by Gina LaManna
“I hadn’t planned on it, but not a bad idea.” I glanced out the window, but snapped to attention at Meg’s death stare.
“Fine, fine,” I said. “Forget it.”
I pulled on some respectable-enough shopping clothes, muttering to Anthony the entire time about exactly how big of a traitor he was today.
“Okay, call me if you have any developments,” I instructed the burrito-that-was-Anthony. He hadn’t moved from his shell of blankets. “And try to see if Nora’s visitors can hit the road sometime before karaoke, please. They’re supposed to head out today, and I don’t really want to argue with them anymore.”
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Meg said. To Anthony, she explained, “Lacey didn’t just lose the cooking contest last night, she was annihilated. Now she’s just raw about it.”
“That was the deal!” I said.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.” Meg dragged me through the door, out into the wild, wild world of shopping.
Chapter 26
Shopping with Meg was not a relaxing event. Not even close.
“I thought this was vacation,” I groaned, an unquantifiable number of hours later. “It feels more like manual labor.”
“Suck it in,” Meg said, showing no sympathy. “How you gonna sing Sweet Caroline if you don’t look the part?”
“I don’t know how I’m going to be singing anything, dressed like this.” I gestured to the skin-tight, sequined red dress with a V-neck that cut nearly to my navel. “All of my circulation is cut off. All of it.”
“What do you think of this one?” Meg turned around. “I think this is my outfit for Baby Got Back.”
“Yes, I would agree it gives you a lot of...back.” I glanced at the yellow thing Meg had pulled over her head, wondering if there wasn’t padding in the rear-end region. “I think you look very...eye-catching.”
“Yeah, and then I’m thinking a quick costume change after that before I pull out this number.” Meg held up a frock that was nearly as see-through as her cover-up. “I’m thinking this might be good for Don’t Stop Believing.”
“Yes, it’s very inspirational.” I started to pull the sleeves down from my dress. “Can we go now?”
“Quick break for lunch, then it’s time to work on your feet. We need some boots to match that outfit, because I am buying that red dress for you.”
“You are?” I watched her carefully. “I don’t believe you.”
Meg looked down. “Well, you’re right. Why don’t I buy all this stuff with your credit card? You can expense it.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” I explained, but Meg was already halfway across the store.
“After lunch we do shoes. Then we do a coffee break. Then your hair and makeup. Then a margarita break. That brings us to about four p.m. After that...we start rehearsing,” Meg shouted through the store. “Hustle it up, lady. We haven’t got all day!”
We did have all day, but all day went by in a miserable cloud of karaoke music. Meg made me sing MMMBop four hundred times before she agreed that it wouldn’t make someone’s ears bleed. Probably. I offered to sit out time and time again, but Meg refused. She wanted to pop my karaoke cherry, and she was persistent.
“Lacey, that’s not singing. It’s screeching,” she said, sitting back into the hammock and slurping a drink. We’d retired to the front porch. Suspiciously, nobody else was around. I thought I’d seen a dark and shadowy figure who resembled Anthony sneaking out the side entrance.
Coincidentally, he’d disappeared just as our vehicle pulled up. I’d have to have a word with him later – a word about taking me with him next time.
“I need a break, else I won’t have any vocal cords left to sing tonight, and that’d be a shame,” I said.
Meg missed my sarcasm. “Can you get me a drink? I gotta keep my vocal cords nice and greased up, even though I got plenty of endurance. I’m like the marathoner of karaoke.”
I trudged inside, in search of vodka. As much for myself as for Meg, despite her request. I counted my small blessings – the house was quiet. I wondered if Anthony had succeeded in getting our three Italian friends to head out early, or if they’d merely gone out for a few hours to find some “civilized” food.
It didn’t take long to locate the supplies for another round of beverages, so I had to look for other reasons to procrastinate. I wasn’t ready to go back and face the music. Clay, I thought. He was always good for a little help when I wanted someone to distract me from the task at hand.
“Hey, cousin,” I said. “How’s it going?”
Clay answered the phone. “Fine...why are you calling me?”
