Lights, Camera, Action

by Heather Silvio

  “You look gorgeous.” His eyes beamed behind the black and gold mask.

  “You look pretty awesome in that tux.”

  He held out his hand. “We should dance so we can continue to talk without raising suspicions.”

  I accepted his hand, a tingle running through me while he led me to the dance floor. It was a classic waltz, which amazingly enough, we both knew how to do.

  “Raising suspicions? Does that mean you’ve seen him?” I chose not to use Michael’s name, in case we were overheard by someone not friendly. Alex took the hint.

  “Yes, he’s definitely here. I lost him once I saw you,” he admitted, a hungry look in his eyes.

  My gaze faltered; the intensity of his feeling evoked a mirrored response in me. Alex pulled me closer.

  “Careful.”

  He released slightly. “Why?”

  “Don’t want to mislead him,” I reminded Alex.

  He smiled ruefully. “Okay, if you insist.”

  “I do.”

  We enjoyed dancing in each other’s arms for the remainder of the song and released with regret when the song finished.

  I danced with man after man, always keeping an eye out for our suspect, but only seeing him out of the corner of my eye, or only at the start of a song, when it would be awkward to break away from another dancer.

  Then I saw my opening. As one song ended, I spotted Michael getting a drink at the bar. His flat black mask was perched on top of his head. I excused myself from my dance partner and made my way over.

  “What are you drinking?” I winced at the come-on nature of my question. Michael turned and smiled. I understood how he was so successful with women. Whereas Alex was a hunk of smoldering man, Michael had that alluring blush of youth, blond-haired, blue-eyed, strong jaw, and perfect white teeth. He filled out his black long-sleeved shirt and dress pants nicely. No wonder he was finding success as an actor, too, the agent side of me commented. If he wasn’t a killer who had stood me up for his audition, I would probably have signed him.

  Michael’s perfect smile dropped completely. “I know what you’re trying to do. And it won’t work.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  My insides liquefied and I found myself dumbstruck. He was on to us! Before I could say anything, his smile returned, if possible even bigger than before.

  “I already have an agent, so I won’t be signing your exclusivity contract,” he said with a wag of his finger and a laugh. I weakly echoed his laughter.

  “You’re on to me,” I agreed with an even weaker smile. Michael didn’t notice, or if he did, ascribed it to other causes.

  “And I really must apologize.”

  “Apologize?”

  “For my last-minute cancellation of the audition.”

  “I forgot all about that,” I lied.

  “I’d like to apologize and explain anyway.”

  I lifted my mask to the top of my head and sipped my drink noncommittally.

  “I’ll be honest. I had thought I wanted to sign. Ultimately I wasn’t ready to go exclusive.”

  Interestingly, that was mostly true. I guess he really wanted to be an actor. I wondered again if we had the right man…er, incubus.

  “I’m still not,” he continued. “That doesn’t mean we can’t share a drink and a dance.”

  I half-heartedly laughed again and turned to the bartender. “I’ll take a whiskey sour.” The bartender nodded and began mixing the whiskey, lemon juice, and sugar. I refocused on Michael. “I’m Catherine, or did you remember that?”

  “Nice to meet you, Catherine. I’m Michael; of course, you already knew that.” His shrewd look had me trying to decide if he really thought I still wanted to woo him to my agency or not. Seemed a little narcissistic, but hey, he was an actor. It wasn’t unheard of.

  “You’d been pointed out to me,” I admitted, my attempt to both be honest and stroke his ego.

  His smile widened. “I hope you only heard good things,” he said with a wink. Uncertain how to interpret that, I did the girly thing and giggled.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I was proud of that response because it wasn’t a lie, and hopefully was mildly flirtatious. It seemed to work. Michael focused more on me.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  We replaced our masks over our faces to maintain the theme of the evening and he extended his hand. We hit the dance floor, making idle chit-chat about the entertainment industry in Las Vegas. When the song ended, Michael bowed dramatically.

  “Thank you, miss. That was lovely.” And then with another wink, he walked away.

  Well, shoot, I didn’t pique his interest. Flooded with disappointment, I made my way back to the bar. How on earth was I supposed to elicit his confession with my feminine wiles, if my feminine wiles weren’t doing it for him?

  A light hand on my shoulder startled me and I turned with fists clenched.

  Robin Landon laughed nasally and took a step back. “Sorry, Catherine. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she assured me. Her yellow mask made her skin look sallow.

  “I guess I was wrapped up in my thoughts.”

  Her eyes widened. “That must have been some deep thinking. What could be so captivating at a social event? Perhaps the good-looking young man you were just dancing with.”

  I tilted my head, considering her comments. Coincidence? “Oh, Michael? Do you know him?”

  My question seemed to throw her and she stared at me a moment too long. “Sure. He’s an actor in town.” She shrugged. “I represent him. As do other agents, no doubt.” Her lips thinned in a forced smile. “I believe you know you’re the only boutique agency in town.” Her lips puckered in distaste, like she’d sucked on a lemon.

