“Did you have to park next to the only other car in the lot?” I asked.
Ray kept his voice low. “I got something to show you I ain’t never showed no one.”
“I’ll die before I talk.”
Ray tried to decide if I was telling the truth. I knew he wasn’t out to hurt my feelings, but still.
“I have spent the last five years working in the homes of some pretty big names,” I said. “Have I ever told you a single story about any of them?”
I could hear Ray’s teeth grinding. He beckoned me in with his chin.
The next section of the truck took up the rest of the back. On one side, there was a workbench with sliding racks to hold every tool I could think of and plenty I didn’t know existed. Chances were they hadn’t until Ray had fabricated them. The underside of the bench was all drawers, to hold the components making magic consumed. A stack of cases sat in a rack next to the cab entrance. A bank of flat screens was mounted on the wall opposite the workbench. A thin row of computers stood underneath the screens. Or were they a server? I didn’t know. There was a reason why I had to mail those flash drives. Instead of a workspace, there was a rolling chair with a built-in lap desk. A keyboard was hinged on one arm and a mutant joystick was hinged on the other.
There was a young woman in the chair.
“Ken, this is my daughter, Elaine,” Ray said. “Elaine, this is Ken Allen. Elaine is my daughter, Ken.”
The first time Ray said it, it was an introduction. The second time was a warning.
Elaine turned her chair toward me. It was more than a battle station. “Pardon me if I don’t curtsy.”
It was hard to tell her age. I put her in her late twenties. In defiance of casting conventions she kept her hair natural, forming a bouquet of black curls. She had Ray’s eyes, cinnamon and sparkling with mischief. She looked like she smiled a lot. Ray put a hand over my face before I lowered my gaze.
“Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain,” he said.
“Aha!” I said. “This is your hacker guy. Your Bluetooth guy too, I bet. I knew you were too old for that stuff.”
“I also program his On Demand so he doesn’t miss his shows,” Elaine said.
“Aha!” I said again. “Are you going to keep your hand there or did you fashion me blinders?”
When Ray moved his hand we were touching noses. “I’ve managed to keep Elaine away from actors and other unsavory types. She’s the best thing I ever made.”
“Aw gee, thanks Dad,” Elaine said.
The cases were a safe place to look. “Showing me the goods will calm you down.”
Elaine wasn’t helping any. “Ooh, so forward.”
“Quiet, you,” Ray said.
Ray put a hand on my shoulder and rotated me towards the cases. The top case was long enough to store a sniper rifle. When he put it down on the workbench, Elaine sounded a digital drum roll. I cracked the case to gape at the tuxedo I’d requested.
Ray ran me through its features. “The tailcoat is the same as your blazer, but this time I used a more flexible weave with the sleeves, so you can punch with full range of motion. The high cut on the jacket should also help. I scalloped the tails, so they won’t tangle you up.”
I set the jacket aside and took out the rest. The pants were black, like the jacket. Everything else was white, including the tie.
“The vest locks in the back. You won’t know it’s there, but the buttons are magnetic in case you need to get it off quick. The shirt looks like silk but it’s a neoprene-nylon blend. Light, flexible, and wrinkle free.”
“Dry clean only?” I asked.
Ray stroked the fabric. “Like it’s going to survive long enough to make it to the cleaners. The low cut in the vest bothers me. There’s minimal protective layer where you need it most, the center of your chest.”
“My pure heart will protect me.”
Ray harrumphed. “The pants are the same stuff as the shirt, with a little extra flex in the crotch.”
“Because of all the room he needs down there?” Elaine asked.
“So he can throw kicks, little lady,” Ray scolded. “Them being high waisted helps too. No need for suspenders, with how I did the band.”
“Guess I can throw out my Chuck Norris Action Jeans,” I said.
“The gloves are made from the same stuff as the jacket. They will harden up a bit on impact. I layered them as thick as I could without making you look like Mickey Mouse. The bow tie is breakaway so no one can choke you with it.”