“Just wanted to talk.”
“Do you need something? More information? I don’t have anything for you yet, but I’ve been in contact with Anthony.” Clay paused. “You sound weird.”
“No information, just wanted to catch up. I miss you.”
“Yeah right, what’s going on? Are you kidnapped? Held at gunpoint?”
I expelled a breath. “No, we have to go to a karaoke bar tonight like I said, get a read on those truckers who are probably carrying some expensive bling. Meg is making me rehearse.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m hiding now. Please talk business to me, so I can stay inside.”
“Just tell her you can’t sing,” Clay said. “You’re not even lying.”
“Hey! Maybe I can sing.”
“I’ve heard you in the shower. You think I’m sleeping, but Lacey, let me tell you something. Nobody can sleep through your version of Oops, I Did It Again.”
“You can hear that?” I blushed. “I thought I was being quiet.”
“Nope. There’s quite an echo, and I think it goes straight into my skull.”
“Oh, sorry.” I winced. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Go. Have a good time – the better time you’re having, the less suspicious you’ll look. If you sit all quiet in the corner, it’ll be obvious you’re miserable and you don’t want to be there.”
“Have you been talking to Meg?” I groaned.
“No, why?” Clay said, far too quickly.
It was my turn to be suspicious. “Have you? Because she said the exact same thing.”
“Great minds think alike,” Clay covered up, though I didn’t believe him for a second. “Just so happens you hang out with two great minds.”
“Right...”
“Well I’ve got to be honest with you, Lace. I’m running out of things to talk about. And I hate being on the phone.” Clay paused. “I’m working with Anthony to dig into Facelli’s past, but I can’t find anything interesting except for the usual violations. It’s a head scratcher.”
“You find out anything about the other diamond runners?” I asked.
“Same sort of thing. Low rung guys doing the dirty work, hoping for a chance in the big leagues. Honestly, I can’t figure out why they would’ve had a reason to kill Facelli. It’s driving me nuts.”
“All right, well...keep me posted.”
“Call me after karaoke and let me know what you find. If you can get any names, that’d be ideal. A photo would be good – information, anything to go on. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“If you’re nodding, I can’t see you,” Clay said, irritation creeping into his voice. “I’m sorry, this whole business has me on edge. It’s just...random. I don’t like random. Nothing is random.”
“That’s not true – falling in love is random. You don’t get to pick the person, or the reasons, or...anything.”
“It’s not random,” Clay said so sharply I wondered what sort of bug had crawled up his butt.
“Okay, jeesh, I’ll let you go.” I exhaled, but didn’t hang up quite yet. I bit my lip, stalling him with the first question that popped into my mind. “How is Tupac the Cat? Does he miss me?”
“No.”
“Can you please make sure he’s fed and give him a scratch behind the ears from me?”
“No.” Clay he
sitated. “Well, he’s fed, but if I try to pet him, he’ll scratch me.”
“How about a kiss on his cute head?”
“Lacey, the cat doesn’t like you. Get over it.”
“But I love my cat.” I frowned.
“Unrequited love.”
I sighed. “Fine, I guess I’ll let you go.”
“Lacey, one more thing.” Clay’s voice immediately turned soft, almost hesitant.
“What is it?” I leaned against the counter, silently urging Clay to keep talking for a while.
“If you get a chance, sing Man! I Feel Like a Woman,” Clay blurted. “It’s a great karaoke song.”
“Do you want to come up here and do it yourself?” I asked. “Because there’s still time.”
“No, no...you girls do your thing.” But Clay sounded wistful.
I sighed. “Well, the offer is on the table if you actually did want to come up here. There’s still time.”
“No, have fun. I have work to do.” Clay turned back to typing.
“Meg has special karaoke boots. She looks really good…” I wheedled. It twisted my gut to hear Clay sound so sad, as if he were missing out on the next great American event. “You can take my spot on stage. Meg would be pleased.”
“You think so?” His voice came out high-pitched and squeaky.
“I know so.”
