Popped

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “We’re writing a funny theme song that will play during the scene,” Neil added.

  Bubbles closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “It could work. Let’s try it. I’ll ask Roscoe tomorrow if we can use his balloon on Wednesday or Thursday morning.” She paused and then added under her breath, “Pilot Pete will probably like the idea.”

  “He loves it!” Noel assured her.

  “When did you tell him?” Bubbles demanded, feeling slightly peeved.

  “Before you got down here, he passed through the lobby with James.”

  “With James?”

  “They were going out for a drink.”

  Bubbles’s stomach did a somersault.

  24

  A t quarter to seven Regan knocked on Danny’s door.

  Victor opened it and greeted her. “We were just looking at that website Blowing the Lid Off.”

  Regan followed Victor into the living room of the small suite. Danny was on the couch bent over his computer. He looked up. “Hi. Have a seat.”

  Regan sat down next to Danny and dropped her purse on the floor. “Anything new?” she asked as Victor took a seat in the chair next to the couch. Regan had hoped she could talk to Danny alone.

  Danny handed her the laptop computer. “Take a look.”

  Love Above Sea Level is the latest entry in the reality show craze. Three couples are presently competing to see who deserves to renew their vows in a hot air balloon shaped like a wedding cake and win a million dollars. None of these couples had been happily married. Now they must convince Aunt Agony and Uncle Heartburn, advice columnists from the Las Vegas region, that they are back in love and will live happily ever after. With their one-million-dollar prize, of course. Hey, we’d fake it for a million bucks. Wouldn’t you? Hah.

  We posted the happy couples’ photos and names last week and asked for your comments. We’re not naming names because we don’t want to get in trouble, but we’ve heard repeatedly that one of the contestants is a real psycho, the type who could snap at any time. Has violent tendencies.

  Makes the contest interesting, doesn’t it? So, folks, please write in and give us your thoughts. Aunt Agony and Uncle Heartburn are the judges. Danny Madley is the executive producer. Most of you have probably never heard of him…

  Danny was reading over Regan’s shoulder. “I love that last sentence.”

  “You should be happy. You don’t need people criticizing you online.”

  “As my uncle always said,” Victor proclaimed, “sometimes you have to walk through the fire if you want to take on a glow.”

  “Thank you, Victor. Listen, Vic, would you head downstairs to the cocktail party? Make sure everything is set up. Regan and I will be down in a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay, boss.” Victor looked disappointed.

  Regan had the impression that Victor always wanted to be where Danny was. She watched as Victor walked slowly out of the room. “He’s devoted, huh?” she asked Danny when the door closed.

  Danny rolled his eyes. “I think he’s trying to do his best.”

  “So this website keeps emphasizing that one of the contestants is a psycho,” Regan observed.

  “You know that people always write in hateful messages on these things.”

  “I know that,” Regan agreed. “But maybe one of the contestants wants to cause problems. Maybe one of them left that letter on your desk today. And put the oil on the floor.”

  “It’s certainly possible.”

  “If it’s not someone who works for you.”

  Danny threw up his hands. “I just don’t know, Regan. I don’t know what to think.”

  “What about Victor?” Regan asked frankly.

  “He’s been my right-hand man. It’s hard to imagine…”

  “The question is, why would someone want to ruin your show? I think they either want the sitcom to air on the Balloon Channel, or they have a personal vendetta against you. Do you know much about what’s going on with the sitcom?”

  “A comedian named Bubbles Ferndale is producing it. She has four actors working with her. The two guys writing the show are brothers.”

  “Where are they staying?”

  “A hotel not far from here called 7’s Heaven. It’s on a par with this place. Fairly small and dumpy.”

  “After the cocktail party, I’ll head over there. Sit at the bar and have a drink. See if I can learn anything.”

  “Someone might have seen you coming out of the studio today when the whistle sounded. You might be recognized.”