“It’s not a boomerang or anything?”
Ray stopped to rub his nonexistent scruff. “You know . . . hold on.” He made a note right on the table with a fat, flat pencil. “Now for the shoes.”
The patent leather gleamed, but the delicate laces and low walls looked like trouble. “I’m not going to be able to run in those, much less fight,” I said.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Ray replied. “They look like oxfords but when you pair them with these socks here, they lock on. Your foot will fall off before these do.”
“So how do I get out of them?”
“Uh.” Ray bit his finger.
“You cut the laces and wiggle out of the socks.” Elaine groaned.
I cocked a thumb toward Elaine. “She’s your test subject?”
“I got weak arches,” Ray replied. “Anyway, what were you going to do, wear those high-tops?”
“Point taken.” I took a look around. The lavatory adjacent the bike space was as roomy as one you’d find on a bus. “There a secret door to the dressing room?”
“Turn your chair around, Elaine,” Ray said.
Elaine’s sigh was classic oh come on, Dad.
I turned my back and stripped down to my shorts, but when Ray handed me a pair of uber-underoos, I peeled those off too. I dressed slowly, feeling out every piece before adding the next layer. When the ensemble was complete, I shadowboxed, chaining my hands in a complex flowing pattern of attack and defense. It felt like I was wearing a seat belt all over.
“Nice moves,” Elaine said.
Ray and I turned to see Elaine studying a screen with me on it.
Elaine grinned. “It’s my duty to surveil.”
I watched myself on the screen, feeling heat flood my cheeks. Ray had measured me perfectly. The tux fit like a glove. The short scene at the end of Near Death was all the time I’d spent in the formals Jove Brand was famous for, and even then you only saw me from the back. There’s no scene where I’m sophisticated and worldly. Which was good, because I was neither of those things back then. Or now.
“I look—”
“Like Jove Brand,” Elaine said. “Now hold still so we can make you look less like him.”
Elaine busted open a makeup case complete with lights.
“I have sensitive skin,” I protested.
“This is the good stuff.”
It didn’t feel like she did much but when Elaine rolled back, my cheeks were contoured, my chin had a cleft, and my eyes were hooded.
“Let’s hope this gets me in the door,” I said.
“I’ll see you in there,” Ray replied. “Unlike you, I got invited.”
“I don’t want you mixed up in this, Ray.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not looking to play Little John, but you can’t fit a Quarreler anywhere in that rig and I got a plan.” Ray dug into his pocket and came out with keys. “The car next to us is ours. You can’t cruise up to the gate on the White Stag.”
Ray’s sedan appeared off the lot, but a nudge on the gas made the front wheels leave the ground. I took it easy up to Calabria Cove, idling into a queue of vans and sensible compacts. I was early, but I had to be. I wasn’t posing as a guest but as one of the many Jove Brands who would be in attendance.
When my turn came, I was confronted by a gate guard who could have been pulled from central casting. If Dina was able to get scale, he probably was.
“Another one, huh?” he asked, peering into the backs
eat. “Pop the trunk.”
It took me a suspicious amount of time to find the trunk release. I was slapping myself for not checking the car closer. Hopefully Ray wasn’t housing a mini-gun or missile rack in the boot.
The guard closed the trunk and came back to my window. “You look pretty good.”
“Much appreciated, old chap,” I said in my best English accent.
“Maybe don’t talk if you can help it,” he suggested, waving me in.
I followed the other cars into the hangar, where the help’s jalopies would be safely segregated from the guests’ limos. A bunch of guys basically identical to me were milling around, staring at their phones or reading bent-back scripts. A few were noting in the margins. I made my own note to avoid them. Admiring the fleet put my back to everyone.
Most of the vehicles were decommissioned from Brand films and built by Ray. I spotted the jetpack from Hunter’s Moon and the ultralight from Flights of Fancy. I wondered how long it would be before Ray pushed collapsible wings on me. My guess was I would do about as well as the Coyote did chasing the Road Runner.
