Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 7)

by Gina LaManna

  Meg blinked. And for once, her mouth remained sealed shut.

  I’d never seen her speechless before. “Meg?” I asked. “You all right?”

  She blinked one more time, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Yeah.” She forced a nod. “I mean, I know I’m a star. I’m a freaking rock star.”

  I waited as she sniffed.

  With a huge sob, she gave a watery smile. “But nobody else has ever bothered to tell me that. Thank you, Barty-boy. Thank you.”

  Barty squeaked as Meg threw her arms around his thin figure, squeezing so tight I thought I heard the crack of a rib.

  “Meg, Meg, sweetie,” I said, putting on my most soothing voice as I patted her arm. “Let’s let the poor man go.”

  “I just love him so much.” She squeezed tighter. “He said I’m a star. And he’s in the biz. That means he’s serious.”

  “Yes, you’re a star, not a boa constrictor,” I said. “And at this rate, you’re about to squeeze the stuffings out of him. Let go, please.”

  She loosened her grip the slightest bit, but didn’t release him completely.

  “Let go,” I said. “Or else nobody is going to be around to do your makeup except me. And I’m not qualified to paint a clown’s face.”

  Meg dropped Bart so fast he slid to the floor like a limp pile of noodles. I bent over, helping him up as he wheezed in a few breaths.

  “You okay?” I asked as I sat him on the edge of the bathtub.

  “Bruised ribs,” he gasped. “Traumatized.”

  “But I’m still a star, right?” Meg put a hand on her hip, leaning in as she narrowed her gaze. “Right, Mister?”

  “Of…” Bart sucked in a breath, wincing in pain. He offered a half-hearted smile. “Course. You. Are.”

  “All right. Let’s start with Lacey, then,” Meg said. “I want my hair done right before the event to keep it fresh. You ready, buddy? You’re looking a little piqued.”

  Barty hauled himself to his feet, turning on a radio next to the vanity mirror. A Top Forties’ hit pulsed through hidden speakers as he did a voila motion with his hands. “Let’s get glamming, ladies.”

  “This is all wrong.” Meg threw her hands up towards the invisible speakers. “Where’s the station changer? Can I plug in my own music?”

  Bart opened the top drawer where the radio inputs were disguised as a Kleenex box. “Be my guest.”

  Meg whipped out her bedazzled pink phone and popped the connector into the jack. The sounds of All I Want for Christmas Is You blasted through the speakers in Mariah Carey’s voice. “Ahh,” Meg sighed. “Much better.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “If I must say so myself, you ladies are a work of art.” Barty stepped back, his eyes scanning Meg and me from head to toe.

  Neither of us had been allowed to look in the mirror since Meg had started the Christmas music. I had no clue whether I looked like a movie star or a monster, though I suspected I might fall closer to the latter. The amount of hair-tugging and plucking, waxing and curling, painting and dusting had me feeling more like an art project. Or a gingerbread man. Or a piñata.

  And that didn’t even include the dress. I might as well have been shoved into a straitjacket, considering how tight the fabric was around my waist.

  “Looks like I won’t be buying popcorn tonight,” I said, letting out a careful breath. “Or else my dress will be ripping along the seams.”

  “That’s all good,” Meg said. “I’m gonna pass on the butter, too, which is unusual. Normally, I’m a huge proponent of jumbo-sized popcorns for a movie night, but not when you’re mixing it with guns. Slippery fingers and guns can make for one helluva night.”

  Barty’s eyes grew so wide his manicured eyebrows almost disappeared. “What?”

  “No guns,” I said. “Well, some guns. But not from me. Or Meg.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Meg muttered. “But I’m laying off the popcorn. Take that to mean what you will.”

  “As long as there are no guns in my bathroom, and you don’t ruin your manicure shooting them off, then I just don’t want to know about it,” Barty said, giving an indifferent finger wave. “But for the more important business…are you ladies ready to see how you look? We are finished, with thirty minutes to spare! You said you wanted to be at the theater around four, yes?”

  I nodded. “Movie starts at eight. We’ll do a bit of preliminary work before everyone else arrives.”

