Kissing in Action

by Camilla Chafer

  "Hey, Lauren," I called, worried that she'd hang up before I could warn her. "Be careful, okay? I don't want Don to know we're onto him. Don't do anything out of the ordinary. Don't go anywhere alone with him. If he suspects we know as much as we do, we could both be in trouble."

  "What exactly do we know?" Lauren asked, sounding intrigued.

  "Right now, not enough to tie him to the crime. Without more hard evidence, he could claim he was in the hotel for any reason."

  "So get more hard evidence," said Lauren unhelpfully.

  "I plan to. See you on set."

  Chapter Seventeen

  The problem with identifying a murderer is no one ever really looks like one. There were exceptions of course, but as I watched Don lifting a dancer high into the air, tossing her and catching her again, I had to admit he looked like an average guy. An average guy with perfectly defined pecs, bulging biceps, and what looked like an eight pack. I could take a wild guess at what Katya saw in him. But I needed to confirm that Lauren's suspicion was true. Did Don and Katya actually have an affair?

  "Cut," yelled the director and the dancers collapsed in a heap - dramatically, of course, with arched limbs and plenty of high-fives.

  "Amazing, aren't they?" said the woman next to me. A small group huddled together on the edges of the set to watch the filming. I steadily edged my way closer, figuring I was more likely to be taken for a crew member if I physically aligned myself with them. Despite that I could prove I was Lauren's guest, I preferred not to have to explain myself. As for the few people I already introduced myself to, I just hoped they would keep assuming I still worked for Solomon. When it came to Solomon, I hoped he remained at the hotel so I wouldn't run into him. Once again, I looked around to see who was keeping an eye on Lauren, but I didn't see anyone familiar. I figured Solomon probably replaced me with one of his new guys and that the FBI and MPD had backed off.

  "Amazing," I agreed. "Janette, right? From wardrobe?"

  "Yeah, that's me," she confirmed, seemingly pleased that I recognized her. She didn't ask who I was so I didn't volunteer. I hoped she simply assumed I belonged in the building with everyone else. "They just keep going. They're like robots."

  "What take are we on?"

  "Seven. I don't know how they do it. I'm out of breath just watching them."

  "That guy's really strong." I pointed to Don. "Did you see how he just threw the girl in the air?"

  "Yeah, like she was a rag doll."

  "It's great how he can keep going after everything he's been through," I said, waiting for my chatty, new friend to take the bait.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know, getting divorced, and everything."

  "Oh." She nodded knowingly. "He's really cut up about it."

  "I bet he's got a whole bunch of girls waiting for his phone number," I said, tossing out more bait.

  "Oh, yeah, the girls went nuts when they found out he was single again. Do you see how many abs he has? That's an eight pack! Who has an eight pack? I'm lucky if I can get a guy with a two pack."

  "I bet he's seeing someone already. Guys like that don't wait around long," I told her, making my voice as conspiratorial as I could. After all, we were just two women gossiping as far as Janette was concerned.

  "I heard that. And that he was getting it on with someone, but whoever it is, I don't think it's serious." We watched Don sling his arm around his dancing partner, pulling her in close and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

  "That her?"

  "Cynthia? No. She's been hooking up with Landon for like, two years or something. That's Landon," she said, pointing to a less muscled, but equally handsome guy. He'd probably have looked even better if he weren't glowering in Don's direction. "Cute, isn't he?"

  "Totally," I agreed again, and it wasn't even a lie. "I wonder who Don was seeing? Do you think it was another dancer?"

  "Nah."

  "Oh my God, was it you?" I asked, my eyes widening.

  She giggled and swatted my arm. "No, silly. I heard a rumor that he was with..." She looked around then mouthed, "Katya."

  "Get out! For real?"

  "Yeah, I walked in on them once and she went crazy, saying if I ever mentioned it to anyone, she'd have me fired."

  "What a bitch," I murmured, adding every gram of concern I could. "How awful for you."

  "Yeah, but I didn't take it personally. She was like that with everyone. She used to threaten to fire everyone at least once a day. I'd say it's hard getting used to being without her, but truthfully, it's not. Everyone is happier."