Two helicopter mechanics were busy at work, servicing the Blackhawk from Night Errant. Diana hadn’t wasted any time after escaping from Fedorov’s dacha. I would have paid good money to see her mother’s face when the flight instructor came calling.
A woman I was glad to not recognize walked out of the service tunnel and gestured for everyone to gather. In four-inch heels and a headset, she looked like Dina was doing someone’s husband a big favor.
“Okay, my generic Brand servers.” She held for laughter that never came. “We are going to ingress and review how you are to expedite and circulate.”
The coordinator tapped away in her heels, beckoning us to follow. I wove into the middle of the pack, hiding in plain sight as one of the gaggle of Jove Brands Dina had hired to serve the party guests.
We passed through the poured-concrete tunnel into a large warehouse space where a temporary kitchen was set up. It was stifling, even with the air exchangers roaring. A long line of tables acted as the expediting area. A map of the Cove with a route traced out to indicate where each service went stood on an easel behind its respective table
I set course for the bar. Serving drinks would get me everywhere. Other Brands had the same idea, but I was probably the only one who didn’t plan on sneaking a nip. It was more than alcohol being pure sugar. The Chinese kept Johnnie Walker in business. I hit my lifetime limit inside a year, trying to fit in. There was no competition for the coffee and tea services. Hot drinks were considered complimentary and sober people tipped worse. Also, it was a pain-in-the-butt job, with the pouring and fussing with cream and sweetener.
The coordinator instructed us to initiate conversation with the guests, to not pitch, and to not hand out cards. We were permitted Jove Brand impressions. If asked who we were, we were to say Jove Brand. I wondered how she was going to know which clone to toss if a complaint was registered.
The coordinator clopped off to attend some developing problem. On discovering they didn’t have reception inside the Cove, my compatriots were forced to chat, except the ones with the scripts. I should have brought one of my own, for use as repellent. Standing alone drew more eyes, so I drifted toward a clump of Brands, two of which were alpha-dogging for attention.
“She didn’t say no stunts,” one of them said before throwing a trick front-flip. He landed it but lost a shoe, which buzzed over a tray of Gentleman’s Relish sandwiches.
“Good thing I can score without a line,” the other said, leaning into a flex that threatened his seams.
I was tempted to mention if either of them could do a handstand push-up they had a chance with Dina, but kept my lips zipped.
It wasn’t the longest hour of my life but it made the top five. I was sure any moment now someone was going to point and declare me the genuine article. The coordinator tap-danced back in, waving her arms like we had missed some signal. Her manner spoke of a woman freshly eviscerated by the producer of six successful franchise films. She rolled it downhill in an act of trickle-down classonomics.
The other Brands handled their trays with the expertise every aspirant in This Town involuntarily developed. I watched the other hot-drink guy for tips. He swept his silver tray up with a little dip, switching from both hands to one smoothly. I imitated him and to my relief, nothing went flying. Three decades of martial arts training was really paying off. Who needed college?
It was a minute-long walk to the ballroom. Guests were coming out of the elevator and down the secret stair Diana chastised Dean for using. A count of the tables put the party at an intimate gathering of around three hundred. I got maybe twenty feet before my tray was cleared out. Walking around with an empty tray was sure to get me noticed. I was the only server to run back to the kitchen.
The second time I got twice as far by weaving through the crowd too fast for the guests to easily loot. The third round I ran straight into Diana Calabria. My makeover wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny. I tried to zip past while she was looking the other way, but she snagged me by the arm. I managed to keep my tray from turning into a discus.
“I’m working here,” I mumbled through closed lips.
Diana was dressed like she wanted people to take her seriously. She even had her belly button covered. “You’re crashing? Didn’t Mom send you an invite?”
“I’d rather be a surprise,” I said. Best not to mention I was wanted by the law. “Whenever the killer knows I’m in attendance, they take the opportunity to off someone.”