“Well, I don’t think so. But thanks anyway,” Clay said. “Bye, Lace. I gotta get going. Be safe. And if nothing else, sing My Heart Will Go On if there’s time.”
“That’s a party killer!”
“You’ve got no soul.”
“I have a soul,” I said. “I just don’t want it on display! I’ve got enough of my rear end on display, thanks to Meg’s choice of outfit.”
“Then stick with the upbeat song.”
“Dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun,” I sing-songed. Channeling my inner Shania Twain, I played the drums on the counter. “Man, I feel like a woman…”
As soon as I stopped singing, the dial tone beeped in my ear.
Not a good sign for tonight.
Chapter 27
“I look fabulous.” Meg strutted from the porch out to my Lumina.
I sat back and watched, still exhausted and a bit sore after the hour-and-a-half primping session Meg had put me through. My scalp tingled, several places where I used to have hair now stung, red and bare, and my nails were so long I could scratch my nose without raising my arm above my waist.
I don’t know how Meg managed to look more glamorous, more rested, more awesome than ever before, after spending the afternoon going through Basic Training, Makeover Edition.
“Don’t worry, you look hot, girlfriend.” Meg waved for me to join her at the Lumina.
“I don’t know…” Meg had shoved me into a black top that did a swoop almost to my belly button, latex black booty shorts, and boots that stuck tightly to my legs all the way up to mid-thigh. Apparently she’d decided on a last minute costume change from the red dress, much to my dismay.
The boots’ heels were also black, decked out with a blinding number of rhinestones, the shirt spruced up with lace, and the shorts, well…there wasn’t enough room for any adornment on those bad boys. I felt a bit like Catwoman’s twin – the one who didn’t go to the gym.
“You complement me.” Meg stuck out one leg, putting her boots on display.
She hadn’t been able to decide between her old pair and her new ones, so she’d worn one of each. Her left calf was clad in gold sequins affixed to leather, while the right one was covered in a brilliant shade of blood-red plastic. She scanned me up and down. “You got the dark and dangerous look going, and I got the cute girlfriend thing going on.”
There were a lot of words I’d use to describe Meg at the moment, but cute was not one of them. Sassy, scandalous, or...bright might have worked, but cute? No.
“You’re adorable,” I said, instead.
“You know, why don’t you wear that more often? You could even probably get a job as a stripper again.”
“I’m happy in my career choice.” I looked at my reflection in the window. “On second thought, I do not have enough confidence to wear this in public.”
“Let’s come up with fake names.” Meg raised a pink-taloned hand to scratch her forehead in thought. “It helped your mom be a stripper. Maybe it’ll help us channel our karaoke goddesses.”
“Okay…”
“Call me Marshmallow.” Meg looked proud.
“That was fast.”
“I been thinkin’ about it for a while. You think you could hook me up as a part-timer at TANGO? I mean, I love Shotz, but it’d be nice to switch things up a bit and let my inner exotic dancer break free.”
“I can try. And I don’t need a name. You can have two – one for me.”
“Nope, you definitely get one. Let’s see…how do you like Ice?”
“No.”
“Frost.”
“What is with all the cold names?” I asked.
“I’m stuck on Sugar,” Meg said. “But that’s your stripper one. You need a singer one. I was thinkin’ Frosting, but that’s too smooth. You’re not smooth. You need something grittier. You could be Chocolate.”
I glanced down at my un-sun-kissed skin. “I’m not sure that’s fitting.”
“What about Graham Cracker? Graham Cracker and Marshmallow go great together! Maybe we could get Anthony to be Chocolate – then we’d, us three, be a s’more! Just the three of us, like the best friends we’ve always been.”
“Or, you could just call me Lacey,” I said. “Let’s hit the road...in the Fiat.”
“We’re taking the Lumina.”
“No! There was someone killed back there.”
“Look, it’s all clean.” Meg popped the trunk open, and I had to admit, it was spotless. Apparently Anthony also had a contact who could make a crime scene and taco sauce disappear like they were nothing.
