Authors: Linda Grimes
She blushed when I mentioned Cody’s jeans. They’d been sneaking peeks at each other ever since we’d landed.
“Thanks. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” she said.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “All you have to do is keep a low profile and do what Cody tells you to—he’s here to keep you safe.”
And to make sure you don’t take off again.
But no need to bog her down with the details. “Billy and I will take care of the rest.”
Billy stayed in L.A. to continue his finessing magic while I headed back east on a recruiting mission. One of us had to be on call to play Lily-Ann at Nigel’s house, should it prove necessary. If the local police paid an unexpected visit, Nigel would say Lily was in the restroom, indisposed with an awful intestinal bug, giving Billy time to hie his ankle over there to fill in for the fugitive.
My first stop: the parental homestead. I could pay a filial visit and avoid the cost of a hotel at the same time.
It was the middle of the day, so I didn’t bother to knock. Mom was probably on a job, making up for the time she missed while planning and executing the blitz wedding. If Dad was home, he was bound to be in his basement man-cave. I had a key—Mom mails a new one to me regularly, in case I’m as careless with them as she’s under the impression I am with my cell phones—so I let myself in.
I left my carry-on in the front hall and made a beeline for the kitchen. With any luck, Dad would have weeded out most of Mom’s more unfortunate culinary creations from the refrigerator, and I’d find one of her masterpieces. (Mom didn’t have any middle ground when it came to cooking.)
Rounding the bend from the dining room I ran into Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Literally.
“Ciel! What are you doing home?” Buffy said, hastily lowering the wooden spoon she’d been holding like a spike at plunging angle.
“Um, visiting?” I said, backing away from her. I was pretty sure Sarah Michelle Gellar didn’t know me.
“Buffy, you won’t get away from me this time,” a male voice called out from the living room in a distinctive British accent.
Spike ran in and grabbed Buffy from behind, bending his head down to nibble her neck. “Got you!” he shouted triumphantly.
Mom dropped the Buffy aura. “Patrick, stop. Ciel’s home.”
The hot, bleached-blond vampire spun his head around. “Oh, hi, honey. Nice to see you.”
“Mom? Dad?”
Ew.
Was this what they did when my brothers and I weren’t around?
Mom tugged on Dad’s sleeve. He dropped the Spike aura.
“Thanks a lot, you guys. Way to ruin one of my favorite childhood shows,” I said, giving each of them a hug now that I could bring myself to touch them.
“You’re old enough to realize your parents have a sex life,” Mom said.
“Hush, Ro. Don’t listen to her, sweetie-pie. We were playing tag, nothing else,” Dad said with a flirtatious wink at Mom.
Ack.
Mom grinned, and it was kind of on the wicked side. “Right. Tag. We’ll see how well you like playing tag later, buster.”
I stuck my fingers in my ears. “La-la-la … I can’t hear you! Can we please go back to pretending I’m too young to understand this stuff?”
“Knock next time, and you won’t be traumatized. Now, come to the kitchen and let me fix you something to eat. Where’s Billy? I thought you were with him.”
I followed, crossing my fingers that there was no leftover calamari casserole lurking in the fridge. “He has a job out west.” True enough. “Why? You want me to go stay at his place?”
Frankly, the idea that my parents might not be thrilled to see me had never occurred to me. And here I’d thought I’d been doing them a big favor by deciding to stay with them while I was in town. Kind of gave me a twinge in my solar plexus.
“Don’t be silly, dear. You know we love it when you visit. Now, sit at my desk”—Mom’s command center was set up in one corner of the kitchen—“and open the computer. The photographer sent the wedding pictures—they’re absolutely stunning! You look so cute…” She raved about all the pictures while she pulled something from the pantry.
Please, God, not the canned calamari. I swear I’ll stop using bad words forever if it’s not the calamari …
The pictures were good. Laura was radiant. Thomas was as relaxed and handsome as I’d ever seen him. Even the ones of me in the banana dress didn’t look too heinous. I peered more closely at the screen. Maybe the photographer had Photoshopped them.
And Mark …
My breath caught in my throat at the picture of us dancing together. No mistaking the enraptured look on my face there. And Mark’s face was as every bit as adoring. Jesus, I hoped Billy never saw this picture.
