by MJ Rodgers
“Because Patsy did, of course.”
“Did she?”
Hearing the telling tone in Zane’s voice, A.J.’s eyes quickly dropped back to the papers in her hand. She reread the discussion between Patsy and her attorney. Her eyes rose to Zane’s.
“She didn’t mention getting cut by the glass at all.”
“Exactly. Patsy bared everything else about her husband in those pages you’re holding. I can’t think of a reason she wouldn’t have mentioned his careless and callous behavior being responsible for that wound, can you?”
“But if she wasn’t wounded by that glass shard, why was I? What could possibly be the answer?”
“That we don’t know nearly enough about this stuff yet to have an answer,” Zane said. “And without all the answers, we have no answers at all.”
BABS NELSON was a fit-looking fifty-year-old wearing blue jeans and a pleasant smile. A.J. found her in the exercise room on a treadmill while the buffet was being set for the lunch break.
“I understand you’re a repeat customer,” A.J. said by way of introduction as she took the treadmill next to Babs.
“Yes, my husband and I were here last year. It gets better each time. What program are you in?”
“Femme Fatale.”
“I haven’t tried that one, although I was tempted my first time here. My husband and I have been coupling, and he hasn’t been too enthusiastic about sharing a fantasy that includes shopping sprees and such. You know husbands. They hate going shopping with you in real life. The idea of doing it in a fantasy positively horrifies them!”
A.J. chuckled politely along with Babs’s easy laugh. She seemed very open and nice and reminded A.J. of a favorite aunt.
“Still, I’m enjoying the programs we’re sharing,” Babs said. “This morning we climbed Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa. We were so excited by the experience that we talked about doing it for real next summer.”
“Do you think you will?”
“I think we’re fit enough to give it a try.” She paused to laugh. “Which is an amazing thing to hear myself say. A couple of years ago, the most strenuous activity we engaged in was getting up to change the TV channel when the remote broke.”
“What made you decide to get more physically fit?”
“We just looked at ourselves in the mirror one day and resolved to stop being blobs. We visited the bookstore, read up on diet and exercise and then signed up at the local gym.”
“Most people would have had difficulty making such sweeping life-style changes.”
“I think doing it together made it easier. Neither of us has ever felt better. Don’t you think it’s good that they make us take these breaks? The fantasies are so much fun, I’m afraid that as much as I like to exercise, I might even forgo it to get to the next one.”
A.J. knew a perfect opening when she heard it. “Oh, I was glad when my fantasy stopped this morning. It wasn’t fun at all.”
Babs missed a step on her treadmill and had to catch the front bar to balance herself. “You’re kidding. What happened?”
“I was on this cruise ship and getting lots of nice attention when a person who’s close to me in real life entered the fantasy and ruined everything.”
“That’s such a shame!” She sounded like she meant it.
“Have you ever heard of anyone having a negative experience in a fantasy?” A.J. asked.
“Well, now that you mention it, I do remember Ken Beyette complained about his the first weekend we were here. He’s that young man who was at your dinner table last night.”
“What was wrong with his fantasy, did he say?”
“He was a race-car driver and he got a bit of a scare when he zoomed around this high and narrow mountain road with a sheer drop on the driver’s side.”
“So it was just a little scary for him?” A.J. prompted.
“Well, I think it was more than just a little scary. Ken won’t admit it, but he obviously has one of those phobia things.”
“Phobia things? I don’t understand.”
“You should have seen him all the way over on the plane that first day we came to the park. He sat in the back, sweating bullets, his eyes tightly shut, his hands hugging his knees. I said to Bix right then that this boy is scared to death of flying.”
“Because of a fear of heights? Acrophobia?”
“It fits, doesn’t it? First the plane. Then his being so uncomfortable with driving close to that sheer drop in his fantasy. I told him to say something to Clarise.”
“Did he talk to her?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. Later when I asked him how the fantasies were coming, he smiled real big and said great. He wouldn’t have done that if she hadn’t made whatever changes were necessary in his program disks.”
“I see,” A.J. said, conversationally. But in reality, she didn’t see at all.
“TAKE A CLOSE LOOK at those computer enhancements, Lex,” Clarise said as she dumped the pictures on his desk. “Seems like we have a brand-new problem.”
Linbow studied the pictures carefully. “This guy who sneaked out last night isn’t even really wearing the uniform,” he said after a moment. “It’s been taped to his sweats. What in the hell is going on here?”
“He’s not one of our employees. That’s what’s going on. An employee would have a uniform that fits.”
“If he’s not an employee, how did he get one of our uniforms?”
“I don’t know,” Clarise admitted. “The woman must be one of our attendants and provided him with one. I had Tripp do a search of the entire complex. All the attendants’ uniforms are accounted for. Everything in the storage room at the back is in place.”
“Let me see the computer enhancement of their faces.”
“It’s right there, but it’s not going to help. They kept their heads down, their faces away from the cameras. It’s impossible to come up with features. Still, it doesn’t take a computer enhancement to figure out who the guy is.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s only one man on this island with a build that big.”
“Cranston,” Linbow said.
“Yes. Now all we have to figure out is who the woman is.”
