Jess stood in the Idol boots and walked the length of the store. He did an about face, and said, “I’ll take them.” The young man smiled, revealing an extra set of bicuspids and incisors that should’ve been pulled. Perhaps if they had been, his teeth wouldn’t have resembled a picket fence caught in a wind storm, and he might’ve been on the other side of this sale.
Happy with his purchases, Jess walked toward Post Street, intending to grab a coffee and a cab. However, a blond woman caught his eye, and he gravitated toward the window of Tiffany.
“I’ll be a son-of-a—” he said under his breath. His heart picked up an extra beat. Blood rushed to his face and pooled in his cheeks. He twisted the rope handles of the bag around his fist as he watched the woman inspect the ring on her finger. The man she was with bent slightly and kissed her cheek. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. She smiled up at him and found his lips. She’s happy. Goddamn her. She’s mine. He wanted to throw the boxes of shoes at the window and shatter their dreams. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed her number.
Glee filled his heart when she answered her phone without checking the number first. He watched as she mouthed hello and then stood frozen. She pressed her new phone to her ear, waiting. He wanted to call her names and ask her what the fuck she was doing with that loser. No, keep your cool. This is better, watching her squirm. He clicked his phone shut and chuckled when she threw hers in her purse and brought her hand up to cover her mouth. Feel like screaming, babe? He grabbed his crotch. He was hard. “I’ll give you something to scream about,” he whispered.
Blood pounded in her ears. Her knees felt weak. I’m going to faint. She held onto the counter. The room began to sway.
“Grace!” Paul grabbed her elbows and practically lifted her off the floor. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He pulled her close and hung on tight. “It was him, wasn’t it?” His blood boiled. He wanted to kill. He struggled to keep his temper from getting the best of him. “Shhh, it’s all right. I’m here.” He pinned her trembling body against the counter with his 6-foot form. “Ruben, bring me a glass of water.”
Ruben was already one step ahead. He handed the glass to Paul. “Is she all right?”
“She’ll be fine. We must go.”
Grace was still gasping for air when they reached the outdoors. She doubled over, taking deep breaths. She held out her hand, holding Paul at bay. “I’ll be fine,” she managed to say. In a minute or two, she was able to breathe normally.
“Are you sure it was him?”
“‘Unidentified’ on the caller ID. See?” She shoved the phone at Paul. “I can feel his evil energy. Why else would I come unglued? He’s done this to me—made me afraid to pick up the goddamn phone. How am I supposed to live like this?” She checked her surroundings. Her fingers ran through her hair, back and forth, back and forth. “I mean it, Paul. I will not rest until that maniac is behind bars or dead.”
“Don’t let him spoil our day. That’s his goal. Misery loves company—isn’t that what they say? It’s the holidays. He doesn’t have anyone else to harass. Now c’mon. Let’s get a cup of coffee and talk about a date for our wedding before we have to meet Sal and the gang.”
“Are you always going to fluff me when I’m angry?”
“Only when I’m sure being angry isn’t going to help.” He squeezed her tight and kissed her hair. “I may tell you that you look cute when you’re mad, though. Hope you don’t mind.” He smoothed the stray hairs she had disarranged while finger-combing her hair. “There. Let’s go before I’m tempted to make love to you right here on Post Street in front of twenty thousand Christmas shoppers.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“We’d get arrested.”
“It would be worth it.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Try me.”
Grace stared into eyes that sparkled with mischief. Her lips spread into a grin. “I love you, Paul Fortier. Don’t ever let me lose sight of that.”
“Never.” His lips touched hers.
She relaxed in his arms. “I believe you.”
***
Thomas, the chauffeur, loaded the limo with excited kids first, Sal and John next, then Paul. Grace rode up front. When they arrived at AQ, Paul rushed to open Grace’s door.
The small crowd waited near the limo. Within minutes, a staff member came to escort them to their table.
“Can’t believe how quiet the boys are,” Sal whispered to John.
“Like fish out of water,” he said. “Hope they know which fork to use. Did we teach them that?”
