by Janet Leigh
“Why can’t you just knock Rocksanna out, take your key, grab Campy, and we can all go home?” I thought it was the perfect plan.
“It’s not that simple.” Caiyan ran a hand down my arm, making it tingle. He looked deep into my eyes, and I thought he was going to lean in and kiss me.
Before Caiyan could relieve me of my fears that he might actually be taking this “job” to a level I wasn’t comfortable with, we were interrupted.
“Caiyan, darling, what are you doing down here?” Rocksanna had found her lost boy toy. Her two bodyguards flanked her on each side. Pickles had his arms crossed over his chest.
Caiyan was caught with me in the alcove. “This is an old family friend of mine, Jennifer.” He motioned toward the rock goddess. “Rocksy.”
Damn, he had a pet name for her. This was not going well. Up close, she was even more stunning than in photos. Her blond hair cascaded down her back and framed her beautiful face. Her skin was flawless, and her low-cut shirt showed off a pair of perky breasts that stood up to perfection in lieu of not wearing a bra. I always thought my boobs were one of my best assets, but after seeing her rack, I felt like I had rocks in tube socks.
“Hello,” I greeted her, staring into her big brown eyes with perfectly curled eyelashes.
“Yes, hello,” she said. “I met more of your family friends upstairs. I think one was called Gertie.”
Caiyan frowned and gave me an evil eye.
“Good to meet you, Jennifer,” Rocksanna said, interlacing her fingers through Caiyan’s fingers and pulling him along. “Come along now, darling. I need my rest. Hope you can make it to the show tomorrow night,” she said over her shoulder to me as they walked away.
“Bye,” I said to myself as one of the most glamorous women in the world pulled my defender toward the door. For the first time I saw Caiyan look helpless. She had his key, and he had to keep her close to get it back.
Before Pickles followed after them, he handed me a card. “Get in touch with de man at dis hotel. He will give you a place ta stay tonight. It’s de same hotel dat Campy is staying. I will be in contact wit’ you tomorrow.” He caught up with Rocksanna’s entourage and did booty patrol on the way out the door.
Chapter 16
I returned to Marco, and he was sitting alone in the booth. He moved over, and I sat down next to him. “No luck?” he asked.
“He didn’t kill me, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get much info on Campy.”
“He doesn’t know where Campy is?”
“I don’t know. We were interrupted by Miss Fuck Me ’Cuz I’m So Glamorous.”
“You were told he’s a player, right?” Marco asked, and my inner voice held up another finger indicating an entire hand had warned me to keep away from Caiyan.
I rolled my eyes at him and changed the subject. “Pickles gave me a card for a hotel we can stay in tonight.” Marco took the card.
I took a sip of my beer and asked, “Where’s Gertie?”
“Dancing with her new friends.” He motioned toward the dance floor. I stood and leaned over the railing. The dance floor was divided into three levels. The girls were on the middle level. Gertie was dirty dancing with a guy who resembled Vanilla Ice. Our two friends were dancing together, and I thought this might be a great time to ditch them.
“Let’s get out of here,” I told Marco.
“OK, but let me get the phone numbers of our friends.” I glared at him.
He laughed. “Not for that reason. Whenever you travel, if you meet someone, it’s always good to have a way to get in touch with the person. If you end up in jail, you would need to get bailed out, or if you need money, they might be able to help you faster than the WTF.”
“I thought the WTF was our go-to?”
“They are still a government organization, and that means red tape.” He shrugged. “Besides, you never know when you might be in a time before the WTF was around.”
I thought of my most recent travel with Caiyan to 1602. “The WTF was organized during the Johnson administration. Not long ago when you’re talking time travel.” I nodded. I remembered Jake telling me about “making friends” in a training session, but my anger at Caiyan had clouded my brain. Get a grip, Jen. You are a professional transporter for the WTF, and you have a job to do.
I stood on the edge of the dance floor, trying to get Gertie’s attention. The smoke from the fog machine combined with all the cigarette smoke was so thick I could barely see her.
Marco smiled at me. “C’mon, let’s go.” He grabbed my hand, and we made our way out to get Gertie. In the process we danced, and it was liberating. The DJ had a Prince song blaring, and everyone was bouncing up and down in time with the beat. I shouted over to Gertie that it was time to go.
She held up a finger and mouthed, “One more.”
The music slowed, and one of Madonna’s songs, “Crazy for You,” played over the speakers. It was the song Jake and I had danced to at our senior prom. The first time he kissed me. The nostalgia was a bit overwhelming for me, so I exited the dance floor. Marco grabbed my hand and reeled me into him. “I like this song,” he said. We danced, but our contact had us hot and bothered before the song ended, and he broke his hold on me. I thought, If Marco and I have sex, we’re going to self-combust.
We gathered the telephone numbers from the girls, and Gertie got Vanilla Ice’s number. As we cleared the club and inhaled fresh air, she said, “He was such a STUD!”
Marco and I both stared at her.
“What?” she asked. “I’m just working the lingo.”
We caught a cab outside the club, choosing to leave our stolen Camaro in the parking lot. Marco gave the driver the name of our hotel. The streets were still alive at two in morning, and I sat back against the vinyl seats of the cab and wondered if Caiyan was at the after-after party with the rock star, or did they slink off to a five-star hotel and get busy.
