14 Fearless Fourteen (9 page)

“What's this vision of danger look like?” Lula asked
him.

“It's... um, a pizza.”

“Say what?”

“It's a big pizza. It's symbolic. See, there's Brenda, and
there's this big pizza she's running away from.”

“Maybe you're the pizza,” Lula said.

“Or maybe the danger is that she'll get fat if she eats the big
pizza,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, this is an evil pizza. It's none of
those things.”

“And you told this to the psychiatrist and he still let you run
around loose?”

Lula said.

“I'm not considered dangerous.” he said. “Just:
annoying.”

“Here's the deal,” I said to him. “I promise to keep my eyes
open for the big pizza, if you'll go away.”

“How about if I just keep a distance?”

“Sure. But it has to be out of sight.”

“Okay. And I'll let you know right away if I get any more
messages.”

“Deal,” I said.

I walked him out of the kitchen, past Grandma and the ladies,
and into the hall. I watched him leave, and then I locked and
bolted the front door.

When I got back to the kitchen, my mother had the spray bottle
of bleach in hand and she was disinfecting the counters and the
stalker's chair. “Marion Zajak's daughter doesn't have stalkers.
Catherine Bargalowski's daughter doesn't have stalkers. Why do I
have to be the one with the daughter who has stalkers? Isn't it
enough that my mother kills griefers? I mean, what kind of a woman
kills griefers? Can she go to jail for that? Am I an
accomplice?”

Grandma came into the kitchen. “That no-good son of a peach
basket ganked me. I had my bitches here and I still got
ganked.”

“You didn't kill the griefer, did you?” my mother
asked.

“No. Aren't you listening? He ganked me.”

My mother and I had no clue what happened when someone got
ganked, but it didn't sound good.

“Thank heaven,” my mother said. And she made the sign of the
cross.

“I got big news,” Lula said, flashing the ring. “Notice anything
new?”

“Wow, that's a pip of a ring,” Grandma said.

“I'm engaged to my big sweet potato, Tank,” Lula said. “I'm
thinking of a June wedding.”

“You can't go wrong with a June wedding,” Grandma said. “Do you
have the hall?”

“No,” Lula said. “I only just got started.”

“What about flowers?” Grandma asked.

“I was thinking little pink sweetheart roses.”

“You could put them on the cake, too. Only make them out of
icing,” Grandma said. “And then you need table decorations, and
what color were you gonna use for bridesmaids?”

“Pink,” Lula said. “Everything could be pink, like the roses. It
could be my theme. I read in one of the magazines the best weddings
have themes.”

“They're more memorable that way,” Grandma said.

Lula's eyes got wide. “I just got the best idea. We could put
Tank in a pink tuxedo.”

“I've never seen a groom in a pink tuxedo,” Grandma said. “It
might make the news. You could be on television.”

“It would look real good with his skin tone,” Lula said. “We
might have to get it made special, though. I should get started
right away.”

I wasn't a Tank expert, but I was pretty sure he'd drive his car
off a bridge before he'd be seen in a pink tuxedo.

“I'm going back online, and I'm gonna get my chameleon going,”
Grandma said.

“I might even raise my sneak level and go invisible. I got a
feeling about the griefer. There's something familiar about
him.”

Connie called on my cell. “Good news,” she said. “Dom just
bailed Loretta out. He got their mother to use her house as
collateral.”

“I thought her mother was in rehab.”

“She is. I didn't look too hard at the signature. Here's the
problem. I can't leave the office, and I need someone to spring
Loretta and drive her home. Dom won't go anywhere near the
jail.”

“I JUST want to go home and take a shower and get into clean
clothes,” Loretta said. “And for the rest of my life, I don't want
to ever see a Tom Collins.”

I turned down her street, and a block away we could see the
disaster. There was a mound of furniture and assorted junk at the
curb in front of her house.

“Shit,” Loretta said. “It's that bastard slum lord who owns my
house. He's evicted me.”

I parked and looked at Loretta's front door. It had a board
nailed across it and an eviction notice tacked to the
board.

“You had to know this was coming,” I said to
Loretta.

“I was behind on my rent, but I was hoping he'd give me another
month. We're coming into wedding season, and the firehouse is
booked solid with showers and receptions. I could have caught up
this month.”