  Hmm, interesting that the agencies were threatened by my approach. I silently chided myself for getting distracted by business. Robin told the truth about representing Michael; however, like so many others this evening, her comment was incomplete.

  I spread my arms wide. “Our approach works in New York and so far, it’s been working here.”

  “How is your agency handling one of your top actors being investigated for murder?”

  My jaw dropped at the question. I snapped it shut and shook my head. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Robin chuckled. “Please, Catherine. Everybody in town saw Elizabeth Addison’s report that Alexander Moore is a suspect.”

  “That is inaccurate,” I disagreed. “He was a person of interest—”

  “Everyone knows that means suspect,” she interrupted.

  “Interviewed and released,” I continued as though she had not spoken. “Not a suspect.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Are you ladies enjoying the party?” A musical voice cut the tension.

  “Yes, Mia,” I answered, silently thanking her for the interruption.

  “Of course,” Robin answered perfunctorily.

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” Mia said, clapping her hands. Her voice washed over me and I found the tension from the conversation melting away. Mia placed her hands on my and Robin’s shoulders, gently squeezed, and then moved on to another small group of partiers.

  Robin opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes focused on something over my shoulder. Or somebody. I turned to look and was shocked to see Councilwoman Barbara Knollman staring daggers in our direction. I presumed the daggers were for me. I smiled widely in her general direction and Robin stepped away.

  I watched the councilwoman close the distance between us. She wasn’t wearing a mask. She did at least dress up, though it was more mother-of-the-bride than night-out-in-Vegas.

  “Ms. Rodham, how lovely to see you.”

  I didn’t need my empath abilities to know that was a lie. I smiled anyway. “Councilwoman, I’m surprised to see you at an industry event,” I redirected the conversation.

  �
��Why wouldn’t I be?” she countered. “All business in the Valley is the council’s business.”

  She definitely believed that, and undertones to the sentence suggested a meaning I was missing. “That makes sense,” I agreed with her. “What can I do for you?”

  “Do? Why nothing, of course. I’m simply stopping by to say hello.”

  What an odd thing to lie about. What the heck; I’m going for it. “That’s a lie,” I said in a lowered voice.

  Her cheeks flushed at my comment and her lips smiled tight across her sharp teeth. “Why would I lie? What other reason would I have for coming over here?”

  Her questions were so reasonable. And still. “That’s what I’d like to know,” I challenged her.

  “I can’t give you an answer I don’t have,” she said, still smiling, though the words were clipped.

  I couldn’t get a read on her; her comment was… empty. She waited for my next salvo. I had nothing. This whole thing was weird, but I was getting nothing specific.

  “My mistake, then.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  The councilwoman reached out her hand and I took it, for appearances if nothing else. A shock of cold flooded through me at her touch. She smirked at my reaction. “Until next time, Ms. Rodham.”

  “Definitely, Councilwoman.”

  I watched her walk away, head held high, greeting others when she passed them, a stereotypical politician. I knew that was a façade. Hiding what?

  Right now, it didn’t matter, I reminded myself. Focus. I frantically tried to think of a way to lure Michael. As the night wore on, it became apparent that the incubus wasn’t going to take my bait. Dang, and I looked so good tonight. In frustration, I headed back to the bar.

  This evening was NOT going as planned.

  “I’ll take a vodka gimlet.” The familiar-looking blond standing at the bar next to me stared beneath her pink feathered mask. Not challenging, but questioning. I stared back before catching myself. “Forgive me for staring,” I apologized. “Were you on the set of John Doe?”

  The blond smiled, her dark red lips parting slightly, and nodded yes, sending her 1920s ringlets bouncing. “I was. Were you?”

  “Only the first day.” I extended a hand, which she took, her cool fingers wrapping around mine. “Catherine Rodham, talent agent with Peterson Talent.”

  “Evelyn Jones, actress. You can call me Evie.”

  “It’s nice to meet you again, Evie.”

  “You, too, Catherine.” She stared at me, appraising. “I saw you speaking with Robin and Barbara.”

  Alarm bells began ringing. “Yes, are you friends with them?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Not exactly. I’m familiar with them.” A delicate shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I was represented by Robin in the past.”

  “Was?”

  “Turned out we weren’t a good fit. What were you talking to them about?” Evie shut down her side of the conversation fast.

  “Not much,” I evaded, before reconsidering. “I was asking them about Michael Onyx.”

  “Why?”

  Now it was my turn to shrug. “Professional curiosity.”

  She stared at me. “I saw you dancing with him.”

  “You did?”

  “I did.”

  “Hmm.”

  Her eyes bored into me. “What do you know?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Know? About what?” Confusion washed over me. I felt like there was a whole layer of conversation I was missing. Just like with the councilwoman.

  Warmth filled me and I knew Alex was near.

  “Hi, Evie,” his voice came over my shoulder. I watched her eyes find him and then a curtain fell. She gave me a lovely, if fake, smile, and wished me well. She walked away from us, her short pink flapper dress swishing with her sashaying hips. I turned to Alex.

