Wanna Get Lucky? (13 page)

“She does seem to dampen your normal effervescence.”

Effervescence
. I don’t think I had ever before heard anyone use that word and my name in the same sentence. My smile fought with my foul humor. My smile won.

“Hah! I knew you were in there somewhere hiding behind that scowl.” Miss Patterson looked triumphant.

“You’ve done your good deed for the day. They’ll be proud of you at the next Girl Scout meeting. Are you working toward a good deed badge or something?”

“If they had such a thing, my chest would be covered with them by now.”

“And you’d be well on your way to sainthood. So you don’t really think I’m effervescent?”

“Not today.”

“A diplomat to the end. So what can this lowly grump do for you?”

“I need some advice.”

“It’ll be worth what you pay for it.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“Would you stop?” Miss Patterson finally threw up her hands in
submission. “I don’t want your bad mood, but that’s what I’m going to get if you keep up this verbal parrying.”

“It takes two to play,” I mumbled.

She smoothed her skirt and harrumphed a bit more. “You can be so difficult.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Anyway, I came to ask your opinion.”

Opinion
. I hated that word. My mother once gave me a tee shirt that said, “Everyone is entitled to my opinion.” She said it was so
me
—opinions were my best thing. All these years later, I’m still trying to figure out what she meant by that. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? Why did I care? “It’s Jeremy, isn’t it?”

“Is it that obvious?” She looked embarrassed.

“Only to me,” I lied.

“Good.” She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt. “Do you think I’m . . . overreaching?”

Miss Patterson, a cougar? Wow. An image of a wolf in sheep’s clothing popped into my head, but the wolf was a she. The tables were turned. I liked it.

I tried to keep my face arranged in a benign expression. “Absolutely not!”

She went to work on that invisible piece of lint again. After a moment, she raised her eyes to meet mine.

I’d never noticed her pale blue eyes; the glasses didn’t do much to bring them out. Her hair was a pretty color of brown. We could get rid of the few traces of early gray. . . . Those changes coupled with her peaches-and-cream skin, impish smile and maybe a new wardrobe and she’d be in business. A makeover—that would be fun! Yes, we should start with the hair.

“I was going to ask you to make me an appointment with Linda,” I said as if I’d been thinking about it all along. “She’s a magician when it comes to hair. Would you like her to look at yours as well?”

“She’s the most expensive in town.”

“Because she’s the best. What do you say? My treat?”

Miss Patterson nodded, a smile tickling her lips.

“You book it. And make it soon, I think birds have come home to roost in my hair.” I rose. Miss Patterson followed my lead. “Clear my schedule, and we will drink champagne while Linda makes us beautiful.”

Lost in thought, Miss Patterson seemed to float out of my office.

I heard her on the phone making our appointments. Next I hoped she would tackle the accumulated messages on my Nextel. I thought about leaving, but the pile of papers on my desk called to me. The damned things seemed to propagate every time I turned my back. If I didn’t at least try tackling them now, there’d be twice as many to deal with tomorrow. I had twenty minutes before I was due out front. That should be enough time to at least make a dent.

I hadn’t even gotten started, when Miss Patterson buzzed me. “Yeah.”

“Detective Romeo to see you. I told him you are very busy.”

First the morning with my mother, now the afternoon with the police. God was punishing me. “Five minutes, that’s all I’ve got.”

I didn’t even look up as he walked in the door.

“You must’ve gone home. You’ve changed clothes.” As greetings go, his was certainly unique.

I looked up and motioned for him to take a seat. “No need to go home. I just step into the nearest phone booth and, voilà, a new set of civilian clothes.”

Romeo crossed one leg over the other, his foot resting on his knee. “Handy.”

I leaned back in my chair and tented my fingers as I gave him the once-over. Young, wet behind the ears, cute in a puppy-dog kind of way, and, while I had changed my clothes, he looked as though he’d slept in his. “You look like you could use one of my phone booths. Have you even been to sleep?”

“Not yet.”

Next to his night, my measly three hours of sleep looked positively self-indulgent. “So what can I do for you?”

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. Earnest was the only
way to describe him. “I came to apologize for Detective Richards. He was a bit abrasive last night.”

