Undercover in High Heels

by Gemma Halliday

  Felix looked at me over his mug. He bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his blue eyes. I could see emotions at war, but I wouldn’t venture to guess what they were.

  Finally he relented. “All right, you win. Guest room’s upstairs. First door on the left.”

  I was so relieved I actually jumped off my stool and hugged him.

  For half a second he went completely rigid. Then his arms circled around my waist. Lightly. As if he were almost afraid to touch me. Odd as it may sound, it actually felt kind of nice. His rough cheek pressed against mine, and I felt myself inhaling deeply the scents of spicy cologne and warm cappuccino.

  “Thanks.” I lifted my face to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

  And that was when it happened. Somehow his head turned. And instead of my lips coming up against stubbled cheek, they were suddenly on his lips. Soft lips. Lips that tasted like imported coffee. And they were moving, slowly, brushing over mine, warm breath whispering as they skimmed my bottom lip.

  I think I made a little sighing noise.

  And just like that they were gone.

  I realized I had my eyes closed and opened them to find him two steps away, his chest rising and falling heavily, his eyes locked onto my mouth.

  I blinked. What had just happened?

  “Felix, I—” I started.

  But he cut me off, his voice husky and thick with an emotion I didn’t want to guess at, as he turned his back to me and quickly grabbed both of our mugs, taking them to the stainless sink. “Guest room’s the first door on the left. Good night.”

  I stood there watching his back for a full two seconds before I managed a feeble, “Good night, ” and followed the stairs to the first door on the right.

  Which turned out to be a bathroom, because, of course, Felix had said “left, ” not “right.” So sue me if I wasn’t totally paying attention at that point. I’d just been kissed by Tabloid Boy.

  And worse yet, I’d liked it.

  I was on a beach. A white, sandy beach filled with palm trees and tropical breezes. The sound of the ocean roared behind me, the scent of salt water filling my nostrils as warm sun soaked into my skin. I was probably going to get a sunburn, but I didn’t care. It all felt too good.

  I was wearing the itty-bitty blue bikini I saw on sale at Nordstrom’s last week, and lying on a soft lounge chair. I looked over to the side and saw another chair beside me. I was just wondering whose chair it was when he walked up. Shirtless. I think I drooled a little as Ramirez stood over me, his bronzed chest glistening in the afternoon sun, pecs rippling as he sank down beside me.

  “Hi, beautiful, ” he said, his voice low and deep and accented with that unmistakable undertone of pure sex. He trained his dark eyes on me and slowly leaned in.

  I closed my eyes as his lips brushed mine, letting myself melt beneath his touch. It was a slow kiss, long and sensual, as lazy as the sounds of the ocean crashing around us. I never wanted it to end. By the time our lips finally did part I was panting, my entire body burning for more. I slowly opened my eyes.

  And saw Felix’s face hovering above mine.

  I screamed, sitting straight up in bed. I took deep breaths (In…out. In…out.) My gaze whipped around the room. I was in a low, sleek bed. Blond wood, piled high with a white goose-down comforter and fat pillows. The walls were painted a stark white, splashed with abstract paintings in deep burgundies and greens. Plush white rugs dotted the hardwood floors, and the windows were covered in light, flowing curtains, gently swaying in the breeze.

  It took a few minutes before I a) stopped panting and b) remembered where I was. Felix’s house.

  I groaned and fell back on the pillows, covering my face with my hands. Had that really happened last night? What was wrong with me? Felix, of all people. He was dirt, slime, scum. There was nothing redeemable about Felix.

  Never mind the fact that just yesterday I’d been waking up in a different guy’s bed. A guy who was supposed to be my boyfriend. Oh God, had I cheated on my boyfriend? Was a kiss cheating? Was I a cheater? What would Ramirez say? I had a vision of him punching that clown.

  And groaned again.

  It had been the gunshots. The peril. The long day. The endless fights with Ramirez. Mercury in retrograde! That was all, right? I mean, it wasn’t as if I wanted to kiss Felix. Besides, it was just a kiss. And an accidental one at that! He turned his head. I hadn’t even meant to kiss him. I hadn’t even enjoyed it!

  Much.

