“You’ll be fine. Neither Mom nor I would invite anyone nasty to something like this, and we might be rich, elitist snobs, but we enjoy outings to the park as much as the next person. And most of us enjoy live entertainment.”
“I look like an idiot.”
“You look like a beauty who deserves to be in a painting. I did a fantastic job of dolling you up. Strut your stuff with pride.”
“I might get the slippers wet.”
“Don’t worry about the slippers. The owner of the slippers and the dress is aware they’re being worn into a park. If she can’t get the grass stains out, that’s her problem, not yours.”
“Grass stains are the worst.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not your problem.” Jonas grabbed my stool, tucked it under his arm, and pulled out a picnic blanket from the back of his SUV. “My mother thinks I’m crazy for keeping a blanket in the back, but I don’t want your stool to get damaged, and this will spare the slippers and the dress from additional harm.”
As I’d been planning on resting the harp’s base on my foot to protect it from the grass, I’d appreciate the blanket once it was time to play. “Thank you.”
Jonas pointed to the vantage overlooking the waterfall. “There’s a nice spot by the water a little farther down. If you’re shy, unless you’re that good or that bad, people will leave you alone. It requires effort to move.”
“If they’re willing to drive all the way here from places like Manhattan, is there any chance of them being lazy?”
“Now that they are out of their cars, the weather is nice, albeit cold, and they are enjoying the view? Definitely. I love being lazy. Lazy is a true art form, not those poser paintings you like so much.”
“They are not poser paintings, and I will join forces with your sister to make you pay for all eternity if you do not put a dollar in my harp case to go along with my new laptop.”
“You are not assertive often, but when you are assertive, I learn the true meaning of fear.”
Lugging my harp across the park drew an unfortunate amount of attention. The instrument ensured I couldn’t move faster than a snail’s pace, especially while waging war against the layers of skirts I wore. “The next time I ask to be dressed like a lady in a painting, remind me ladies in those paintings wear a billion pounds of clothing.”
“If you were wearing a billion pounds of clothing, you’d be flatter than a pancake. Do you want me to carry the harp?”
“It’s not that far. I can do it.” I might plunge into the water, but I’d drop the harp first. The case would protect it; I’d made sure the case could survive the apocalypse while guarding its precious cargo.
The spot Jonas picked would work, and he spread out the blanket and set the stool down for me while I dug out my harp from the case along with my tuner. While I could tune by ear, if I screwed my first string up, I’d screw all of them up. Prepared to wage war with the old instrument, I sat down and checked every string. Only a few required adjustments, much to my relief.
In the time it took me to tune the instrument, I’d gained a crowd, and Jonas’s mother waved at me, grinning from ear to ear while Juliette Carter arched a brow.
She held a black bag, and I figured she could cram a body—mine—into its depths without any issues. “Hey, Jonas?”
“Considering you just engaged Juliette in a staring match, I’m not sure I want to hear this question.”
“She brought a body bag with her. How do you think she’s going to kill me?”
“In the garden with a rope, obviously. Rope is the closest she can get to thread, and she’d never use her sewing scissors for a murder. She might attempt to murder anyone who uses her sewing scissors for anything other than fabric, though.”
“There is nothing worse than someone using your good fabric scissors on anything other than fabric. The blades have to be perfectly sharp, or you can ruin the cloth.”
“I would not let Juliette Carter know you actually know your way around a sewing machine or fabric scissors.”
“She already knows, Jonas. That’s why she’s out for revenge. She knows I’m the one who butchered my Prada.”
“Well, you have an audience. I’ll try to keep her from murdering you, but no promises. I’m amazing, but I can’t perform miracles.”
“If you see your sister, drown her. This is all her fault.”
“My sister is working tonight until late, as it seems she has to pay her way for once in her life.”
