Double Down

by MB Austin

  “Shh,” Celeste said. “You did zero shots. You left your soda unattended and a man put a drug in it.”

  “Oh my God.” She was pantsless, too. “Did he…?”

  “No. Maji and her people caught them quite quickly.” Celeste paused. “Your clothes needed washing. Your body reacted violently to the drug.”

  “Oh God.” Did you wash me? Erlea was afraid to ask. “Wait…them?”

  “Yes. Two men. But I should let you talk to Mr. Brown. And if you can’t keep something down soon, I want you to go to the hospital.”

  “No.” Erlea squeezed her eyes shut. “No hospital. No press.”

  “Shh. I’ll call the medics, see about another IV for now.” Celeste stroked her hair gently while talking on the phone. “Brown? She’s awake. Send me the female medic. Yes, only her.”

  * * *

  Erlea jerked awake, frightened and gasping, when her arm stung.

  Celeste shushed her, squeezing her hand. “You’re going to be fine. Try to lie still.”

  “Want me to spell you?” another woman’s voice said.

  Erlea turned her head quickly, then swallowed against a wave of nausea. A uniformed medic stripped off her gloves, eyeing them both from across the room.

  “No,” Celeste responded. “I’m not leaving her.”

  Too tired to speak, Erlea managed to squeeze her hand back before the room went dark.

  * * *

  Celeste stepped into the hallway and quietly shut the door.

  “Where is she?” Imane demanded. “I thought she ducked out last night—she hates big parties—and then she didn’t show for call, and Nico said she was sick, but then Roger said—”

  “Shh. She’s sleeping,” Celeste cautioned.

  “Fuck.” Imane looked to the ceiling. “So it’s true, then? We swore to each other, when Laura died, we’d never do drugs again. Not that the drinking is great, but still. What did she take?”

  Celeste wished she could reassure Imane. “You know I cannot discuss my patients. Even this one, even with you.”

  “At least you respect her privacy. But it’s too late. Nigel’s already released a statement.”

  “Really? Saying what?”

  “Nigel told them Erlea’s seeing a doctor for her addictions, trying to handle things before the show opens.” Imane scowled. “That this has been a time of great pressure, with the new show and the uncertainty about her father.”

  Celeste wanted to hit something. “How could he do that to her?”

  “He’s a publicity whore,” Imane said. “And lying, isn’t he? Of course, Mr. Bait and Switch. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Celeste couldn’t answer one way or another without Erlea’s permission. “Let me see if she is up to a short conversation. Short, you understand?” Imane nodded eagerly. Was it better to upset Erlea now or have this sprung on her later?

  “Let her in,” Erlea called out as soon as Celeste cracked the door.

  Imane’s face lit up and she squeezed Celeste’s arm. “I’ll be gentle. Promise.”

  “It’s not what you think,” Erlea told her before Imane could ask. “You know I would never. Tell her about Laura.” Erlea nodded toward Celeste, then closed her eyes.

  “Laura was our friend, the third in our terrific trio. We never came up with a better name, we were all such nerds. And they already called us the ménage à trois,” Imane explained. “High school is the worst.”

  “It can be rough, especially if one is out. Or outed.”

  “Laura wasn’t. I pretended to be with Erlea, since that was what they all thought anyway. Not like I wanted to go out with any of those losers.” Imane pulled her focus back. “Sorry, tangent. No one knew they were dating until Laura’s dad caught her with Erlea and threw her out.”

  “He threw his own daughter out?”

  “Yeah.” Imane squeezed Erlea’s hand, and Celeste saw tears leak out from her closed eyes. “Then Laura dropped out of school, moved into a squat, started using. It went very bad very fast.”

  “I’m so sorry. Laura died?”

  “She OD’d, ten years ago almost to this day. The cops called it suicide. But who knows? We failed her, either way.”

  “No. You were kids. What resources did you have to help?”

  Imane nodded. “I know that now. I grew up, lived a little, gained perspective. But then, I was not in love with her.”