“Don’t remember ever eating anywhere that didn’t have plas-tique.”
John readdressed Sal, his expression solemn, “Do you have regrets?”
“Hell no!” She clasped his hand in hers. “But you have to admit, tasting this lifestyle is kind of fun.”
The interior of the restaurant spoke to the minimalist. Brick walls and high ceilings projected a warehouse ambiance. Wooden tables contrasted with the warmth of the people who worked there. The young man led them to a private room where more staff joined to help remove coats and hats. Once they were seated, yet another member of the dining staff appeared with menus and a genuine welcome. After being shuffled and herded through crowded stores and enduring long shopping lines, no one complained about having extra space to sprawl out. Then again, no one spoke.
“Is this too much?” Paul’s concern reached out to his guests. “We can go somewhere else. John?” Sal squirmed in her seat. Just then, drinks and the sampler platter Paul pre-ordered arrived.
“Wow, will you take a look at this China?” John held up a dish. “Is it okay to eat off this stuff?”
Paul chuckled. “I think so. Don’t be intimidated. The food is delicious,” he said, winking at the girlfriend who had sunk lower in her seat, “even though the portions appear to have been made for fairies.”
Weak laughter broke out around the table.
The girlfriend spoke, “My parents took me to a restaurant at the Bellagio in Las Vegas that had food like this. The portions were tiny, but they fill you up.”
“Not your Denny’s special,” Sal remarked as she took a swig of John’s Flemish red-brown ale. It hinted of sweet raspberries. She smiled and said, “Damn, that’s good.”
Once the main courses were served, everyone was too ravenous to perceive the evil that shared their space just a few steps away.
* * *
Jess couldn’t believe his good fortune. A night out on the town with a gorgeous babe, a murder awaiting should he choose to participate. Life was grand except for the one thing that marred his perfect world. Grace.
“Dollar for your thoughts.” Simone leaned closer to the table, accentuating her tempting décolletage.
“Are you always so extravagant?”
“By now you must’ve realized I’m an attention whore. If I have to pay for it, so be it.”
Jess redeemed himself with sincerity. “I have ‘Fancy’ things on my mind, if you get my drift?”
“I may need to change my panties,” she said, sipping her drink. Her eyes never wavered from Jess’s. “So it’s a yes?”
“I’m considering the possibility. Right now, I’m starving. Where the hell is our waiter?”
“He was just here. What do you need?”
“Order me another drink. I’ll be right back. Nature’s calling.” Jess threw his napkin on the table and went in search of the restroom. On the way, he passed the private dining area and peeked inside. His blood ran cold. His knees wobbled. Inside the room sat Grace and her little entourage. He stood in the doorway, listening.
“Grace and I have an announcement to make,” Paul said, tapping his glass with a spoon. “We’ve set a date.”
Grace chimed in. “We’ve decided on the month.” The couple rose and raised their glasses. “Paul and I will be married sometime in May.” Grace’s face was glowing.
; Jess had never seen her that happy. Nor would he see her that happy again if he had any say in the matter. She’s mine.
His bladder cried for relief. His heart pounded in his chest. Suddenly, the thought of killing Fancy Pickett felt like something he had to do. Like taking a good piss. It’ll feel so good.
* * *
Thomas pulled the limo to the curb on Market Street. Sal’s eyes became saucers, anticipation radiating from head to toe. For her, Christmas had arrived.
Grace’s heart filled with joy seeing her friend so happy and excited about the upcoming experience. Sal loved plays, especially musicals. Seeing Lion King had been on her bucket list for some time. However, her health issues put a crimp in her budget. She and John could no longer afford decent tickets. Tonight, Paul became her fairy godfather, fulfilling one of her fondest wishes from start to finish.
When the group entered the Orpheum Theater, they were met by one the docents who personally escorted them to their front row seats. John filed down the center aisle, followed by Sal, the boys, and the girlfriend. Grace sat next to Paul. Everyone marveled at the ornate decor.