“What an absolute tragedy.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
With my luck, Jonas would tell his mother there were rats in my apartment, Juliette Carter would overhear, and I’d be the latest kidnapping victim unwilling to file charges, as who in their right mind wouldn’t want to be treated like a doll by a fashion designer? Well, outside of those with a firm grip on reality and basic common sense.
As I’d gone willingly to a park while dressed in a Renaissance gown, I possessed a weak grip on reality at best, and common sense wasn’t as common as the name implied, so I wouldn’t beat myself up over my lack of. Instead, I’d play my harp, do my best to ignore the crowd, and be happy I could play with an audience for a rare change.
Movement out of the corner of my eye, at the fringe of the crowd, drew my attention, and to my dismay, I recognized Jonas’s friend, the probable sender of my new paintings, and the owner of priceless pieces of art I’d treasure if given an opportunity to move in with him.
Well, it made figuring out what to play easy. I’d rotate through the classics and serenade the man’s collection and toss in some lamenting ballads about what wasn’t meant to be. I thought the music did a fair job of representing life and humans in general.
We always wanted what we couldn’t have.
My lack of a social life and general obsession with musical perfection prevented me from making a complete fool out of myself. While I didn’t play anywhere near my usual standard, the harp made up for it. Compared to modern harps, it had a unique tone, something that spoke of its age and gave its music a haunting quality. When the restorer had finally finished, he’d cursed those who’d kept the instrument alive for so long while allowing it to decay, and he’d marveled how something so precious had turned up in a pawnshop.
I thought I had a lot left to learn about—and from—my harp.
I played ten songs before my fingers protested playing. The crowd applauded, evidence I wasn’t the only lunatic in the park. Stretching my hands helped ease some of the strain, but I recognized when it’d be foolish to continue. Exhaustion would reduce me to a blithering mess within an hour, and I wouldn’t even care where I slept.
“Done?” Jonas asked, striding over. “You look exhausted.”
“I am definitely exhausted. Your penthouse buddy showed up.”
“He heard I was dressing you up like a porn star, so he wanted to see what a gay man thought a porn star looked like.”
Some in the crowd snickered, and I wondered how long Jonas had kept his secret before losing any care about what others thought about his sexuality. One day, I might understand—maybe.
No, I probably wouldn’t, thinking on it. As far as I was concerned, it was business as usual with a few bonuses.
“And he showed up?”
“I did say it would be porn he’d probably like.”
The crowd, which already began to disperse, lacked Manhattan’s best kisser, much to my disappointment. “For all I know, he’s probably the actual porn star, and I kissed him, which means I’m going to need to be tested for whatever diseases I might pick up from kissing strangers. I bet I could entertain myself for hours looking for how I’m going to die on the internet.”
I went to put my harp back in its case only to discover a problem. It contained a wide variety of stuff, including the laptop bag with my new treasure in it. Triumphant over having bested my best friend’s brother, I pointed at the prized dollar bill sticking out from under the body bag Juliette had been carrying. “I might b
e dead by dawn, but there’s my dollar, which means I win.”
“That would be my mother’s contribution, as I’d foolishly told her about the wager.”
I set the harp aside, careful to keep from knocking it over, and checked the body bag.
Empty.
“It’s really a body bag, Jonas.” I considered the bag and the oddities in my harp case. A brand-new phone, still in shrinkwrap, stood out as among one of the more sensible pieces. “Someone put a phone in my harp case. A new one. A really nice new one.”
“I told everyone that our bet was for cash. It was determined anything that wasn’t cash was fair game.”
I grabbed the phone, which proved to be a rather high-end model, the kind I dreamed of. “Isn’t this really expensive?”
“Well, you’re not slacking in the phone department now. I’m glad I didn’t hold back on the laptop, or that phone would’ve put my efforts to shame.” Jonas crouched next to my case and poked around the wealth of presents. “Whatever you do, don’t ask about the purse, use it happily, and don’t think about its brand.” To make it clear he intended for me to use the purse, he took my new phone away and put it inside. After some more digging, he held up a bag and laughed. “This must have come from my sister.”