  "Even Don," I added, but I wasn't sure if that were an observation or a question.

  "Yeah."

  "Hey, when did you see this thing between them? Was it before or after he said he was getting a divorce?"

  "I don't know. It was only a week ago so... after that? I don't know. I'm not that close with either of them."

  "I bet you hear all kinds of stuff in fittings."

  "Yeah, they're not exactly discreet."

  Neither are you, I thought, but didn't say it. "Anyone accidentally confess to the murder in front of you?" I asked, nudging her jokingly.

  She swatted my arm again as someone called her name. "Oh, you are so funny! That's me. I bet someone ripped their pants again. I guess I have to sew whomever it is into their seams!"

  "Saving the day again?" I faux-laughed, waving as she giggled and hurried away, leaving me some free time to observe Don. Although he didn't look like a murderer, he didn't act like one either. There was no creepy skulking in dark corners, no weapons hanging from his belt, and no blood on his hands in the visible sense. It made my life so much harder that he looked so damn normal. Happy, even. Lauren was right. Don didn't seem upset at all.

  I turned, watching Don move into position on the next set as the director barked orders, flinching when I saw Solomon making his way towards me.

  No, not towards me; towards the band's security chief, I realized, as he raised his chin in greeting. While he approached Josh, I stepped backwards, looking for somewhere to hide. Spying a pillar, I swiftly retreated behind it.

  "Positions, people!" shouted the director. "Final run-through before we start taping."

  I peeked around the pillar, watching Don grabbing the hand of his next dance partner, a lithe redhead with impossibly toned calves. She jumped up gracefully, colliding with him, her hand rushing to her mouth as she bit her lip in the most insincerely coy manner I'd seen since Lily realized my brother actually had the hots for her. Instead of stepping away, or setting her straight, Don stroked a hand down her arm until it came to a rest on her hip. She batted her eyelashes and he said something that made her gasp. She stepped out of his grip, circling around him, her hand trailing across his taut stomach as he turned to follow her.

  Something told me they weren't just dance partners. For a man with a divorce going ahead, and a dead fling, he sure moved on fast.

  My phone rang, startling me as I pulled my head back behind the pillar. Solomon.

  I made a noise that sounded somewhere between "meep!" and "argh!" when my ring tone sounded in the near vicinity. Instead of canceling the call, I hit answer, cursing myself as I lifted the phone to my ear.

  "Yeah?" I said, hoping I sounded more sullen than petrified. What if he'd seen me? Or heard my phone?

  "Where are you?" he asked.

  "Out," I squeaked.

  "Did you remember I'm picking you up at seven?" he asked, not sounding at all worried or heartbroken.

  "Seven? What for?"

  "Dinner at your parents."

  I pulled a face at the phone. "Oh. Is that it?"

  There was a moment of silence, then, "Why did you think I was calling?"

  "I don't know," I said, pretty sure I definitely sounded sullen now.

  "So, seven?"

  "Sure."

  "Where are you?"

  "Just... out."

  "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing."

  "Y
ou're out doing nothing?"

  "Yes."

  A longer silence this time. "Did you really quit? For real?"

  "Yes." I wanted to add more. I wanted to explain how hard this case was because of our hellish clientele, and the awful twist it took, not to mention the leaks. Sure, they were partly my fault, but it wasn't intentional. I wanted him to get that without me having to explain it.

  "Huh."

  "Yeah," I said to cover the sound of someone yelling a name, right behind me.

  "Did you hear that?"

  "Hear what?" My heart thumping, I wondered.

  "Nothing. Must be an echo on the line."

  "Where are you? It sounds loud."

  "Working the case."

  "Do you have a lead?"

  "I can't talk about the case."

  My turn for silence. Finally, when I was wondering if Solomon hung up — and I didn't dare peek around the pillar to find out — he said again, "So, seven?"

  "Seven."

  "What did you bake?"

  "Oh shoot!" I yelled. Despite reminders, I totally forgot. Now I would have to factor in a visit to the market or bakery to buy something I could pretend was home-made.

  "Where are you again?" he asked, "You sound really close."

