by Gina LaManna
I coughed. I’d never even considered the fact that Harold might be rich. Shame on me. Here he’d been far more financially stable his whole life than I’d ever been.
“Dang,” Meg said. “That’s the life. Maybe I’ll apply to be your substitute.”
“Just for the record, Lizabeth would have hired your services regardless,” Harold said. “I didn’t beg for the job. I just mentioned your name, and Lizabeth told me she already had you on her short list. You would’ve gotten the job whether I referred you or not.”
“Well, I still appreciate the vote of confidence,” I said. “And your wish is our command – privacy it is. We’ll make sure Poopsie is well taken care of…sorry, Harold, hang on a second. Who is talking?”
A mumbling noise had gradually grown louder over the course of my conversation with Harold. Meg gave a subtle point in the direction of Clay, who’d moved to one of the private tables along the opposite wall. He had earbuds plugged in, and stared intently at the screen of his laptop.
“—it’s almost ready,” he said, speaking in low tones. “I’m going to test it out tonight as soon as we touch down and get settled.”
“Anyone know what he’s talking about?” I whispered to Harold and Meg, careful not to make any sudden movements. Clay was so focused on whoever resided on the other side of the screen, that he didn’t notice either of them shake their heads.
“I really think it’ll work,” Clay said. “This has been what, six months in the making? Yeah, ever since then. Sometime around the Fourth of July. It’s nearly perfect.”
I blinked, looking focused at Meg and Harold. “I hope to God this experiment doesn’t catch fire, explode, or set off any natural disasters.”
“I have one bug left to sort out, but I’m hoping to do that on the plane ride. It’s a small quirk. By the time we hit LA, it should be raring to go. I’ll give you a call when I get settled into my own room.” Clay rubbed his hands together, a gleeful expression on his face. “No way, I’m not telling Lacey. Can you imagine?”
I sat back in my seat. What on earth?
“Dang,” Meg whispered. “Harsh. That’s a burn, girlfriend.”
Clay laughed at something the person on the other end of Skype said. “No, she’d freak. And then who knows what she’d do? Nah, this is our little secret.”
I cleared my throat.
First, Clay’s back stiffened. Then, he took out one earbud. Next, he slid his gaze in our direction. Finally, he turned his entire chair and faced us, his smile sliding into a frown as he met all of our curious gazes.
“You all heard that, didn’t you?” he said, his voice wobbly.
I nodded.
“All of it?” he asked.
I nodded again.
“Gotta go,” Clay mumbled.
“Was that Horatio?” I asked. It was a wild guess on my part, but I didn’t know any of Clay’s other online friends, if they even existed. Judging by Clay’s long silence, I’d hit the nail on the head.
“We’re working on something together,” Clay mumbled.
“Apparently.” I crossed my arms. “Something you can’t tell me about?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of something is it?” I leaned forward, my voice steady. “Can you give me a hint?”
“Look, Lacey, I don’t ask to know every detail of your personal life.” Clay stood up and poked a finger in my direction. “I’m allowed to have some privacy, too.”
“But you said my name, so that means I’m involved.”
“No, that means I don’t want you involved!”
I stood up, matching Clay, eye to eye. “What’s so secret I can’t know about? I tell you just about everything.”
“And I tell you just about everything,” Clay said. “This is not just about everything though. This is that other section, the part we keep secret.”
“I only keep private stuff from you like…” I paused, feeling my cheeks turn red. “You know, stuff you don’t want to know about.”
“Did you ever stop to think that I might have secrets like that myself?” Clay asked. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Is it an invention?”
“Of sorts.” Clay crossed his arms and tipped his chin up. “And that’s all the information you’re getting. Now, if you want any more information on this Jackson Cole guy who might be your dad, you’ll leave me alone.”
I held back the last of my argument. “Fine.”
An unresolved silence filled the air, until Harold gestured towards one of the staff members waiting at the entrance to the lounge. “Could we get a bit more champagne?”
The staff member bowed out of the room, and we all lapsed back into silence.