  “And get our pictures taken.” Meg winked. “Give out a few autographs, you know the drill.”

  “Meg, we’re undercover. You’re trying not to draw attention,” I said. “Keep that in mind. That means no autographs. From you, or for you.”

  “Well she won’t be able to help it, looking like this,” Bart said. “Everyone’s going to be tripping over themselves trying to catch her name. Okay, I’m going to spin you around on the count of three. One, two…ta-da!”

  On ta-da, Bart grabbed both of our hands and whirled us around, tearing our gaze from the wall and letting it fall on our reflections in the mirror.

  “So? What do you think?” Bart asked.

  Meg turned towards me, looking awestruck. “I’m so sorry, Lacey.”

  “Sorry?” I blinked. “What are you talking about? Bart, you did amazing work. I don’t even recognize myself.”

  I didn’t quite look like a star, but I also didn’t think I’d look entirely out of place at the premier. My gown was red, though the word red didn’t do it justice. A deep, rich material, the dress form-fitted to my body in a mermaid style – tight at the top and through the waist, flowy around my ankles. I’d never have picked it for myself; the old-Hollywood style wasn’t something I’d feel confident rocking without the help of Bart. But he’d succeeded. He’d even managed to create long, looping curls that toppled over my shoulder, held in place by a slim, diamond clip. My head would shine brightly tonight.

  As one last touch, I slipped on the bracelet from Anthony, which had made it through Bart’s approval process. He’d matched earrings to the jewelry on my wrist, the fancy design dangling halfway to my shoulder from my earlobes. And my face – somehow, he’d made my middle-of-the-road hair turn dark and soft, matching the smoky, gray eyeshadow and thin swipe of eyeliner. Even my mascara looked velvety and lump-free, which was more than I could do for myself.

  “This is weird,” I said. “Very, very weird.”

  “I’m sorry,” Meg said again. “I apologize, Lacey.”

  “For what?” I turned to her. “You look beautiful!”

  “I know. That’s what I mean.” Meg turned towards the mirror. “With these curves, I’ll take up more space on the red carpet than you, and probably everyone will be looking at me, even though your dress looks really pretty on you.”

  “We’re not here to be the center of attention,” I reminded her. “But I think that’s a compliment, so thank you.”

  “Maybe not, but I can’t help what the good Lord gave me, now can I? If it gets me attention, it gets me attention.” She winked. “Dang, Santa has some good taste. I like his style. Is he in the market for a Mrs. Claus, do you know? I could use me a sugar Santa – that’s a sugar daddy pretty much, except he just gives me presents.”

  Santa, better known as Bart for today, had selected a stunning asymmetrical black dress, one that both slimmed and flaunted Meg’s curvy features. Her hair had been slicked back into a tight bun, giving her a sophisticated vibe that was the direct opposite of her normal ’do, one I’d often compared to Hagrid on a windy day. Simple diamond studs and a thin silver bracelet completed the outfit.

  “I think this is the first time in our lives you’ve worn a lower V-neck than me,” Meg said, glancing down. Her gown boasted a lacy sleeve over her left arm, and no sleeve over her right arm, while mine had two thin spaghetti straps and something resembling scotch tape holding my dress to my chest. I wasn’t in danger of popping out anywhere, but that was more a testament to my chest, and not the cut of the dress. Regardless, I’d ta
ped those suckers down as an extra security measure.

  “You dolls are ready.” Bart’s misty eyes turned our way. “I didn’t think it could be done. But alas…I’m a magician. Now, for the real test.”

  “The real test?” I tried to raise an eyebrow, but my eyelid got stuck to my face. “Oh, no. Help. Help me, I’m stuck!”

  “Don’t ruin your makeup.” Bart rushed forward, releasing my eyelashes from the dangerous clutch of my eyebrows. “Blink slowly, at least until everything dries.”

  When I could see normally once again, I sighed with relief. “Now what were you saying about a real test, before I went and blinded myself?”

  Bart opened the bathroom door, and shouted down the hallway in response. “Get in here, people! They’re ready!” He shut the door, turning back to us with a pleased smile on his face. “Now, I get to show you off to the crowds.”

