by Flynn, Mac
"Oh, sure, no problem."
CHAPTER 5
I drove us back to the apartment building and we walked together to his door. He stopped at the entrance and turned to me with a bright smile. "I had a lot of fun today. I hope we can do it again soon," he told me.
"Yeah, it was fun." Like hearing nails on a chalkboard or having my fingernails pulled off.
"If you ever want to you can call me." He handed me a slip of paper and I saw there was a phone number on it.
"Sure, that'd be great." I pocketed the number and promised myself to forget where I put it. "Well, bye." I hurried past him and into my own apartment. Once inside I slumped down against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. "This is a really long day." I glanced at my watch. Only three o'clock.
I shuffled over to my old couch and plopped down on the worn cushions. Something crinkled in my pocket, and I pulled out the scrap of paper Andy had given me. John's suspicion rang in my head, the one about it being convenient Andy moving in at this time. My inner sleuth knew I could find something out through this phone number, but I didn't have a phone book in my apartment. Fortunately, I did have a rich guy on speed-dial, so I rang up John.
"Hello?" came his voice on the other line. There was also a soft rumbling noise in the background.
"Hey, John, it's me, Trixie. You got a moment?"
"You won't rush out on me again, will you?" he teased.
I rolled my eyes. "That would be kind of difficult over the phone."
"I have faith that you'd be able to achieve such mischief," he countered. There was that strange rumbling noise again behind him.
"I'm up to different mischief right now. Remember that guy I told you about, the one who just moved in?"
"That would be difficult for me to forget your mention of another man," he pointed out. I swear he stood beside a dishwasher.
"Well, I took him out for pizza and-"
"Wait, pizza?"
"Yeah, pizza. Can't a girl treat herself?"
"But you ate before you left here," he reminded me. The noise in the background was driving me insane.
"Are you standing around a chainsaw or something?" I asked him. "I keep hearing some sort of static in the background."
John sighed. "I'm sitting in my office chair and the cat is laying across my shoulders." I froze and imagined that incredibly cute scene with the two of them finally at peace. It nearly broke me. "Angel? Angel, are you there?"
I shook myself free of the cute image. "What? Oh, yeah, I just-um, just trying hard not to laugh. Wait! No! I meant-"
"Very funny, but what were you saying about that guy?"
"What? Oh, that. I got his phone number but I don't have a way of investigating it. I was wondering if you could pull some strings and trace it or something."
"Or something? That's an offhand manner of speaking when you're asking for a very dangerous favor," John pointed out.
"Well, do you have a phone book you might look up the number? Or do it over the internet?" I pleaded.
"Was he that suspicious to you today?"
"I blame you for making me paranoid, but yes, he was. He wouldn't stop playing two hundred questions with me."
"Did you tell him anything?"
"Nothing that probably wasn't in the newspapers already. Well, except that I showed him my car. He was pretty curious about that. Said it came from a single dealership and was really expensive. This car doesn't happen to be out of my price range for insurance, does it?"
"What's your price range?"
"Really low."
"Then it probably is, but I've settled your bill for the next year."
"I don't know whether to thank you or scold you for spoiling me."
"I prefer the thank-you, but I don't think you called me to-ow!" There was the sound of a struggle and his chair squeaked ferociously.
"John? John, you okay?" I called out to him.
"I'm fine, but that evil ball of fur jumped on my lap and clamped its claws down on my legs," he growled.
"That's a natural reaction to cats. I'm guessing you had the natural reaction for humans?"
"Yes."
"And the cat is now where?"
"In your chair. I'm hoping she sheds all over it."
"I'm sure you are, so about that phone." Right now was a good time to change the subject.
"I can't help you with that-"
"What? Why not? You're rich and all-powerful, snap your fingers and make phone records appear!"
"I'm not the government, Angel, but I know someone who has a lot of influence who would be willing to help."
I smirked. "Let me guess, he drives a black car."
"And happens to be my uncle," John added. "If Cecil can't find something on this guy then he's a ghost."
"Great! When can he get the info?"
"I'll call him after I hang up with you, and he'll probably need a day to get anything on your Mr. Parker."
"That long? I'm disappointed," I teased.
"He can only perform so many miracles with all the government agencies being closed for the night," John pointed out.
"I can I'll take that excuse, but I expect quick results from our secret agent," I scolded.
"I'll be sure to tell him that. Is there anything else you'd like him to do for us?"
"Um, I'd like for you not to tell him I said that. I like to stay on the good side of someone who I swear could order me dead."
"He could, but I don't think he will. He's not the kind of person to want anybody dead because he'd rather see them alive and financially destroyed."
I shuddered. "Nice uncle you have there, John."
"He's very efficient. What was the number and name of that guy?" I gave him both and he jotted them down. "All right, hopefully I'll survive this cat long enough to pass on the information."
"Maybe Sassy is an assassin sent by your uncle to bump you off," I laughed.
"This would be the slow, painful torture he'd give to his enemies, but I won't let her beat me." I heard a cute meow in the background, and John sighed. "It seems she wants more food."
