by Gina LaManna
I must have cracked my head on something when the car ground to a halt because I tasted blood. Maybe my bleeding lip made me more intimidating or something because finally, Clay listened.
He stuck one leg out the door, slid down a few inches. Then he slid another few inches as Meg tickled his feet from below. Dangling over the edge, Clay screamed like a girl as he let go, crashing into the fountain. Somewhere he’d gotten ahold of Arnold, and he clasped the doll to his chest like a life vest.
I went next, plummeting toward the water and landing with a thunk against the cement at the bottom of the fountain. An array of coins, both European and American, cushioned my fall, cold against my bare feet. I’d lost my flip-flops. The dress was soaked. The necklace, somehow, was unharmed.
“Let’s go,” I said, poking my head up from underwater. “We’ve got to get out of here before they catch up!”
“They’re gone,” Anthony said, surprising us all as he appeared from behind the car. “I made sure of it.”
“Anthony!” I threw my arms up, but the wet gown really weighed me down. In my mind I was sprinting toward him, like on Baywatch. But in real life, it was more of a slow, sloth-like slog. “How did you find us?”
“Sugar, I’ll always find you.”
“Can you guys stop being so frickin’ romantic all the time?” Meg rolled her eyes. “Sickening.”
Anthony first helped Lizabeth out of the water. Meg followed, her hand extended. Anthony raised his eyebrows at Clay, but he was busy checking whether the array of gadgets in his pockets still worked after being submerged in water.
I went last, and Anthony didn’t just help me out, he lifted me right out of the penny-laden fountain floor.
“I have lost a total of three shoes today,” I informed him as I fell into his arms. Somehow, even with all the extra weight of my wet dress, he made me feel like a sack of feathers. “All because of you.”
His eyebrow rose. “I’m flattered.”
“So, you found the Porsche?” I asked. “The one chasing us?”
“Yes, and it was completely empty. A rental under a fake name, I checked. Then I talked to the fruit stand owner, but he was more concerned with selling me an apple. He doesn’t know anything.”
“I think the driver was the same guy who tried to steal Lacey the other day,” Meg said. “He’s really persistent.”
“Someone tried to steal you?” Anthony’s voice turned icy. “Interesting. I hadn’t heard.”
“Oh, crapola,” Meg said. “Probably, I shouldn’t have been the one to break the news.”
“I don’t think they wanted me, so much as the necklace,” I said.
“Nope,” Meg said. “They wanted you—the necklace wasn’t even around.”
I glared at her some more.
“Whoops,” she said. “I forgot he didn’t know. My lips are zipped.”
“I’d love to hear more about this on our way home.” Anthony set me down, hugging my waist so tightly I worried we’d get stuck together permanently. “Let’s go, I’ve called a friend for a ride.”
“Home?” Lizabeth said. The hope in her eyes faltered. There was a long silence while she examined the ground. “I suppose that’s best. Going to the party would only make things worse.”
We stood in more uncomfortable silence. Anthony’s expression was unrelenting, his arm locked against my waist. Stage five clinger alert. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Nope,” I said, making a snap decision. “We’re going.”
Lizabeth’s hands shook as she wagged a finger at me. “No, it’s not worth it. I’ve already risked your safety enough.”
“We’re going,” I said. I raised a hand and rested it lightly against the still-sparkling jewels around my neck. “I need a change of clothes and some extra pepper spray, and we’ll be good as new.”
“Amen,” Meg said. “Lucky thing we’ve got a store right here.”
I turned around, unable to believe our luck. Then just as quickly, I frowned. “That looks like a pajama store.”
“It’s late. Nothing is open. So, unless anyone else has a better idea…” Meg looked around, getting crickets in response. “And Lacey, you shouldn’t talk. You wore bathing suit bottoms as underwear today. You’re not Miss Fashionista.”
“Bathing suit bottoms?” Anthony looked at me. “I have so many questions.”
“Don’t ask any of them,” I said.
