by A B Plum
“Bring your favorite pillow and anything else you normally sleep with.”
“My cat?” Ryn laughed so Comfrey would know she was kidding. She was so glad they’d avoided any shrink talk during their session that she’d have laughed at anything.
Comfrey chuckled—a warm, inviting sound. “Stuffed cats only.”
He was bouncing again on his toes, coming up to about her shoulder on each rebound. Did she make him nervous? Did he have a short-guy complex about tall women? Aware her mind had veered off course, she listened—really listened—to his endless instructions in case she needed to recall them.
Agreeing to show up tomorrow night didn’t mean she would.
Chapter 20
In the empty, hushed hall outside Comfrey’s office, Ryn tried to get her bearings. She took two steps toward the elevators, stopped, and glanced to her right. The long, windowless passage loomed like a dark hole. No pictures or wall hangings. No other office doors. Why did Comfrey require so much space? She swiveled her head to the left where the stainless steel elevator doors gleamed.
“Where’s the creepy music?” she mumbled and tensed her neck muscles against a shiver. Since when did a blank wall and a bank of elevators scare her?
Nerves. Comfrey had said she’d be jittery, likely to over-react until she got some quality sleep or they ruled out any physical issues.
Overhead, the soft blue fluorescent lights hummed in the unnatural quiet. One or two hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A mild electrical current ran up to the top of her skull, leaving a slow tingle on dozens of spots in her scalp. She tipped her head backwards and sniffed the cool air in the quiet hallway.
The stink of burnt sandalwood lingered in the empty hall. The scent, like fog, stung her throat and eyes. Despite the unexpected tears, a clear image of Beau flashed in her mind. Her nose twitched again. She’d know that smell anywhere—Beau’s cologne.
Except the hall’s empty.
The aliens parked the space ship in the women’s restroom. She snorted. Her lethargy might have lessened, but her paranoia had expanded. Involuntarily, she looked over her shoulder as she hustled toward the elevators.
She pushed the DOWN button, changed her mind, stepped out of the elevator, and bypassed the red EXIT sign in a detour to the restroom.
When Ryn charged through the lounge area, going straight for the nearest stall, the young woman at the middle lavatory turned away from examining her teeth at the mirror. Ryn closed her eyes. When she reopened them, the woman stood right next to her, holding her wrist.
“You okay, Ryn?” Amber asked in her sexy, Marilyn Monroe whisper. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“What’re you doing here, Amber?”
“Beau and I—”
“Where is he?” Ryn yanked Amber’s arm and shook it.
Caught off balance, Amber tottered on her four-inch, open-toed heels. Top heavy with her Dolly Parton bosom, tiny waist, and flat butt, Amber screeched and grabbed at Ryn. She, in turn, clutched at Amber’s blouse. Like two novice ice skaters tripping over each other’s skates, they wobbled and swayed without falling.
“For god’s sake, Ryn, what’s wrong with you?” Amber gripped the faucet to keep her balance.
I’m crazy. Ryn released Amber’s warm, sweaty hand. “I—you shocked me about Beau.”
Amber recognized a nut case when she saw one. She tugged at her thin, green pigtail, smoothed it, and then flipped it over her shoulder. She smiled at her reflection before saying, “Nice haircut.”
Ryn’s mouth dropped. Which of us is certifiable?
“Life goes on, as they say.” Amber adjusted one of the twenty or so gold and silver earrings strung along the cartilage up to the top of her dainty left ear.
“Right.” Ryn felt her brain downshift. A memory—a remnant, really—tried to surface but drifted back into the fog.
One of Comfrey’s remarks echoed. Over-reaction is a typical behavioral pattern resulting from sleep deprivation.
Ryn threw her head back and cackled.
Amber inched back a step and focused on the door.
Trying to decide her chances of escape in four-inch hooker heels. Ryn didn’t blame Amber’s caution. If they were the last inhabitants on earth, they’d choose to live on different continents.
“You sure you’re okay? You look—”
“Tired?” Ryn interrupted.
“Exhausted. The way I look after a concert.”
