I Got You, Babe (A Sexy Romantic Comedy)

by Jane Graves

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Alex asked.

  “Aunt Charlie’s. Renee is innocent. And I’m going to prove it.”

  He started toward the door. To his surprise, Alex stepped in front of him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  John blinked. “What did you say?”

  “I said you’re not stepping foot out of this house.”

  Alex folded his arms over his chest, his legs spread wide, like a bouncer in a particularly badass bar. John couldn’t believe it. Did his brother mean to physically stop him?

  “Get out of my way, Alex.”

  “If you want out that door, you’re going to have to go through me first.”

  John had expected Alex to be belligerent and unreasonable. He’d been that way ever since they were kids, lording his superior size and strength over his brothers every chance he got. But John had never expected this.

  As tall and muscular as John was, Alex was taller, and he outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. For all his talk about throwing his brother out of his house, in a bare-knuckles brawl, John knew there was a strong possibility that he could come out on the losing end.

  Time was short. He had to get to that club, but his brother was not one to make idle threats—if John decided to leave, Alex would be all over him.

  “So you think you can take me, huh?” John said.

  Alex scoffed. “With one hand tied behind my back.”

  “Bullshit. You’d be lucky to bench-press three hundred.”

  “Kid, I was bench-pressing three hundred while you were still in diapers.”

  “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “If you can do ten reps at three hundred, I won’t leave the house. Deal?”

  Alex smiled. “Your negotiating skills stink. I can do ten reps at three hundred in my sleep, and you know it.”

  “Then how about you get in here and show me?”

  John started toward his spare room, where his exercise equipment resided. Alex paused only a moment before striding after him, his intensely competitive nature allowing him to do nothing else.

  John slid a hundred and fifty pounds on either side of the bar. Alex gave him a snide look and added ten more to each side. He lay down on the bench, and John watched in awe as Alex lifted the weight as if it were a bagful of feathers. He knew his brother was pretty powerful, but any minute he expected him to start twirling the barbell like a baton.

  Good thing he hadn’t expected to win this battle with brawn.

  John slipped the handcuffs out of his pocket, and as Alex raised the bar to full extension, he clamped one of them around his left wrist. Alex caught on instantaneously, but he was holding a three-hundred-pound barbell, and in the time it took him to return it to its resting place, John had slapped the other cuff around the bench.

  Alex dropped the barbell with a clatter and lunged for John. John managed to sidestep him, getting out of the way just as Alex hit the end of the cuff. His brother glared at him with a look of unbridled fury that said that if he ever got loose, John was a dead man.

  “You son of a bitch!” he shouted, his voice thundering through the room. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I thought I made that clear. I’m going to that club.”

  Alex started after John, dragging the weight bench after him with surprising speed, its legs making a hideous scraping noise across the hardwood floor. John managed to make it out the door with Alex only inches behind him. Then the weight bench hit the door with a clatter, too wide by a few inches to clear the space, and Alex hit the end of the cuff with a loud curse.

  “John! Get back here! You get your ass back here and get me out of these cuffs! Now!”

  “Sorry, Alex. I’ve got things to do.”

  Alex yanked at the cuffs so hard that John thought for a moment that he might actually succeed in breaking them.After all, they might be a little worn by now, since they’d practically seen more action in the past three days than they had in his entire career.

  “Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you when I get my hands on you?” Alex shouted.

  Oh, John knew. Thank God for plastic surgery and dental reconstruction. After six months or so of recuperation, he might actually resemble a human being again.

  Alex was still screaming at him as he went out to the garage, but that didn’t sway him from his mission. He had to get to that club, find the real culprit, then find a way to bring Renee back home to him again.

  “The show’s getting ready to start,” Paula said. “This really ought to be something.”

  Renee couldn’t have cared less about the show, except that the standing-room-only crowd gave her a lot more suspects. But pretty soon all the people kind of melted together into a sea of cosmetic excess, big hair, and plus-size glitz, and she was having a hard time sifting through it all.

  The lights dimmed. Renee heard a drum roll, then a crescendo of introductory music. The emcee slithered onto the stage in a short, black, barely-there dress, fishnet stockings, and a long black wig, introducing himself as Samantha. If Sonny Bono had walked out from the other side of the stage and met him in the middle, the look would have been complete.

  “Uh-oh,” Paula said.

  Renee whipped around. “What?”

  “We’re in trouble now.” She pointed toward the DJ booth. “Steve’s here!”

  Renee blinked with disbelief. Paula was right. Steve was in the DJ booth, taking care of the music for the evening.

  Damn. Of all the nights for Steve to be working at one of these clubs, why did it have to be tonight? Why couldn’t he be gambling his paycheck away instead of earning one?

  Paula whipped back around. “I can’t let Steve see me! He’ll tell Tom!”

  “I don’t want him to see either of us,” Renee said. “Just take it easy. He obviously hasn’t seen us so far, and now that he’s busy, he won’t notice us.”

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” Paula said, taking a big swig of her wine spritzer. “A very bad idea.”