“So,” I said.
“Well, you guys are awkward.” Meg gestured towards the server to deliver the bottle straight to her. “Let’s drink up. Lacey, let Clay keep his secrets, you’ll find out sooner rather than later, most likely.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clay furrowed his eyebrows.
“If it’s sort of an invention like you say, then something will end up in flames, no offense. It’s just a fact, based on past data.”
Clay frowned. “It’s not a bomb.”
“That’s a good start, cousin,” I said.
Meg poured champagne all around. “Drink up. Here’s to Hollywood, Lacey’s new business, and surviving the next forty-eight hours.”
We all clinked glasses, letting the argument slip away.
“About Jackson Cole,” Clay said, his voice still laced with a bit of hesitation. “I can’t shake the fact that we can’t find him.”
We again lapsed into silence, all trying to puzzle it out on our own.
“We’ve been thinking about this for weeks. I don’t have any new ideas,” I said. “He’s FBI, maybe he’s out on some training thing, or a case. I don’t know.”
“Lacey, let’s get one thing straight.” Meg narrowed her eyes at me. “If we truly are dealing with your dad here, we’re not dealing with normal people. No way someone as unique as you came from a normal guy.”
“Thanks?” I gave a half-shrug.
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment,” Meg said. “But I’m glad you took it that way.”
I gave her a light shove to the shoulder as she broke into a grin.
“Plus, he’d have to be a pretty interesting guy to get the attention of your mom,” Meg said. “Now she…she was special. She could’ve had any guy she wanted.”
“Maybe she was different before she had me,” I said. “Plenty of people change when they have kids. It’s hard to say what her tastes would’ve been like back then.”
“I’m guessing the apple don’t fall far from the forest,” Meg said with a wink. “If she was anything like you, she’d pick someone tall, dark, and dangerous.”
I raised my champagne glass, taking a sip of bubbles to hide my smile. “Maybe.”
Clay rubbed his temples, staring deep into his computer screen. “I feel like I’m on the verge of uncovering something, but I can’t put my finger on what.”
“Remember the deal?” I said. “We won’t think about it until after the holidays. We’re almost in Hollywood. Let’s enjoy tonight, focus for the next two days, and then enjoy a few days of holiday vacation. Sound good?”
“Yeah, right,” Meg said. “You people never turn your brains off.”
“We can try,” Clay said. “But no promises.”
“Sounds wonderful to me,” Harold said, just as the flight attendants stopped by and announced we should be preparing for landing. “I’m off work for the next two days, first time in twenty years. And even then, I only had the day off for surgery.”
“Enjoy it, Harold.” I smiled. “You’ve got the dream team here to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
Harold gave a wary glance around the room, where Meg was trying – and failing – to balance a pencil on her head. Meanwhile, Clay tried to take a bite out of the small white hand towel
supplied to him by the attendants.
“Not food, Clay,” I said. “That’s a hand towel.”
“Oh. No wonder it’s so chewy,” he said. “It looked like a mint, all folded up like that.”
“Oh, dear me,” Harold sighed. “I won’t get any relaxation this weekend, will I?”
CHAPTER 5
“Darling!” Lizabeth called from the ground the second the plane doors opened. “Harold, hello!”
Harold scurried down the stairs faster than I’d ever seen the old man move, except for the one time Nora had forced him to eat far too many of her pancakes that looked, tasted, and felt like coasters. When he reached the bottom, he pulled up short, raising a hand to his chest and catching his breath as he looked to his lady crush.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice breathy. “Stunning.”
Lizabeth smiled, turning her head shyly to the side.
Meg, meanwhile, was preparing to clatter down the stairs with her elephant-sized suitcases. I grabbed her shirt and yanked her back. “Give them some time alone.”
“Look at you, doing a good job already,” Meg whispered. “Protecting Harold just like he asked.”
“I shouldn’t have to protect him from you,” I said, watching as Harold approached Lizabeth with careful steps.
He reached for the dainty hand she extended, grasping it in his own and planting a light kiss on the back of it. “I’ve missed you.”