The pathetic attempt at empathy stuck in Ryn’s throat. She shook her head, jiggling the memory remnant again as she walked to the nearest stall. As she closed the door to the tiny, claustrophobic cubicle, the door into her mind crashed shut. The memory evaporated.
Through a hairline crack between the metal door and the metal separator wall, Ryn watched Amber preen in front of the mirror, arching her neck, touching her jawline. Pretty obvious Amber had fallen in love with herself—the milky skin, stretched over high cheek bones, the elegantly long nose, the weird aquamarine eyes.
“Anything I can do for you?” Amber faced her reflection squarely.
“I’m fine.” Ryn flushed and approached the lavatory.
Amber shifted in front of the mirror, stuck out her tongue, and widened her eyes.
Facial exercise, Ryn guessed, washing her hands, drying them slowly, and leaning casually against the wall. “How’d you find me?”
Amber bent forward at the waist and reexamined her perfect teeth. Eyes riveted on her image, she drawled, “Beau and I hired a detective.”
Casual. Making small talk. Taking no notice that Ryn came off the wall as if shoved by an invisible force, Amber opened her mouth and used her forefinger to smooth the edges of her raisin-colored lip gloss on her full, lower lip. The tip of her tongue darted out like a quick little adder, and she wet her fingertip, dabbing it at the corner of each mascaraed eye.
“That damn Danny wouldn’t tell us anything.” She sighed, slow and long. “So we hired a guy—one of Stone’s former bodyguards. He found you Friday, followed you to this building this morning, and then called me and Beau.”
“Why?” Ryn spun Amber away from the mirror. “What business is it of yours and Beau’s where I am?”
“Whoa!” Amber held up both hands. “We were worried about you.”
“Your concern is so touching.” Ryn raised her hand. Amber yelped. Ryn let her hand fall back at her side. Amber would love an excuse to sue for half Stone’s millions.
Amber held her palms out in supplication. “You don’t believe any of the gossip about me and Stone, do you, Ryn?”
Without missing a beat, Ryn rounded her eyes. “What gossip?”
Amber became very interested in examining her long, black nails one by one. Finished with a studied exam of her cuticles, she splayed her be-ringed fingers in front of her and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Yes, you are so innocent—so misunderstood. To think that people said you and Stone slept together. Why, that must’ve hurt you terribly.”
Two red spots flared up on Amber’s cheeks. She snapped, “I supposed you didn’t give a damn.”
“As a matter of fact … no.” Ryn removed her car keys from her front pocket, surprised she felt a twinge of regret. The twinge disappeared. They’d be skiing in hell on the day Amber Watt worried about hurting Ryn—or anyone else who got in her way. “What I do give a damn about is you hiring a detective to follow me. In fact, I’m pissed about that—if you really want to know.”
“It was Beau’s ide—”
“It was your idea, Amber. Beau wouldn’t know a detective from a purple armadillo. It. Was. Your. Idea.”
“I swear. He wanted to know where you were. And the cat.”
“Uh-huh. After you pumped him up. Which makes me wonder what you’re really up to. But I don’t care. Just remember where I go and I what I do is none of your damn business.” Ryn turned her back on Amber and headed for the door.
If her heart picked up a
few more beats, her head would explode.
Amber tagged behind her, whining, “I swear, we were concerned—you don’t believe me?”
“When cows give chocolate milk.”
“What can I say? We hired the guy. He found you. What can I do about it now?”
“Go back to LA,” Ryn snapped, a red haze coating the door. “Forget you know where I am.”
“Okay.” Amber shrugged. The rise and fall of her breasts would send an adolescent into testosterone shock. “I’m easy, but I doubt Beau’s going to be. You know he’d kill for you.”
Chapter 21
The white stretch Mercedes sat next to Ryn’s rental in a red bubble. She whipped around to re-enter the building, but Beau fell out of the backseat and rolled toward her like a tank, calling her name.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Why didn’t you tell me he was out here, Amber? Tempted to run back inside, she waved. Beau didn’t seem to notice she stood immobile.
At the top of his lungs, he bellowed, “Ryn! Ryn!”
