Shaved

by Gina LaManna

  “Um, people here want us dead!”

  “I think some people in your family want me dead,” Meg said. “I’m not naming names, but Anthony has really perfected his death stare.”

  “It’s just his way of saying he cares about you,” I said as I pulled into a secluded parking lot. I managed to tuck the vehicle far away by the dumpster, backing into a spot to lessen the risk of guests noticing a bullet-splattered vehicle. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking,” Meg said. “We head in and scope out the buffet tables first. I hear they have real good pig and some fun things to try. I intend to try them if I’m risking my life at this thing. The least they can do is feed me a free meal.”

  “While you do that, I’m going to see if I can’t get my hands on a guest list,” I said. “There might not be one, but I’ll bet the service staff will have an idea who the head honcho is—in fact, it’ll probably be obvious by finding out which table he’s seated at.”

  “The head table,” Meg said. “I’m telling you, there’s not much different about tonight than a big ol’ Luzzi wedding.”

  “Maybe.” I cocked my head to the side and considered. “Regardless, we have to fly under the radar. No making a scene. Just blend in.”

  “I’m the queen of blending in,” Meg said, climbing out of the car. “Watch me blend.”

  “As soon as we locate Coco, we get out of here,” I said, sliding out and locking the car behind me. “I’m going to press around for real names, but there’s a good chance nobody will know it. At least a face will get us in the right direction. I’ll try to snap a photo with my cell phone.”

  “I like this plan,” Meg said. “I have to warn you I have one additional surprise.”

  “What’s the surprise?”

  “It’s not time for it to be revealed.”

  “Please tell me it’s nothing flashy.”

  “Oh, I probably wouldn’t say it’s a huge flash,” Meg said. “You’ll just have to wait and—”

  “There you are,” a voice squealed as we approached the gates. “I thought you weren’t going to make it. You’re with Nora & Company, right? The exotic dancers?”

  “See, about that,” I said, but Meg cut me off.

  “Yep, that’s us!” Meg chirped. “Show us to our dressing rooms.”

  The woman in charge gave Meg a blank stare.

  “She’s joking,” I said. “Yes, we’re with Nora & Company. Where would you like us to go?”

  “Follow me,” the woman said briskly. “I’m Alika, and I run these events. If your scheduler didn’t tell you, we have some very strict rules. Are you ready? Write them down if you can’t remember.”

  “I have a photographic memory,” Meg said. “I don’t need to write anything down.”

  “Meg...” I shook my head and apologized to Alika. “She’s joking again. We’ll remember. Go ahead and explain.”

  “No names,” she said, diving right into her practiced spiel. “No mingling with guests. You will stay backstage before your time to perform. I have the music Nora requested cued up. You’ll get a brief introduction and then begin. After the show, filter straight offstage, and we’ll accompany you to your car before the rest of the guests begin leaving.”

  While Alika continued to issue us warnings and general best practices, I found myself losing interest, distracted by a peacock as it wandered in front of us across the path. Meg elbowed me and pointed out groves of fruit—starfruit, jackfruit, so many different varieties of fruit I couldn’t name half of them.

  “What is this,” Meg asked, “the Garden of Eden?”

  Alika smiled. “It’s better. Make yourself at home. You’ll go on after the hula show, just before dessert.”

  Alika showed us to a staircase with an unceremonious curtain roping off the backstage area. It had the feel of a closet tucked away from the rest of the crowds. A ragged old couch sat along one side, its maroon fabric worn and ripped in places. A few folding chairs were scattered in front of mirrors with flickering lightbulbs.

  “I’ll leave you here to get dressed,” Alika said with a flick of her wrist. “You have an hour before we need you lined up and ready to go.”

  With that, she was gone. Meg and I were alone in the dressing room which looked more like a partly finished basement.

  “I thought it’d be nicer,” Meg said, wrinkling her nose. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter since we won’t be here long. Speaking of, I’m gonna go check out the food before I run out of time.”

  “Didn’t you hear Alika? She said we can’t mingle with guests.”

  “Since when have you been a rule follower?”

