abigail was still relatively unknown. Two years later her big break came when producers gave her the leading role in a movie called Moonshot. That smash hit locked Abigail into a blockbuster franchise and launched her career.

The gala this evening was being held at the magnificent Park Center, located deep in the heart of Los Angeles and was abuzz with activity. Distinguished entertainment elites occupied every available wicker chair. Opulent tables, shrouded in orchid cloth covers, highlighted sets of Westchester Fine Bone China. Each table was topped off with mammoth cascades of white and green floral arrangements atop glistening three-foot-tall crystal vases.

A breathtaking wall-to-wall view of the LA evening skyline served as a backdrop for Ben Galloway, the comedian, as he spoke from behind a podium. He was ever-so gently roasting Abigail Warren, the guest of honor, but Abigail didn’t hear it.

She was distracted by the mounting roar of the crowd surrounding her, which was odd since, other than the occasional bouts of laughter, the man behind the podium was the only person speaking.

She was having another one. She glanced around trying her best not to look terrified, but she knew she couldn’t keep up the ruse much longer. She needed to catch her breath. What would happen if she suddenly burst into tears? Imagine how that would be spun by the ever-present press. She needed to leave - now.

Her manager and assistant were sitting across from her. Too far away. Damn Billy Russell! As the movie’s producer, he and his wife had demanded the two coveted spots next to her. Abigail was on her own. The bottom half of her periphery vision distorted. Spots danced before her eyes. What the hell was wrong with her? She had to get Bevaun’s attention, but he was busy guffawing at the stupid comedian.

Abigail’s personal assistant, Malorie, was sitting next to Bevaun looking at her phone. Are you serious? Get your damn face out of that phone!

Everyone was staring at her!

No, they weren’t.

Yes, they were!

Did she say something stupid? She glanced down at her exclusively designed Elle Shab evening gown. Had she spilled wine down the front or something? Why were they staring?

She quickly scanned the room. They weren’t staring. She was just freaking out. But they all seemed so much closer now. Had they been that close all along? She had to leave!

She stood, waved at the puzzled comedian behind the podium and moved away. She was unsure where she would go. She only knew she needed to be away.

That’s okay, Abby! The comedian quipped as she made her hasty retreat. When you gotta go, you gotta go. The crowd responded with an uneasy, collective chuckle.

She was walking toward the wide, exit doors when she noticed the catering booth.

Years of dodging crowds and paparazzi had taught her that a catering booth would be attached to a kitchen and a kitchen would have a backway escape in the form of a utility elevator. She changed her trajectory and, to the surprise of the caterers, darted behind the booth and into the kitchen. A dozen white-clad kitchen staff looked up as the world-famous movie star sped past them heading straight to the hall housing the express elevator.

The elevator was cordoned off with tape and a yellow folding caution sign.

She pushed the tape aside and rushed into the open doors, spun and pushed the close door button.

No, you don’t want to... a man’s voice sounded.

The elevator doors began to close but stopped midway before the elevator car descended two floors and wedged between the third.

…do that.

Abigail whirled in the direction of the voice. A man wearing a greenish plaid shirt, blue jeans, a tool belt and yellow hard hat was standing behind her.

She squawked and backed away.

Whoa, the man said holding up his hands, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m an electrician. I’m here to fix the elevator. I was anyway, till you… he paused and pointed at a button in the control panel, pushed that.

The lights in the elevator momentarily went dark replaced by a dim emergency light.

Abigail slowly bent forward gasping as she went.

Are you okay? the man said, leaning forward.

No, Abigail groaned. I feel like I’m dying.

The man pulled a phone from his belt. I’ll call 911—

No, she interrupted, straight arming him. Don’t do that. I’ll get over it.

She slowly sank to the floor still gasping.

What...what’s wrong with the elevator? she asked finally.

I’m guessing we tripped the breaker.

Abigail glanced up and considered the man. What are you doing in here?