“Laundry day,” Meg clarified. “We all do it. Try it sometime, T-dawg. It’s called a life hack.”
Chapter 35
We agreed to try and make the Italian version of Pajamas R Us work in our favor. Mostly because we had no other options—Italy ran on leisure time, and most stores closed up shop by dinnertime.
Lizabeth marched straight up to the sales rep and explained our situation. The sales clerk nodded along, probably seeing dollar signs as soon as Lizabeth began to speak. Soon after, the store owner herself joined our group, pulling nighties, teddies, and flannels off the racks.
“Something simple,” Lizabeth said. “The necklace is the center of attention.”
Since I was the one wearing the main masterpiece, the owner focused her scrutiny on me.
I struggled in the stall, a mound of clothes so high I could hardly see the bottom. “Hang on, I’m stuck,” I said. “What is this thing?”
“Whoops,” Meg said. “I’m missing a really strappy thing. Did that end up in your pile? It was meant for me.”
I attempted to peel it off of my body, my mind boggled at the contraption. “What is it?”
“Better if you don’t know,” Meg said. “I got it from the honeymoon section, and I’m pretty sure it’s kinky.”
All this time, Anthony had been sitting back, refusing to wear pajamas. But at the word kinky, he stood up and wandered toward the dressing room.
“Oh yeah, now you come to help,” I muttered.
“Kinky?” Anthony asked, trying for nonchalance. He failed.
“It’s not…don’t…” I huffed, feeling rather cross. “Can you help me, please?”
“I will,” Meg said. “Look out.”
“No, let Anthony,” I said. “No offense, Meg, but I think you’ll make things worse.”
“Good choice,” she said. “Plus anyway, I think that was the wrong size. Clear out, ladies. Lacey’s a prude and needs her privacy.”
The rest of the posse returned to the main floor, their footsteps disappearing before I called out, “Is it just you?”
“Just me,” Anthony said. “Open up.”
I opened up, but it was challenging. One of my arms was stuck over my head in a way that had me worried I’d dislocate my shoulder. “Help, please,” I squeaked.
Anthony sucked in air through his teeth. Then he put a hand to his forehead, rubbed it, and squinted at me for a few more minutes like he was in pain.
“Please?” I said again.
“Sugar, you look—”
“Uncomfortable?” I filled in the blank for him. “This thing feels like it’s flossing my armpits.”
Anthony was unfazed by both my awkward position and my plea for help. “You look…” he stalled again.
“Terrible?” I said.
“Magnificent.” He took on a swoony sort of grin. “Now that I think about it, I never did get a chance to say a proper hello.” He took a few steps forward. “I missed you. A lot.”
“It was one day.”
“One day too long.”
It was almost sweet, but I was also certain he was just saying anything that’d help him get into my pants. Which wasn’t difficult at the moment, since I didn’t have any pants on. This was also probably the reason it was difficult for him to concentrate on my cries for help.
“I want to take you home and get you out of that thing,” Anthony said, surveying me like a hungry lion. “Once we get home…”
“How about you get me out of it right here?” I suggested as he lapsed into daydreams. “That is why I called you
in here, after all.”
“Because, sugar, that would ruin my plan.”
I frowned. “You have a plan? Since when do you plan?”
Anthony picked me up and set me on the stool. He knelt on the floor, which put his eyes right at my chest level. I was pretty sure he was having a conversation with my bra instead of my face.
“I can’t take you out of this,” Anthony told my bra. “Because then the rest of the people out there will come back. And I’m not done with you.”
“Anthony, I’m on the clock.”
“Office romances are quite common.”
“I’m not sure dressing room romances have the same thrill,” I said. “We’re in a pajama store, and I’m soggy as a wet dog.”
“If you don’t think there’s a thrill to be had, then you’ve been doing things all wrong, doll.” He reached behind my head, grasped hold, and pulled me in for one fantastic kiss.