How could I not have known?
I mentally berated myself. It had to have been the cider. Mark had warned me it might knock me on my ass. Little had I known how prophetic his words would turn out to be.
“… and that Molly,” Mom went on. “Can you believe her performance? She’s positively
gifted.
And I’m the one who gave her that Rock Band drum set. You remember? I must have known instinctively which instrument would call out to her. Of course, your brother deserves a lot of the credit. He’s been giving her music lessons, you know…”
“Yeah, Mom. She’s amazing,” I said, and kept clicking through the pictures. There were a few of me with Nils—we looked like we were have a good time, but nothing more.
In a way, that was too bad. If I’d had the same look on my face in every picture of me dancing with a guy, well then, the look wouldn’t mean anything. It would just be my dancing-with-a-nice-looking-guy look. I kept clicking until I came to a picture of me dancing with Thomas.
“Oh, that’s a wonderful one of you and your brother. You both look so happy,” Mom said, breezing by on her way back to the refrigerator.
“Yeah, it’s a good one,” I agreed. Certainly no look of exquisite longing on my face there.
Mom whizzed by again, carton of heavy cream and a bottle of maple syrup in hand. That could be very good or very bad, depending entirely on the other ingredients in whatever she was making. She put them on the counter and came to stand behind me.
“Oh, stop there—go back one. Who was that tall blond man dancing with Sinead? A friend of Laura’s, right? She introduced me, but then one of your father’s cousins called me away before I could really talk to him.”
“His name is Nils,” I said. “I think Laura met him when she was on an assignment in Sweden.”
“So good looking! He’s Swedish, isn’t he? Is he single? How old is he, anyway? Too old for Sinead, I’m guessing. Liam would have a heart attack.” She went to the counter and pulled the stand mixer out from the appliance garage.
I was almost through the proofs, and hadn’t seen any other incriminating photos of me with Mark. If I could delete the one of us dancing, then maybe—
“Remind me to call Mo later and tell her to take a gander at that Viking.” Damn. Auntie Mo had a set of proofs, too. “She’s going to be so disappointed she didn’t get a chance to dance with him. I know
I
am.”
“He was a little clumsy,” I said absently.
Billy was sure to look through all the pictures, to see what he missed. When he saw … No. I was probably overreacting.
“That’s probably because of the height difference. If you’d worn heels, like I told you…”
The blender drowned out the rest of her sentence, thank goodness. I clicked to
the
picture.
Geez fucking Louise. It was every bit as bad as I’d thought. I tried to think back to the reception. When I was dancing with Mark, had I been
certain
it was Billy? Because that could explain the look on my face.
Of course, it didn’t explain the look on
Mark’s.
“Oh, that’s another good one,” Mom said, pausing again to look over my shoulder at the screen. “Mark is such a nice-looking man. So hard and rugged, but when he smiles, ooh-la-la! You know, we should try to find him a nice girl. Maybe now that Thomas is married, Mark will see it’s not so bad. Hmm. Jenny Harrison is still single…”
“Mom, Jenny Harrison has seven cats. That’s why she’s still single. Besides, she’s forty-two years old.”
“It’s such an archaic concept that the man has to be older, don’t you think?”
“She sews outfits for her cats!”
Mom shrugged. “Okay, how about Susan Westin? I don’t think she has any cats.”
“She gets seasick. Mark lives on a sailboat. You do the math.”
“Tara Dickerson?”
“Too crunchy. She hasn’t shaved her armpits since she was fifteen and found those Joan Baez records in her mom’s closet.”
I was still staring at the picture.
“Tough to let go, dear?” Mom said quietly.
“No!” I said. “I mean, I love Billy. He’s so right for me. We’re right for each other. I just don’t understand why I still…”
“Go all tingly when Mark walks in the room?”
I slumped. Mom hugged me, leaning down and resting her head on my shoulder. “Honey, it’s normal. I mean, look at the guy. I’ve had a few Mrs. Robinson thoughts about him myself.”
“Mom!”
She patted my head. “Oh, sweetie. You are so sheltered. I really should have reined in your brothers when you were growing up, but it was so darn cute how they watched out for you.”
I twisted around and looked up at her. “So I’m not terrible?”