I’m fixing the elevator. What are you doing in here?

Is the elevator broken? Are we gonna fall?

The man grinned and lifted his phone. No, we’re gonna call my buddy and get the breaker turned back on.

He turned away and made the call. After a short conversation he turned back. It’ll just be a minute. My buddy has to get the key.

He put the phone back in its place, folded his arms and leaned against the wall. Panic attack?

I don’t really want to talk about it, Abigail said using the back of her hand to wipe the nervous sweat from her forehead. How long do you think we’ll be here?

Ten minutes. Fifteen tops.

Abigail stood and brushed herself off. Could I use your phone? I Left my bag in the... I don’t have mine.

The man handed his phone over. She took it, quickly dialed and turned her face away.

I’m on the elevator, she began.

Abby what the hell? her assistant yelled. What elevator?

The freight elevator.

What are you doing in the freight—

Stop talking and listen! The one in the hall behind the kitchen. I had another one.

Yeah, no kidding!

I know. I’m going insane.

We’ll be right there, Abigail’s assistant said.

No, the elevator is stuck. We’re not in the kitchen anymore.

What?

It got stuck and dropped down a couple of floors.

Oh my God, are you okay?

The guy says it’s a breaker or something. He’s not worried.

What guy?

She turned back to face the man in the elevator. What’s your name?

I’m Travis. We won’t—

What floor do you think the elevator is gonna open up on when it comes back on?

Uh, the eleventh...probably, if not, the tenth.

It’ll open up on the eleventh or the tenth floor, Abigail said, returning to the phone.

Which one? her assistant asked.

I don’t know. Go to both.

She ended her call and handed the phone back to Travis. Someone is trying to call you.

Travis glanced at his phone screen and spoke for a time before turning his attention to Abigail. Might be a little longer, he said. It’s not the breaker.

Abby frowned. Are you serious?

Yup, sorry.

"Why didn’t you have some kind of out of service sign on the door or something?"

We did. You pushed it out of your way before you stepped in.

Aren’t you supposed to be a mechanic or something? Fix it!

Electrician, I’m an electrician and I was about to fix it, but you hit the button.

Oh that’s stupid! Abigail shouted. How could my pushing a button break the elevator?

It can happen when someone spends all morning ratcheting the elevator up a floor and a half and using the relay—the button you pushed—as a brake.

Abigail grunted and shook her head. Unbelievable.

The elevator went silent for a full fifteen minutes before Travis spoke. This is kinda weird. My daughter and I just made a video. Hell of a coincidence.

Abby glanced up. Video? What are you talking about?

Travis chuckled. It’s nothing, never mind.

The phone rang. Travis raised it to his ear. Yeah?

He turned back. They’re bringing the elevator back on.

He stood and went to the control panel just as the overhead light flickered back on. He used his shoulder to prop the phone to his ear, opened the panel and flipped what sounded like a switch. The elevator lurched, slowly moved down and the doors opened.