  I popped out of bed, still in the spandex monster, and grabbed my pumps in one hand, purse in the other. I made a feeble attempt at smoothing my bed-head as I gingerly stuck my head out the door, peeking into the hallway. No sign of life. Good.

  I slowly padded barefoot down the stairs, hoping to slip out before Felix woke.

  No such luck. As I rounded the corner I spied him in the kitchen, in much the same place I’d left him last night.

  He was standing at the counter, this morning’s copy of the Informer spread out in front of him. Khaki Dockers hugged his frame, and, despite the fact that I’d almost convinced myself The Kiss hadn’t happened, I felt myself blush as my gaze strayed to his Magnum territory.

  I cleared my throat.

  Felix glanced up briefly. “Morning. Coffee’s in the machine. Cups in the cupboard above.” Then he returned to his paper.

  I set my purse and pumps on a stool. “Thanks. Uh, about last night…”

  Felix looked up and gave me a blank look. “Yes?”

  “Um, I mean, I just wanted you to know that…I mean, accidents happen and…you know, Mercury in retrograde makes people do strange things and…well, it’s not like I…”

  I searched his blue eyes, but nothing stared back at me. No trace of emotion or the awkwardness that had me verbally tap dancing all over his hardwood floor.

  “Did you have something to say, Maddie?”

  I bit my lip again. “No.”

  “Hmm.” He grabbed his coffee cup and took a long sip. “You know, you’ve got a serious case of bed-head.”

  See? Scum.

  I stuck my tongue out at his back as I poured myself a cup of coffee from the stainless machine in the corner. I was just taking my first heavenly sip when my cell rang from my purse.

  I crossed the kitchen to flip it open just before voice mail picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Maddie, ” came Dana’s voice. “I got your messages last night. You okay?” I heard her stifle a yawn as she asked.

  “Yeah. Fine. Sorta.” I sat down and filled her in on the previous day’s events as I sipped my way through my steaming cup. “By the way, ” I asked as I finished, “where were you last night? Your roommate said you were out all day.”

  Dana stifled another yawn. “Oh, you know, just kinda busy.” I heard her stretching.

  “SA?”

  There was a pause. “Um…yeah. Sure. SA. So, where did you end up spending the night?”

  “Uh…” I looked across the kitchen. “My mom’s.” I cringed. Dana was my best friend. The last time I’d actually lied to her had been when I’d seen her tenth-grade boyfriend, Eddie Van Houton, kissing a cheerleader beneath the bleachers after fifth period. As much as I’d known the truth would hurt worse, I’d hated lying to her then. So I had no idea what made me do it now.

  “Yep, me and Mom, all night long.”

  Felix looked up and gave me the raised-eyebrow thing. I blushed, ducking my head down.

  “Oh. Okay, ” Dana replied. “Oh, hey, listen. The reason I was calling is I just got some totally good news from my agent this morning.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said, only too glad to change the subject. “Do tell.”

  “Okay, drumroll please. Ta-daaaaa, ” she said, drawing out the suspense. “Guess who is the one and only Mia Carletto’s new stand-in on Magnolia Lane?”

  I froze. “No.”

  “Yes! Can you believe it? How lucky am I?”

  “Lucky? You do realize that the last perso
n to hold this job is dead, right?”

  Dana waved me off with a pft sound between her teeth. “Oh, come on, Maddie, what are the chances of that happening twice?”

  I refrained from pointing out that it already had—with Dusty.

  “I’m going to be a permanent member of the cast of Magnolia Lane. Like, how totally cool is that?”

  Considering that the last person to fill this role had wound up strangled with a pair of support hose, cool wasn’t exactly the word I’d choose.

  “Dana, please don’t do it.”

  “What? Why not?”

  I bit my lip. “What about the letter Mia got yesterday? This guy isn’t giving up. And if Mia really is the target, and he tries again…well, I just don’t want you in the way.”

  “Don’t worry, Maddie, there’s, like, tons of security there now.”

  Right. Which hadn’t helped Dusty at all. “Dana, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “The AD said I might even be able to speak a line now and then. A line, Maddie! You know how much SAG base pay for one line on Magnolia Lane is?”