Our hotel was the Chateau Marmont. I knew this hotel because it was written up in the gossip columns when famous celebrities either trashed the place or died in one of the cabanas. As we pulled up to the hotel, it had that funky castle feel, and I could understand why a young band of boys would want to stay here. According to Gertie, they were an up-and-coming band in 1985 but only lasted a few years and then disbanded for solo careers. They had dance routines that made tween girls swoon and MILFs throw their underwear up on the stage. I laughed to myself, knowing these terms hadn’t been invented yet. I wondered what they called a MILF in the eighties.
The lobby was quaint with huge potted palms and funky mismatched seating. I could picture Greta Garbo leaning against the baby grand piano we passed as we made our way to the check-in counter. The man on the card Pickles had given us greeted us before we could get to the concierge. His name was Georgish, and he explained he was the hotel manager.
He certainly dressed the part in his dark suit and tie. I was amazed the manager would be here at two in the morning, but he didn’t seem alarmed by the early hour. Based on his accent, dark hair, and skin, I pegged him to be part Jamaican. My linguistics training was paying off. He didn’t question the fact that we didn’t have any luggage, and we didn’t sign any paperwork. The three of us followed him into the nearest elevator. His athletic build added to his smug demeanor as he held the elevator door open without a care about our identities. He led us down a corridor and up a short flight of stairs.
“This is the only room we have available tonight,” he said as he slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. “I hope you can make it work for you.”
We entered the small living room with a puce-colored sofa and matching chair facing an enormous console television. A kitchenette was located to the left with a half bath next to it. A bedroom opened up off the living room. A queen-size bed was centered in the room, and a bathroom was to the left. A large papasan chair stood in the corner o
f the room. “The hotel was built to withstand earthquakes, so the walls are soundproof, and the grounds are very secure.”
“Thank you, Georgish,” I said, remembering my training to repeat names often to help with recall.
“I have left some necessities in the kitchen and bathrooms for you. Please feel free to contact me if you need anything else.”
He handed me a brass key with an ornate head and long shaft—very antique looking. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually used a real key at a hotel. I dug in my pocket for tip money and came up with a five. Georgish waved away my offering.
“Not necessary. Andre is my cousin.” He left us standing in the center of the living room as he closed the door behind him.
“Andre?” I looked at Marco.
“I think he means Pickles,” Marco said. I never knew Pickles’s real name was Andre. I would have to razz him about that when we returned. If we returned. The doubt made my stomach queasy.
“Do you think Georgish is one of you?” Gertie asked Marco.
“Why don’t you ask Miss Touchy Feely over there,” he said, pointing to me.
“I didn’t get that feeling, but I didn’t touch him either.”
Marco told us he would take the couch as he headed into the bathroom to shower. Gertie and I surveyed the contents of the kitchen. We had a two-burner stove, a microwave, and a full-size refrigerator. The fridge was stocked with everything from eggs to cold cuts. I grabbed a jug of milk and poured a glass as Gertie was going through the contents of the cabinet above the stove. She pulled out a package of Oreos, and we smiled at each other. We stacked the pillows against the headboard and took turns dipping the Oreos in the glass of milk.
“You know Marco is in there naked right now?” Gertie asked.
“Yep, I would assume he usually showers without clothes.”
“You could go in there and find out what he’s like in the sack.”
“I’m on an assignment, Gert.” I licked the cookie off my fingers and stood to pull off my clothes, opting to sleep in the pink lace bra and underwear.
“Party pooper. I bet he’s great, and I bet he’s got a nice package.”
I threw a pillow at Gertie, and she giggled.
“I could turn up the TV really loud. I wouldn’t hear a thing.”
We were both in the bed with the covers pulled up to our necks when Marco came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. His abs were cut in a way no man should be able to accomplish. The shower made his blond hair curl around his face. He looked like an Abercrombie model, and Gertie’s mouth was hanging open. She looked over at me in complete disgust at the missed opportunity.
He threw a wad of clothes at us. “Looks like Georgish left you some complimentary T-shirts.” I shook out one of the shirts and saw that it had the hotel logo across the front. Good enough for me. I pulled it on over my head, and I realized Marco was watching me. A small smile crept across his face as he grabbed his towel and ripped it off, throwing it at Gertie and me. We both let out a shriek, but we didn’t cover our eyes, and this made Marco laugh as he turned and left the room wearing silk boxers with “Chateau Marmont” emblazoned across the butt.
“Made you look,” he said, still laughing as he shut the door between our rooms. Gertie and I brushed our teeth with the complimentary toothbrushes from the hotel and turned out the lights. The energy Marco emitted from the next room made my toes tingle, and I knew getting a good night’s sleep was going to be a tough one.
Chapter 17
A loud buzzing noise had me jumping out of bed in attack mode. Marco came barreling into our room with fists up, as if an intruder was coming in the window. We stood facing off until Gertie sleepily reached over and answered the telephone. Marco and I sighed with relief.
“It was Pickles,” Gertie said. “He’s sending over tickets to the concert tonight, and he said to let you know he notified the WTF.”
