by Libby Klein
Shayla grabbed my hand. “You are so great. But one of my cousins is bringing me a laptop, and the presentation is in Dropbox. As long as he gets here right away, I’ll be okay on that end. I just won’t have time to prepare and I don’t have anything to pass out.”
“I’m sure people will understand. They aren’t just here for free samples.”
Shayla pursed her lips. “Don’t be so sure. People will stand in line for hours to get something for free that they could buy with pocket change. I mean, not my age-reversal cream.” She laughed that loud, crazed laugh. “That’s going to cost a fortune.”
“Do you have any idea who would have done this?”
She leaned against the counter and whispered, “I’m sure it was one of the beauty execs in this room. There are at least five skin-care companies right here who would kill to have my formula. The beauty product world is full of backstabbing and jealousy. Everyone wants to unveil the newest breakthrough and be the first to invent a revolutionary product that actually works. Believe me, the Internet is flooded with fake miracle cures and counterfeit products that may as well be fifty-dollar tubes of mayonnaise for all they do for your skin. Some of them are full of poison, glue, even heavy metals. I can feel it down to my roots. This was corporate espionage.”
I was frustrated for her. “Did you call the police?”
She backed away from the counter, suddenly very uneasy. “No. I can’t do that, and I need you not to do that either. Okay?”
“Why not? If your samples were worth that much, this might be a felony.”
Shayla kept shaking her head. “Some things you can’t go to the police for. You have to handle them yourself.”
Gia nodded. “That is true.”
I gave him a probing look.
“What? Are you afraid I am vigilante justice?”
“I’m afraid you’re a lot of things.”
His eyes narrowed, but the slight grin gave him away.
Shayla took another gulp of her latte, and the line forming behind her was getting ugly. “Look. I already said too much. Please just keep this between us. Don’t tell anyone, especially the police. Okay?” She tapped my hand and said thank you to Gia for the coffee, then returned to her booth.
I waited on several customers and had nearly sold out of the pineapple muffins when Eloise came up, excused herself, and handed me a box of vitamin chocolates and twenty dollars, then very sweetly asked me to take some muffins and coffee to “Dr. Lance” this morning.
Ohh, Dr. Lance, is it? “I can do that for you, but can I ask you something first? Didn’t the Expo have security last night?”
She looked at the Sunshine Smoothie booth and whispered, “Only until midnight. The last guy was suspended, and this new company didn’t have any guards available for the graveyard shift. So, from midnight until six a.m., the local police patrolled. You didn’t have something stolen too, did you?”
“No. I was just wondering.”
Then she accepted a free Paleo Dolly and was chased down by a juice vendor complaining about how far away their booth was from the bathrooms.
I took a selection of muffins and a cappuccino to Dr. Rubin’s booth.
Tally was demonstrating the antiaging benefits of the Rubinesque skin-care line of potions and creams on her thirty-year-old face to a group of sixty-year-old women. She looked my way, and I held up the cup and bag. “Dr. Rubin has requested these.”
One of the ladies in the group reached out to take them from me. “Hand them over; I’ll give them to the nurse.”
Tally’s face went stony. “Again. Not his nurse. I’m a doctor here on staff.”
The woman could not take a hint. “It’s still his practice, though, ain’t it?”
Tally gave a gracious smile that did not reach her eyes. “Yes, of course.”
I handed off the goods and got the heck out of there as fast as I could. No amount of wrinkle cream would get that foot out of her mouth.
Someone stuck a blue flyer for Zen Mania in my hands as soon as I was back on the Expo floor. “We’re doing a yoga class in the community room today at two. Why don’t you come and join us?”
I recognized the woman. I’d even taken her class once, when I’d first returned to town. Her name was Skye and she’d banned me from ever returning, so I was surprised she didn’t recognize me. Of course, this time I didn’t have an eighty-year-old in a tie-dye turban on my arm. I smiled and nodded, and she shoved a flyer in the hand of the next person who passed by.
I pulled out my phone and called Sawyer to tell her what had just happened because I knew she would get a kick out of running into Skye again. Sawyer answered on the third ring, laughing wildly, and immediately hung up.