  Renee spent the next half hour scanning the crowd. Once she thought she saw somebody wearing a leopard print, so she got up to take a better look. But before she could get to the guy’s table, he headed toward the hall that led to the bathroom. She ripped off her sunglasses and followed him, but halfway there she realized it wasn’t a leopard print at all—just a lot of gold spangles on a black background.

  Disappointed, she turned to go back to their table, at the same time glancing toward the DJ booth. For a moment she thought Steve’s gaze had met hers. She shoved her sunglasses back on and turned away, scurrying through the crowd and sitting back down at their table. When she finally gathered the nerve to turn back, she saw that Steve’s attention appeared to be on his job and not on her. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Any luck?” Paula asked her when she returned.

  “No. It wasn’t a leopard print after all. I thought for a minute that Steve saw me, though, but he’s not looking this way. I think we’re in the clear.”

  “Are you sure?” Paula asked.

  Renee looked back toward the DJ booth, suppressing a gasp when she saw Steve lay down his headphones and step out the door. But instead of walking toward them, he trotted back toward the hall, probably taking a quick bathroom break before the performer onstage finished his act.

  “I’m sure,” she said.

  “Okay. Good.” Paula let out a sigh of relief and took another sip of her drink. “You know, this is actually a pretty good show.”

  Renee wondered if the wine spritzer had gone to Paula’s head. Which act had she enjoyed the most? The ballet number with the guy in the pink tutu, or the guy who stuck a pillow under his dress and sang, “I’m Just a Girl Who Can’t Say No”?

  The more Paula relaxed, the more uptight Renee became. As act after act came and went, she started to realize that nobody here was wearing anything like what the man had worn to commit that robbery. Not even close.


  If it had even been a man at all.

  Hopelessness slowly crept in, and soon the futility of what they were doing here tonight became clear. It had been sheer speculation that the robber was a man, speculation based on what a crazy old lady had told John about what she saw that night.

  John had been right. They’d been dreaming. She’d been foolish even to think of coming here, because even if she did find somebody wearing something suspicious, what was she going to do? Walk right up and accuse him of armed robbery? She could find out his identity, but then what? Without John to help her, how was she going to investigate any further?

  As she watched a guy clad in yellow chiffon singing “The Yellow Rose of Texas” while a bunch of drunk men in dresses stomped and shouted, she realized the only thing she’d accomplished this evening was to risk being seen by somebody she knew, a danger even greater now that Steve was here. And she’d dragged Paula into the situation right along with her.

  She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t sit here in this strange place any longer hoping for the impossible.

  She leaned toward Paula. “The show’s almost over. Let’s go.”

  “But you haven’t found who you’re looking for!”

  “And I’m not going to, either. I was crazy to think I could. Can we just go? Please?”

  Paula sighed. “Okay. If you say so.”

  Renee tossed money on the table, and they walked away amid a flurry of applause for “The Yellow Rose of Texas.” The emcee announced the next contestant. Renee glanced back to see a performer coming out onstage looking a bit uncomfortable, wearing a short dark wig, snug blue pants, and an oversize blue silk top. He sat down on a stool in the middle of the stage, microphone in hand. Even at this distance, Renee could see that the crowd was in for a Judy Garland imitation, which was probably going to make poor Judy turn over in her grave.

  Renee glanced toward the DJ booth. Steve’s attention was on the show, making it easy for them to slip out the door unnoticed. She wanted to go back to that ugly but quiet little motel room, feed herself a dose of reality, and plan her escape. By this time tomorrow, she needed to be well on her way to somewhere else.

  Then the music started, and the performer onstage began to sing. Softly. Mournfully. A beautiful rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” in a voice not that different from Judy Garland’s.

  “Oh!” Paula said, turning back. “I love that song!”

  “Paula, please. Let’s get out of here!”

  But Paula stopped. Stared.

  “Paula. Will you come on?”

  “Renee?”

  “What?”

  Paula pointed toward the stage. “Did you see his earrings?” It was a long way up to the stage, but still Renee could see large earrings dangling from the guy’s ears. Large, multicolored earrings. She whipped off her sunglasses.

  Multicolored earrings? “Somewhere Over the Rainbow?” Could it be?

  She started back toward the stage, pushing her way through the crowd. She got jostled back and forth and almost fell off her four-inch heels, but finally she managed to get within several feet of the stage. She could go no farther. The crowd at the edge of the stage was like a solid wall of beads, sequins, satin, and lace, and she just couldn’t squeeze her way through. She kept leaning right and left to see around people’s heads, trying to make out the shape of the performer’s earrings. She thought maybe they looked like rainbows, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Glancing to her right, she saw four steps leading up to a curtain, which looked as if it led backstage. If she hurried, she could catch the guy coming offstage and get a really good look. She inched her way around a redhead in a purple beaded gown and started toward the steps.

  And ran right into John.

  He caught her by the shoulders. She stared up at him with total shock. A heartbeat later recognition lit his eyes. “Renee?”

  He’s here to arrest me.

  It was the first thought that entered her mind. Suddenly she was sure that Alex had convinced him that he shouldn’t have let her go. John had checked her motel room, found her gone, then decided she might have come here. And now he was going to take her to jail, just as he thought he should have done in the first place—

  “The earrings!” he shouted to her over the roar of the crowd. “That man onstage! I think those are the earrings!”

