by Gina LaManna
Clay’s head poked up from where he was digging through a box of gadgets. “Uh, his food bowl was moved into my bedroom.”
I winked. “Cute. I think you missed me and wanted company.”
Clay opened his mouth to retort, but I cut him off before he could start.
“One p.m. today is go time. I’m leaving at noon, so let’s get this show on the road.”
He clasped his hands together, pulling out a small gadget from his pocket that was black, shiny, and tiny as a beetle. “I’m ready. Now, let’s get you ready.”
BY NOON, I WAS DRESSED in a sexy knit top and jeans, giving off the impression that there was nothing I could possibly hide on my person. Thanks to Clay however, that was a false assumption. In fact, I had contact lenses shoved onto my eyeballs that could record visuals. My watch served as a panic button, and my shoes had devices implanted in the soles which tracked every step I took. I surveyed myself in the mirror, thinking I didn’t look half bad. I swiped on some mascara and thought maybe I’d stop by Meg’s bar after, and take full advantage of the fact that I’d decided to get dressed for the day.
As a last touch, I added lip gloss and briefly touched the earrings that Anthony had given me at the party. I smacked my lips, happy with the makeover, then slipped on my bugged shoes and grabbed a handbag from my closet.
“How do I look?” I asked Clay.
If I didn’t know he was my cousin scouting my devices, I would’ve thought he was checking me out. “Perfect.”
“You’ll be waiting in the van?” I asked. “Just in case things tank?”
“Yeah,” he said. “What’s your plan, anyway? Once you see Kitty, that is.”
“I thought I would just ask her to come with me, and if she doesn’t cooperate, I’ll give her a little spray,” I said, showing him my pink pepper spray. “Then I’ll cuff her and bring her into the van. We can take her somewhere and get her to talk.”
“All right, but take this also. It’s more powerful than pepper spray and none of the mess. Just tap the end to her skin.” Clay handed me a little something that looked like a cigarette. “Good luck. I just hope Maria hasn’t ratted on us. If Kitty is expecting that Marcus is a trap...”
“She won’t be expecting a trap,” I said. “Anyway, I plan on calling Anthony the second we pull into the parking lot for backup.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t call him now?” Clay shifted nervously.
“He’ll tell us to wait for him, or postpone or something. We don’t have time for that.” I looked at my watch. “We’ve taken safety precautions. And it’s not like we’re not going to tell him.”
“We’re just going to tell him once it’s already underway, and he’s forced to get his butt over to the spa in ten minutes flat.” Clay looked unhappy. “Not fun for me, who will have to deal with him when he arrives.”
“Oh, don’t worry. This sneak attack walks, talks, and smells like Lacey. He’ll know the plan is my doing.” I winked. “Tell him I forced you into it.”
Clay sighed. “Smells like Lacey, huh? Fine, it’s your head on the line. From both ends – Kitty and Anthony.”
“So we’re good to go with our plan?” I asked.
“It’s as good as we’ll get for a rush job. Press your watch if you need anything,” Clay said, gesturing to the petite, nondescript strap on my wrist. It appeared to tell time, but it did so, so much more.
“Thanks for the gear,” I said. “Let’s roll.”
CLAY PULLED HIS VAN onto the side street next to the spa, keeping his sketchy van far away from the formal parking lot. I had to admit, some of my excited energy to solve this case had turned into more of a melancholy and disheartened feeling as my cousin shut the engine off. I’d requested a manicure an hour ago from the spa. The appointment was just to get my foot in the door, so that I could run into Kitty – who would be expecting a Marcus. Now, I didn’t want to get the manicure. I also didn’t want to run into Kitty, who was waiting for an exotic man who looked nothing like me. I sighed.
“You gonna get out?” Clay asked. “Not that it matters to me, I’m just wondering if I should call Anthony now or not. He won’t appreciate waiting.”
“Where are you gonna park?” I asked.
“Lips are zipped. The less you know the better. You won’t see me, but I’ll see you.” Clay looked around warily.