With thirty minutes left until curtain call, they began to chat among themselves. At one point, Sal leaned forward to catch Grace’s eye. After exchanging silent expressions of gratitude, they broke into schoolgirl giggles. John sought Paul’s help to contain the mirth that soon became infectious.
* * *
Jess, Simone, and Fancy Pickett found their seats in the first row on the mezzanine. Immediately, Jess scoured the crowd. His antennae hummed. There you are. He had a feeling she’d be here. I am part of your soul, Grace. You will never be rid of me. He sent daggers to the front row below, hoping Paul would die from an aneurysm or heart attack. He hated the competition. He hated Grace for loving someone other than him. You’re mine. You’ll see.
When the house-lights dimmed and the curtain rose, Simone grabbed Jess’s hand. “Humor me, Sheppard. I’m a softy.”
He was tempted to place her hand in his lap and move it around a little, reminding her what a man felt like. Instead he whispered in her ear, “I’ll keep that in mind when you’re disemboweling our guest.”
“What?” Fancy Pickett’s face screwed into confusion.
“He wondered if you were comfortable,” Simone replied. “Can you see okay?”
“Yes, thank you. How thoughtful.” Fancy leaned back in her seat, adding her applause to Jess and Simone’s as the cast took the stage.
Jess’s thoughts veered elsewhere. He didn’t give a diddly fuck about the people prancing across the stage imitating animals. His thoughts commingled resentment with his good fortune to be in the right place at the right time. He snuck his hand into his coat pocket, peeked to see if his finger was on the right button, and pressed send. He watched for Grace’s reaction. Any moment, her phone would ring, and she’d freak out. Instead, lover boy slipped his hand into his pocket and turned off the power, ending the call. He turned his head, perusing the crowd. He wrapped his arm around Grace, squeezed her shoulder, and returned his attention to the stage. Jess’s heart sank with disappointment. Damn him. He conjured up ways to kill Paul. Get me alone with him for two minutes. That’s all I ask. Jess envisioned a long slit in Paul’s jugular, life ebbing away with each heartbeat. Blood oozing from his mouth, running down his chin. His hands bound, helpless to stop the flow.
He noticed Fancy Pickett relished the performance with the enthusiasm of a war bride. The corners of her mouth managed to lift the tiniest bit during the giraffe scene. Otherwise, she sat stone-faced. Simone’s eyes followed the movement onstage, her chest heaving with emotion as the haunting music reached a crescendo. She turned to Jess and winked, satisfied with her selection of entertainment. Jess got the impression her delight stemmed not only from the actor’s performances but also from her anticipation of what would follow. Her smile became shark-like. Lethal. He wanted to strike the deal with Simone. Strike out on his own.
Heat rose to his neck, then to his cheeks. His eyeballs burned. His head pounded. Nausea churned his stomach. He excused himself.
Grace felt a sneeze seize her body. Then another. She left her seat before a third sneeze could annoy those around her. She rallied for the ladies’ room where she could get her sneezing fit under control.
Once inside the gilded ladies room, she found some tissue and blew her nose. The settee was inviting, and she sat hoping her sinuses would behave so she could return to the performance. She rose to leave when another tickle took hold. After another round of sneezing, she found herself needing to relieve herself. The mirror she passed revealed the angst that lingered below the surface. She stopped to check her image. Dark circles lingered beneath a light coat of foundation. If she stood there long enough, she could pick apart her hair, her skin, and the way her clothes seem to fluctuate in size. You’re stressed, the image looking back confirmed.
Within moments of her assessment, the room began filling with chattering women. Damnit. She missed the end of the first act. How long had she been gone? She couldn’t say. What seemed like a few minutes was more like to twenty according to the clock.
She maneuvered through the crowd lining up outside the door. Suddenly, her ears rang. Pressure filled her head. Her pulse picked up, and her heart galloped in her chest. She couldn’t escape the crowd. The eyes she felt capture her energy sucked her into a bottle like a genie. She couldn’t breathe.