  “Dana, I know this might be a good career move, but—”

  “Good? It’s the best thing that’s happened to me since I got that walk-on part in the Brad Pitt movie. I’ll be a permanent member of the cast, Maddie. This is huge!”

  So was the feeling of dread slowly building up in the pit of my stomach. “Dana, please—”

  “Holy crap! Is it really seven o’clock? Wow, I’ve got to go.” She stifled another yawn. “Gotta be on set by eight. They can’t start blocking scenes without a stand-in. Wish me luck, Mads!”

  “Dana, wait!” I called into the receiver. But she was already gone.

  I stared at my cell, my heart racing, my stomach churning. Probably Dana would be fine. Probably I was overreacting. Probably the police presence on set was huge, and whoever the killer was, he wouldn’t be able to get within ten feet of Dana.

  Probably.

  “So, I’m your mother now?” Felix asked, folding his paper.

  “What? Oh, sorry. I had to tell her something.”

  “And you didn’t want to tell her you came begging at my doorstep in the dead of night?”

  “I wasn’t begging.” Much. “And ten o’clock is hardly the dead of night.”

  Felix shrugged. “Hey, that’s okay. If you want to keep our torrid affair a secret from your friends, be my guest.”

  I opened my mouth to protest (it was an accident!), when I saw the teasing twinkle in Felix’s blue eyes.

  “Jerk.”

  “Sticks and stones, love. Sticks and stones.”

  Felix downed the rest of his coffee. “I’ve got to go check in with my editor. There are clean towels in the guest bath, ” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the room.

  I swirled the dregs of coffee in my cup, that ball of dread still sitting like a lead weight in my stomach. By taking the stand-in job, my best friend had just effectively labeled herself killer bait. If someone was really intent on going after Mia, that meant anyone close to her was in harm’s way. It wasn’t like this guy was picky; he’d already gotten rid of two innocent victims. I paused. Well, okay, maybe if Veronika had been blackmailing someone, she wasn’t entirely innocent, but I was pretty sure she didn’t deserve death by control tops.

  Any way you looked at it, Dana was throwing herself right into the thick of it.

  Alone.

  I set my cup down on the counter. Right next to Felix’s keys and wallet. The wallet was leather and looked expensive. The keys were attached to a ring that had a ninety-nine-cent plastic fish dangling from it. Total Felix.

  I reached out and slid one finger down the soft leather siding of the wallet. Hmm…I wondered…

  With a quick glance over my shoulder, I flicked it open. Yep, right there, stuck into the billfold, was Felix’s press pass. His golden ticket that could get him in just about anywhere.

  Even the Magnolia Lane set.

  I bit my lip. I glanced over my shoulder again. I could faintly hear Felix on the phone with his editor, arguing about word count and column placement.

  I took a deep breath, then hopped off the stool, grabbing my purse with one hand and Felix’s wallet and keys with the other.

  That was it. He was so never letting me sleep over again.

  My hands were shaking as I stuck the keys in Felix’s battered Dodge Neon. I turned the ignition, wincing at the loud sound erupting though the quiet morning. I glanced at the front door, expecting to see an irate Felix come running from it any second. Nothing. I quickly backed out and pulled down the street, my eyes glued to the rearview mirror. Nothing. I did a small sigh of relief. Maddie: 1. Tabloid Boy: 0.

  I know, I was a terrible person for stealing Felix’s car, especially after he made me cappuccino and let me stay over. I consoled my guilty conscience by telling myself I’d make it up to him, that I’d feed him the exclusive of the century once I made sure Dana was safe.

  And, by the time I came down out of the Hills, I had formed the beginnings of a plan to do just that. To not only get Dana out of harm’s way, but to get a killer behind bars, as well. Step number one was to get inside the studios.

  While I hadn’t officially been fired as wardrobe assistant, I had a feeling that after the whole carrying-a-gun-onto-studio-property thing, my name was on Bug-eyed Billy’s “do not allow entry” list. (Not to mention the fact that if Ramirez caught me on set he’d likely throw me in the back of a squad car faster than you could say “purple Prada pumps”.) Luckily, I knew for a fact that Felix’s name was on Billy’s list. All I had to do was convince Bug-eyed Billy and Queen Latifah that I was not the crazy blonde with the habit of setting off their metal detector, but a crack tabloid journalist with the L.A. Informer. Which meant I needed to change my look, and I needed it quick.