“Of course not. And it will all work out. Give it a little time. Now, come here and peel the shrimp for the maple cream casserole while I get the spinach noodles started.”
I looked skyward with a stifled a groan.
You can’t hold me to it, Big Guy. Shrimp, calamari … close enough.
I had to act fast. I’d ask the favor I’d come here to ask, and then I’d flee.
First off, I explained the Jackson Gunn dilemma. Mom was appalled that one of her favorite actors might do such a thing. Dad wasn’t surprised, but he was upset that I’d worked in such close contact with a possible murderer. When I told them what I needed them to do, they looked a little dubious.
“Sweetie, you know we’re always here for you, but isn’t this whole criminal justice thing more up Thomas’s alley?” Mom said.
“Oh, I’m going to hit him up, too. But a conventional legal approach won’t work in this case—we have to be sneakier than that.”
“Is Mark going to help?” Dad asked. “I would think his background would prove useful.”
I looked at Mom, flushing. “No. He’s out of the country.”
Mom patted my hand. She was actually starting to look kind of excited at the prospect of spending some time in Hollywood. “Is Billy asking Mo and Liam? Because I can do that for you.”
“That’s where I’m heading next. Sorry I can’t stay for dinner. You understand—”
“Don’t be silly. I said I’d talk to them for you—you know they’ll be happy to help. Now, sit down and let’s eat. This is going to be so much fun!”
* * *
“I’ve helped you with your job before. You
owe
me,” I said, suppressing a shrimp-maple belch.
“But I’m not an actor. I’m a
musician,
” he said.
I’d ducked out after dinner to meet Brian at the club where his band played. We were sitting in the bar, sipping beers between sets.
“Bri, you’re an adaptor,” I said quietly. “Adaptors are all actors—we have to be. Anyway, we mostly just need warm bodies who can project Hollywood stars. You don’t have to say anything. If it helps, you can think of yourself as a prop.”
“I don’t have any movie star auras.”
“Don’t worry, Billy has a ton of them.”
“But the band—”
“Can get by without you for a night or two. They do it all the time when you’re busy chasing a new girl,” I pointed out.
He gave me a look (only slightly stoned), but couldn’t deny it.
I upped the pressure. “James and Devon are going to help.”
I’d stopped by James’s place on the way to the club. Devon had been there. James hadn’t been especially eager to sign on, but Devon had talked him into it. Since he had given up chasing his own Hollywood dream to stay with my brother, I suppose James had thought it was the least he could do.
“
And
Mom and Dad. Come on, Bri, if
Mom
will do it…”
Brian sprawled in his chair. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“All right. I’ll do it,” he said at last.
I jumped up and hugged him. “Thanks, Bri. I’ll call you and let you know when to come.”
Two brothers down, one to go.
* * *
“Ciel, I’m on my
honeymoon.
”
“No, you’re not. You’re back home. How was sailing, by the way? Laura’s a great sailor, isn’t she? Did you have fun on Mark’s boat?”
“Fine, yes, and yes. And we may be home, but Laura and I are busy getting her settled into my place.
Our
place.”
“But Laura wants to help,” I said.
His eyebrows threatened to meet in the middle over his nose. “You already talked to Laura about this?”
“Well, yeah. I caught her out front, on her way to the gym. I wanted to make sure it was okay with her before I dragged you away. But it was her idea to come along and help, too. Come on, Thomas. We need you. Heck, if you won’t do it for me, do it for your old buddy Nigel.”
He expelled a breath through his nose, and I knew I had him.
Next up: Nils. Billy might not be crazy about the Swede, but he was reliable and he was strong. Plus, since he was in the secret security biz, I figured he knew how to keep his mouth shut. Best of all, he was
big.
After that, a quick call to enlist Sinead and Siobhan (I didn’t expect any resistance from them—they’d jump at any opportunity to miss a few days of school) and I would be done.
“Holy crap!” My voice echoed through the cavernous building. “The lights … the scenery … the props. How did you do it?”
I knew Billy had rented a warehouse, but to turn it into a soundstage in such a short time bordered on miraculous. Outside, there’d been a small sign reading “Property of Angling Entertainment. Trespassers will be Blacklisted.”