When we go back in time, the WTF of that time is supposed to monitor and help out but not interfere with our mission. They are busy running their own travels and don’t want to mess up our plans. We are not allowed to communicate any knowledge of the future to them. Thankfully, they had also wired cash to the hotel.
We dressed in the clothes from last night and made plans to shop after grabbing a bite to eat at the IHOP a few blocks from the hotel. As we waited for the elevator, I kept an eye out for Mitchell. If he saw Gertie and me, he might warn Campy. I assumed they would still be asleep, considering they were teenage boys. The doors opened, and Campy stood in the center of the elevator. Alone. He was wearing a swimsuit and a white tank top. His dark wavy hair was sticking up in all directions as if he had just rolled out of bed. Liam’s key gleamed around his neck, available for anyone to see.
We all stood staring at him.
“Uhm, are you going down?” he asked, his accent a blend of Scottish and Cockney.
I nodded my head, and we entered. We could just grab him right now, and we would be done. Marco had the same idea. Gertie was shaking her head no. “It would just be futile,” she said. “You know, like Groundhog Day.”
Campy looked confused at her words, but I got them. Groundhog Day was a movie where the main character kept repeating the same day over and over. If we took Campy against his will, he would just return at the next moon cycle. We needed to make him want to come home. Besides, I still needed to help Caiyan get his key.
“Are you going for a swim?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said, speaking directly at my chest. He was definitely Caiyan’s blood relative.
“That sounds like fun,” Gertie chipped in. “Going swimming in December.”
“The pool’s heated,” he told Gertie. “Are you from Texas?” He looked her up and down, as if she should be wearing cowboy boots with spurs.
“I sure am,” she replied, adding the extra twang for good measure.
“I thought so. I’m pretty good at picking up accents.”
“I detect a slight English accent. You’re not from LA, are you?” she asked.
“English!” he muttered, as if Gertie had said a bad word. “No, I’m from Scotland, but I lived in England for a short time. I’m here with my band, the Beasts.”
Gertie turned on her Texas charm. “The Beasts—I’m such a huge fan. We’re going to the concert tonight.”
“Awesome,” Campy said, again to my boobs. “Maybe I can get you backstage.”
“That would be totally tubular,” Gertie said, making introductions to Campy. He offered his hand to me, and when I reached out to shake it, Marco cut me off. He pulled me to him and kissed me hard with lots of tongue.
I pulled away from him as Gertie and Campy stood with mouths hanging open.
“She just has that effect on me,” Marco explained to Campy. Campy nodded as the elevator pinged at the lobby level.
As the elevator doors opened, I saw Mitchell with his back to us yelling at the concierge. I grabbed Gertie’s arm, and we skedaddled out the front door, leaving our mark standing in the foyer, waving bye.
“Why did you do that in the elevator?” I asked Marco.
“Are you kidding?” He grinned. “That kid’s hormones are going ninety to nothing. If you have the same effect on him as you do on me, when you touched his hand, we might have exploded.”
“Not everyone I touch turns to brimstone like you do.”
We headed over to IHOP, and after a satisfying Rooty Tooty Fresh ’N Fruity breakfast, we walked to the shops along Santa Monica Boulevard. Michael Jackson zippered parachute pants and Madonna regalia adorned most of the store windows. Gertie spotted a zebra shirt with shoulder pads that looked like they were stolen from Mean Joe Greene. We followed her into the store and combed through the racks of clothes to find an outfit to wear to the concert. Here I was in one of the famous shopping meccas of the world, and I was at a Mervyn
’s. There was a reason this store went out of business. Rodeo Drive was a few blocks away but not in our budget. The shopping gods were not on my side this trip. I held up a sweater that had a green fuzzy picture of Marilyn Monroe and frowned. Marco came up behind me and massaged my shoulders. His touch shot fire down my arms and out my elbows.
“I know you’re salivating to shop at the other end of town, but I promise, if you get me home before the moon cycle closes, I will personally take you there.”
I shrugged off his divine massage.
“I know you want to go home, but I don’t feel like we have accomplished anything,” I said. “It’s been almost twelve hours, and we have let Caiyan disappear to who knows where, and Campy slipped right between our fingertips.”
“It’s all about timing,” Marco replied. “Gertie was right. If we had taken Campy against his will, he would have retaliated. He might even be tempted to join up with the Mafusos. It’s easier if he decides to be a brigand on his own, but if he joins their little cult, we’ll have a much harder time getting him to convert.”
“This comes from the man who is Switzerland,” I said.
“I don’t believe what the brigands do is right, and if I go to work for the WTF, it could affect more than just my life.” He shrugged and walked over to where Gertie was trying on jean jackets.
I recalled the time I met Marco’s family at his teammate Enzio’s wedding. I thought maybe I was supposed to be his transporter instead of Caiyan’s, but he told me there was someone else. I wondered if that someone else was his sister, Evangeline. There was warmth when I touched her hands, and maybe Marco was protecting her from her gift. My inner voice was clicking her tongue at me as if to say, Quit making up stories. Holding up a bustier, Gertie pulled me out of my inner battle.