She wrenched the passenger-side door open and got out and stood
staring at all her worldly possessions.

“Is this everything?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she said. “Pathetic, isn't it? Most of the big furniture
pieces, like the beds and the couch, came with the
rental.”

“You need to get this trucked out of here. There's not that
much. You could haul it in a pickup and store it in your mom's
garage.”

“I don't have a phone,” she said. “My phone went dead in
jail.”

I gave her my phone, and she called Dom.

Forty minutes later, Dom rolled in driving a rattletrap truck.
He pulled to the curb, and I took off. I didn't want another
confrontation with crazy Dom, and I was due at the hotel at eleven.
I was wearing black slacks and black boots, a stretchy white
T-shirt, and a fitted black leather jacket. I was ready to
represent Rangeman.

Tank was on guard in front of Brenda's suite when I stepped out
of the elevator. I tried to imagine him in a pink tuxedo, but the
picture wouldn't come together.

“How's it going?” I asked him.

“Good,” he said.

“No trouble with Brenda?”

“No.”

So much for conversation.

At precisely eleven o'clock, Ranger arrived, walked straight to
Brenda's door, and knocked.

Nancy opened the door a crack and looked out at
Ranger.

“The car is here,” Ranger said.

Nancy grimaced. “She can't get her eyelashes on.”

“And?”

“She can't do television without eyelashes.”

Ranger looked over at me. “You want to step in here and
translate?”

“False eyelashes,” I told him. “Doesn't the station have someone
doing makeup?” I asked Nancy.

“No. Budget cuts. We have hair and makeup coming in from New
York for the concert, but there was a scheduling screwup and they
won't arrive in time for this television show.”

“Good grief,” I said. “This isn't rocket science.” I pushed past
Nancy and found Brenda in the bathroom, fiddling with her hair. She
was wearing a white stretch wraparound shirt that tied in the front
and showed a lot of cleavage and a lot of skin between the bottom
of the shirt and the top of her jeans.

She had her hair in two ponytails. She looked like Daisy
Duke.

I looked at the mess of makeup spread out on the bathroom
counter. She had individual lashes, which would take an hour to get
on, and she had strip lashes, which any idiot could glue to her
lids in ten seconds.

“I can do this,” I told her. “We'll go with the strip lashes.
You don't have time for the individuals.”

“Are you a professional?” she asked.

“Even better. I'm from the Burg. I was putting lashes on my
Barbie doll when I was seven. Close your eyes.”

I glued the lashes to her eyes and swiped on liquid eyeliner. I
looked at my watch. Ten minutes late. Could be
worse.

We maneuvered Brenda through the lobby to a side exit, where
three black Rangeman SUVs idled. Ranger, Nancy, Brenda, and I got
into the middle car, and we all cruised off into
traffic.

I was in the backseat, and I was thinking I should be sort of
excited to be part of Brendas entourage. After all, she was a star.
And she was going to be on television. And I was going to be a
backstage insider for the concert.

That's a big deal, right? Problem was, she didn't look like a
star up close.

She looked like she sold real estate to people with more money
than brains.

It was a short ride to the station. We signed in at the front
desk and followed an intern through a maze of shabby corridors to
the green room, which turned out to be painted tan. Some pastries
and fruit and coffee had been set out. There were some dog-eared
magazines on a side table. The upholstered couch and chairs were
leather and slightly shabby. The carpet was the color of
dirt.

We all took a seat and watched the television set that was tuned
to the station. This was midday news and the anchors and guests
were wearing conservative suits. Brenda looked like she was ready
to get raffled off at a hoedown.

“How do I look?” Brenda asked Nancy. “Do I look okay? Is my hair
okay?” She reached in and rearranged her breasts. “Are the girls
okay?”

“Remember to plug the concert tonight,” Nancy said. “We need to
sell tickets.”

The producer popped in with the soundman, and they hooked a mic
to Brenda and led her away.

“I don't have to do this,” Nancy said. “I could get lots of good
jobs. I could sell shoes at Macy's, or I could clean kennel
cages.”

Ranger was on his cell phone, conducting business. His eyes were
on me, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Nancy and I, smelling
disaster, nervously scarfed down doughnuts.