“Oh, Harold.” Lizabeth pulled her hand away, then clasped him in a hug.
I turned to Meg. “Isn’t that sweet?” I paused. My friend was nowhere in sight. “Meg?”
Somehow, she’d slipped from my grasp and started to precariously haul her suitcases down the plane’s steps by herself.
“Meg, watch out!” I hurried to help, but she was too far down. One of her suitcases wobbled dangerously, drifting one way, then the other, and then back again.
Meg reached for it, but missed by half a second, and the suitcase tipped away from her onto its side, clattering down the staircase like a toboggan full of pots and pans. The noise that thing made was incredible – I’d never have thought it possible if I hadn’t heard it myself.
“What did she pack in there?” Clay asked, stepping to my side. “Sounds like she’s got ten cymbals, a drum set, two tambourines, and the rest of a marching band in there.”
“Good question.” I winced as Harold stepped away from Lizabeth, the moment ruined.
Harold glanced up at me, our eyes making contact as he put his hands on his hips, his expression one that said Lacey Luzzi Services had failed at its first task. Thinking back, maybe it’d been a bit overambitious to promise that the next few days would go smoothly. Smooth and successful weren’t always the same thing, and Meg and I tended to solve our issues in very loud, very messy forms.
“Shall we?” I looked to Clay.
He took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing. Ready, buddy?”
Tupac the Cat growled.
“Yeah, that’s how I feel,” Clay said. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 6
“Ooh, you’re picking us up in a limo?” Meg asked, giving Lizabeth a handshake and looking behind the woman. “How fancy schmancy.”
“Lacey,” Lizabeth said, grasping onto my hand with relief. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Sorry about that whole racket there,” I said. “Suitcases, you know?”
“That one was a slippery sucker,” Meg said, gesturing to her impressively musical suitcase. “And heavy. Good thing it didn’t break any bones.”
“Meg, why don’t you…uh, go away for a minute?” I asked.
She nodded as I turned back to Lizabeth.
“Thank you so much for requesting Lacey Luzzi Services,” I said. “We are here to make all of your business needs go as smoothly as possible.” Dang, there I went with that whole “smooth” thing again.
“Oh, no need to be so formal, darlin’.” Lizabeth smiled, visibly more relaxed now that Meg wasn’t within arm’s length. “Poopsie sends her wishes as well; she wanted to be here, but she had a manicure tonight.”
“Ah. A dog manicure,” I said. Naturally.
“Well, she does have a premier,” Lizabeth laughed. “Which is what brings you out here, anyway. I trust you received the first payment?”
I nodded, having tucked the small metal suitcase into my own bag without even opening it. Holding onto that much money scared me, and if I didn’t look at the green bills, it tended to feel not as real.
“Good.” Lizabeth nodded. “Now, I want you to enjoy your time here as well. Make sure to take a few hours for yourself, though I know your stay is limited due to the holidays. Just know you’re welcome back anytime.”
“Great! We’ll get started scouting the location first thing in the morning, and maybe we can touch base midafternoon to go over our plans,” I said. “How does that sound?”
“I’ll plan a nice lunch, and we can go over the details there.” Lizabeth nodded. “Hopefully Poopsie will be out of her seaweed wrap by then, so she can stop by and say hello.”
“Is your dog people?” Clay leaned in, asking in an incredulous tone. “Your dog has a more intense beauty routine than Lacey.”
“Quiet, Clay,” I said through gritted teeth. To Lizabeth, I gave a disbelieving shake of my head. “He’s just being Clay, please don’t listen to him.”
“Out here, usually the quirkier types are the most successful.” Lizabeth took a long look at Clay, Meg, and me. “And if that’s the case, I have a feeling I’ve hired the right crew.”
The statement had a bit of a backhanded bittersweet vibe to it, but I took it as a positive. “We hope you’ll be 100% satisfied with our services. Or else we’ll provide a full refund.”
“We will?” Clay turned to me. “We didn’t discuss this.”