ZANE HUNG UP the phone after returning the call to his office and punched in several codes into his hand-held computer. The program deciphered the Morse code that had surreptitiously transmitted information during the long telephone conversation about hiking trails and new equipment. Zane eagerly read the message.
Confirmed Woodson did transfer considerable size of preferred stock to Linbow six months ago when dust cleared after unsuccessful takeover bid for chairmanship of board by Montgomery, the ex-president of Woodson’s conglomerate.
No evidence Woodson has a current lady friend. Latest ex-wife is in Jamaica with new love interest. Ex-wife number two is remarried. Ex-wife number one hasn’t seen him in years and likes it that way. All appear to be dead ends.
“SO WOODSON’S EX-WIVES are out of the picture,” A.J. said a few minutes later as Zane joined her in her room after the luncheon break.
“It would appear that way.”
“Could be this woman, Sacha, is someone Woodson’s worked with. Did your man, Vanack, have Sacha’s name?”
“No. I just asked him to look into Woodson’s wives.”
“Well, maybe Piper will have more luck in tracking her down. What do you think about Ken Beyette?”
“I’ve not surprised he lied to you when he said he hadn’t had a bad experience with a VR fantasy. His fear of heights must embarrass him.”
“I don’t know,” A.J. said. “If Ken really has a fear of heights, then how is it he can run a hang-gliding business and teach it?”
“Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that was all just big talk for Deann’s sake. I’m a little surprised you’re questioning Beyette’s fear of heights. The fact that his phobia put a negative aspect into his fantasy is what lends credence to the negative elements we’ve foun
d in Patsy’s program. His fear of heights turned his fantasy unpleasant. Her husband’s emotional abuse turned her fantasy unpleasant.”
“I know. It’s our first real connection.” Her voice was still hesitant.
“What’s wrong, A.J.?”
“When Patsy experienced these negative elements in her fantasies, why didn’t she complain like Ken did and get it fixed? She was paying a bundle for this weekend. She was entitled to enjoy it.”
“We don’t know for certain that she didn’t complain.”
“Then why was the second fantasy worse than the first?”
Zane sat on the bed, picked up the tiny disk with the large number three on it and twirled it on his index finger. “Maybe because she didn’t complain until after the second. Before we try out this next fantasy, let’s set some new ground rules.”
She sat on the bed next to him, her look expectant. “What do you have in mind?”
Zane found himself with a whole new set of things on his mind as her closeness invaded his senses. She was so lovely and he wanted her more with each passing minute. This taking things slow was getting damn hard. He reminded himself he was a patient man and forcibly focused his attention.
“The last time we tried to approach the fantasy without conscious expectations. Now that we’ve both read Patsy’s discussion with her attorney, I doubt that will be possible for either of us. So let’s see if we can make our expectations work for us.”
“In what way?” A.J. asked.
“Let’s assume that Patsy talked to Clarise after the second fantasy and that this fantasy and those that follow have been fixed and will be pleasant.”
“So our expectations will be that she did and they are. And if we’re wrong?”
“Then somewhere in this next fantasy, Bruce Harper will appear and his actions will turn it into a negative experience for Patsy. And for you. I don’t like what these have been doing to you, A.J.”
“Maybe I can control my response better if I concentrate on reminding myself who I am. I probably only get lost in these fantasies because I identify too closely with Patsy.”
“So, if this does turn negative, you’ll do your best to maintain your sense of identity?”
She saw the concern in his eyes and felt a warm rush of pleasure. She told herself she was being foolish. But a big part of her wasn’t listening.
“Right,” she said as she lay on the bed and settled her head into the pillow. As soon as Zane lay next to her, she placed the mask over her face.
When the darkness lifted this time, A.J. found herself in an enormous, beautifully appointed theater full of lights and music. Dancers performed on stage in bright, beautiful costumes.
She looked down to see she was wearing that daring black silk dress she had been hesitant to even try on in the boutique. It fit perfectly. And it looked sensational. Well, why not? This was Patsy’s body. And this was fantasy.
All around her she recognized famous directors and motion-picture stars. Like her, they were dressed in elegant evening wear, the women wearing the most fabulous jewels.
She didn’t need a program to figure out she was at the Academy Awards, sitting right up front. The place was packed with excitement and prominent people. From the smiling attention of everyone and the admiring looks from the men, she knew she was one of these celebrities—a very special one.
A.J. was just wondering where Zane might be when she felt the warmth of his hand as it came to rest briefly on her bare left shoulder. A tingle danced down her spine. She didn’t have to turn around to know he sat directly behind her. This knowledge that she could recognize his touch anywhere, even in a fantasy, was a very bad sign.
But it was a very good feeling.
A well-known producer winked at her as he took the seat on her right. He sent her a charming smile as he leaned close to impart a confidence. “You’re the odds-on favorite for the best actress award, Patsy. I happen to know everyone voted for you.”
There was sincerity in his eyes, in his voice. A.J. couldn’t help but respond to it.
“Thank you.”
“I have some backers with lots of bucks who would love you to star in my next production. The part is just made for you. Why don’t we sit down and discuss it next week?”