Within the bag was a pair of red-soled heels so tall I could use them as weapons. “She got me hooker heels?”
“In her opinion, every woman needs a pair of hooker heels. I disagree with her, but I have learned not to question her enjoyment of hooker heels.”
“Why do you think Clarissa is responsible for those shoes?”
“They’re her favorite pair but in your size. She keeps them on her nightstand, and she pets them. I walked in on her once, and it scarred me for life.”
I giggled over the thought of my best friend cuddling with a pair of shoes before bed. “She would, too.”
Setting the shoes aside, Jonas rummaged, piling various bath and body products I’d enjoy making friends with to one side along with a bunch of hair accessories. Then he stumbled across a rather large blue box. I recognized it as coming from Tiffany and Co, and my eyes widened. “That can’t be.”
“I’m so jealous right now,” Jonas muttered, prying off the lid. He tilted the box to catch the fading sunlight. A round necklace encrusted with red and clear stones accompanied a matching tennis bracelet, a pair of earrings, and a ring I might mistake for an engagement band if I hadn’t known better. “There’s a laptop ridiculous, a phone ridiculous, and then there’s this.”
“But why? All I did was play the harp for a while. I didn’t even play all that well. I can get your sister. She’s crazy. But the rest of this? Why? Who would do such a thing?”
Jonas shrugged, his expression so bewildered I believed he hadn’t been involved with the appearance of the jewelry. “I have absolutely no idea. I mean, I know why I bought the laptop. You’re nice, you work hard, and you just don’t get anywhere. Although I misjudged you a lot. You could teach me a thing or two about turning trash into treasures. We’d just buy the latest and greatest. You took something nobody else wanted, and you made it into something special. That harp of yours is something special.”
“If you like antiques, yes.”
“No. It’s the sound. I’ve heard harps before. We rich bastards love status symbols. Harps make excellent status symbols. Yours sounds nothing like the ones we use.”
“It sounds like a harp, Jonas.”
Jonas snorted and returned to sorting the items in my harp case. “Some classical art prints, probably from the Penthouse Guy, a copy of the zombie game, probably from the Penthouse Guy, although several people are aware how much you like that game, and gift cards for various stores and boutiques. Ah-ha. Maybe you were right about the body bag theory.” He held up one of the gift cards. “This is a rather aggressive note disguised as a gift card. Well, it’s a gift card, but it’s the terrifying kind.”
“It’s from Juliette Carter, isn’t it?”
“It is, and while you can run, you can’t hide, and if you put up a good fight, she’d appreciate it. She signed with her name.”
“What’s the gift card for?”
“A pair of running shoes and an appropriate outfit to go with them. From her brand.” Jonas checked inside the card, and he laughed. “The card itself is actually a tracking number for a package. I have some bad news, though.”
“She has the address for my work?” I guessed.
“She has the address to your work.”
“I’m calling in on my new phone, and I’m quitting. I will quit, Jonas. After I quit, I will run away. If I don’t, she’ll show up at work and ruin me. Forever.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Lee.”
“It doesn’t?”
“She doesn’t break careers. She makes them.”
I shivered. “Why does that sound like a threat?”
“Because when she’s involved, it really is. If you move in with Mom, she might not be able to get to you quite as quickly.”
Jonas’s mother, who waited not far away and undoubtedly heard her son’s comment, waved at me.
I bowed my head and wondered if prayer might save me. “Who should I pray to for deliverance, Jonas?”
“I don’t think even prayer will help you at this point, but good luck trying.”
Damn.
With Jonas and his mother hot on my heels, I entered my apartment to discover an entire swarm of rats holding a party in my kitchen. I could only assume something had driven the furry, disease-carrying bastards out of their nest and into my home.
“I’m going to burn the entire building down now,” I announced. I kept a pack of matches and two lighters in my bathroom. I had everything I needed to purify my apartment with flames.