“I thought this whole good cop/bad cop thing was supposed to be done as a tag team.” I felt the edges of that bad mood start to wrap around me again.

He looked wounded. “Is it just me, or do you throw darts at everyone?”

“Everyone with a badge in his pocket.”

“We’re the good guys, remember?” He really was as young as he seemed.

“I keep trying to remember that,” I explained. The kid was overdue for a dose of the real world. “But look at it from where I’m sitting. I found the helicopter. You can’t seem to deliver the pilot. You take up not only my time but other employees’ time as well, not to mention the chilling effect your skulking around has on our guests. If you have some info, you won’t share it with me.”

The hangdog look on his face told me I was getting through.

“And if—and that’s a big if—you solve the case, I’ll find out about it by reading the morning newspaper. So, tell me, why am I supposed to be happy to see you?”

Deflated, he sank back into the deep chair. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

“I’ll tell you what, Romeo. I like you. I really do. What do you say we work together to solve this thing? I think, between the two of us, we could do it.”

He perked right up. “You think so?”

Like taking candy from a baby
. “I know so.”

At my beckoning, he leaned in closer.

“I’ve got something I need you to do,” I told him.

THE
chaos in the lobby had ratcheted up at least three notches by the time I had sent Romeo on his way, then hit the stairwell door and added my body to the teeming mass of humanity. I pushed my way through, then stepped back into an alcove near the front doors, flipped open my cell and hit the number two key.

Teddie answered on the first ring. “Yo.”

“If you’re not awake, you should be.”

“Hello to you, Miss Sunshine. I’ll have you know I’m up, dressed and actually heading out the door to come find you. What’s up?”

A scrum of intoxicated males invaded my alcove, laughing and high-fiving each other. They seemed unaware of my existence as I pressed back against the wall.

“I’ve got a mission for you,” I shouted.

“A what? Speak up. You sound like you’re in a riot. Where are you and what am I missing?”

I cupped my hand around my mouth and the phone, which was pressed tightly to my lips. “I’m in the lobby. If you get here quick, you’ll be in time to greet the Hollywood crowd.”

“They’re worth the price of admission. I’ll hurry.”

“Great, but I want you to think about something, and it’s a secret.”

His voice took on a conspiratorial timbre. “What did you have in mind?”

AT
the stroke of three, a bus pulled up out front, whipping the crowd to a fevered pitch. Caught in a rip current of humanity, I elbowed and shoved, but couldn’t make any headway from my alcove near the front door toward the bus.

“Here, let me.” Paxton Dane appeared at my side. He grabbed my elbow and eased me forward. “This is one of my strengths, remember?”

He didn’t say a word and magically the sea of people parted.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“Chivalry school.”

“So, chivalry isn’t dead?”

“Not in Texas, and most certainly not in my mother’s house.” Dane stepped over the rope holding the crowd back and deposited me curbside at the unopened door of the bus.

“Your mother sounds like my kind of woman.”

“She’d like you, too. You two are more alike than you could imagine.”

I’m not sure if that was a good thing or not. I guess it depended on how Dane felt about his mother. And how I felt about Dane.

I had no time to dwell on it as the door of the bus opened.

A roar from the crowd greeted Subway Jones as he appeared on the top step.

Everything about Subway was average—well, not everything. Everything about his
appearance
was average. Average height, average weight, brown hair, brown eyes, pasty white skin that still bore the ravages of a serious teenage acne problem. Not yet forty, he had the beginnings of a slight paunch. Dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt, khakis and sandals, he looked like an insurance salesman from Duluth.

He did an exaggerated bump and grind, and I thought several of the girls at the front of the crowd were in danger of fainting.

“Who’s that?” Dane shouted into my ear.

“Subway Jones.”

The look on Dane’s face was truly a Kodak moment.

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down so I could shout into his ear. “Being a porn star is like being a writer—only one talent is needed and nobody cares what you look like.”

Dane’s mouth, which had been hanging open, snapped shut, and he swallowed hard.

The boy was clearly in over his head.

Subway’s eyes zeroed in on me, and I braced myself.

He launched himself down the steps. “Lucky!” He grabbed me and, to the roar of the crowd, planted a big kiss on my lips as he dipped me over his bended knee. After a few moments milking the crowd, he righted me. “How the hell are ya?”