“Sawyer? Hello? Are you there?”
I dialed again, and this time there was no answer. I wanted to tell Gia what had happened, but he wasn’t in the booth. His younger sister, Karla, was there.
“Oh hey. I didn’t know you were coming today. Where did Gia go?”
Karla didn’t look up from her examination of her nails. “He had some business to attend to.”
“What kind of business?”
Karla shrugged. “I dunno. He just said business. You don’t ask Gia too many questions.”
A middle-aged man dressed out for yoga approached the booth to comment that Paleo Diva’s muffins were not rubbery and they were better than anything La Dolce Vita had.
Karla gave him a turn-back-into-a-frog look. “I don’t care. Then go buy from them.”
The man was shocked, and I gave him an apologetic smile. “I hope you get something you like.”
“Okay, but if she asks, will you tell her that I said hers were better?”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
He smiled and hotfooted back toward Tim and Gigi’s booth.
Karla pulled herself a shot of espresso. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know yet. You’ll hear it a lot, though.”
Twenty minutes later the man returned. “She was wrong. They are rubbery. Can I have one of the cranberry orange ones?”
I rang him up and handed him the muffin, which he ate in three bites, then gave me a nod.
“Karla, if you don’t mind, it’s a little slow right now, so I’m going to go check out the yoga class.”
“Go for it. You do you.”
I skirted around the back of the room to avoid the Paleo Diva booth and exited out into the hall. The yoga class was down at the end of the long hallway, with floor-to-ceiling windows and views of the beach and boardwalk.
I took a few steps toward the growing group of women in Lululemon and spotted Gia out on the boardwalk. He was talking to a shady-looking man in black jeans and a black windbreaker over a hoodie. I couldn’t see his face, but he somehow looked familiar. Both men had their hands and arms flying about as they spoke, and the stranger kept checking for something toward the ocean. I pushed through the door, and Gia spotted me. He gave me a smile, but the man he was talking to immediately took off farther down the boards, away from me.
“Who was that?”
“That was Luca, but everyone calls him Stubby. You met him the other day.”
“Met” is a strong word. I observed him while keeping a safe distance. “What was he doing here?”
“He did security for us last night. He watched our booth from that bench right over there. I asked him if he saw anyone at the booth next to ours.”
“Wait, he did security for Convention Hall?”
“No. Just us.”
“Oh-kay . . . did he see anything?”
“The doors were locked at nine. No one went in until the doors opened this morning at six. But . . .”
“But?”
“Someone came out the emergency exit right over there and hurried down to the beach a few minutes after midnight.”
CHAPTER 17
The afternoon moved with the energy of a kid’s birthday party, and I watched for an opening to talk to Shayla, but both
our booths were swamped. We sold so many cookies that it was hard to believe our success was tied to the lure of no more thigh jiggle. Dr. Rubin gave back-to-back consultations for hours. At one point, after an argument that ended with a broken bottle of sandalwood essential oil and a shower of peach Bellini bath salts, the Convention Hall staff had to post crowd stanchions to make a designated lane to his booth. A famous New York plastic surgeon offering free advice was a hotter ticket item than free bagel day at Buns and Beans.
Aunt Ginny and her crew came by to harass me before the keynote started. They were eating bags of gummy bears and being especially giggly, even for them.
“You all seem to be having a good time.”
Mrs. Davis leaned heavily against the counter. “I want a fruitachinno latte with extra fruuuitachinno.”
Gia and I looked at each other for a moment. Then he started pumping syrups into a cup. I had no idea what he was making because a fruitachinno wasn’t a thing, but judging from Mrs. Davis’s pink cheeks and glassy eyes, I didn’t think it would matter.
Mother Gibson held up her bag of gummies. “Pretty boy. Can you whip this into a fancy coffee drink?”
The ladies squealed with giggles.
“Alright, what’s going on?”
Aunt Ginny shushed everyone and leaned in very close. She crooked her finger at Gia to come down and listen too. “You two would make beautiful babies.”