  Before I could hide from the gawkers, our first looky-loo made his appearance. Mack stepped into the doorway, looking first at Meg before turning his gaze on me.

  “You ladies look beautiful. Stunning, both of you. Meg, that dress brings out your eyes.” He turned towards me. “And Lacey, that’s a nice color on you. I like it with your hair.”

  I opened my mouth to say thank you, but before I could do so, Mack’s body slammed against the wall, held in place by a big, threatening, all-too-familiar hand.

  “What was that you said?” Anthony growled, having stepped around the corner just in time to hear Mack’s comment about my dress.

  “Anthony, let go, you’re hurting him!” I rushed forward, my newly painted nails digging into my boyfriend’s shoulders. “He just said we looked nice, relax! Both Meg and me.”

  Mack’s face winced a bit in pain as Anthony pressed harder.

  “Anthony!” I shouted. “Let go.”

  Then, Mack pushed his uncomfortable expression away, instead offering up an amused, lazy sort of smirk in Anthony’s direction. “Sorry, man. I was just trying to be nice. But I’m fine hanging out here, just dangling against the wall, if it makes you rest easier.”

  Anthony’s hand didn’t loosen. “Is that right?”

  “Anthony!” I punched his arm, tickled his neck, kicked his foot, but nothing I did made him do as much as flinch. “Let Mack go.”

  “It’s alright,” Mack grunted, though his face had turned a light shade of lavender. “I understand the sentiment. It’s okay, Lacey.”

  “Stop it, Anthony!” When he didn’t listen again, I used my last resort. I’m not proud, but it worked. I licked my finger and stuck it in Anthony’s ear, then gave that finger a good, solid twist.

  “Did you just give me a wet willy?” Anthony turned, a shocked expression on his face.

  I took a few steps backwards. Fortunately, my plan worked, at least enough so that Mack’s feet met the ground, and his cheeks regained some color.

  “I had to,” I said, trying to look tough. “You left me no choice. You were acting insane.”

  “Your manicure!” Bart almost burst into tears. “Why, Lacey? Why? You’ve destroyed it in so many ways.”

  “I was not insane,” Anthony said, though for the first time, he sounded a tad unsure. He turned to Mack, and offered him a begrudging hand. Mack accepted, letting Anthony yank him up to his feet.

  I brushed my hands together. “Was that so difficult? You could apologize, you know.”

  But instead of responding, Anthony’s gaze slid to my collarbone, which was fully exposed. His eyes trailed the thin spaghetti straps down to the tight waist of the dress, and over the curve of my rear end.

  When he reached my knees, I gave him a poke in the chest. “Hey, buddy, no staring until you apologize.”

  Anthony grumbled something.

  “An apology for human ears,” I said. “Not mouse ears. And look Mack in the eye. Say sorry like you mean it. Be a big boy.”

  Anthony’s expression bordered on livid. Then he glanced one more time at my scotch-taped chest, and swallowed his pride. He turned to Mack. “Sorry.”

  Mack gave a salute. “I understand. No offense taken.”

  “Now may I look?” Anthony turned back to me.

  I pretended to be annoyed, but since nobody was hurt, and Mack was being such a good sport, I gave a shrug. “Fine. But control yourself, next time.”

  Anthony stepped close, his voice dropping so low only I could hear him. “I can’t promise you that, sugar. Because you never fail to drive me insane.”

  I relented, giving him a chaste kiss on the mouth.

  Anthony smiled, then rested one of his hands on my hip, spinning me around with an admiring look. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “Except me,” Meg whispered. “But I’m just being a proper third wheel over here, and Anthony’s being nice.”

  “So…” Anthony crossed his arms. “When is your date supposed to arrive?”

  “Oh…ahem.” My eyes flicked to Mack. “It seems you two have already met.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Anthony’s voice was flat. “This guy?”

  I crossed my arms. “Be nice.”

  “Let’s step outside a minute, man,” Mack said, speaking to Anthony. “Away from the ladies.”

  “I know what that’s code for,” I said, wagging a finger at the two boys, feeling like a babysitter. “No fighting.”