A man at the far end of the parking lot turned. His mouth dropped as he stared at Beau’s butt swaying from side to side. Ryn couldn’t blame the guy. If Comfrey had the longest neck of any human on earth, Beau had the shortest neck, smallest feet, widest butt, and biggest belly. Standing five-nine, he weighed three hundred-ninety pounds. His arms dangled at his side in a Humpty-Dumpty waddle that literally shook the ground. His red-striped cotton knit shirt stuck to his back, and a waterfall of sweat sluiced down his moon face. When he stopped next to Ryn, his whole body quivered as he waited for her to give him directions.
“Hello, Beau.” She opened her arms for a hug, wishing she didn’t have to kiss him. His anxious, slightly crossed blue eyes told her she had no choice.
“I’m so glad to see you.” The smell of his damn cologne was worse than a whiff of dirty sweat socks. “You look real different with short hair.”
“I’m hot and sweaty,” she mumbled the non sequitur into his shoulder. His cologne was probably already mutating her pheromones—marking her with an invisible olfactory tattoo.
He released her. “You’re not mad at me, are you, Ryn?” When she didn’t reply immediately, he repeated at a higher pitch, “You’re not mad at me, are you, Ryn?”
“I’m not mad at you.” She smiled and touched his forearm. “I’m a little surprised to see you, though. I thought we agreed you’d stay in LA until—”
“Amber said that,” he screeched, clapping. “She said you’d be surprised to see me. Didja miss me, Ryn? Amber said you missed me.” He pointed at his chest with his thick index finger.
God bless Amber—because no one else would. Ryn’s clenched jaw popped. Beau, clean and sober in the seven since she’d known him, would never regenerate the gray cells destroyed by too many of his thirty-four years spent on booze, drugs, and groupie sex. Even on his best day, he was no match for Amber Watt.
“Didja miss me?” he demanded, tugging her hand. “Did Maj miss me?”
Ryn’s chest tightened. She squeezed his hand. “We both missed you—a lot. Do you want to see Maj before you go back to LA?”
He shook his head, his yellow curls flying out in a golden arc behind him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face was scrunched up as tears ran down his cheeks.
Heart racing, she pressed a knuckle against her lip to hold back the words ready to shred him. For god’s sake, grow up, Beau. Problem was, he really couldn’t help acting like a five-year-old. Stone had called him the poster boy for that old brain-as-fried-egg TV commercial.
“All the way up here, he kept telling me he wasn’t going back—not without you.” Amber appeared as quietly as if she walked barefoot instead of weaving around on four-inch heels.
Shut up, Amber. Ryn spoke to Beau. “Stop crying, okay? You’ll get sick. You don’t have to go back with Amber right now, okay?”
Always leap before you look. Makes life more interesting. She patted Beau’s hand and smiled with as much wattage as she could manage.
Amber shrugged. “Hey, since he’s afraid of flying, I came along to keep him company. I didn’t think Manny could drive and—uh, you know—talk to Beau at the same time.”
“What a friend you are, Amber.” Ryn’s face felt as if it had splintered into a hundred pieces. “There’s got to be a special place in this world for people like you.”
Like hell. Amber was concerned about Beau the same way a piranha was concerned about the baby fish at the bottom of the ocean.
Beau was making a blubbering noise now. Once he got started, Ryn knew the next phase was a trumpeting wail. A woman approaching the front door inched to the far side of the sidewalk and kept her eyes straight in front of her.
“Stop it, Beau.” The sharpness in Ryn’s voice was a razor in her mouth. His startled flinch sent guilt flooding into her. You’re not tired enough to take anything out on him. She laced their fingers and softened her tone. “We’ll work something out. I promise. Now, let’s go see Maj.”
Beau wiped his face on his bare arm. “Can I ride with you? Can I?” He bounced up and down on his toes, his eyes shining.
Ryn threw him the remote for the rental car. “Of course you can. I want you to ride with me. Go unlock that white car—next to the limo.” Did she need more than two minutes to get the rest of Amber’s story?
Beau grinned with the delight of a kid who’d gotten every toy on his Christmas wish list. In a low, sing-song cadence, he chanted, “I’m unlocking the caaar.” He threw out his massive chest and glanced over his shoulder at Ryn as he skipped around the fountain between the door and the curb.