  Regan smiled. “I always come prepared. I have a red wig and glasses and an outfit Regan Reilly wouldn’t be caught dead in that I use for disguise.”

  “I’d feel better if I could go with you,” Danny said.

  “I’ll be fine, just fine.”

  “I could never face your parents if something happened to you.”

  Regan laughed. “Don’t worry, Danny. This is what I do for a living, remember? Speaking of my parents, my mother’s giving a talk at a writer’s conference in Santa Fe this week. She and my father are spending a few days with her agent. He loves hot air ballooning and is taking them to the balloon festival in Albuquerque. I promised to let them know when we’d be arriving.”

  “We’re flying down in Roscoe’s private plane early Friday morning. We’ll go straight to the balloon field. At sunrise when all the special shapes balloons start ascending, our group will go up in the wedding cake. That’s when we’ll announce the winning couple. They renew their vows, we come back down, we have some champagne, and fly back to Vegas to do the final edits on the show. We present Love Above Sea Level to Roscoe at five o’clock Friday afternoon.

  “It sounds great, Danny. Your show is going to be terrific,” Regan assured him. “You’ve got to believe that you’re going to win. What is it they say? Visualize yourself as the winner.”

  “I’ll try. At the moment I’m visualizing what the next disaster might be. And I think it may have something to do with Elsa winning all that money. The other contestants are not going to be happy about it, I’m sure.”

  “They can’t be as unhappy as that poor woman who gave up the slot machine to go to the bathroom. I bet she never has another glass of water as long as she lives,” Regan joked. “Come on, Danny. Let’s go downstairs and check out the scene.”

  25

  L uke and Nora were packing their bags in New Jersey when the phone rang. Nora put down the beige silk slacks she’d been trying to decide whether to bring or not and picked up the cordless phone next to the bed.

  “Hello.”

  “Nora, it’s Harry.”

  “Hello there. Luke and I are packing as we speak.”

  “Tell Harry I’m finished,” Luke noted as he tossed one last pair of socks into his suitcase. “How about a glass of wine?” he whispered to Nora.

  “Ummmm,” she murmured, her eyes brightening. “Harry, Luke asked me to tell you he’s finished packing.”

  Harry laughed. “Glad to hear it. I just wanted to check in. Linda and I will pick you up at the airport tomorrow at two o’clock. We’ll meet you in the baggage claim area.”

  “That sounds great. We’re looking forward to relaxing at your beautiful digs.”

  “I’m telling you, Nora, we wish we could get out here more often. It’s good to get away from the rat race.”

  “It sure is. Oh, Harry, I talked to Regan today. She’s in Las Vegas doing some work for a reality show that a guy named Roscoe Parker is financing. Apparently he’s big with the hot air balloons. You don’t know him, do you?”

  “Roscoe Parker? Are you kidding me?”

  “Why?” Nora asked, dreading the answer.

  “He’s a little annoying.”

  Nora laughed, somewhat relieved. “What do you mean?”

  “I really shouldn’t say anything.”

  “Please, Harry. There’s been some trouble with the show. I want to warn Regan if there’s something she should know about Parker.”
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  “Nothing serious. He’s an old windbag who could fly a balloon on his own hot air. He doesn’t need any burners in his basket. That guy is always trying to grab attention for himself by being outrageous. A little Roscoe Parker goes a long way.”

  “Apparently he has his own cable station up in Vegas now.”

  “One of his many expensive toys. He’s unbelievably wealthy. He shows up at these balloon festivals in his private plane and talks about himself to anyone who will listen.”

  “Awww,” Nora said softly. “He sounds harmless. Maybe he didn’t get enough attention growing up.”

  Luke came back into the bedroom and handed her a glass of pinot noir. “She can’t say anything bad about anybody,” he declared loud enough for Harry to hear.

  “Tell Luke I’m very well aware of that,” Harry said with a laugh.

  “Well, at least this man is giving a lot of people work. A school-mate of Regan’s is producing the reality show. How bad can Parker be?”