I made it two steps before Jonas wrapped his arm around my waist, grunted, and lifted me off my feet. He transported me to the hallway and set me down beside his mother. “I could deal with one rat. I cannot deal with an entire family of rats. Mother, don’t let her escape. I’m going to rescue her instruments, we are going to put them in our vehicles, and we are leaving. If you don’t take her home, I’m taking her home. If she’s lucky, she’ll meet Tommy.”
“Tommy?”
“One of my boyfriends.”
“Wait. One of your boyfriends? How many boyfriends do you have?” I couldn’t even get a boyfriend, although I was more-or-less at fault for that. “Did you step out of the closet into a gay utopia?”
“I’m stealing that and making it mine. I’m rich, I’m beautiful, and I’m sexy. All the men want me.” To make it clear he would win no matter what I did, he flicked imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I inherited my mother’s charms.”
“It disgusts me that I have to admit he’s right on that score. I’m sorry, Shirley. He’s in a mood today. Do make sure you fetch her some clothes, Jonas.”
“I refuse. What if a rat peed on them?”
I groaned and bowed my head. “I’m going to be homeless by the end of the day, and I’ll be okay with that because I don’t think I want to renew my lease now. Technically, it will be a month and a day, as I’m required to give them thirty days’ notice. My lease renews in a week. I don’t think I want to renew my lease.”
I wanted to cry, as I could handle one or two rats, but I’d seen the writhing pile of rat bodies taking over my kitchen. They would wait until I slept, and then they’d infect me with every rat-induced disease known to man. If they couldn’t infect me, the fleas they surely carried would. Dying from so many diseases would make the headlines, and I would unseat Florida Man as the crowned champion of terrible ends. I would single-handedly prove Darwin’s theory.
“Jonas, darling, please just retrieve her instruments before she has a breakdown in the hallway. It wouldn’t do to ruin her pretty makeup. We need to take pictures.”
“Pictures?”
“I didn’t get sufficiently beautiful pictures of you today.” Without any evidence she worried about the rats, th
e woman swept into my apartment. “Where are the instruments? I’ll help.”
“Check behind the couch, Mom. Make sure those two paintings on the wall come with us, too.”
As the pair would rampage through my apartment if I left them unsupervised, I joined in, helping to gather my precious instruments and new paintings.
In the time I had gone, one of the little furry bastards had chewed on my saxophone case and had peed on my harmonica. Nothing would save the harmonica, as there was no way I’d purify it enough to my standards. I would replace the saxophone case, but the instrument had escaped unscathed.
Fury led to hyperventilation, and I flexed my hands, debating how best to light the building on fire. “I need my matches, Jonas. I need my matches, a few gallons of gasoline, and a few more matches, just to make sure the damned thing ignites. I will burn this whole city to the damned ground.”
“I will take you pawnshop trolling for a new harmonica myself, and I will see if there’s anything we can do to fix the case.”
“I have to put my mouth on that. There is no fixing that harmonica. I am not putting my mouth on something rat pee touched. No. I need my matches, Jonas.”
“There’s hysterical, and then there’s homicidal,” my second mother announced, and she went in the kitchen long enough to find a plastic bag. She opened it. “Put it in here, Jonas.”
The harmonica went into the bag, which she sealed. “If you want to light it on fire, you may do so at my house in the fire pit. I won’t provide gallons of gasoline, but I do have some lighter fluid you’re more than welcome to.”
“They peed on my harmonica.”
“At least it wasn’t the harp. I think the saxophone case can be repaired, but if not, I’ll replace it.”
“The case is a piece of shit that deserves to be lit on fire, too. It might be diseased. It burns. With fire.”
“By default, fire is required to make things burn.”
“Acid burns things without fire,” I reminded him.
“I draw the line at acid.” Jonas counted instruments, muttered curses, and began ferrying them to his SUV, leaving me with his mother.
Bat Out of Hell Page 8