  Erlea opened her eyes and looked at Celeste. “And every year I do something stupid, right on schedule.”

  “This was not your fault,” Celeste insisted. “And I cannot tell anyone the truth, but you can. You should know, Nigel told the press you are an addict.”

  Erlea gave a ragged laugh. “He probably thinks that’s less embarrassing.” She looked at Imane. “Some guy drugged me. Like a nobody in a bar. How dreadfully common.”

  “Holy shit. Tell me he’s in jail. And you’re okay.”

  Erlea smiled weakly. “Maji and Celeste to the rescue. Getting no credit, as usual.”

  “You could tell the media the truth,” Imane suggested. “There is a tox screen and a police report, right? You are lucky, really.”

  “Lucky?”

  “Yes, very. This happens to so many women and the men are almost never caught. You could do some good by talking about it publicly, bringing attention to the issue.”

  Celeste agreed, but this was not the time to push. “Today the only thing she must do is rest.”

  Imane kept her promise, heading for the door after a quick, tearful good-bye. She pulled Celeste into a grateful hug and whispered, “No wonder she is crazy about you.”

  * * *

  Maji woke feeling hungover and went next door to check in with Dave. “Got coffee?”

  “Only if you eat, too.” He waved her toward the dining table that smelled like heaven. While she sat and dug in, he filled her in on the team’s follow-up at the party. “Everybody there was either a great actor or they really think she got smashed and waltzed out with the latest boy toy.”

  “Convenient for Nigel. I saw his press statement. Asshat. Sorry, go on.”

  Dave nodded. “The accomplice must have been waiting in the stairwell. We pulled all the video feeds, but they were interrupted as well.”

  “Are they pros?”

  “Just a couple of scared fuckwits, from what I can tell. Said they were paid to play a prank, don’t even know what they put in her drink.”

  And I’m just a sweet short guy named Tomás. “How’s Erlea?”

  “Sleeping. We got her to a room, and Dr. G stayed up to watch over her. Medics helped,” Dave said. “At least one did. The other one sounds sketchy.”

  “Okay. So who fucked with the comms and the video, just at the right moment?”

  Dave stood and rolled his neck. “Let’s go chat with Romero about that.”

  Maji followed Dave to Romero’s room and let him do the talking. Given her suspicions, she wanted to stand back and observe.

  “I beg your pardon?” Romero asked Dave. “You want me to do what?”

  “Account for every member of your team,” Dave repeated. “Who’s GEO, who’s on loan to you. When they came on board, how much they knew.”

  And who was in on last night’s debacle, Maji thought. She didn’t need to say it.

  “You think the sabotage came from my team,” Romero said. Thoughtful rather than offended, Maji noted. Sincere, or a good actor?

  “Okay, let’s explore that theory.” Romero described each of the people on his team, including a female medic.

  “I didn’t realize she was GEO,” Maji commented. Even female operators could overlook each other. When Romero smiled, she added, “Yes, I get the irony. What about the other medic?”

  “The male medic is not GEO. We borrowed him from the National Police, just to cover the party. So many notables in one place, we wanted to have enough personnel for immediate response.”

  Maji bought that. If there had been a shooter, or a bomb, casualties would have
been high. “Well, that explains the aftermath. But not the audio and visual interference.”

  “What aftermath?” Romero asked. “I thought Erlea was recovering fully.”

  “She is now,” Dave said. “But Dr. Guillot raised some concerns. The first IV bag seemed to do Erlea a lot of good. But when the guy took second shift, he switched them out. Erlea started twitching, shallow respirations, thready pulse. And your loaner kept giving Dr. Guillot excuses, I guess not realizing she’d worked trauma and would know better. She kicked him out, unhooked Erlea right away, and stayed with her the rest of the night.”

  Romero winced. “I will find out who assigned him to us. And see if the trail leads us to either of the two men Echeverra named.”

  “When your team’s medic responded to Dr. Guillot’s call this morning, she was surprised at the shape Erlea was in,” Dave reported. “Put her on another drip and she improved again. When she went to look for the loaner guy, he was gone. Left a note about getting called to another scene.”