I ground my teeth together to keep from barking a laugh into the receiver. "She hasn't beaten you, she's whipped you into being her slave."
"And I blame you for this."
"Are you lonely?"
"Are you here?"
"No."
"Then you have your answer."
I rolled my eyes. "I promise I'll be there tomorrow after classes. Is that good enough?"
"No. As your employer I demand your full attention."
"Don't make me quit and go back to that diner," I playfully warned him.
"I'd buy the diner," he threatened. I had to admit he had me there. The owner would sell it in a heartbeat, especially at the price John was willing to pay.
"And you call me evil," I scolded.
"And for good reason.'
"True, but don't you have an uncle you're supposed to be calling?"
"Also true. I expect you to be punctual tomorrow."
"Yes, sir! Will do, sir!" I saluted him.
"Good. And Angel?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
My shoulders slumped and I sighed. "I-well, I'm really fond of you."
"Damn."
"Really, really fond of you?"
"Damn."
I rolled my eyes. "Give me more time," I pleaded with him.
"How much?"
"Now you're just being childish. Call your uncle so I can feed my paranoia with the info he can give us on my new neighbor."
"That sounds like an unhealthy obsession," he scolded me.
"It is, and the only cure is to satiate my curiosity. Now be a good boy and hang up on me."
"You hang up first," he dared.
"Not happening. You first."
"Fine." There was silence between us. "You're not going to hang up, are you?"
"No."
"Fine, I'll be the grownup and say goodbye." I clicked the button
and hung up on him, then slumped down on the couch. "He is so stubborn," I grumbled.
I passed the rest of the day glancing over the magazines that Andy left me. The columns were shameful cell pools of lies and half-truths, and I enjoyed every word of it. Well, except the stuff about me. That was just wrong, and my only hope was the whole world wasn't into reading this deliciously gossipy stuff. Unfortunately, I was about to find out how many people read those magazines.
The next day was Monday which meant it dawned too early and too dreary. I shuffled out of bed and drove to the campus. My first class was at an awful hour, nine o'clock, and I was only half awake when I entered the geography building. There was a group of adults huddled together on the ground floor, and when they turned at my coming I noticed some of them had cameras at their feet. Their faces lit up with smiles and whipped out pen microphones. They stampeded toward me, and the cameras and pens were shoved into my face. In the case of the pens some of them went up my nose.
"How did you two meet?"
"Is there an engagement in the near future?"
"What's your favorite North American bird?"
These were reporters, and I didn't want to answer any of those questions. Especially that last one. That one was just weird. "Um, I really have to get to class." I tried to slide around them but they slid with me and blocked my path. The cameramen circled me like voyeuristic sharks which meant I couldn't run back through the front doors. I frantically looked around and spotted my salvation. It was a janitor's closet a few feet away.
There were rear doors opposite the front ones, and my eyes widened and I pointed at them. "Look! A pink elephant!"
The reporters and cameramen zoomed their attention on the invisible elephant, and I slipped from their circle of questions and into the janitor's closet. I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing when my ruse was discovered. "Damn it!" swore one of the reporters.
"Fan out! She couldn't have gone far!" ordered another one. My heart stopped and I froze. They were bound to find me hiding in here, and then there'd be no getting away from them. I squished myself up against the back wall behind a couple of mops, but there was nothing but trash liners and dustpans in the closet.
Then the door flung open and the light from the lobby outlined the silhouette of a man. He stepped into the closet and clicked on the light overhead to reveal himself as the janitor. In his hands was one of those giant trash cans with wheels. He was as surprised to find me as I was surprised to see him. I frantically pressed my fingers to my lips and pointed at the people behind him.
The janitor closed the door behind himself and lazily leaned over his trash can with a smile on his face. "You're in a mess of trouble, aren't ya?" I nodded. "Were ya wanting to get away from them?" Again I nodded. "Willing to do most anything?" I was starting to feel like a bobble-head doll. "All right, hop in." My mouth dropped open when he pushed the trash toward me. He smiled and nodded at the unused trash liners. "Ah've got to cover you with trash, but you can climb into one of those to save yer clothes."
"Thank you," I mouthed. I grabbed one of the bags, carefully climbed into the filth inside the trash, and stepped into the open, clean trash bag.
The janitor covered me with trash and playfully tapped me on the head. "Here we go."
The trash can shuddered to a start and glided across the floor out into the lobby. I could still hear my pursuers playing hide-and-seek with me, but the trash can soon bumped over the automatic doors and we traveled along the campus concrete walkways for a few minutes. Then the trash stopped and I heard rustling above me. "You can get out now, miss."
I popped out of my bag and breathed a breath of fresh air. We were halfway across campus and conveniently close to the parking lot where I'd left my car. I turned to my hero and wrapped my arms around his neck, nearly toppling the trash can. "Thank you so much!"
I released him and found he had a blush on his cheeks. "It was nothing, miss, but you keep out of trouble so I can get some work done."
"Definitely," I promised as I stepped out of my trash can. Now I knew why Oscar the Grouch was always grouchy. Those things were cramped.