A man and a woman were anchoring the news. They talked a little
about the concert, and they introduced Brenda. And then Brenda was
suddenly onstage, in a chair next to the female anchor. Brenda's
legs were demurely crossed and her bulging breasts looked like
polished marble. She was all smiles and white teeth and sparkling
eyes. Brenda was stunning. Something happened between Brenda and
the camera. Even the whole Daisy Duke thing was
working.

Nancy had her fingers in her ears and her eyes squinched shut.
“Tell me when its over.”

“It's good,” I told her. “You have to see this. She's
beautiful.”

Nancy opened one eye. “Really?”

“It's magic,” I said to her.

“I just love it here,” Brenda said to the anchor. “I'm in
Trenton, right?”

The anchors laughed. Brenda was adorable.

“Everyone is wondering about your love life,” the anchor said.
“There's a rumor that you're engaged... again.”

Brenda clapped her hands over her eyes. “Good Lord,” she said.
“No way!”

She took her hands away and a feathery black object dropped onto
her cheek.

Nancy leaned forward. “What is that?”

Brenda's eyes crossed as she focused on the thing on her face,
and hysteria jolted her out of her chair. “Spider,” she shrieked,
jumping around, slapping at her face. “Spider,
spiderl”

Nancy and I were mouths open, eyes wide, watching the
television. Even Ranger turned his attention from his phone call to
the show.

A stagehand rushed onto the set, tackled Brenda, and dragged her
back to her chair.

“What was that?” Brenda asked. “Is it gone? Is it
dead?”

One of the anchors picked the thing off the floor and looked at
it. “It's a strip of eyelashes.”

Brenda blinked and put a finger to her eye. “Oh
shit!”

Nancy's face went white. “She just said shit on television. And
if that isn't awful enough, she looks ridiculous. She's only got
lashes on one eye.”

“It's not my bad,” I said. “I swear. She rubbed her eyes!
Everyone knows you don't rub your eyes when you've got lashes glued
on!”

“I wouldn't worry about it,” Ranger said. “No one looks at her
eyes.”

Five minutes later, Brenda stormed into the room. “That was so
hideous,” she said, teeth clenched. “My eyelash fell off. Did you
see it? I thought it was a spider.” She looked around the room,
finally finding me. “You!” she said, pointing her finger. “This is
all your fault. You're the one who glued the eyelash. You said you
knew what you were doing, but obviously that was a
lie.”

“You rubbed your eye. The eyelash would have been fine if you
hadn't rubbed your eye.”

“I'm leaving now,” Brenda said, head high. “And I don't want
this horrible liar in my car. Does everybody understand
that?”

“She's part of your security detail, and she's going in your
car,” Ranger said.

“Then I'm not going.”

“No problem,” I said. “I'll ride in one of the other cars, and
we'll sort this out later.” Hallelujah! With any luck, I'd get
fired.

Ranger's men stayed with the cars at the hotel's side entrance.
Ranger, Nancy, and Brenda had taken the elevator to Brenda's floor.
And I was waiting in the lobby. Ranger's orders. Hard to tell what
would happen next, but I suspected I wouldn't be seeing the
concert.

I saw the stalker coming at me from across the room. He was
smiling and waving like we were old friends.

“Hi,” he said. “Remember me?”

“Of course, I remember you. You're the stalker.”

“I just wanted to tell you everything seems to be okay,
cosmically speaking.”

“Good to know.”

“I saw Brenda on television this morning. She did fabulous. And
the eyelash bit was funny. Tell her I liked the eyelash
bit.”

“Okeydokey. I'll pass it on.”

The elevator binged, Ranger stepped out, and the stalker
scurried away. Ranger crossed over to me, his eyes on the stalker,
who was now hiding behind a big potted plant.

“Is he bothering you?” Ranger asked.

“No. He's harmless.”

“Let me know if that changes. Tank is on hall duty. Nancy is in
the suite with Brenda. You're off the hook for a couple hours, but
you need to be back here to get Brenda to her sound check at four.
They'll run through the show, and then Brenda will stay there for
makeup and wardrobe. Don't let her out of your sight. I won't be
able to go to the sound check, so you're in charge until I get
there.”