“Never better.”

He held me at arm’s length. “Woman, you look fabulous.”

“Liar.” I motioned toward Dane who was standing next to me like a dumbstruck child. “Subway, I’d like you to meet Paxton Dane, one of our new Security guys.”

The men shook hands, but Subway barely gave Dane a glance before turning his attention back to me. Subway had little time for
men taller and more handsome than himself, which meant he spent most of his time in the company of women. He hooked his arm through mine. “Where’s Theodore?”

“He’ll be here any minute.” Security held back the crowd as we made our way to the lobby. I felt Dane right behind me. “He had a late night last night.”

“Theodore?” Dane asked.

As if on cue, Teddie materialized in front of us.

“Hands off my woman!”

Subway dropped my arm and grabbed Teddie in a bear hug. “Theodore!”

Beside me, Dane leaned in, his mouth close to my ear. “How could you let that man kiss you?”

“Jealous?” His cologne was subtle, masculine, intoxicating. I tried holding my breath, but that was a short-term resistance method. I could do it only so long before fainting, so I quit.

“Now that’s a loaded question. Sorta damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of thing.” He reddened and ground to a halt.

Amused, I crossed my arms and waited. I’d be damned if I was going to rescue him.

Dane took a deep breath. “It’s just, well . . . you don’t know where his lips have been.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I stopped for a moment. “If you think about it, Subway doesn’t do anything without a camera rolling, so everybody knows exactly where his lips have been.”

“That’s precisely my point.” Dane spread his arms wide, hitting a tall redhead smack in the boobs. He retracted his arm as if he’d been burned. “Sorry.” He mumbled, his face flushed in embarrassment.

She gave him a withering stare, then moved on.

“If I’m to catch a dreaded disease it’ll have to be from someone else. Miranda would kill him if he put his lips anywhere she hadn’t fully vetted. He’s still walking and talking, so I feel pretty safe in assuming he’s been a good boy.”

“Who’s Miranda?”

“Subway’s wife.”

“He has a
wife
?”

“Well, more like a keeper than a wife.”

We both watched Subway as he wiggled and squirmed for the women, then pinched one little blonde on the ass. She giggled then lifted her shirt, showing off perfect, surgically mounted, EEE cantaloupes. The crowd roared its approval.

Dane shook his head. “If I pinched that girl on the ass, she’d break my nose.”

“Nobody said life was fair. You’re beautiful, he’s . . . good—ap -parently.”

Dane leaned down, looking me right in the eye, his voice low and seductive. “How do you know I’m not . . . good?”

Miranda Jones, who had appeared at my side, answered the question, rescuing me from my own stupidity. “Cowboy, in our business, good means you have a twelve-inch dick, can get it up on demand in front of a crowd, and keep it up until we’ve finished doing whatever we want with it.”

Dane straightened as if he’d been touched with a cattle prod. “Well . . .” He swallowed hard, then clamped his mouth shut.

I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t have known how to respond either.

Miranda continued. “You have no idea how long it took me to find him—Subway, I mean. I auditioned probably over a thousand guys.” She put her hand on Dane’s arm. I thought I saw him flinch. “Do you know how I met the little creep? In the produce aisle at the Piggly Wiggly! Can you believe it?”

Mute, we both shook our heads.

I could only imagine how an audition for a porn film would go. I had never found the courage to ask her, so I was left with my imaginings. The mental images were impossible to chase away. It was a good thing I’d already had lunch. One look at Dane’s colorless face and I knew he was thinking the same thing.

We stood there for a moment, then I snapped out of it. “Miranda.” I gave her a hug. “So good to see you. You two really know how to liven things up.”

“Honey, that’s our job.” I’d known Miranda since grade school, and she constantly surprised me with her many incarnations. Today, she was the personification of the predatory female. Tall, buff and well-lipoed, she sported jet black hair as straight and as coarse as a horse’s tail, and piercing gray eyes. She changed her hair color and her eye color as often as film stars changed spouses. Miranda had told me that contact lenses allowed her to fully coordinate. I was in awe. Each morning I found it next to impossible to find a dress and a pair of shoes that matched.