I stepped out, but I didn’t go far. Leaning in through the window, I peeked up at my cousin. “Clay, everyone can see you in this van. It does just about everything except fly to the moon and blend in with stuff. Embrace the weaknesses – it’ll never be subtle.”
“Hey – you never know. This thing might fly to the moon one day,” he said, tapping the steering wheel lovingly.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m off to meet with Kitty. Call me Marcus.”
“Be safe,” he said.
I gave a wry smile. Trying to feel courageous, I fingered the cigarette-like weapon tucked away in my Wonderbra, the pepper spray hidden in my small clutch, the audio wire snug someplace where the sun don’t shine, and finally, my beautiful earrings.
I had the urge to take them off and leave them in the safety of Clay’s hands; there was a significantly smaller chance they’d blow up with him. But for some reason they felt like good luck, so I left them in their secure spots on my lobes. Plus, they were a great addition to my outfit.
Pushing open the familiar back door, I nodded at the valets. Meg’s churro was nowhere to be seen...which was probably for the best. It was only a few steps to reach the front desk, but before I could get there, I was intercepted by a bulky arm and whisked into a small side closet.
A large, hulking figure barricaded the doorway, looking none too happy to see me.
“Anthony, what are you doing here?” I asked.
“Tell me you’re here for a manicure.” His breath tickled my neck as he pressed me against the wall.
“Whoa, give me some space.” I took an exaggerated deep breath. The space felt claustrophobic between my increasing nerves and Anthony’s intimidating presence.
“What space, sugar? This place is a broom closet. I barely have room for my gun.” Anthony’s voice was low and throaty, just above a whisper.
“You can’t be armed in here! What if it shoots off?” I put a hand to his chest, trying to take a step backwards. I did not succeed. There was no space.
Anthony waited a long beat, and I wondered for a moment why the question was so difficult. “You didn’t listen to me,” he said finally.
“Well...” I paused, trying to think up a good excuse. Inspiration didn’t come to me, so I shook my head. “Nope. No, I did not.”
“Why is that?”
“I have to get this case solved. I can’t have a crazy woman after me. I’m not built to be hidden away in an apartment building. I have a life. Friends. Drinks that need to be drunk and coffee that needs to be eaten.”
“Eaten?”
“I put a lot of marshmallows in it,” I clarified. “It gets pretty chewy.”
Anthony wrinkled his nose. “What’s your plan?”
“You ruined it,” I said. “Clay was going to call you when I came in here...Wait, did he call you?”
“He called me before you guys left the apartment.”
“What? That little sneak,” I said, crossing my arms.
“I know your plan, doll. Clay was right to be worried. He was right to let me know. And you, sugar, need to learn how to ask for help.”
“I don’t need it,” I said, but my voice wavered and I remembered Carlos’s words: Ask Anthony. Ask Clay for help. After a long pause, I sighed. Anthony waited.
“I’m sorry,” I admitted. “I should have called you. I was worried you would postpone.”
“Well, I would have,” Anthony said, “But since we’re here...”
“I am wired with enough security devices to set off any metal detector within a ten mile radius. Please don’t make me miss the opportunity with Marcus. When he doesn’t show, Ki
tty will get suspicious. I don’t think the referral plan will work a second time.”
Anthony didn’t look happy, but I took his silence as a sign that he was considering it. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” I said, exhaling.
“You just don’t want to have to get dressed up like that again,” Anthony said, gesturing towards my tight outfit.
“Yeah, that, too. I think these pants are cutting off circulation to my feet.”
“You look nice,” he said, brushing his lips against my neck. “Be careful in there.”
“I will,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”
“Mmm,” Anthony said, a noncommittal tone in his voice. As if I’d given him a choice. But his expression turned kinder and he reached out, his arms catching me in a tight bear hug. My cheek pressed to his chest, every one of his heartbeats pulsing loudly against my ear. His expensive deodorant was familiar and comforting, and I didn’t want to leave the warm embrace.
“Greorffff—” I mumbled into his chest. I put a hand up to his abs to push away, but I liked the feel a little bit too much and found it to be a half-hearted shove.