  “Just a quick chat,” Anthony said, sliding his arm possessively around my waist, pulling me tight to his body and planting a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

  As soon as the two men left, Bart fanned himself with his hand. “Hot, huh?” He grinned. “If that ain’t the sign of a job well done by me, I don’t know what is. I’ve never caused a catfight between men before.”

  “Not men,” I said. “That was an animal right there.”

  “Rawr,” Meg said. “Aren’t we all animals?”

  Anthony and Mack returned a few minutes later, Anthony looking a bit more appeased, and Mack looking a bit more ruffled. But they seemed amiable, even joking as they returned to the room, both of them grinning as they walked through the door.

  “Ready, ladies?” Anthony said. “My friend Mack would like to escort you to a red carpet event.”

  “Your friend?” My eyebrows shot up of their own accord. Fortunately, I didn’t injure myself this time.

  Anthony leaned in, whispering in my ear. “He’s letting me drive the Aston Martin from the last James Bond movie. The real thing.”

  I shook my head. “Boys. You get into a fist fight, then he offers you a ride in a cool car, and suddenly you’re friends?”

  “The best of buds.” Anthony actually gave me the thumbs up. “I like the guy. You should look into hiring him full time.”

  I gave him a smack on the butt. “Let’s get a move on. You were punching him a minute ago, let’s hold off on the offer letters until after tonight.”

  “You keep getting handsy like that, and we’re not going anywhere.” Anthony winked, a transformed man now that he got to check out some cool car. “And I actually want to go to this thing now.”

  “You just want to drive the car.”

  “So?”

  I let out an exasperated breath. “All of this work to dress up, and you’re more thrilled about the car.”

  Anthony stopped me in the hallway, his hands grasping me on the shoulders. “I mean it. You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. But you could wear a trash can, and I’d think you look just as sexy. You want to impress me? Take all your clothes off.”

  “I like you.” I stood on my tip toes. “Maybe you can give me a quick ride around the block, James Bond?”

  Anthony’s eyes lit up like a light bulb. “This has got to be the best Christmas of all time.”

  CHAPTER 28

  We’d been to the movie theater multiple times already, but none of those visits had prepared me for the impressive view of the finished product. Outside the theater, bleachers were set up on either side of the red car
pet. Lights illuminated the dark night, pointing at the people mingling in front of the backdrop for photos, backdrops I’d seen many times in the magazines, but never in real life.

  People bustled about – cameramen spoke into earpieces, makeup artists brushed up the faces of television hosts, and reporters jabbered a mile per minute. None of the stars were here yet; the crowd was all media. Media…and us.

  “All right, team, everyone in place?” I spoke into a near-invisible microphone. Clay had rigged our whole team up with one so we could chat with one another. Even Lizabeth had a mic, though she’d be arriving with the rest of the celebrities closer to showtime, since Poopsie was busy getting a last minute facial.

  “We’re set over here,” Clay said from inside the van. He sat with Mack and Meg, tucked safely a block away. “Anthony, what’s your status?”

  “I’m coming to meet you outside now,” Anthony said, finishing his own walk-through of the theater. When he found me waiting out front, he gave a nod of approval. “Looks like you all did a good job in there, assuming Meg got rid of all the dangerous objects in the popcorn buckets.”

  “Ninety-eight percent sure,” Meg piped up over the wires. “I think I got ’em all. Oh, and your mic works.”

  “I’m proud of you,” Anthony murmured, leaning close to me. “Just don’t let your guard down tonight, and all will go well, sugar.”

  Meg jumped in over the airwaves before I could respond. “You got it,” she said. “Thanks for the memo, sweetie pie.”

  Mack snorted from the van.

  Anthony started to say a word that’d be censored in the movies, so I stepped up and intervened. “So, you’d give us five stars on preparation?”

  “Out of ten?” He smiled. I was just glad he hadn’t gotten the chance to respond to Meg’s comments. “I’d say four and a half. Unless you remembered to get a camera in the back hallway leading to the alley.”

  The airwaves fell silent.

  “Okay, four and a half stars,” I amended. “I think we forgot.”