  Romero nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to her, see what she thinks the loaner gave Erlea.”

  “And why,” Maji added. “To keep her sick, send her to the hospital with kidney damage or respiratory failure? Or to kill her?”

  “I can’t see how her death would draw Echeverra out. But I’ll let you know everything I learn.” Romero pulled out his phone and dialed. “Where is Diaz right now? No, leave him be. Don’t tell him I was checking, either.”

  “Another loaner from the National Police?”

  “Yes. I already grilled him at debrief about all the comm system problems we had. He had explanations ready, and they sounded plausible.”

  Dave looked as skeptical as Maji felt.

  “Since he hasn’t done a runner like the medic, let’s keep him in place under surveillance,” Dave said. “And keep him occupied while we sweep everything for bugs and trackers.”

  Romero nodded. “I’ll let you know what we find.”

  “When I said we,” Dave clarified, “I was including me doing that sweep.”

  Fortunately, Romero agreed. Maji’s gut said they could trust him. But she still trusted Dave more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Welcome to Villa Perfecta,” said the man in the security booth. “How may I help you?”

  Maji flipped up the windscreen on the full-face helmet. “I have an appointment with Dr. Lyttleton. Beatriz Echeverra,” she rasped.

  “Take off your helmet, please.”

  Maji rolled her eyes as if exasperated and pulled the helmet off, revealing the red hair and makeup. “Satisfied?”

  “Thank you, Ms. Echeverra. Down the road to the main house. You may park the moto anywhere you please.”

  She gave him a wicked grin. “I always do.”

  The cliffside compound overlooking the Mediterranean looked more like a resort than a medical facility. But Maji supposed if you paid for both Lyttleton’s services and complete privacy you might expect a spa experience for your recovery. Just what had Echeverra had to do for the Nuvoletta to afford a full facial reconstruction?

  A woman in a lab coat came out to greet her as she parked Reimi’s motor scooter in the shade. “Aren’t you clever? And brave. I hope those horrible paparazzi didn’t chase you today.”

  Maji kept the hoarseness in her voice. “I was as anonymous as any moto on the streets of Barcelona.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Too much rehearsal.”

  “Ooh. Well, we have a lovely little café with a view of the ocean. Let’s get you something hot to drink. I am Carolina.” As Maji walked with her through the main house she added, “I watched your interview on TV last night. I wanted to say thank you. I have a friend who got drugged at a bar, and the hospital didn’t even have a rape kit available.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Maji whispered. She’d listened to the surveillance feed taken from Erlea’s room. But who knew what the magazine edited out and what it left in.

  “Maybe your act of courage will help.” Carolina offered the coffee machine and a seat with a sweep of her hand. “What can I get you?”

  Maji craved a cortado, but that wasn’t what Erlea would drink while nursing sore vocal cords. “Tea with honey, please.” Maji found the interview on her phone and streamed it while sipping the boring drink. Erlea was very forthcoming with the reporter she’d selected for the exclusive.

  Maji skimmed through the part about Erlea being drugged, the data on how many women this happened to, the unreported cases, and the difficulty in prosecuting rape. All good. Then she reached the part about Celeste.

  “The woman you danced with that night, our sources have identified her as Dr. Celeste Guillot. She’s been linked with a number of famous athletes previously. Care to comment on your relationship?”

  “If you’ve researched Dr. Guillot,” Erlea replied, “you know she’s a performance expert, the kind Olympians credit with overcoming their personal obstacles to winning the gold. She would never talk about a client, of course, but I’m not embarrassed to admit that I have a terrible fear of heights. And everyone wants me in the air for this spectacular aerial number. So why not hire the best?”

  “And is dancing with clients part of the service?”

  “Hey, everyone’s allowed a little fun in their off time. But it’s not like that.”

  “So it’s true what they say, you’re just an ally for LGBTs, straight but not narrow?”