Anthony released me before planting a quick kiss on the top of my head. “I like the earrings.”
I opened the door, which I swore had been locked only moments before, and stepped out. I gave him a smile. “Me too. They’ll match my manicure nicely.”
“Just keep all your fingers, Marcus.” Anthony turned and walked out the front doors.
I turned the corner, shaking off his grim warning as I approached Yoo’s smiling face.
“Anna Banna here for a manicure,” I said. Yeah, in retrospect, it was a stupid pseudonym when voiced aloud. But it’d had a nice ring to it when I’d written it in the reservation form online. Thankfully, Yoo either didn’t recognize me, or she didn’t remember my name from the last occasion.
“Do you know the routine?” Yoo asked.
When I nodded, she handed me a towel and pointed me in the direction of the second floor. “There’s the manicure space.”
“Great. Thank you.” I headed downstairs to put everything into my locker first, since walking around the spa required the use of the provided shirt and shorts. As I changed and shoved my stuff away, I took one last look at my hands. Hopefully they’d come out of the manicure better than they went in. With all ten fingers still intact.
THE BEGINNING OF THE manicure was so luxurious I nearly forgot I was on a mission. My nail tech was a quiet, pretty Korean woman who didn’t speak much at all. She slathered my hands with a thick lotion that smelled faintly of strawberries.
“Feels nice,” I said with a small smile.
The woman smiled back, gently removing the plastic watch that controlled my locker key. I had a brief moment of panic, fearing she was trying to rob me. However, she simply dropped it into a bucket on the table. She gestured to show it was so she could lotion my wrist, and I gave what I hoped was an encouraging grin.
The hand massage was nice and short. My nail tech suddenly stood up. I looked on curiously, since my nails were still bare.
“I must get nail clippers,” she said. “You need a coffee, Ms. Lacey?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, thank you.”
I took advantage of the nail tech’s brief absence to scan the small nail salon style room where they’d brought me. There were a few nail booths, though I was the only customer currently here. Racks of polish lined the walls, and I debated the merits of pink versus blue for a moment.
However, something was bothering me; a tiny thought niggling away at the back of my mind, though I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. Maybe I should have gotten the coffee...it might have helped me think better – wait. The coffee! I stood up. Ms. Lacey? That was it. According to the ledger, my name was Anna Banna. Something was wrong. But before I could even take a step, there was a cold, sterile click and a chunk of metal pressed against my head.
“Stand up, Ms. Banna.” The voice was a woman’s, and she spoke perfect English. The sound was familiar, but I couldn’t place it for a moment. Then raising both hands, I stood. I still couldn’t see the person with the gun, but a small woman walked in front of me. It was her – Miss Youn. Elephant lady. I stared at her with disbelief, trying to pull away from the gun pressed to my head.
“Kitty?” I gasped. “Where is your accent? Your English is flawless now.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m an educated woman, unlike yourself.”
“Excuse me?” I closed my mouth before I could prove her point right. Her voice was staccato and elegant, and I might’ve guessed she’d come from money if I’d met her on the street. A lawyer possibly, or a politician even, with that voice. Commanding and level. Cold.
“Please, gentlemen, pat her down. Be nice, but don’t miss anything.” Kitty eyed someone behind me, and the gun shifted a bit as the man started with my newly lotioned hands and began patting down to my elbow. I closed my eyes as he slid the cigarette thingy out of my Wonderbra and placed it on the manicure table.
“Oh, tsk, tsk, tsk.” Kitty shook her head. “An elegant woman never smokes. What a dirty, filthy habit. However, if the shoe fits...”
I tried to look sheepish. If she thought it was a cigarette, maybe she wouldn’t pay any attention to it...Kitty flicked her eyes between the cigarette and me, as if suspicious for a moment.
I broke in, hoping to distract her. “I only keep a cig on me for times I’m stressed. Can I have it real quick now? Just one. I’ll stand by a window, anything. I swear, I’m craving the nicotine. I’ll be much calmer, I promise.”