  "I just got home," I lied. "Okay, gotta go. See you at seven."

  "Okay, are you resting up?"

  "Uh, yeah, that's exactly what I'm doing."

  "Maybe have a snack or something if you're extra hungry. Then take a nap."

  I frowned. "Great idea! I think I'll do that and have a nap."

  "Do you need extra vitamins?"

  "Uh..."

  "I'll get you extra vitamins. You can't have enough. Your health is important. Bye." He hung up and I glared at the phone, wondering what that little bit of weirdness was about. How could he be so concerned about my health when he thought I was jobless? Was it because I no longer had a health plan? The thought of that made me want to tap my phone against my forehead in annoyance. A good health plan was hard to find. On the plus side, since I was now freelance, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about getting shot, stabbed, or injured anymore?

  Checking my watch, I did a double take. How had it gotten to be six-ten without me noticing? Solomon thought I was home, taking a nap before he picked me up. Meanwhile, I had barely fifty minutes in which to catch Don doing something suspect, buy some kind of baked goods, drive home, and get changed into something Mom-approved. I groaned, wondering how I could manage it.

  With my phone in my hand, I sneaked a look around the pillar. First, I looked for Solomon. I found him just as he and the guy he was speaking to began to walk to the far side of the warehouse, their backs turned to me. Second, I looked for Don. Apparently, while we were on the phone, the dancers completed their rehearsal and he had his arm slung around the redhead. I held up my phone and snapped a photo of them. Tucking it into my pocket, I pulled up the collar of my jacket, pushed my chin down and jogged to the exit. I hated to leave Lauren, but I figured with her under constant watch anytime she left the hotel, she would be safe enough.

  My VW was hidden behind a large truck, blocking it from view of Solomon's SUV, but I wasted no time in pulling out of the lot and aiming for home. Twenty minutes of light traffic, one tray of cookies, and no driving violations later, I pulled into my driveway. I ran into the house, checking my watch every few minutes as I made my way around, shucking clothes so I could shower. I put on a blue maxi dress with minutes to spare. Just as I heard Solomon's SUV park out front, I pulled my hair out of its band, ran my fingers through it, and added a last slick of lip gloss. Making my way downstairs, I stepped into the entryway as Solomon entered via the front door. He stopped dead, his eyes running over me and I felt that familiar tingle through my veins. Yeah, I was mad at him, but I loved him too. Not only that, but I lusted after him like crazy, which only exacerbated my annoyance even more.

  "Are you ready to go?" he asked, not taking a step further.

  "Yes." What I should have said was 'let's talk' or 'can I have my job back?" but nothing came out. All I could do was look at him and feel utterly confused. He wasn't my boss; but he seemed to still be my boyfriend. I wanted to be mad at him; and I wanted to have a relaxing evening with my family during which I wouldn't have to think about our crazy case. I wanted to tell him I thought I had a huge breakthrough, and that I knew who Katya's killer was, but I couldn't prove it beyond probable doubt, except I wanted to win something more. I wanted to solve this case alone, prove I was a good investigator, so instead of all the things I could have said, I said nothing.

  We rode to my parents silently, the tray of cookies in my lap. When he pulled in front of the house, he shut off the engine but didn't open the door.

  "Are we okay?" he asked simply.

  I shrugged, looking out of the window.

  "Lexi?" He reached for my hand. "Lexi, I know you're mad at me. I don't know if it's the case, or your hormones, but I want to talk."

  "We can't talk." Hormones? I wondered.

  "Sure, we can. We can talk anytime."

  "No, I mean, my mom's peeking out from behind the curtains."

  "Oh. We should talk though, before we go in."

  "I haven't told them."

  "About..."

  "Work."

  "Oh! I thought you meant..."

  "What did you think I meant?"

  "Nothing! If you're not ready to..."

  "Now my dad's there too," I said, looking past him, wondering what on earth Solomon was hedging about.

  Solomon shifted in his seat to look at the house. "They must be waiting for us."

  "I'm surprised my mom hasn't called my... oh." I stopped as my phone rang. "Hi, Mom!"