  “Not so bad, I guess,” Harry said. “But I hope you get to meet him. You’ll see what I mean. He keeps threatening to go around the world in a balloon. I know a lot of people who would gladly go to Roscoe Parker’s send-off party.”

  26

  I ’ve been to many cocktail parties, Regan thought as she and Danny walked down the steps to the main floor of the hotel. Some bore you to tears with the endless small talk, others have an indefinable energy and buzz. But this cocktail party’s sole purpose is to create more interesting footage for Danny’s show. Drum up some soundbites. Provide some drama.

  Regan paused at the door to the lounge. “Danny, I had better stay to the side. I don’t want to be on camera.”

  “You won’t,” Danny assured her. “Sam is careful to shoot only the couples, Aunt Agony, Uncle Heartburn, and maybe me. He’ll ask questions as he moves around with the camera. Besides, if you do end up on camera, we just won’t use it. We’ll have plenty of tape to choose from.” Danny opened the door to the room that had, naturally, a dice motif and found everyone gathered around Elsa and Barney. The camera was rolling.

  Elsa was beaming, and even Barney had a smile on his face.

  “We’re planning to give fifty percent of the money to charity,” Elsa announced, looking directly at Agony and Heartburn.

  “Fifty percent!” Suzette the cheerleader cried. “Wow!” She raised her fist and pumped it three times. “Go! Go! Go!”

  “Planning” is the key word here, Regan thought. Let’s see if it happens.

  Vicky did not look happy at all. “I have something to say,” she declared.

  “What is it, dear?” Aunt Agony asked kindly.

  “You want us to express our feelings, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “The contest isn’t fair anymore!”

  “Why not, dear?”

  “Barney and Elsa had two big things happen today that strengthened their relationship—Barney falling on his butt and Elsa winning the money. How are the rest of us supposed to compete? They’re getting all the attention.”

  “My dear,” Aunt Agony replied sagely, “today is only Monday. Who knows what else will happen this week? Life takes twists and turns that no one expects. Whoever is up today,” she proclaimed, raising her arms above her head, “could be down tomorrow.” Aunt Agony was now bent over.

  Regan wanted to run over and catch her, but Agony quickly straightened up, smoothed her hair, and continued. “When I was a young girl and good things kept happening to other people, I always said to myself, ‘Virginia—that’s my real name—I’d say, Virginia, your turn will come. I just know it. And look at me now. I have Heartburn, I have an advice column, I am on this wonderful show….”

  Come to think of it, Heartburn doesn’t look too happy, Regan observed. He looked a little distracted.

  “I was just wondering what your favorite charities are,” Bill challenged Elsa and Barney. “Suzette and I have our own personal favorites that we give to every year, even if it’s just a small amount.”

  Elsa got that deer-in-the-headlights look. “To t-t-tell you the truth,” she stammered, “we haven’t donated that much lately because times have been tough. Barney lost his job, we had to apply for loans, but now, thanks to our good fortune, we’re going to make up for it.”

  Good recovery, Regan noted. She watched as the couples mixed and mingled. They were all doing their best to appear civil to one another. But there was an undeniable tension in the room. Sam never stopped moving around with the camera rolling. His long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a bright red baseball cap rested backward on his head. He approached Vicky and Chip and asked them each to relate something special about their spouse that they had never appreciated before.

  “I never realized how pretty Vicky looks when she’s asleep. She’s like a little angel. I just want to protect her.”

  I bet her next present is a sleeping bag, Regan thought.

  “Chip is so adventurous,” Vicky responded. “He’s not a run-of-the-mill kind of guy.”

  Definitely a sleeping bag, Regan concluded.

  Sam turned the camera on Bill and Suzette.

  “Suzette takes such good care of herself. I never appreciated how her exercising around the house has kept her in great shape. That is so important.”

  “Bill and I are going to sign up for a couple’s exercise class when we get home,” Suzette smiled. “He adapts so well to any situation.”