Now that I was safe I had a certain man to go visit.
CHAPTER 6
I stalked into the house and John could not only hear me coming, but smell me. The stench of the garbage was strong with me, and he popped his head out of his study just as I reached the door. "What in the world is that smell?" he asked me.
"It's the smell of a successful escape, now let me use your shower or I'll rub myself all over you."
He raised an eyebrow and evilly grinned. "Maybe I'd like that," he countered.
I spread my fingers and slapped my hand over his face. He gagged and pulled my arm away. "And I've got another hand that smells just as bad," I warned him.
He covered his hand over his face and pointed upward. I took the hint, went upstairs to shower, and came down in some of his clothes I'd found lying in his drawers. He sat in his desk chair and turned when I entered the study. His eyes flickered with that mischievous look again, and I noticed Sassy lay atop the back of his chair. It made him look diabolical. "You certainly make yourself at home."
I shrugged and the long shirt sleeves flopped at my sides. "I didn't think you minded," I pointed out as I made myself comfortable in my usual chair.
"I don't, though I would have preferred you come down in nothing," he teased.
"My birthday suit is in the wash with the rest of my stinky clothes."
"About that. How did you acquire that unique perfume?" he wondered.
"It's called the Scent of Escape. If the reporters keep hounding me than I plan on opening my own perfume line," I quipped.
He leaned back and intertwined his fingers together with his elbows on his knees. "So more trouble?"
"Yeah. I was going to class this morning and they ambushed me in the geography building lobby. A nice janitor smuggled me out in his trash can, but I barely made it out of there alive, though my nose will never be the same."
"Were any innocent bystanders wounded?" he teased.
I rolled my eyes. "This is kind of serious. I need to be at class if I'm going to pass college."
John gestured to the room. "You could always go full-time and stay here," he suggested.
"You know why I can't do that. Your cake proved we haven't been together for very long-"
"-and I'd like it to be much longer," he interrupted.
"The marriage proposal?" I guessed.
He sighed. "Still a no?"
"Still a not-yet," I corrected him.
"You give me hope, and dash it at the same time."
"I like to multi-task, but that still doesn't help me."
"Maybe go undercover?" he playfully suggested.
"Hardy-har-har. I'm being serious here. I don't want to be tracked down like a wild beast and tranquilized by their cameras."
"I could have a guard placed on you to keep them off, but that's no guarantee," he pointed out.
"What about Cecil? Can't he murder a few reporters for me to scare the rest of them away?" I wondered.
John chuckled. "He has a lot of influence, but it's dangerous dealing with the press. They don't take kindly to intimidation and a murder would only-" His phone rang, and he answered it. "Hello? What have you got for me?" He listened for a moment and frowned. "I see. Thanks. I owe you." He hung up and smirked. "That was Cecil. It seems your friend Andy hasn't been entirely truthful with you."
"Is that an understatement?"
"If you mean he lied about who he was, what he wanted, and his age, then yes, he is a giant understatement."
"So who is he?"
"His real name is Andrew Parks, and he's a reporter for one of the larger gossip magazines."
"Which one?"
"Gossip Globe."
"Classy."
"That's what Cecil thought. It seems Mr. Parks has been assigned to tail you and find out every personal detail he can get a hold of." He rummaged t
hrough a mess of magazines on his desk and pulled out one of them. "I suppose his real identify explains this article." He tossed the magazine at me, and I fumbled before I grasped it and looked at the cover. It had a picture of my car with my own image in a square inset. The headline read "Waitress Rolling Around In Dough."
"At least he has enough wit to make that headline," I admitted. "Unfortunately, he's still the least of my worries. I need to get to class. Hell, I'd like to be able to walk around through my apartment building without getting mugged by people."
John half-turned his chair from me and rubbed his chin. "College. . .college. Which college do you go to?"
"North-Central Eastern College," I replied. He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged. "The colleges are kind of like businesses now, so it merged with a few others."
"What was its old name?"
"Eastern College. Not too original, but it's a pretty old place," I explained to him. John smirked and chuckled. "What? I don't think old places are that funny."
"It's not what you said, but what you told me. I happen to have some influence over the college formerly known as Eastern."
"Influence? Like killing-reporters influence or something else?"
"Something else. Is there a theater hall there with the name of Benson?"
I rummaged through my memories, but came up empty. "No clue. Geography doesn't really mix with theatrics except when there's a rock slide or volcanic explosion." John bent down and pulled open one of his desk drawers. He shuffled the papers around until he pulled out an old folder and tossed in onto the desk in front of me. I looked at the folder name, which said Benson Theater, and shrugged. "You own a theater?" I guessed.
He smirked and shook his head. "No. My family contributed to its building a few decades ago, so it was dedicated to us. Occasionally Cecil and I still give a donation to the productions, so they might be very willing to help us."
I frowned and held up my hands. "Wait a second, back up. Help us how?"
"With my earlier suggestion to disguise you. This theater is very good at makeup and wigs, and I think they can help you mingle with the crowds so you can get to your classes."