I fell off the stool. It didn’t even faze Anthony—he was probably used to me falling off high surfaces by now. He just moved us over to the bench, still kissing, while he situated me on his lap.
“Wow,” I said. “This is actually quite thrilling.”
His dark eyes melted. “I’m not kidding,” he said, his voice husky. “One day away was too long.”
I nodded, since words evaded me.
Gently, with a touch like a breeze, he unwound the dress-thingie from my arms and set me free. I remained still, my gaze completely captured by his.
A hand came up as he stroked his knuckles across my cheek. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, still finding it hard to breathe.
“If your client wasn’t standing three feet away…” His fingers danced up my bare legs and I got a very clear picture exactly where his mind went.
“Anthony,” I said, hesitating for a second too long. “No, we should wait.”
He dragged a reluctant gaze over my body. “I swear, if you let Arnold sleep in our room tonight…if that thing lets out one peep…I am throwing him so far out the window you won’t be able to find the pieces of him.”
“That’s very graphic,” I said. “I’ve sort of come to love him.”
“He’s plastic, and I miss you. Choose between me and the doll, Lacey.”
I stood up, pulling him up with me. “I’ll think about it.”
He squeezed my hips in response, just as Meg strolled back into the dressing room.
“Anthony, don’t you know Lacey’s on the clock?” she said. “I don’t wanna see you kids groping each other.”
I thought that Meg probably shouldn’t talk. She had squished herself into a shirt labeled Bride. Her underwear matched. Both were white, and both were see-through.
Anthony shielded his eyes, and then stumbled from the room, mumbling something about privacy.
“I’ve found the one, Lacey,” Lizabeth said, joining us in the dressing room. “Put this on, please.”
I slipped into a nightgown that was more elegant than most dresses. Sure enough, it was the one. The material was silver and slinky and covered all the necessary body parts, so we bought it. The others found similarly “suitable” outfits, and by the time we were all dressed and ready, the cab had arrived. We looked strange, but acceptable. It was the best we could do under the circumstances.
“You look stunning,” Anthony said, his hand coming to rest on my bare upper back. “I’d lose the necklace though, if you can. That thing is causing you problems.”
“The necklace is the whole point of the show,” I said. “Also, it’s a bomb.”
“What?”
By the time I explained, Anthony looked so ready to murder Clay that I called a separate cab for the two of us.
“I wasn’t really going to kill him,” Anthony said, as the two of us climbed inside the second taxi.
I’d shoved Clay into the first one with Meg and the rest of the group. Best to keep them separate until Anthony cooled down. My fiancé wasn’t all that keen on my cousin when he wired me with explosives.
“Oh, and Anthony…I didn’t really think you were going to kill Clay,” I said with a wink. “But I did figure this would give us a little bit of privacy.”
Chapter 36
When we reached the afterparty, my hair was a little ruffled, my lips a little puffy, and Anthony wore a grin like a kid at Chuck E. Cheese. He tipped the cab driver extra cash as we climbed out.
“That was fun,” he said. “You’re a smart cookie.”
“You are what you eat,” I said. “And I eat plenty of cookies.”
“There you two are,” Lizabeth said. “Lacey, I really love what you’ve done with your hair! Portable curling iron?”
I raised a hand and patted my somewhat wild and poofy ’fro. “Not exactly.”
Meg snorted. “I know that hairstyle. I know it all too well.”
I glared at her until the snorts subsided into nonsensical whistling.
“I owe everyone a thank you,” Lizabeth spoke softly, the tone in her voice bordering on tears. She swallowed, scanning the ragged gang before her. “If any of you would like to go home and skip the party, I won’t blame you. In fact, I’d say you’re probably much smarter than me.”
I reached out, rested a hand on her forearm. “We’re here for you, and we’re here to stay.”
Lizabeth blinked, shaking her head. “This is all such a disaster. If I’d known there would be so much demand for the necklace, I would’ve set it outside and unlocked the display case. It’s just a piece of jewelry—it’s not worth the danger.”
