Vanilla Beaned

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Rise and shine, troops,” Tate said as he nudged Oz with his foot. “We’re moving up to the penthouse.”

  At this, Marty sat up like he’d been electrocuted. “Now this trip is looking up.”

  Tate turned to Manny. “Do you mind getting these guys settled? We need to stop by our old room and grab our stuff.”

  “No, not at all,” Manny said.

  Again, Mel noted that he didn’t look at Holly. If they were all going to be staying together, this was just going to get increasingly awkward. She hooked her arm through Holly’s and dragged her in front of Manny.

  “In all of the chaos, I don’t think we got to make proper introductions. Detective Manny Martinez, this is Holly Hartzmark,” she said. “I know your first meeting was—”

  “Like watching a twister blow up a barn,” Marty interrupted. He looked from Manny to Holly and then back at Mel and added, “I like her. She’s feisty.”

  Holly hung her head. “I am so embarrassed. I had no idea you were a friend and not just a friend, but a cop. You could totally bust me for assaulting an officer.”

  Mel could see her cheeks flame red hot behind her curtain of dark hair. Poor thing, she really was mortified.

  “Since I hadn’t identified myself as an officer, I think you’re good,” Manny said with a small smile. “Besides, how can I bust anyone who can execute a tackle like that?”

  Holly peeked at him from behind her hair and Manny turned up the wattage in his smile to full grin. Mel didn’t think it was possible, but Holly blushed an even deeper shade of red. Interesting.

  “Come on, I’ll show you up to the suite,” Manny said.

  He started to walk and Holly fell into step beside him. They were halfway to the elevators when Holly said something that made Manny throw back his head and laugh. Neither of them looked back at Mel, not even for a glance of reassurance.

  “Do not tell me you’ve lost the slavish devotion of the detective,” Angie said.

  “I think I might have,” Mel said. “He actually belly laughed at something she said. He never does that.”

  “Uh-oh, do I hear upset in your voice?” Tate asked. He gestured for them to follow the others.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mel said. “It’s just that I’ve known him for over a year and I’ve never seen him laugh like that with anyone ex . . .” She stopped talking, aware that what she had been going to say would make her sound like she cared way more than she did.

  “Except you,” Angie and Tate said together.

  This was the downside to lifelong friends. They could complete your sentences for you with a precision that was usually found only in overpriced European watches.

  “Which is totally fine,” Mel said. “Overdue, in fact. I’ve made it clear that I am emotionally unavailable and that we’re just friends. It’s time Manny found someone who can return his feelings.”

  “Keep talking yourself into it, kiddo, you’ll get there. But we all know you care more than you’ve ever admitted, even to yourself,” Tate said.

  Mel punched him on the shoulder, not lightly, before stepping into the elevator that would take them up to their floor.

  “Ouch!” he said. “Isn’t there an expression about not harming the messenger?”

  “Which is null and void when the messenger is being an insensitive boob,” Angie said. “She is clearly working through some stuff and you didn’t need to point it out to her.”

  “What?” Tate protested. “I was merely stating the obvious. We both know Mel has feelings for Manny as well as Joe. It’s only natural that if either of them moved on, she would feel sad.”

  “Sad?” Angie asked. “She’s not sad. She’s relieved. Manny’s nice and all but her heart has always belonged to Joe.”

  “Well, maybe if Joe put her ahead of his career once in a while, she wouldn’t be sad all the time,” Tate said.

  “Are you criticizing my brother?” Angie asked. Her tone was full of warning. Tate did not heed.

  “Yeah, I am,” he said. “How long is she supposed to wait for him?”

  “Until he’s done putting away the mobsters who tried to kill us all,” Angie snapped. She tossed her hair and looked like she was going to start pawing the ground. “Or did you forget?”

  “I didn’t forget,” Tate said. “I just want her to be happy.”

  “I do, too!”

  “I’m standing right here,” Mel said. She reached around Angie to hit the elevator button. “And for the record, I’m not sad about Manny being interested in someone else, just surprised. I didn’t really see a Vegas showgirl as Manny’s type.”

  “Ah, but she’s also a cupcake baker,” Angie said. “And we all know that’s his type and how.”

  Mel sighed and Angie stepped forward and hugged her. “I’m sorry. Tate’s right. I just want you and Joe to work out so much, because I love you both and I think you bring out the best in each other.”

  “When he’s around,” Mel said.

  All three of them were silent. Tate opened his arms and they both stepped forward for a group hug.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “A little,” Mel said.

  “Seriously, all my bias for you and Joe as a couple aside, are you okay with Manny and Holly?” Angie asked.

  “Um, they just met,” Mel said. “I don’t see them as running off to the altar exactly, but yeah, I’m fine with it, really.”

  Of course, if she had heard from Joe at all during the past few weeks, she would have that to cling to and she probably would be fine, but she hadn’t. Up to now, she had refused to make a fuss. He was busy wrapping up his mobster case and she fully supported him.

  She glanced at Tate and Angie, who had obviously already made up. They stood holding hands and looking at her with the unintentional pity couples often direct at the single. She tried not to resent it. She knew they loved her and just wanted her to be happy. That was all she wanted as well, but as the weeks rolled on, she wondered if she and Joe would ever find their way back to each other.