  “And now Elsa and Barney, what do you have to say?” Sam asked them in his easy, mellow manner.

  “Barney is a wonderfully sensitive man who I am lucky to spend my life with.”

  “Elsa, here…” Barney began quietly.

  Don’t cry, Regan pleaded silently. Please don’t cry.

  “Elsa’s strength has guided me through good times and bad. I never understood how important that was. She is the reason I walk. She is the reason I talk. She is the reason I live.”

  Victor walked over to Danny and handed him a piece of paper. Danny read it quickly and moved into camera range. “I have an announcement. Roscoe Parker has invited us to dine at his mansion tomorrow night with the sitcom group.”

  “Hobnobbing with the enemy,” Aunt Agony joked.

  I think that’s what we’re doing right now, Regan decided as she looked around the room. Who could it be? she wondered. Who could it be?

  27

  S hep and Maddy pulled up to the 7’s Heaven Hotel. Maddy was still in the backseat, but she hadn’t yet read the letter from the attorney. Shep had put his foot down.

  “Maddy, I’m going to have a heart attack! Don’t read that letter while I’m driving! You can do what you want when you get out of the car, but I’m not going to be considered part and parcel of your lawbreaking. What if we get stopped again?”

  “Oh, all right.” Maddy sighed.

  Shep parked the car since there was no valet at the 7’s. It was not that kind of hotel. They grabbed their bags because there was no bellman, either. Shep pulled out the sack of mail, and they walked inside to the reception desk.

  “We have a reservation,” Maddy announced in a loud voice.

  “Madley is the name. Shep and Madeline Madley.” She looked around the lobby in her imperious way, not exactly thrilled with what she saw. There were the usual slot machines, but the place was kind of dingy. Well, Maddy always said she’d rather travel more and spend less.

  The clerk tapped the keys of the computer. Then he tapped them some more. He grimaced and scowled and grunted.

  “Madley,” she repeated. “Madley.”

  “He heard you, honey,” Shep said quietly.

  “Here we go,” the clerk finally said. “You have our last room. Could I have your credit card, please?”

  Shep pulled a card out of his wallet. “You’re pretty busy, huh?” he said conversationally.

  “Yup. We have a few groups staying here this week. Some television people.”

  “Our son is producing a realit
y show,” Maddy noted proudly as she wandered over to the bar area and looked around. Walking back to the desk, she suggested to Shep, “Why don’t we drop our bags and then grab a drink at the bar?”

  “What about Danny?”

  “We’ll call Danny later. When I talked to him this morning, he said he’d be busy until late tonight.” Maddy hated the thought of turning over the sack of mail just yet.

  The hotel room didn’t invite lounging. It was strictly utilitarian. The bathroom light was dim, and the thin bedspread had a big “7” on it. Shep dropped the mailbag on the floor. “I could really use a beer. That chili keeps repeating on me.”

  “Thank you for sharing. Let’s go.” Maddy stuffed the letter into her purse and followed Shep to the elevator.

  The bar area was small. There were six tables with groups of people crowded around them and a long Formica bar. Shep ordered a beer and a glass of red wine for Maddy. She decided to wait until they’d been served and Shep had a sip or two before pulling out the letter. Shep stared up at the television over the bar. It was tuned to a baseball game.

  The letter was burning a hole in Maddy’s bag. When the drinks arrived, she lifted her glass. “To Danny’s show,” she toasted.

  Shep clinked his glass with hers, took a swallow, and gazed back up at the television.

  Maddy reached into her purse and pulled out the letter. She opened it up and spread it on the table so the light from the candle would illuminate the words. The bar was a little dark. Maddy read:

  Dear Virginia and Sebastian,

  Please contact my office immediately. Sebastian, your ex-wife Evelyn claims that you haven’t paid alimony in months. She is threatening to go public and plans to reveal that your recipe for heartburn chili is really hers. All the hoopla about you experimenting in the cafe to find the perfect recipe is all a public relations scam.