  There was only one person I knew who carried a virtual wardrobe around in his trunk, not to mention a fully stocked makeup kit. I floored the accelerator as I pointed my stolen car in the direction of Fernando’s.

  “Maddie, dahling!” Marco dropped the fishing net he was draping over the reception desk and attacked me with air kisses as I walked through the doors of the salon.

  Followed closely by Pablo’s greeting. “Squawk! Oops, I did it again. Squawk!”

  Marco shot the bird a dirty look. “No Britney. That’s the rule. I told you, no Britney.”

  I’m not sure, but I thought I saw the bird spit in Marco’s direction.

  I tippy-toed over to his desk, doing a pseudo-whisper. “Is Mom here?”

  Marco shook his head. “Nope. Your mama isn’t due until three, when she has a bikini wax scheduled for Mrs. R.”

  I shuddered. “And Ralph?”

  “Fernando, ” Marco chided, “is doing a cut and color for Mrs. Lohan.” He leaned in close. “Lind-say’s mom.”

  I nodded, looking to the back of the salon, where I saw Faux Dad running his scissors through the wet locks of a slim, forty-something blonde.

  “Good. Because I need a favor.”

  Marco clapped his hands together. “Are we on a case?” His eyes twinkled with that same Charlie’s Angels look I was coming to know and dread. But considering it was Dana’s tush on the line, I plowed ahead, explaining my need for anonymity.

  “Oh, dahling, I’ve got just the thing! Follow me!”

  Marco skipped out from behind the whitewashed desk, motioning to one of the nail girls to cover for him. I followed him into the back, giving Faux Dad a cursory wave as I passed his station.

  As I made my way through the rich and not-so-famous clients, I could have sworn I saw a woman point at my shoes and whisper behind her hand to the lady in the next beehive dryer over. I couldn’t help a little swell of pride. The first Maddie originals and already people were talking.

  I followed Marco into one of the back rooms, where he pulled out a black duffel bag. “I’m going clubbing later with this adorable boy I met in NoHo last weekend. Lucky f
or you, I brought a couple of outfits to choose from.”

  And, lucky for me, Marco and I were approximately the same size. Unluckily, his taste tended toward leather, leather, and more leather (studded with gold, of course). He held up a pair of black leather pants and a red leather jacket to match. I cringed.

  “Um, don’t you have anything a little less conspicuous?”

  Marco looked pained. “Dahling, I don’t dress to blend!”

  As well I knew. “Okay, okay. What else do you have?”

  He rummaged around and pulled out a see-through mesh shirt in hot pink and a pair of white stretch pants.

  “I’ll take the leather.”

  I stuffed myself into the extremely nonbreathable leather outfit, topping it off with a white T-shirt that read, FERNANDO’S BEVERLY HILLS, a pair of big black sunglasses and, thanks to a quick rinse, brown hair.

  And my pink heels. (There was no way I was fitting into Marco’s size-twelve loafers.)

  I looked in the full-length mirror hanging at the front of the salon.

  “Well, what do you think?” I asked.

  “Exquisite, ” Marco said, clasping his hands together.

  “Not bad, ” the nail girl agreed.

  “Squawk! Hit me, baby, one more time!”

  Chapter 18

  By the time I arrived at the studio, the line to get through security had diminished to something slightly less than a Monday morning at Starbucks. I waited impatiently, tapping my foot as I inched forward, all the while keeping my head down and trying to look small and inconspicuous.

  Finally I made it to the front, watching Queen Latifah take inordinate pleasure in wanding an overweight PA.

  Bug-eyed Billy looked up from his clipboard.

  “Name?” he asked, eyeing me carefully.

  I nervously cleared my throat and held my breath as I handed over my stolen press pass.

  He glanced at it. Then up at me. Then back at the pass.

  “Felix Dunn?” he asked, narrowing his eyes behind his Coke-bottle glasses. “You’re Felix?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh. That’s me!” My voice suddenly sounded helium laced. I cleared my throat again.

  “Felix sounds like a man’s name, ” Billy said, glancing back at the pass.