  “That’s a good point, but this is dangerous.”

  “Guests are still filtering in,” she said, peeking through the curtain that presumably led to the stage. “They’re all looking at the roasting pig or strutting peacocks. They’re not mingling with me. Plus, I want first dibs.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “See ya,” she said, and ducked out from behind the curtain.

  I hurried forward and peeked out, but she was already scurrying toward the buffet. The room was large and open air on all sides. A breeze ushered in the dusk as the sun hovered above, spouting the first signs of pinks and oranges.

  The place settings looked like something from a wedding. White cloths hung from the long tables and fold up chairs were pushed against place settings that sparkled with silverware and glassware. A few guests had done like Meg and filtered to the buffet table for a peek, but most of them were still out in the garden grounds meandering about until the dinner call.

  A handful of folks peered at tables, scouting out the best seats in the house. I squinted to see if there were name tags, but luck was not on my side. No name plates anywhere. Not surprising, seeing as rule number one at the luau was “no names”.

  I glanced up in alarm as a movement toward the center of the room caught my attention. Meg had veered from the buffet tables toward the main attraction: a huge, three-tiered cake in the center of the room that was coated in white frosting and covered with decoration. Beautiful flowers spiraled from the tip top, down the sides, ending in a swirl of greenery draped around the bottom. The cake was a work of art as much as any Picasso.

  “Meg!” I hissed, watching in horror as she reached toward the top of the cake, presumably to serve herself a slice. “Meg, get back here! Don’t—”

  “Are you the new act?” a high-pitched voice asked from behind me. “Hi, I’m Heidi. I’m one of the hula dancers for tonight.”

  I let the curtain drop in front of me and turned to find a beautiful, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman standing before me. She wasn’t tall, but she had curves that could stop a city bus. She wore a plumeria bloom behind one ear, a necklace of flowers, and a flowing orange skirt that swished as she moved.

  “Hi! Yes, me and a friend,” I said. “She’s busy preparing for our performance.”

  Heidi extended her hand and shook mine. “That’s great. Nothing to be nervous about. It’s mostly guys out there, and to be honest, they’re happy so long as you just stand on stage and smile at them.”

  She gave a huge eye roll and good-natured grin, and I liked her almost at once.

  “That’s great to hear because I am terrified.” I didn’t have to act because that much was true. “Speaking of, do you know what type of gathering this is? I understand it’s private. Exclusive invites.”

  “Yes,” she said, and a flash of misgiving shot across her face. “I don’t ask too many questions. Keeps things simple. I’m just here to get paid.”

  “I understand,” I said. “My assistant booked us this gig and didn’t tell us much about it. I was just curious.”

  “Oh, right,” she said easily. “I get it. Well, they’re rich. I think something to do with real estate, but that’s all I’ve ever really heard. I’ve been working these luaus for over a year, and it’s always pretty much the same. Show up, get paid—good money, mind you�
��and then leave. They don’t let us mingle with the guests, and after our performance, they usher us straight out to the cars. They say it’s for our safety, but I also think it’s to make sure we don’t stick our noses where they don’t belong.”

  I thought of Meg sticking her nose, fingers, and who knew what else all sorts of places she didn’t belong. “Right. I understand.”

  “You said your friend is here?” she asked. “Where’d she go?”

  “Bathroom,” I said. “She said she had a stomachache. So, might be a while.”

  “Bummer. You guys aren’t from around here, are you? I feel like we would have crossed paths if we worked the same gigs.”

  “Nope. We’re like a...” I paused in thought. “Sort of a traveling dance troupe.”

  “How lovely.” Heidi sighed. “I’d love to travel the world, but I have a husband and two young girls, and I could never leave them.”

  “I know what you mean. I have a daughter, too. She travels with me. So does my husband.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean anything. I just assumed, you know, exotic dancer and all.”

  I swallowed hard. “My husband is supportive. Anyway, I’m going to check on my friend quickly, so I’ll let you get ready.”

  “Perfect. We’ll be on before you know it!” Heidi patted my shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great.”