“I don’t let any of my girls smoke.” Kitty winked. “It’d ruin their teeth, and I hate paying to fix problems that could’ve been prevented. Plus, not all men that come in are smokers. How would you like an ashtray positively dumped into your mouth? Have you ever kissed a smoker?”
I grumbled as the shadowy figure patted down my butt and surrounding areas, finding the audio wire and removing it with a quick pluck. I groaned when his hands shifted in a much too friendly manner around the thigh region.
I looked over at the cigarette, and saw Kitty’s dark eyes glittering at me.
“No cigarette?” I asked. “Fine. Have it your way.”
I thrust my heel up into the man’s face. He’d been fumbling around my foot region. Since I’d taken my shoes off and left them in my locker, thanks to the requirements of the spa, I could feel the full impact of the hit on my skin. The crack sickened my stomach, and a warm liquid gushed over my ankles.
I swayed, suddenly woozy at the amount of blood pouring from the guard’s nose. He toppled over, a ginormous man about the size of Anthony, and I felt sorry for him for a moment. I turned, my sympathy waning with lightning speed, as he swung a large arm at my midsection. I gave him one more kick. Repressing the urge to vomit as I leapt over the puddle of blood, I rushed towards the door.
I didn’t glance back, but I didn’t think Kitty was following me. Maybe I could escape. I just needed to get outside, call for help...Anthony. I flung open the door and screeched to a stop. If possible, my heart beat even faster. And louder. Even the hairs on my arms were scared. Each strand stood straight up in a flimsy little forest.
Before me stood a large, pale man. He had tattoos scattered from his bald head all the way down to the thick army boots on his feet, the ink visible on every exposed piece of skin. In addition, he was holding a really big gun. So large, I couldn’t help but wonder if the thing was a missile launcher.
The big guy gave me a slow smile. In a voice that resembled a roll of thunder, the guy spoke. “Maybe you wanna turn around.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I probably want to do that.”
I couldn’t see a way around this guy, and he didn’t look like the type that was ready to allow me a free punch to the nose. With no other visible options, I spun back around, praying desperately that Anthony and Clay had figured out something was wrong.
Stepping back into the nail salon, I tr
ied not to stare at the large guard, who was currently trying to stand up and staunch the flow of blood from his nose. I almost gagged, so I turned to face Kitty instead. I watched as she clucked once with her tongue, and then dismissed the guard with a flick of her chin. The man staggered out, and I heard a short bark of laughter from the other side of the door. I bet it’d be awhile before the pale, tattooed guard let his buddy live this one down.
Kitty stepped forward, addressing the hulk of a man standing in the door who I’d nicknamed The Refrigerator in my head. “Send in the next two, please. And get someone to clean up this mess.”
The Refrigerator paused a moment. He glanced at me as if thinking, two guards – for this twerp?
“Now, please,” Kitty said, with the slightest, most sophisticated lisp emerging from her pristine English. I took the slip as a sign of hope – maybe if I could get her angry, she might get sloppy.
“Of course, ma’am,” The Refrigerator said.
Kitty gestured to my small clutch. “And take this crap.”
I pulled on my earrings, a nervous twitch I’d developed at a young age; one that still emerged when I was stressed or upset. However, the simple motion had the unintended side effect of reminding me that Anthony was near. He was aware I was inside the spa. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. The thought made me feel a little safer.
Feeling safer still, I suddenly remembered not all was lost – I still had visual contact with Anthony and Clay. There was no reason the contact lenses wouldn’t be functioning.
“Sit, please,” Kitty instructed me in her high falsetto.
I looked around.
“Anywhere will do.”
I meandered over to a stool as far away from the blood as I could get. The metallic smell was getting stuck in my nostrils and I was a little afraid I’d lose my cookies. Not that it would be the most terrible thing; maybe I could projectile vomit all over my captor. That’d teach her.
“Dispose of these, also.” Kitty flicked a set of perfectly manicured nails at the cigarette weapon and the audio device.