  Renee almost collapsed with relief. He’d been looking for the culprit, just as she had, and he’d seen the earrings, too. He wasn’t here to arrest her—he was here to help her.

  Judy Garland was wrapping up his performance, sliding up to that high note at the end of the song and holding it while the crowd went crazy with applause.

  John grabbed Renee’s hand and wove through the crowd, then ran up the steps that led to the backstage area. He swept the curtain aside. Renee saw Judy Garland coming off the stage, accepting congratulations on his performance from another contestant.

  John strode over, spun the guy around, and backed him up against a wall. He yanked one of the clip earrings off his ear.

  “Hey!” the guy shouted. “What are you doing?”

  John held up the earring, and Renee’s heart slammed against her chest. It was a rainbow. No doubt about it. Just as the old lady at the convenience store had described.

  Renee was sure this was the guy who’d committed the robbery. She didn’t know what it was going to take to prove it, but she knew for a fact that they had their man.

  Then he turned and met her eyes.

  Renee stopped suddenly, sensing something familiar about that heavily made-up face. She stepped closer to get a better look, and when she realized who was behind those false eyelashes and that ruby-red lipstick, her jaw dropped so far it practically hit the floor.

  “Tom!”

  Chapter 20

  Tom’s blue-shadowed eyes sprang open wide, a panic-stricken look on his face. “Renee! What are you doing here?”

  Renee stared at Tom, paralyzed with disbelief. This couldn’t be. This simply couldn’t be. Tom had dated more women than there were stars in the sky, yet here he was dressed like one?

  Then all at once it made sense. Now Renee knew who all those women were whom she’d seen coming out of his apartment. They weren’t women Tom was cheating with.

  They were Tom.

  “You can’t tell Paula,” he pleaded. “You can’t. She has no idea about this. She’ll hate me, Renee. She’ll leave me. Please promise me you won’t tell her!”

  Renee was still so stunned that for a moment the truth of the situation didn’t hit her.

  And then it did.

  He was wearing the earrings. He was the one.

  “You bastard” She hauled off and whacked him with her doubled-up fist, then did it again and again, until he had to throw up his arms to ward off the blows.

  “Renee! Stop! Renee!”

  She continued pummeling him until finally John grabbed her and pulled her away. She squirmed in his grip, but he held her tightly.

  “It was him, John! Tom robbed that store, and he was going to let me take the fall!”

  Tom’s eyebrows shot right up to his artificial hairline. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play stupid! You’re wearing the earrings!”

  “Earrings?”

  “The robber was wearing rainbow earrings. Big ones. Just like yours. It was you!”

  “No! It couldn’t have been me! I was with Paula that weekend at the Hilton, remember?”

  “How can I be sure of that? How do I know you didn’t slip away to rob that store?”

  “I was with Paula all night. I swear I was!”

  Then Tom looked over Renee’s shoulder and groaned loudly. She turned around to see Paula walking toward them in slow motion, teetering a bit on her high heels, her peacock feather hat slightly askew. She pulled her sunglasses off slowly, disbelievingly. “Tom?”

  “Paula!” Tom said, horrified. “What are you doing here?”

  Paula ju
st gaped at him.

  “Is that true, Paula?” Renee prompted. “Was he with you that whole night? Tell me!”

  Paula continued to stare at him, shock freezing her face into a mask of total disbelief. Finally Renee shook her arm to get her attention.

  “Paula! Was he with you all that night?”

  “Y-yes. All night. Dressed...as a man.”

  “I’m straight, Paula,” Tom said, his voice pleading. “I swear to God I am. I just have this thing about”—he expelled a long breath—”women’s clothes.”

  Paula moaned and buried her head in her hands.

  “But I can sing, you know, and Steve told me about the talent show. I thought maybe if I won the thousand dollars, I could pay you back at least part of the money I owe you.”

  This had to be scrambling Paula’s brain. Renee wished she could stop to offer a little sympathy, or whatever one offered in situations like this, but she still believed a connection existed between those earrings and the robbery, and she had to find out what it was.

  “Wait a minute,” she said to Tom. “You said Steve suggested you compete here tonight. Does that means he knows all about”—she waved her hand up and down in front of him—”this?”

  Tom closed his eyes. “Yes. But he’s the only one. And he knows only because we roomed together and he found my stuff once.”

  “Your earrings,” John said. “They’re exactly like the ones the robber wore. Did you loan them to anyone?”

  “No! Of course not!”

  “This is just too much of a coincidence,” John said to Renee. “If he didn’t loan them to anyone, then who could have gotten his hands on them?”

  The question hung in the air for several seconds. Then Renee had a thought that was so preposterous that she almost couldn’t form the image in her mind.

  She pointed to the wig Tom wore. “Is that the only wig you have?”

  He gave Paula a cringing glance. “No.”

  “Do you have a blond one? A long blond one?”

  “Yes.”

  “A leopard-print shirt?”

  “Yes.”

  “White shoes?”