“I’ll need to check my schedule,” she said, playing her role, surprised to feel how easy and natural it seemed. She was even curious to find out what the offered role would be.
“Can I get back to you?” she asked.
He smiled as he leaned back. “Anytime.”
The lights from the stage grew brighter as a group of dancers appeared. A.J. waited expectantly for events to unfold, doing her best to anticipate only pleasant things.
It wasn’t hard. Negative emotions in the midst of all this bright excitement and beauty seemed very far away.
She had to keep reminding herself that this was a fantasy. Everything seemed so vibrant and alive. The happy upbeat music that broke out with the beginning of the dance routine blended with the glistening costumes of the performers. She could see the gleam of healthy perspiration on their faces as they whirled by on the stage above. Her palms brushed the velvet armrests, her skin luxuriating in the tactile sensations of the thick richness.
Then, without warning, Bruce Harper plopped down in the empty aisle seat beside her. He planted a cold, dry kiss on her cheek. A.J. immediately recoiled at his touch. Negative emotions descended on her like a dropped shroud.
“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered, but she could tell he was not sorry at all. “Had some contacts to make.” His eyes shifted to a scantily clad dancer on the stage. He began following her every movement.
“Where were you?” A.J. heard herself ask in an irritated and angry whisper.
“Where do you think?” Harper whispered back. “Being your business manager is a never-ending job. But we’re on a roll now. You just have to clinch this award tonight and we’ve got it made. Look at those legs.”
His eyes were still on the dancer. He looked close to drooling. A.J. could have slapped his face.
She spied the papers sticking out of his tuxedo pocket. Suspicion made her reach in to grab them even before the intent had taken hold in her thoughts.
“Hey!” Bruce yelled, trying to snatch them.
A.J. ignored his outburst, although she could feel the eyes of others around them turning to look on in surprise.
She opened the document she had taken from his pocket. It was a contract that committed her to three pictures at a second-rate studio without prior approval of the part she was to play in them. What’s more, Bruce had arranged for seventy percent of the money she was to make on the films to be deposited directly into his private account.
“I’m not doing this,” she whispered, unsuccessfully trying to fight the emotion that had begun to make her hands shake.
He leaned closer but refused to take his eyes off the dancer. “You’ll do it. It’s my business savvy that’s made you a big star, and you know it. All you do is sashay your butt across the screen.”
A.J. took a very deep breath, trying her damnest to ignore the anger that threatened to consume her.
I am not Patsy Harper! she reminded herself forcibly. This man is an incredible creep, but he is nothing to me. I am A.J., Adam Justice’s sister. I am here to find the truth to set him free. No matter what it feels like, I am not emotionally tied to Bruce Harper. I can handle him and I can handle these emotions.
“I’m not accepting this contract,” she said, trying not to spit out the words in her angry whisper.
“You have to. The deal is made.”
A.J. tore up the contract. “I just unmade it.”
Bruce was still watching the dancer. He didn’t sound concerned. “What good is that going to do? I have your power of attorney. The studio has another copy. It’s all legit.”
“We’ll see what my attorney says about that.”
For the first time since the conversation started, Bruce seemed to lo
se his fascination with the dancer. His eyes shot to A.J.’s.
“What attorney?”
“The one I’m hiring tomorrow morning,” she said, not whispering for once.
Bruce licked dry lips and his eyes darted nervously around. “Patsy, come on. Keep your voice down. This is the Academy Awards. We’ll discuss this later.”
A.J. was still angry, but she was determined to keep her wits about her. “We’ll discuss this now.”
“You sure as hell pick your moments,” Bruce said, looking decidedly uncomfortable at the stares they were receiving from everyone. He leaned closer. “Look, honey, I’m your husband as well as agent and manager. What you have, what I have, it’s all ours. We’re partners, right?”
“Wrong. I make the money here. All you make is trouble. This partnership has just been dissolved.”
A line of sweat broke out on Bruce’s brow. His eyes were glued to her face. “Patsy, you don’t mean that.”
A.J. smiled. She was still angry, but it felt good seeing the worry wet this fool’s face. Very good. “Get lost, Bruce.”
“Patsy-”
“I said get lost.”
The musical number was coming to a close as A.J. watched a stunned Bruce Harper get out of his seat and slink out of the auditorium. She was smiling as she returned her attention to the stage. The dancers were scurrying into the wings, and the crowd was clapping. She clapped along with them.
She didn’t know whether Patsy had complained and Clarise had fixed the fantasy or whether her determination to assert her identity had done it, but she was beginning to feel that this fantasy was going to end very happily.
Excited whispers broke out all around A.J. as the clapping died down and a podium was hurried to center stage. There was a definite feeling of cheerful anticipation in the air.
Then, suddenly, all around A.J. the excited whispers hushed into instant stillness.
A couple stepped out of the wings and walked toward the podium. He was tall, well built, with dark brown hair and green eyes set in a face of finely chiseled elegance. She barely came up to his shoulder, a porcelain-skin angel with big violet eyes and impossibly thick golden curls cascading over bare shoulders all the way down to a tiny waist.