  Easy for her to say, I thought as I jogged down the steps and poked my head around the stage in search of Meg. The cake in the center of the room was all alone and looked relatively untouched. Either Meg had done an excellent job hiding her stolen slices beneath the foliage, or I’d underestimated her resolve.

  “There you are,” Meg said, popping up behind me. “Time to get ready to dance. I brought us some lipstick. And you should probably stretch. Don’t want to pull a hammy.”

  “Where’d you come from?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “I saw you going for the cake.”

  She looked guiltily over my shoulder. “I didn’t take any. I just wanted to examine it.”

  “If that’s the case, then why do you have crumbs on your coconuts?”

  Meg looked down and gave a guffaw as she swiped a hunk of frosting from her chest. She stuck her finger in her mouth and smiled. “I found some extra in the kitchen with the staff. I didn’t mess with the big one, and nobody saw me. Relax, or you won’t be able to dance well. You’ll be all tight and knotted-up.”

  “Don’t forget, we’re not actually dancing.” I pulled her up the stairs and spoke in a hushed voice. “We just need an eye on the main guy.”

  “Watch the table up front.” Meg beckoned me toward the curtain and pointed out. “There’s a number one on it, and whoever sits there is front and center. I’d imagine only the head honcho would get the seat of honor. Plus, it’s right in front of the cake. You’re welcome for my professional scouting of the room.”

  “Ladies,” Alika said, startling us both into dropping the curtain. “Why aren’t you getting ready? You’re not wearing that, are you?”

  “Oh.” I glanced down at my jean shorts and tank top. “No, I’m—ah...not. We’ll get ready.”

  “Chop, chop,” she said. “The pig is roasted. Dinner will be served any minute now, and you’ll be on after.”

  “Let me help you,” Heidi said after a quick introduction to Meg. “I can do something with that hair.”

  “Great, I’ll take the lips,” Meg said. “I’m not sure we can do anything about the attitude, so we’ll have to work around that.”

  “Not a problem,” Heidi said. “Between the two of us, she’ll be ready for the show of a lifetime.”

  Chapter 16

  I wouldn’t say I was ready for the show of a lifetime.

  I wasn’t ready for any show at all. I looked like Mommy Barbie after a three-year-old had turned the poor doll into a clown. Bright red lipstick, shiny gloss over it, curled hair that puffed up like an eighties perm. Heidi and Meg had doused me in eyeshadow and liner, and then tapped my cheeks with blush. If I smiled, I felt my cheeks crack.

  I was only mildly hyperventilating as I glanced longingly at the curtains. Heidi and her gang were on stage hula dancing their way through dinner, and we weren’t allowed to watch. My stomach churned with nerves, and I struggled to keep down the ice cream I’d eaten for breakfast.

  Unfortunately, our plan to play peekaboo and catch a glimpse of Coco from a safe distance had been foiled. Alika stood at the entrance to the curtain with her clipboard and her pen, and she thwacked the pen against the board any time we got close to the curtain. It was a very passive aggressive threat, but it worked.

  “One more song, and then you two are up,” Alika declared. “Ready?”

  “I’m so ready,” Meg said. “I was born ready for this.”

  “She’s ready enough for both of us.” My stomach tweaked with painful cramps. “I’m not sure I can go out there.”

  “Girlfriend, yes, you can,” Meg said, leaning her head close and dropping her voice to a whisper. “You were shot at yesterday by a psycho mobster, and you weren’t as scared as you are now.”

  “I’m not a dancer. We can’t go on that stage. There must be another way. I feel like I’m going to puke.”

  “That’s just morning sickness.”

  “I’m not pregnant!”

  “Are you sure?” Meg waggled her eyebrows. “Bikini waxes have been known to work magic.”

  “I’m super positive,” I said. “Come on, think. We have to find a way to figure out who Coco is without stepping foot on stage.”

  Alika eyed me as I hurriedly murmured to Meg and inched closer toward the entrance to the stage. The curtain was in reach, and I clutched the edge of it, holding on as if it were a lifeline—as if letting it go would cause me to die. Because I really might die if I had to go out on that stage.