  “What was that about?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t sidestep my question. I saw her look at you and then decide to leave.”

  “She must sense the sexual tension between us.” He smiled his wolfish smile and all thoughts fled my brain. Dang it. He leaned in. “Where did he go?”

  Although distracted by his breath against my ear, I followed the conversation change. “I don’t know. Do you think he left?”

  “It would appear so.”

  I looked at Alex in despair. “Now what?”

  “Just because the plan went bust doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the rest of the evening,” he purred.

  “Now that sounds like an excellent Plan B,” I concurred. “Before we do, did you see the two women I was talking to before?” He shook his head. “Robin Landon, another talent agent, and Barbara Knollman, city councilwoman. Do you know either of them?”

  “Only by name. I don’t think I’ve spoken to them.”

  “You never auditioned for Robin?”

  “Nope. I got plenty of work through a couple of other agents. Before I signed with you, of course,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the sides when he smiled.

  “Of course,” I agreed, matching his smile.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. There’s something off with both of them. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Did you try smelling them?”

  I laughed aloud and then covered my mouth with my hands. “Careful. We don’t want to draw attention.”

  “Sorry about that.” He clearly wasn’t sorry. I shook my head and led him back to the spacious living room-turned-dance floor.

  Alex and I danced several more times, both of us surreptitiously keeping an eye out in case we were wrong about Michael having left. Neither one of us saw him again at the party.

  Dancing with Alex and learning about his life before Vegas (originally from Florida, wanted to be a beach bum before finding himself in Vegas) captivated me. Staring into each other’s eyes, feeling his strong arms around my waist, and the heat of his breath as he whispered into my ears. The plan may have been a bust, but yeah, we definitely made the best of it.

  At the end of the night, we walked together to the underground parking. I saw the worry in his eyes.

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “Call me when you get home. So I know you’re safe. I know you can take care of yourself, but still.”

  “I will. I appreciate the concern.” I smiled warmly at him, the concern he expressed demonstrating that our attraction was more than physical.

  *****

  The drive to the condo was blissfully uneventful. Once upstairs, I kicked off my heels and promptly removed my phone from my purse.

  Autodialed Alex.

  “You made it home?” More question than statement.

  “Yep. I had fun tonight.” I hoped he heard my smile.

  “I’m glad. I did too,” he responded, and I was certain I could hear a smile in his voice.

  A knock on my door startled me. I walked toward it, turning on the kitchen light as I passed. “I see you tracked me again,” I told Alex flirtatiously and then disconnected the call, though a part of my brain registered that he was saying something.

  Opening the door, I saw I was right. An incubus had followed me home.

  The wrong one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  My heart racing, I instinctively backed up. He stood in the bright light provided by the hallway fixtures. I remained in the dim light filtering from the kitchen and plastered a fake smile on my face. I hoped Michael wouldn’t realize I was frightened out of my wits. Apparently, I’m a better actress than I would have guessed.

  Michael took my retreat as an invitation and stepped into my condo. I viewed my space through his eyes: he quickly appraised the small office space, the dining area with table and four chairs, the kitchen area along the wall opposite floor-to-ceiling windows providing a view of the mountains. His gaze sighted my couch and he headed straight for it. Momma
hissed at the incubus from under the dining table when he walked past her.

  “Come on in,” I belatedly invited him, following with no small amount of both confusion and fear.

  Michael stopped at the backside of the couch and placed his hands on top. He inhaled and turned with a smile. I stood opposite him with the dining table between us. Momma fled the room, heading toward the bed. I’d probably find her underneath when this was all over. I realized I still clutched my phone and wondered if I could be fast enough to call 9-1-1. I set it down to free up my hands. For what, I wasn’t sure. I’d see where this went.

  “I hope you don’t mind my showing up like this,” he said with what I imagined he thought was a disarming smile.

  Time to disabuse him of that notion. “Actually, it’s more than a little creepy. We shared one dance, you vanished, and then, poof, you’re here. In my home,” I added pointedly.

  His face hardened and anger sparked in his eyes. With concerted effort, his face smoothed out like the emotion had never been there. “I apologize. Perhaps I misunderstood at the party.” Now with a wounded puppy dog look, trying to ingratiate himself with me, I found myself watching him from an almost clinical perspective.

  He was so calculating. If I didn’t know what I knew, I might fall for it. A truly scary thought.

  When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I thought you were interested in me; I didn’t want to make a production of it at the party since it was a business event.”

  “How do you know where I live?”

  He paused before shrugging. “Google.”

  I knew flat out that was a lie. Not just because I could sense it, but because I had hidden all of my online personal information. I decided not to further antagonize him. Really, I just wanted him out of my home. This was not part of the plan.

  Michael took several calculatingly uncertain steps toward me, still playing the part. The dining table remained between us and he began to walk around it, talking the entire time.

  “You looked so beautiful tonight. I wanted to sweep you off your feet. Since I couldn’t do that at the party, I decided the next best thing would be to surprise you at your home so we could continue the party privately.” He stopped a foot from me and smiled. I saw the predator beneath the façade.