“Aunt Ginny!”
She cackled. “Well, you would.... We bought this Easter candy at the booth around the corner.” She showed me her bag of bright green gummies bearing the label MyTHiC Teddies.
I turned the bag over in my hands while the ladies stood before me and snickered. “What exactly are these—OH MY GOD! Aunt Ginny!”
The ladies howled with laughter, then shushed one another and checked behind them.
I held the bag up. “How many of these have you had? This says a serving is one bear.”
Mrs. Dodson examined her almost-empty wrapper. “But they come with five in the bag.”
The biddies gave me stony expressions before busting into laughter again.
I hissed at them to quiet down. “What booth did these come from?”
Mrs. Dodson lifted her cane over her head and pointed to the bright-green canopy on the far side of the room. “The CBD booth is right over yonder. See? Where Sawyer is standing.”
“That’s a pole with a hemp purse hanging from the top.”
Aunt Ginny took the bag from me and tucked it into her pocket. “You’re not going to narc on us, are you? This is the first time in ages my hip doesn’t hurt.”
Gia handed Mrs. Davis a drink with whipped cream and green sprinkles on top. “You might want to be careful, ladies. That stuff is not exactly legal in New Jersey.”
Her face took on the expression of a Kewpie doll before she shoved her mouth into the whipped cream and snarfed it.
I looked past Gia at his collection of secret ingredients. “When did you get green sugar?”
“St. Patrick’s Day.”
Mother Gibson wiggled her fingers for Gia to make her a drink identical to the one Mrs. Davis had. “There’s nothing illegal about CBD oil, pretty boy. And why didn’t you tell our girl you were married? What’s wrong wit you, child? Don’t you got any sense? She’s a good girl. She’s already been through enough heartache.”
I dropped my head down to my arms on the counter. “Lord help me. And there’s more in there than CBD oil.”
I heard Aunt Ginny say, “There’s Sawyer.”
“I told you it’s a pole.” I looked up to see Sawyer running up to us holding a nest of raffle tickets.
“I got them. And we need to hurry. He’s setting up now.”
I gave Sawyer a pointed look. “Hi. Remember me?”
She wouldn’t look me in the eye, but she grabbed my hand. “Come on. I heard there’re gate crashers who made fake tickets online. We have to get our seats before the squatters get to them.”
Gia handed Mother Gibson her drink and gave my arm a squeeze as Sawyer pulled me from the booth to follow the Cheech & Chong Fan Club across the Expo floor.
We found our seats in the fourth row. The biddies would normally grumble about the fact that they’d stood in line all night for tickets, so they should be in the front row, but they were surprisingly docile about the situation. They were also nibbling on Paleo Dollys that I had not sold to them.
Sawyer dug through her purse. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.” She pulled out a bag of beef jerky for me and a chocolate bar for her. “I have a lot going on right now that I can’t get into here.”
The lights dimmed and loud intro music started to play, so I had to lean in to be heard. “ ‘A lot going on’ like what? Why can’t you answer your phone when I call?”
Sawyer hissed, “That was an accident and my phone died. I can’t talk about it now. This isn’t the time or the place. And I don’t want you to be critical of my choices.”
The jaunty music swelled like the soundtrack to a game show. Aunt Ginny shook her head. “Amateurs. This isn’t good entrance music.” She reached over and grabbed a handful of my jerky.
I hissed back at Sawyer, “When am I critical? I always support you.”
“I’m involved in something you won’t like and I just don’t want you to think less of me.”
“Sawyer, I’ll be there for you no matter what. Besides, I don’t know why you’d think I’d judge you.” The music stopped abruptly, right before I belted out, “My boyfriend is married!”
Eloise from Guest Relations had microphone in hand, mouth at the ready, but she zeroed in on me. “Oops, I think you’re looking for the Marriage Expo. That’s next month.”
The crowd laughed while I slumped down in my seat and Aunt Ginny and the biddies tittered and pointed at me.