  Meg gave me a little nudge towards the stage. “Just shake your shoulders and swing your hips a little bit. It’s not that hard; you’ve done it before!”

  I heaved a huge sigh and wracked my brain for an alternative. Any alternative. I hadn’t signed up for this. We’d come to the luau to investigate a murder. Not to shimmy before a room full of strangers.

  “Your song is about to start,” Alika said. “Hold until I say go.”

  “Dive right in, chickadee!” Meg said, ignoring Alika entirely. “You can do this, I know it!”

  Alika’s eyes widened as she watched Meg wind up and send a hip in my direction. Meg connected with full force and sent me flying through the curtain. As I sailed on stage, I saw Alika’s hand stretching out to stop me, but it was too late.

  It was a small win that I didn’t fall flat on my face. That in itself was a huge improvement from my earlier days at TANGO, the club where my mom had worked and I’d attempted a short-lived career following in her glittery high heels. It had been a miserable failure.

  I glanced up, feeling the familiar wash of shame spread over me as I studied the room and tried to pretend Meg hadn’t dressed me back up in my coconuts and grass skirt. I cursed myself for letting Nora put the idea in my head in the first place.

  “Not yet!” Alika hissed from behind the curtain. “Oh, whatever. Start the music, Ricardo! Just go. Go, go, go!”

  The beat of the music pumped through the room and the lights dimmed. However, before the lights over the audience went dark, I glanced up and got an eyeful of the crowd. All eyes were on me as expected. But as I stared back, I could only muster a gasp of surprise. Instead of feeling nervous and embarrassed, I felt a wash of fear slither down my spine.

  Something wasn’t right. I could sense it before I could articulate what exactly was wrong. On the surface, nothing looked wrong. But below the surface, everything about the room before me felt just a hair off. A nervous prickle crept over my skin and down my neck. As I smothered a chill, I withdrew behind the curtain and felt the blood drain from my face as I turned to look at Meg.

  “It’s a trap!” I hissed.

 
; “It’s not tap!” Meg shouted over the beat of the music. “It’s just a little exotic dance. Wave your hips a little bit, Lacey.”

  “No,” I said louder. “It’s a trap. They know we’re here!”

  “Your song has started,” Alike snarled toward us. “Of course they know you’re here. Get moving!”

  “Exactly! They’d better know we’re here,” Meg said soothingly. “We’re the stars of the show. Now come on, chickadee.”

  Meg shimmied past me and threw the curtain back with a flourish. Relief crossed Alika’s face at the first signs of movement, but then she heaved a huge sigh as Meg attempted a cartwheel onto centerstage and landed in a lump. She saved it, though, by sticking one leg out and jiggling it around. I had to say, it wasn’t exactly sexy, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  “Oh,” Meg said, as she glanced up at the crowd. Then she jerked her head my way in understanding. “You said it’s a trap.”

  “Yep.”

  By the time Meg hauled herself to her feet, I was able to verbalize what exactly was wrong. Instead of normal luau attire—maybe different shades of cargo shorts or jeans and various flowery shirts—every member of the audience wore the exact same outfit. The entire crowd was male, each individual puffed up with muscles and dressed in bright blue Hawaiian shirts. Every man in the audience wore cargo shorts and baseball caps, and under the caps, they sported dark sunglasses that rendered their faces unrecognizable.

  I wondered if Coco was even in the room. He had probably sent a slew of his cronies to take care of us without having to get his hands dirty. Regardless, our plan had been foiled. Someone had tipped him off that we were coming. At best, he was issuing us a warning—letting us know that he had sources beyond what we’d imagined. At worst, he wanted us dead.

  “Fiddlesticks,” Meg said. “I guess we should get out of here, huh?”

  As I glanced at the crowd, my heart sank. Bella’s face flashed through my mind first, and then Anthony’s. Getting captured by Coco’s people just wasn’t an option. I hadn’t even gotten to test out my bikini wax yet! What was the point of all that pain if I just went and died?