“It’s more than just jewelry,” I said gently. My fingers played with the gorgeous strands around my neck. “It’s artwork, your dreams. You’re right to fight for it. You shouldn’t ever let those things go easily.”
Lizabeth stepped closer, her head coming to rest on my shoulder. I raised a hand and patted her on the back.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”
I raised my other arm, turning the pat into a full on hug. “You hired us to protect the necklace, sure, but more importantly—you’re our friend. We wouldn’t let something like a little car chase ruin our evening.”
“Lacey’s always making things a disaster,” Meg said. “I’d have been disappointed if this job went smoothly.”
“I’m not always a disaster,” I said.
“Pretty much.” Meg grinned. “But the really neat thing is that you always manage to get out of these messes. That takes skill.”
Lizabeth looked around. “Clay, thank you for your help…uh, protecting the necklace. Anthony, thank you for thinking quickly when Lacey fell off stage. Meg, thank you for—”
“My fashion sense,” Meg contributed. “Among other things.”
“Exactly,” Lizabeth said. “And Lacey, thank you for bringing this all together.”
We stood in a small circle, a sort of warm, fuzzy sort of feeling floating between us. Until Meg started whistling “Kumbaya” and ruined the whole moment.
“Shall we?” Lizabeth asked. “The party has already started.”
The taxis had dropped us in front of a dark entrance. A few paparazzi stood outside the venue, but other than the erratic flashing of their cameras, it was surprisingly quiet, a top secret sort of party.
“Okay guys,” I said. “We just have to make it through the event. Then it’s all over.”
“Stay close to me,” Anthony whispered as Lizabeth showed some identification to the doormen. “There’s an hour left on that bomb, and I don’t want you out of my sight until I can safely take the necklace off, and then break Clay’s nose.”
“How about skipping the nose part?”
“We’ll see how this next hour goes.”
Chapter 37
We slipped into the party, aiming for an understated, discreet entrance. We failed. Heads turned in our direction, whispers swept across the floor, and even the security guards watched as we stepped into the room.
The party was in full swing, the interior
open and modern like an art gallery. High ceilings, white walls, abstract designs perched up high all around.
Music thumped in the background, loud enough to encourage people to sway to the beat. Gorgeous servers—all of them male models with abs like washboards and teeth like a Trident commercial—swept through the room handing out glasses of champagne with each dimple-filled grin.
Before I could decline a beverage, there was a smiling guy in my face and a glass of champagne in my hand. Anthony made a sound in his throat, lifted the champagne from my hand, and took a sip.
“Hey, that’s mine,” I said. “I think I deserve some champagne.”
He drained a little over half the glass in one gulp. “I’m testing it for poison.”
The male model froze with a smile on his face. “I have more if you’d like, sir.”
“Scram,” Anthony said.
The model did as he was told, but not before Meg had snagged an entire tray. She handed out bubbly to all, and when she got to me, she paused. “How are you feeling tonight?”
I shrugged. “Fine?”
“Wrong!” She pointed at me. “You should say ‘no comment.’”
“But—”
She zipped her lips dramatically. “Nope. No comment.”
“That’s only for reporters—”
She shook her head. “Let’s try this again. How are you feeling tonight?”
“No comment,” I said, because arguing with Meg was pointless.
She clapped. “You’re ready!”
Anthony, meanwhile, had been scanning the room with his glittery gaze. Leaning over, he nodded toward a high volume cluster of male servers dressed to impress. “Does that really do it for women?” he asked. “They’re all so…shiny.”
“No comment,” I said, and Meg clapped in approval.
“Let’s mingle,” Lizabeth said. “Lacey, the photographers are going to want a few shots of your necklace. Since it can’t come off your neck, you’ll need to be in the photos too.”
“Bummer,” I said. I grabbed another glass of bubbly. “Okay, time to mingle. About thirty minutes until midnight, troops. When the clock strikes twelve, I’m turning into a pumpkin and going to bed.”