“Oh my God, who?” Diana asked.
“I have no idea. Turns out detecting is stumbling from hunch to hunch. Have you seen Missy Cazale or Ray Ford?”
“I don’t know the second name.”
Such was the fate of a life behind the screen. “Go find Missy and invite her for a cup of tea.”
“Okay.”
“There are two tea guys,” I said.
Diana rolled her eyes. “I’ll look for the older one.”
I sprinted back to restock in a demonstration of dedication to my craft. How tray guys didn’t have one arm way bigger than the other I’d never know, because I definitely had a dominant side. When I got back, Diana was waiting at the entrance to the hallway with Missy and Yuen.
“My, what a lovely tea party,” Yuen rasped.
Once upon a time, I almost killed the guy. Now, I was dragging him into two murders. They don’t make greeting cards for that level of sorry.
“Thanks for coming,” I told him.
Yuen never had my problem with eye contact. “Are you kidding? Being here tonight is the cherry on top of my book deal.”
Missy surveyed her tea options. “Anything herbal?”
“All Earl Grey, I’m afraid.”
“When in Rome,” Missy said, taking a cup. The little wood box she was already holding kept her from being able to get the cup off the saucer, but she didn’t want to set it down. After a moment of weighing her options, she put the saucer back and took the cup by itself.
“That Kit’s watch?” I asked.
“And your watch too,” Missy explained. “I couldn’t just leave it with the other gifts.”
The watch I wore in Near Death. The watch that played videos. “When did Kit give it to you again?”
“Right before he left to deliver the reels,” Missy said. “I hope Dean doesn’t mind that it’s broken.”
That’s when everything fell into place. The itch in my gray matter vanished with a click. I dropped my tray on the nearest table. “Do not let that watch go. If anyone tries to take it, scream bloody murder.”
My intensity threw Missy for a loop.
“Okay, Ken,” she said more to calm me down than anything else.
“I have to find Ray Ford,” I said. “Diana, if you see Dean, I need to talk to him. Without your mom and before all the pomp and circumstance.”
“I’ll try to get him away from Mom,” Diana said. She didn’t
sound too confident.
“You have to. If you don’t, this party will live in infamy.” I looked to Yuen. “I need to speak with Runshaw Shensei.”
Yuen didn’t look surprised. I wondered if he was really here on my behalf or if he was beholden to the Shensei brothers. He slipped through the crowd with enviable grace. He wasn’t new to galas, having worked as a ringer to spark up the dance floor in the past.
“What’s going on?” Missy asked.
“Yeah, what’s going on?” Diana echoed.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I stalked off to find Ray.
Fortunately, Ray was also looking for me. His gift box would have fit a bowling ball. From how Ray was holding it, it might have.
“You move like a fancy panther,” Ray said when we were close enough to whisper.
“My watch from Near Death, if the battery died, would any videos on it be lost?”
Ray looked offended. “No.”
“Come on.” I dragged him back to Missy.
Missy had met Ray for maybe eight hours eighteen years ago, but she embraced him like he was a long-lost friend. She did the same with anyone who had once known Kit. I took my watch off while they hugged, then swiped Missy’s box out of her grip.
I took Ray’s gift box from him and shoved Missy’s box containing the video watch into his hands.
“Make that old watch run.” I set my new watch on top of the box. “For parts.”
“How’d you know the gift I brought was for you?” he asked.
“It is?”
Ray winked. “It’s got everything a growing hero needs.”
I noticed Diana trying to get my attention from across the room.
“Don’t let anyone touch that watch,” I said to Ray. My heart was pounding like I’d gone twelve rounds. Diana and I nearly collided on account of our combined velocity.
“Dean’s in his gym, come on,” she said.
She led me back through the whorling halls to Dean’s man cave. All of the doors were open but his. Thankfully, Diana knew the code. Not fancying the idea of having to hunt up another doorman, I watched her put it in.
Jove Brand is Near Death Page 23