The forced smile became harder and harder to keep on my face. “We strive for happy customers.”
“No need to be so formal.” Lizabeth waved a hand. “And I expect I’ll be completely satisfied with your services.”
I meant to respond to Lizabeth, but my brain couldn’t keep up with the conversation. I was too distracted by Meg, who during Lizabeth’s last phrase had been rolling the windows of the limo up and down, making a different face each time the glass pane rose and fell. “Meg, stop that!”
“This is a nice limo,” Meg said. “Looks like it’s set for a romantic dinner for two in here, though. We might need a few more place settings.”
I closed my eyes. “Get out.”
“What?” Meg called.
“Meg, get out. The limo is the private vehicle for Lizabeth and Harold. We’re here to protect them, not interfere with their…er, relationship.” I lowered my voice and spoke to Lizabeth. “Sorry about that. Of course we’ve arranged our own transportation. Meg’s just new to all of this.”
“Lacey, I told you that I’d arrange a vehicle. Is it too late to cancel yours?” Lizabeth said. “I’ve arranged for something special.”
“Ooh, a surprise?” Meg climbed from the limo, shutting the door behind her. “What sort of surprise…hello, cutie pants.” Meg’s head swiveled around to speak to a man I hadn’t yet noticed.
“He’s your surprise.” Lizabeth nodded towards the figure cloaked in shadows, standing just behind the limousine.
Had he been there the whole time? Clearly, I needed to work on my powers of observation. This whole trip was off to a bit of a rough start, seeing as I hadn’t noticed the mysterious figure hovering in the background of the woman I was supposed to protect. And since I hadn’t actually arranged, transportation, “cancelling” it was easy. She’d said she would provide a car, but I hadn’t wanted to assume.
“Howdy,” Meg said, strolling up to the man. She wore a tight black skirt and her trusty camo vest, which showed off a nice preview of her tattoos. “Can I get your autograph?”
“Oh, he’s not a movie star,” Lizabeth said. “He’s not famous.”
“I know tha
t,” Meg hissed loud enough for everyone to hear. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want him to sign my butt! Gosh, you people are always ruining my pickup lines. Have you ever heard of being a wingman? For crying out loud.”
“Oh, no,” I murmured. “This won’t end well.”
“Can you please still sign my butt?” Meg asked, turning back to the man.
The shadowy figure gave a single shake of his head.
“How about right here?” Meg gestured dangerously low under her collarbone. “Either one. Your choice. You got a fifty-fifty chance.”
“I’m flattered, darlin’,” the man spoke, his drawl soft, Southern, and silky. “But as Miss Lizabeth says, I’m as far from famous as you can get.”
“Far from famous?” Clay muttered to me. “What does that even mean?”
I shrugged, swallowing my surprise as the man stepped into the glowing circle of light cast from the jet. Everything about the figure said bad. From his long, thick eyelashes curling around piercing blue eyes, to the stubble decorating his handsome face. If we’re talking Hollywood, we’re talking about the rugged, burly presence of Gerard Butler combined with Paul Walker’s infectious smile.
When he ran a hand through the unruly pile of hair on his head, he smiled, and the combination was stunning, even to someone happily in a relationship. The grin turned his bad boy vibe into a charming, sunny disposition and made those blue eyes twinkle. As for Meg and Clay, they didn’t bother to close their mouths while staring.
“You don’t look far from famous,” Meg said appreciatively. “I’d let you star in my movie. My personal one. We could make a pretty good indie flick.”
If I hadn’t been dating Anthony, I might’ve appreciated him a whole lot more, but seeing as how I was taken, I did my best to ignore his features and focus on Lizabeth. The man was handsome, but I wasn’t looking – at all. In my book, not a soul out there could hold a candle to Anthony. He “got” me in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible.
But all my efforts at ignoring him were for naught as the mysterious stranger stepped towards me and reached a hand out, tucking the other into his well-worn jeans, ones that hugged his legs nicely. “I’m Mack. Pleased to meet you, ladies.”