  Seventeen

  It was noon before Mel opened her eyes and faced the day. She wasn’t sure what had lured her from her sleep. The bed was harder than she was used to and the room was colder, the surroundings were plush but unfamiliar, and her pillow was hard. She thought it was likely a combination of all these things that made her wake up, feeling stiff and tired.

  She glanced around her. Done tastefully sleek and modern, the room was all burnished copper, glass, and black leather. Slowly, it all came back to her. Oh, yeah, Vegas.

  Then like a rabbit smelling a carrot, her nose twitched. Bacon. If someone had ordered bacon, then there had to be coffee to go with it. She jumped out of bed, shoved her blond bangs out of her eyes, drew on her thick hotel robe, and strode out of her room to find the others.

  The penthouse had a kitchen and Holly was in the center of it with a man who, judging by his uniform, was a hotel chef. Mel had stayed with Tate before in a high-end hotel where a full domestic staff came with the price of the stay. It always amazed her that Tate stayed so down-to-earth given how lavish his life had been.

  Holly and the chef were laughing and chatting, and he was teaching her some fancy knife maneuvers while Marty, Oz, and Manny looked on in amusement. There was no sign of Tate or Angie.

  “Hey, look who decided to join the party,” Marty said.

  He patted the seat next to him and Mel slid onto it while Manny poured her a cup of coffee just the way she liked it.

  “Thanks,” she said. Their fingers brushed when she took the mug from him, but he seemed unaware as his eyes went right back to Holly, where she was chopping up a pile of vegetables under the supervision of the hotel’s chef.

  “They’re making omelets,” Marty said. “Hmm-mm.”

  “You don’t like vegetables,” Mel said. “Are you actuall
y going to eat one of those?”

  “I already did,” he said. “I’m waiting for my second.”

  “Forget the eggs. Mel, you have to taste Holly’s pancakes,” Oz said through a mouthful. Syrup dripped down his chin and he wiped it with his cloth napkin. “They’re light and fluffy with just a hint of lemon. Seriously, I have to have the recipe for these.”

  Mel glanced at Holly. With a big white apron tied over her long john shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, she looked like a little girl helping out in the kitchen. Her long dark hair had been shoved up into a ponytail on top of her head and her upturned nose made her look all of twelve.

  When she saw Mel, she smiled and her happiness shone in her bright blue eyes, making Mel blink. “Melanie Cooper, this is Mario Consuelo,” Holly said and pointed at the chef. “He’s amazing.”

  “Hi, Mario,” Mel said. “Nice to meet you. So, what’s your specialty breakfast dish?”

  “Well, since I’m cooking for another cordon bleu chef, I feel I must make my small Normandy-style brioche with apples and an apricot glaze,” he said. He was wearing his chef’s toque and his whites were impeccable. He looked very serious until he smiled and the deep dimples in his cheeks gave him a dab of mischief.

  “You had me at brioche,” Mel said.

  Mario delivered the small loaf of bread with a thin, crisp apple slice on top to Mel with a side of whipped butter. It looked delicious. Mel tucked into it with her fork and the sweet bread melted in her mouth. Now this was how every morning should start.

  “Did you use a touch of Calvados?” she asked.

  Mario looked impressed. “Just a few drops of apple brandy but you tasted it. Well done.”

  “It’s exquisite,” Mel said.

  Mario kissed the tips of his fingers and then touched his forehead in a gesture of gratitude before he turned back to the stove to finish Marty’s second omelet.

  Holly came around the table with her own breakfast and Manny hopped up to let her have his seat. She looked flustered by the gesture and Mel wondered how a Vegas showgirl could be so undone by basic gentlemanly courtesy. Then again, maybe Holly hadn’t gotten to experience much of that in her years as a working girl.

  A busboy began to clean up after them and Marty and Oz moved themselves to the lounge chairs out beside their private lap pool on their rooftop balcony. Mel knew this little excursion to the penthouse was costing Tate a small fortune, and she also knew that he thought any expense to keep them all safe was well worth it.

  The thing Mel couldn’t let go of was what or who exactly they were being protected from? Was the shooter after Holly or one of them? And if so, was it Angie, Mel, or possibly even Tate? Or was there something else entirely going on, and if so, what?

  “Can I get the door for you?” Mel asked Mario as the busboy wheeled his loaded cart toward the suite’s front door.

  “No need,” Mario said. “I am taking the back way.”

  “There’s a back way?” she asked.

  “Come on, I’ll show you,” he said. He opened the front door and let the busboy out, and then he went back into the penthouse to a small door at the end of the hallway. It opened into a utility type of closet where extra pillows, linens, and bathrobes were stored. At the back there was a tiny door that looked like an elevator door.

  “See, I have my own escape hatch,” Mario said.

  “What the what?” Mel asked.

  Mario tapped in the number to their suite and the door slid open. It was a tiny elevator.

  “I’ll be darned,” Mel said.

  “Well, we can’t keep the rich and pampered waiting, especially at ten thousand dollars per night,” Mario said. “It’s only big enough for one, but it gets the staff where they’re needed pretty quick.”