“Thanks so much, Amber,” Ryn purred and waved at Beau.
“Don’t jump my bones. I told you what hap—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Follow me to my apartment and wait in the limo while he visits Maj. But understand. He’s not staying with me. You’ll have to take him back to LA tonight.”
“Sorry. I’m not going back to LA.” Amber shrugged and threw Ryn a sly, gotcha-smile. “I’m meeting a producer in San Fran—”
“More likely in the lowest circle of hell.” Hands fisted, wanting to scream, cry, call on a deity she didn’t believe in, Ryn whipped away from that taunting face she could smash without thinking twice.
Wrapped in a red haze, she managed to reach the curb. Beau waited inside the car like a good child, his hands in his lap. She fumbled open the driver’s door and collapsed behind the steering wheel unable to speak. Beau opened his mouth. Whatever he said hung unheard between them. On auto-pilot, she jammed Smoke and Mirrors, The Stoned Gang’s latest CD, into the player. Beau immediately picked up the frenetic rhythm, accompanying it with both feet tapping and ten fingers snapping.
In the rearview mirror, Amber sashayed toward the limo where Manny Gonzales stood ready at the open passenger’s door.
Beau lowered the volume on the CD. “You haven’t been sleeping since Stone was killed, have you?”
“Not much.” She started the car. “I’m okay—a little tired.”
“You should take a nap. Naps really help.”
“I wanted to lie down this afternoon, but—”
“You still can. I will be very quiet while you sleep.”
“Thank you, Beau. After your visit with Maj, I’ll sleep.”
Beau stopped drumming on the arm rest. A stubborn look took over his face. The marshmallow softness hardened and he sat up a little taller. “I won’t go back to LA with Amber. Not without you. And Maj. You said I could stay.” He pulled his seatbelt across his belly and locked it with a loud snap. “You promised.”
Might as well try to reason with a telephone pole. Ryn eased away from the curb. Her fingertips tingled with a sudden jolt of electricity. She’d wanted an excuse to cancel her sleep appointment. Now, she had one. She couldn’t go off tonight and leave him alone with Maj.
“Do you have a suitcase in the limo?”
“I certainly do. I have one. Amber has three.”
“I’m not
surprised.” Amber would need a steamer trunk for her makeup alone.
Ryn pulled into the drive in front of the apartment building and waited for Manny to pull up next to her. She lowered her window but turned up the volume on the CD player and moved her lips. Amber’s tinted window slid down a couple of inches. Frowning, she leaned forward.
Feeling adolescent and weirdly amused, Ryn continued to mouth soundless words.
Amber’s window slid down completely. She yelled, “What?”
Ryn spoke in a normal voice. “Beau’s going to stay here after all.”
“Sure you want that responsibility now that the tabloids know where you live?” Glee overrode the words of fake empathy.
And how does she know the tabloids know where I am? Ryn threw Amber a grin. “Thanks for bringing Beau up. He’s good company.”
“Bye, Amber.” Beau leaned across Ryn and waved.
The trunk on the limo popped open. Manny stepped out of the car and removed one bag. Which he hauled up to the front door. When he returned, he stuck his head through Ryn’s open window. “Anything I can do for you, Ryn, when I get back to LA?”
“Thanks, Manny, but I’ve got it all under control,” Ryn said, feeling her heart flip-flop at the lie.
Chapter 22
After Ryn opened the front door to the apartment building’s lobby, Beau held out his hand for the elevator key. “Let me do it.”
“How do you know about this kind of key? You don’t use an elevator at your condo.”
Beau took the key and stuck the plastic card into the designated slot. “’Cuz I don’t live in a penthouse.” He jiggled the key card and then pressed the black button beneath it. His grin was triumphant. “Stone’s key was just like this one.”
Her heart quickened. Asking how he knew she lived in the penthouse flew out of her mind. Electricity tickled her skin. “I don’t remember Stone having a key like this one.”
“Wellll, his was gold,” Beau conceded. “Yours is silver.”