  "Why are you sitting outside in the cold?" Mom yelled.

  "It's not cold, the heater is still..."

  "Do you not care about the environment?"

  "Well, I..."

  "Turn off the engine and come inside."

  "The engine is..."

  "We're all waiting."

  "We're not late!"

  "You're not early either," said Mom with a sigh. "You weren't even early for your birth."

  "Isn't that a good thing?"

  "Birth?" mouthed Solomon, looking puzzled.

  "My mom's complaining I wasn't early for my birth."

  "Kind of late to complain."

  "Good point. Mom, Solomon says it's too late to complain about that."

  "I'm putting your father on," said Mom.

  "Lexi, this is your father," said Dad.

  "I know. We've met."

  "Can you come inside please?"

  "Yes, we'll be right there."

  "But we're waiting!"

  "I know. Just start without us. We'll be two..."

  "Lexi!"

  "Fine! Okay, we're coming. And don't let Mom call again if I'm walking too slow on the path."

  "Okay, just make sure Solomon helps you."

  "What?" I said, but he hung up. The last time I needed help on a path, I was eleven months old and learning to walk. "My parents are weird. We have to go in now," I told him as Lily and Jord pulled into the space next to the curb in front of us. We all got out at the same time.

  "Did Mom just call you?" asked Jord as Lily and I hugged quickly.

  "Yeah, and she's been curtain peeking."

  "She told me to hurry up and get here before you. What did you do?" Jord continued.

  "Nothing! Solomon!" I turned to my boyfriend as I took a deep, frustrated breath. "What did you tell them about work? Did you tell my mom?"

  "I didn't say anything; I promise," he said, looking just as puzzled.

  "I've just got to get the cake I baked," said Lily. "Go ahead. Be right with you. Jord, honey? Can you reach the cake?"

  "How big is it?" I asked, laughing as Lily stuck out her tongue.

  "I know you're mad at me," Solomon said as we walked along the path to the white house in which I grew up, "but that could be a good thing. Let's
forget about yesterday. Come back to work, take the desk for a while. Forget all about this case, you don't need the stress. The desk is non-stressful. You could do background research. Maybe do a few phoners."

  "I don't want to work the desk. I want to work cases like everyone else, and I don't want to get punished for one simple mistake... okay, a couple of bad mistakes," I corrected myself.

  "You know B4U's album is set to make number one, thanks to the latest leak. It didn't turn out so bad after all. People love their sexy side!"

  "Then why are you punishing me by offering me a desk job instead of my real job as a PI?"

  "You're not being punished."

  "Then why do you want me to take the desk?" I persisted.

  "Just until the..." Solomon stopped as the door was thrown open and my mother held her arms out, grabbing me and pulling me close.

  "My baby!" she wailed.

  "Help me," I said, my voice muffled against her sweater. A wave of warmth rushed over me. My mother had the central heating on; there was definitely something afoot.

  "Oh, my baby!" Mom wailed even louder as she released me to a shower of paper streamers flying over my head.

  "What is this?" I asked, brushing pink and blue ribbons from my hair.

  "Surprise! We know all about it! We're so excited. I can't believe you didn't tell me. Oh, my baby!" Mom pulled me in again. I peeked over her shoulder at my father beaming behind her. Beyond him, the entryway was crowded with my relatives, who were all applauding. "My baby is having a baby!" she yelled and everyone cheered.

  "Baby?" I whispered, looking up at Solomon. He never looked so thrilled. "Baby?" I asked again.

  "I found the stick in the trash," he said, smiling.

  "Stick? Trash? What?"

  "Sweetheart, I know you're pregnant. Baby, you've made me the happiest man alive." My family erupted into another round of cheers as we were pulled inside.

  "Hold on! Hold on!" I waved my hands at everyone, trying to quiet them down. When they didn't respond, I yelled, "I'm not pregnant!"

  Solomon frowned. "You are. I checked the lines against the directions on the wrapper. You're definitely..."

  "I never took a test!

  "I found it at my place," said Solomon, blinking. "I'm not pregnant, so it has to be you!"

  "It's not mine!" I yelled even louder.