“Grace!” Sal’s voice reverberated against her sanity. “Grace!” It was closer now. Grace held her hands over her ears to block out the chatter. She wanted to concentrate on Sal’s voice inside her head. “Grace! We were worried about you!”
Grace flinched. Sal stood in front of her, her voice crystal clear and edged with concern. Grace gained composure. “I missed the end of the first act.”
“Too bad,” Sal said. “Are you okay? My sheets don’t get as white as your face.”
“Sneezing fit. Must be allergic to something in the air. This building is so old. Perhaps it’s dust or mold. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes, of course! What’s not to enjoy. Those costumes, the music, the choreography— where do I start?”
“It is a beautiful production.”
“Are you pregnant?”
“No! What made you ask that?”
“Somethin’s up with you. You look peaked. You’re jumpy as hell. It’s either hormones or trouble. Pregnancy covers both bases.
“I assure you, I’m not pregnant. At least—”
Jess hovered nearby, eavesdropping on Sal and Grace’s conversation as they wound their way through the crowd. Pregnant grabbed him by the throat and stabbed him in the heart. His blood shed internally, pooling in his soul. How could she? A low growl rumbled his vocal cords. He wanted to scream and let the beast free. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He pivoted, his eyes blazing.
“Sir, may I see your ticket?” The amazon towered over him, a no-nonsense expression on her face. “This section is reserved for those holding season passes. Your ticket is for the mezzanine. I will escort you to your seat.”
Jess didn’t argue. He smiled cordially and nodded. “Yes, of course. I seemed to have lost my way.”
Paul and John stood in the isle waiting for Grace and Sal to return to their seats. As Grace passed by Paul, he placed his hand on her lower back, sending an electrifying thrill down her spine. Contrary to the creepy feeling she just had, thoughts of sneaking away at the end of the evening to make love seized her brain. Desire dictated to every nerve ending. Her knees squeezed together, sending the pulsing sensation between her thighs to her knees, to her toes and back again. Instinctively, she held up her hand to admire her ring. Mrs. Paul Forcier. Her skin tingled. Her heart strings pulled her lips into a salacious grin. I love him. God, I love him.
By the time the house-lights dimmed, Jess was back on the mezzanine, seething. Pregnant. There’s no way she’s going to have that bastard’s—
Simone leaned into him, her hot breath a whisp
er. “What’s wrong with you, Sheppard? You’re behaving as though you have a hornet’s nest up your ass.” She widened the space between them, and although her posture revealed her demure side, her eyes threw daggers that pierced his eyes until they dripped red.
“A little indigestion. Pay no mind. I’ll be fine once I get back to the hotel and take a good—”
“Shhh, it’s starting.” Simone sheathed her daggers.
Fancy Pickett joined the vigorous hand-clapping launching the cast into the next scene. Light washed over the crowd, creating a surreal effect as the orchestra opened with a hedonistic drumbeat. When the curtain rose, the room echoed with sounds of trumpeting elephants, growling cats, squawking birds, and chimpanzees. Fancy’s eyes grew large when the stage filled with colorful costumes. One could only hope she’d appreciate the final moments of her life with the same enthusiasm.
When the play ended, Jess’s patience grew thin after the third curtain call. He rose to his feet and squeezed past the others. Hard to breathe. He burst through the exit door, gulping cool air. People began filing out of the theater. Soon, the lobby would be filled with chatter and excitement. As tempted as he was to wait for another glimpse of Grace, he reconsidered. No, he’d make a point of seeing her on his terms. Somewhere she could be studied without interruption. A private place.
When Jess spotted Simone and Fancy, he maneuvered back through the masses in the lobby to catch up.
“What am I to do with you, Sheppard?” Simone jutted her bottom lip.
“I’m not good in crowds. C’mon.” He herded Simone and Fancy toward the door. Outside, he felt the color return to his face. His hands felt clammy, and he rubbed them on his pants. “How ’bout a nightcap down near the docks?”
Simone dug her compact from her purse to freshen her lipstick. Her hand trembled, and Jess sensed the anticipation humming through her veins.
The Black Dress Page 14