“It is my pleasure to introduce our keynote speaker. Normally, I like to give a little background information and list some of the accolades of our guest of honor, but Dr. Rubin is a surprisingly hard man to find on the Internet. I called his office in New York and extracted a couple tidbits to share with you. Dr. Rubin is certified with the American Board of Plastic Surgery, and he’s one of the premier plastic surgeons in New York City. They wouldn’t tell me who any of his famous clients are, and I really tried to find out.”
The audience laughed appreciatively.
“But they did tell me that Dr. Rubin specializes in aesthetic surgery of the face, nose, breast, and body, and is considered one of the best breast augmentation surgeons in the world.”
Sawyer looked down her shirt. “I should give him a call.”
“And now join me in welcoming Dr. Lance Rubin of Rubinesque Cosmetic Surgery to talk about aging invisibly.”
The crowd cheered and Dr. Rubin took the stage with his arms outstretched. He brought his arms in and patted his heart while giving a gracious smile. Then he took the mic and gave a slight bow to Eloise. “Thank you, everyone, thank you. It’s a pleasure to be here with the beautiful people of Cape May.”
The applause erupted again, but somewhere in the back of the room someone shouted, “You’re a butcher!”
Dr. Rubin gave a chuckle, as if he hadn’t heard the outburst, and patted his hand down to settle the crowd. “It’s true, I am the last holdout from social media. I prefer to address people face to face. And because the discussion is often about altering their face, it just saves time.”
More laughter.
Mrs. Dodson stage-whispered to the rest of us, “Oh, he’s very good.”
The biddies all nodded their agreement and chomped away on their cookies.
“You know I can make you feel good about how you look, but what you may not know is that I’ve done several tours with Doctors Without Borders, performing humanitarian surgery on children born with cleft palates. It’s some of the most rewarding work that I’m a part of—and all your boob jobs pay for it.” He giggled at his own joke and everyone joined in. “I also travel all
over the United States to train other surgeons in rare surgeries for children with birth defects. I’m on the road a lot, but I have an amazing team at Rubinesque who have very capable hands.”
He swept his arm out to our right, and a team of ladies in white coats and top buns stood and gave subdued waves. They reminded me of the Robert Palmer musicians in the “Addicted to Love” video.
“Now, that’s enough about me. You want to hear about aging invisibly.”
He went on for the next half hour, talking about different discoveries and breakthroughs in the scientific community that had potential for erasing wrinkles and dark spots. And a lot of things we already knew, like staying out of the sun, eating healthy, and staying hydrated. Then he made the announcement he’d been teasing for the past few days. “But I have developed something that is light-years ahead of all that.” One of the lab coats got up and glided across the stage wearing the white, plastic mannequin face and chest shield. It was the creepy device Dr. Lance had shown me the other day, when he was trying to solicit me to get the fat sucked out of my stomach.
Sawyer took a bite of her candy bar. “Can you imagine a whole fleet of those marching into town? Weird.”
“Yup.”
“This is a revolutionary LED mask. Now, I know some of you are thinking, ‘You didn’t invent this, Dr. Lance. We’ve seen these in magazines.’ Well, that’s true, but I’ve worked with scientists to augment the mask with a revolutionary new ultraviolet setting.”
The crowd murmured.
“I know you’re thinking I’m crazy now, but I just might be a genius. New research shows that various ultraviolet treatments of the skin are potential therapy options for psoriasis, acne, eczema, cutaneous T-cell lymphoma. Can you imagine a life with no more injections? No more foul-smelling medicinal creams? No more beauty potions and tonics that don’t work? You used to have to make an appointment at a medical clinic, where health-care providers would administer UV light therapy and charge you an arm and a leg. Now, in just a few minutes a day relaxing at home, you can heal yourself, turn back the clock, and erase years of damage.”
There was an energy in the room that was hard to describe. There was excitement, but something else crackled beneath the surface. I looked around, and there were quite a few people who made their living on those potions and tonics Dr. Rubin was disparaging. I spotted Shayla one row behind me on the end. She was making that face she makes right before she laughs like a crazy person, only the laugh wasn’t coming.