  “That is so cool,” Mel said. Although as she registered the cost of the penthouse, everything went gray and she started to see spots.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said. “It lets out by the main kitchen. Come visit me sometime and we can cook something together.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows at her and Mel laughed as the door slid shut and he disappeared from view. Mel shook her head. The other half really did live completely different lives.

  She reentered the kitchen to find only Manny and Holly. Mel didn’t think she was imagining the tension between the two of them.

  “Holly, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Manny asked.

  Holly glanced up from her empty plate and blushed. “No, not at all.”

  Mel frowned. The blushing thing was out of control. Was Holly doing it on purpose? Could a person do that on purpose? She glanced at Manny. He looked positively beguiled.

  “Great, how about we go to the other balcony so as not to disturb Marty and Oz?” he asked.

  Mel looked at him and he shrugged and said, “What? It’s police business.”

  “Sure it is,” she said. This time it was Manny who blushed as he escorted Holly outside.

  There was still no sign of Tate or Angie. Maybe Tate was sleeping in because of the knot on his head and Angie didn’t want to leave him unattended. She was certain Angie would holler if she needed help.

  Through the French doors, she saw Marty and Oz looking pretty comfy napping in their pool loungers. The last of the busboys wheeled out of the suite, taking his rolling cart of food with him. As Mel sat at the granite counter sipping her coffee, she felt like an outsider looking in and the familiar feeling of loneliness crept in, stealing the warmth from her and making her shiver.

  Her pocket buzzed and she pulled her phone out of her robe. She had been expecting her mother to call. Joyce was a worrier of the first order and since Marty and Oz had told her about the explosion, she was bound to be upset.

  Mel looked at the front of her phone and her heart did a little skip jump sort of thing as Joe’s name appeared. She hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. She missed him and she was mad at him. She loved him and sometimes she really hated him, well, not him so much as his career, or as Tate had so painfully observed, she hated how his career always came first.

  “Hi, Joe, what’s new with you?” she asked. She tried to sound indifferent, but she was afraid it just came out snotty.

  “Morning, cupcake,” he said. “How are you?”

  His low voice rolled over the familiar endearment laced with concern and caring. It made her breath catch and her head spin. She had to clear her throat before she could speak.

  “At the moment, I’m surprised,” she said.

  “Really?” he asked. “I was going to call you last night after I spoke to Manny, but he suggested I wait. He said you were a little prickly.”

  “Prickly?”

  “I believe he said something about you joining the holy sisterhood,” Joe said. He sounded amused, which irritated Mel beyond reason.

  “I think I’d make a fine nun,” Mel said. “What’s it to you anyway? You’ve sent your minion to babysit me. You should have a clear conscience.”

  She glanced out the window and saw Holly and Manny standing by the railing of the balcony while they talked. Even from inside the suite, she could feel the sizzle of chemistry between them. She tried to read their lips. Were they talking about the explosion, the car crash, the shooting? Or had they moved into more personal waters?

  She couldn’t tell and despite what she’d said to her friends, she wasn’t really sure how she felt about it. She had begun to like Holly despite not loving the idea of her owning an offshoot of the bakery. But now she was moving in on Mel’s personal life and it felt straight-up invasive.

  “Mel? Are you listening to me?” Joe asked.

  “What? Huh?” Mel turned away from Manny and Holly. She stomped back to her room, away from the sight of them.

  “I was cataloging all of the reasons why you might be mad at me,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah
, whatever,” Mel said. “Look, I need to go figure out what the plan is, so I don’t really have time for this.”

  “Okaaaaay,” Joe said. He sounded hurt and a little irritated. “This conversation has gone from awkward to openly hostile.”

  “I’m not hostile,” Mel said. “I’m just . . .” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t think of what she was other than pitifully lonely and, yeah, a little whiney.

  “I sense we need to talk,” Joe said. “Really talk. As in you and me, face-to-face. I know this case has—”

  “You know what, Joe?” Mel interrupted. “We really don’t need to talk. I’m done.”

  “What?” he asked. She could tell she had his full attention now.

  “You heard me,” she said. “I’m done.”

  “Done with . . .”

  “I’m officially done with waiting for you, for your cases to be resolved, for the bad guys to all be put away, for all of it. I can’t always be the second most important thing in your life. I want to be first. I want to be number one, and I can’t keep putting my life on hold, waiting for an elevated status that clearly isn’t coming. I’m done, Joe.”

  “Mel, I know the past few days have been scary and you’re probably pretty shaken up—”

  “That’s not it,” she said. “Well, not all of it.”

  They were both silent. Mel didn’t know what more to say and it was clear that Joe didn’t, either.

  “Listen, I have to go,” she said. “I’ll call you when we get back to town, but I really don’t think there’s anything left for us to talk about.”

  She didn’t wait for him to say anything. She didn’t want to hear it. To make sure there was no extension of the conversation, she ended the call and turned the volume off on her phone and went to take a shower, where she had a good long cry.

  It took holding her breath while she dunked her face in a sink full of cold water to make her nose and eyes stop looking so red, but Mel was confident that when she joined the others, she looked perfectly normal.