“If you don’t take your car now, you’ll never get over your irrational fear. And we gotta drive this sucker home.” Meg slammed the trunk shut. “And I sure ain’t walking nowhere in these boots. Getting up on stage is going to be enough of a physical challenge without walking to Gabe’s.”
I took a deep breath, opened the front door, and slid into the driver’s seat. “I am so unhappy with everything that is happening right now.”
“Cheer up, girlfriend. Anthony’s there now doing his surveillance thing at the bar. When you show up, his eyes are gonna pop out of his head.” Meg grinned. “You won’t be worried about s’moring any more, if you know what I mean.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, I know so.”
Chapter 28
“This place is nice,” Meg said, strutting proudly into the diner. “I like the ambiance. Or maybe it’s just the leftover syrup I’m smelling.”
A light waffle and whipped cream scent lingered in the air. I followed close behind, the sun setting behind us. Anthony should already be here, somewhere, and Nora’s three stooges hadn’t been seen lately, so I hadn’t had the opportunity to kick them out yet. I had left a note kindly asking them to pack up, but I doubted they would acknowledge it.
“Laurelei?” I called. The front of the diner was a ghost town. The ripped seats along the counter were empty, the room devoid of any light except for the glow of the moon and stars that were just beginning to peek out from the dusky sky.
“I bet they’re back there.” Meg pointed towards the far end of the diner, close to the corner where I’d noticed the microphone during our breakfast chat with Laurelei.
“Back to the right,” Anthony said, appearing soundlessly behind us. “There’s a door. There’s also a rear door out the back in case of emergency – keep in mind it looks like a janitor’s closet. Worst case scenario, there’s a window in the bathroom.”
“Cripes, why are you sneaking around like that?” I started. “Why all the talk about the secret exits?”
“Never hurts to be prepared,” Meg sai
d, moving towards the door full steam ahead.
I paused for a moment, feeling Anthony’s eyes raking over my figure.
“What are you looking at?” I asked, twisting slightly so he could get a full view.
Anthony’s eyes roved over me, taking in every inch, every stitch of fabric. Granted, there wasn’t a ton of fabric to go around, but it seemed as though he noticed every detail. His gaze lingered around my shorts in particular, the back of them, and I felt my cheeks heat.
“You look…” Anthony gave one shake of his head.
“I dressed her.” Meg reappeared at my shoulder. “Now stop ogling and show this nice man your IDs. Anthony, how do I look?”
Anthony made a confused noise in his throat. “Nice.”
“Nice?” Meg screeched. “Nice?”
“Uh…” Anthony took a step back. “Very nice.”
“I’m not nice looking, Anthony.” Meg stepped forward and poked him in the chest. “Cute, maybe. But not nice. Sassy. Sexy. Glamorous as all heck, but not nice.”
“I’m...um, I’m sorry?” Anthony glanced in my direction, his eyes wild.
“You’d better be,” Meg hissed. Gesturing towards me, she spoke to Anthony. “What do you think of her?”
“Um...cute?” Anthony guessed, looking at Meg.
“You’re talking to your girlfriend, not to me,” Meg said. “Look her in the eye. And she’s not cute. She’s sexy.”
“It’s okay, Meg,” I said. “Shouldn’t we go into the bar? I thought you wanted to get your name down first on the list. I’ve still got that one song stuck in my head that you played seven times on the way over here. What’s it called?”
“I dunno, the piña colada song. Everyone knows it.” Immediately distracted, Meg whipped out her ID from a secret pocket I didn’t dare ask about.
A bouncer, who looked more likely to crumble into dust than throw someone out of the bar, sat guarding a thick, black curtain. He glanced at Meg’s Minnesota ID, taking a long time to find the birthday. I guess Minnesota IDs were harder to decipher than Wisconsin’s. Either that, or he took a twenty-second nap while holding Meg’s license.
Eventually, the man let us in with a grunt. We filed past him, emerging from the other side of the black curtain into a doorway. Passing through the doorway, we entered a room where the ceiling appeared to be made from disco balls. Lights of all colors bounced off the twirling silver contraptions. The joint was a seizure waiting to happen.