Abigail’s manager stepped into the elevator followed by two of her security detail. Are you okay? her manager asked after sending an accusatory glance in Travis’s direction. He lifted a walky-talky and spoke into it without getting an answer. She’s on eleven. Bring everybody up here.

~~~

Within moments of Abigail and her entourage leaving, Travis dialed and returned the phone to his ear.

Hey Kenny, he began. You’re never gonna believe who just wandered into my broken elevator.

Three weeks Later

Travis Taylor knelt next to the bed of his four-year-old daughter wrapping up the last leg of what was becoming a nightly ritual. For the fifth time, he’d finished reading the final pages of Charlie’s favorite book in the world: ‘The Princess of Shiloh.’

He waited patiently for her blue eyes to droop before tucking her in. With any luck, her eyes would give in and close, allowing him to tiptoe out of the room. When her eyelids finally fell and her breathing held the telltale rhythm of sleep, he got to his feet and eased his way to her bedroom door.

Daddy?

Travis froze in place.

Her tiny voice was little more than a sleepy whisper. Read it again. She snuggled into her blanket.

He moved back to his position beside her bed and took a knee. Again?

She gave him an enthusiastic nod that always charmed him. How she could be so alive and tired at the same time was beyond him.

From the moment she had watched the movie she’d been obsessed with all things Princess Shiloh. Travis had presented her with a miniature replica of Princess Shiloh’s dress, but he was beginning to question his decision. She’d refused to take the thing off even to sleep.

But you’re almost asleep, he said softly.

Nu uh.

Yes, you are. Your eyes are so tired you can barely keep them open.

No they’re not. They’re just blinking.

Tell you what? Travis said, leaning back. "If you go to sleep now, I’ll pick up The Princess of Shiloh tomorrow after work and we’ll make some popcorn and watch it together. Just us two."

Charlie pondered the notion, rolled on to her stomach and buried her beautiful little face in her pillow.

When are you gonna’ take this dirty ol’ dress off? Travis said, caressing her shoulder.

Charlie murmured something before sleep finally consumed her.

After a lengthy silence, broken only by the soft breath of his daughter, he quietly stood and backed out of the room.

He had returned home a week prior following a two-week service call in LA. During his stay he had missed Charlie deeply, but it was still nice to have a few hours to himself.

He settled in front of his computer, logged on to ChatBook and surfed through his news feed.

He laughed at Benny’s posts. Benny had been his friend since grade school and his posts were always funny. Benny had about a million ChatBook friends all sharing about a million posts daily and almost all of them were hilarious.

Travis went to his home page and pulled back, shocked. The video he and Charlie had made had over a thousand views, up from just a little over a hundred the night before. He wished Charlie was up so they could see it together.

Charlie wouldn’t understand, of course; not even if the video went viral. God knew he’d taken his share of ribbing at work. Rarely a day went by without someone making a smart-ass remark about the video. He didn’t care all that much. Most of the time what they said was funny and everybody, without exception, loved little Charlie. So much so, the superintendent insisted Travis bring her around the office at every opportunity.

Which reminded him. He had to leave himself a message on his phone; help him remember to pick up that Princess of Shiloh movie.

~~~

One of the great lessons Abigail learned early was that the general public had little insight into the day to day life of a so called movie star.

She got up at four and would work another fifteen hours. Today, and perhaps a good portion of her night, she would spend at the Paramount Pictures Lot just off Melrose Place, downtown Los Angeles. She sat in the passenger seat of a rented minivan selected for its blending capabilities – in other words, a commonplace vehicle. At Abigail’s behest, the driver took a detour into a fast food parking lot. Abigail needed coffee and waiting ‘til they arrived on set was not an option.

You want me to go in? her driver, Jerry, asked. He had been in Abigail’s employ less than a month; long enough to settle in, but he was still a bit starstruck.

She sat motionless, staring out the window at the restaurant’s entrance.

Or . . . Jerry continued, we could just go through the drive through . . .

No, Abigail said, breaking her silence. I want to see something other than the inside of a hotel room. Doesn’t look like anyone is in there.

She wasn’t being entirely truthful. There was more to it, but how could she say: I’m becoming too terrified to leave my shell, and I need to learn to deal with it?

She opened her door and moved toward the restaurant’s entrance.

Jerry stepped out and called over the top of the van. Want me to go with you?

Abigail glanced back and shook her head. No, I’ll only be a minute.

She pushed the door open and charily peeked in. She was right, it was practically empty. As far as she could see, there was only one person behind the counter and no customers.

She took a breath, squared her shoulders and walked into the building.

A teenaged girl wearing the restaurant’s green and white uniform glanced up as she approached. Can I help . . . Oh my God!

Abigail smiled and waved the fingertips of her right hand. Hi. I hope you have hot coffee. I’m dying here.

The girl stared,