  “I wouldn’t make that assumption. I know I’ve been photographed with a string of guys, but if they get called out for fucking around, everybody thinks they’re studs, right? Like it or not, women get judged by a different standard. So if I was dating one, I wouldn’t kiss and tell. Not for lack of pride, but out of respect for her. Get it?”

  Not so bad. Maji admired Erlea, back to rehearsals after two days in bed and refusing Celeste’s offer to delay her visit to Barcelona.

  “Ms. Echeverra? The doctor will see you now.” Carolina held a CD and pen, looking bashful. “Would you mind very much…”

  Maji stood and smiled. “Not at all.” She scribbled Erlea’s signature, glad she’d practiced until it became as automatic as writing her own.

  * * *

  “Do you have to film every damn thing I do?” Erlea winced at her own tone. “Sorry. Could you maybe just not capture the part where I freeze up and flail around?”

  Alejandro set the video camera down. “Of course. But conquering your fear would be great behind-the-scenes stuff.”

  Erlea groaned. “Only if I get to approve the final cut. No matter what Nigel tells you.”

  “You’re the boss,” he replied in his usual agreeable manner.

  At least someone thought so. “Okay, let’s go again. Show me the move again?”

  Tania, in the harness on the cord next to her, leaped up and forward. Instead of tucking her feet up and trying to roll as Erlea had, she kept her legs stiff and her core taut, letting the momentum of the harness lever her lower half into the air. Then the elasticized rope pulled back against Tania’s waist, and in a heartbeat she was back on her feet, giving a little at the knees to stick the landing. She looked expectantly at Erlea.

  “Sure. You make it look easy,” Erlea muttered. She pantomimed her tight core, stiff legs, and the little push-up from the stage floor by her hands. Tania nodded her encouragement.

  Erlea took a deep breath and dove forward, thinking plank while resisting the urge to curl into a wheel for a forward roll. Determined to not let the cord pull her back onto her ass again, she held the right body mechanics. Not as gracefully as Tania—but it worked. On her feet again, she laughed out loud.

  Tania beamed at her and demonstrated a new move, holding the cord up high and walking in a circle in the opposite direction. As she gained speed and bounce, her feet came off the ground at controlled intervals.

  Erlea had to admit it looked like fun. She made her own less ambitious circle around the stage. Small hops. Not so bad.

  “That’s a start,” Imane said as s
he approached from the wings. “Have you seen Maji? Celeste is all wound up and trying to track her down.”

  “Maji’s out for a few hours,” Erlea replied, not wanting to say where. The cast and crew didn’t need to know about Maji’s doctor’s appointment any more than the media did. “Celeste is back? I could really use her about now.”

  “I bet you could,” Imane said with a wink. “But seriously, I don’t think this is a good time.”

  Erlea spotted Celeste in the wings, pacing. “Is it the interview? Did I fuck up? Please say no.”

  Imane shrugged. “She just said it was personal.” She waved Celeste over. “Maji’s out doing double duty. Can you consult for a few minutes?”

  Celeste strode out to join them onstage. “Show me the piece as you intend it.” Erlea noticed she spoke only to Imane, not looking her way. She hates me. Did they misquote me?

  “We’re still working out the ground moves, but here’s the kicker,” Imane told Celeste. She put on the headphones, spoke to the control booth, and gestured to Tania to run for the wall.

  The music came on near the end of the song, and Tania moved to it, getting into the rhythm and position. Erlea held her breath as Tania heard the cue and started running for the wall, lifting off the ground with her arms outstretched. Just as she reached the second story window, the wall tilted away and the bungee pulled her back. She landed safely on her feet and crumpled to the stage, just as she’d done in the earlier demos.

  Celeste nodded. “I see. And how are the nonflying parts coming?”

  Imane looked to Erlea to answer. “Okay. I’m getting my feet off the ground for short periods.”

  “Good. Keep doing that,” Celeste said, looking at her briefly. “Develop some confidence with the basic moves first.” She switched her attention back to Imane. “Call me when she hits a sticking point.”