Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 02 - Goons 'n' Roses

by Donna Joy Usher

  ‘Me? Fine,’ I said, nodding my head far too rapidly. ‘Hunky dory. Yes Sireee. All quiet on the Western Front.’ I slammed my mouth shut before I could say anything else ridiculous.

  ‘Get the guys to clean up the mess,’ he said into the phone. ‘Text me when you’re done.’ He hung up and placed the phone in the pocket of his leather jacket. ‘You sure you’re all right.’

  I probably had crazy-person eyes.

  ‘You don’t look so good.’

  ‘I need a drink,’ I said, pushing away from the door and heading for the elevator.

  ‘I thought we could go to this cute little bar…’

  ‘I need a drink now.’

  He raised his eyebrows but wisely said nothing. I followed him to The Centra Bar and Lounge and took a seat at the bar. I hadn’t yet given my mind any chance to think about what I had seen. I was planning to paralyse it with alcohol so that it wouldn’t get a chance, and then sleep in Mum and Trent’s room. I was also working on the very small possibility that I’d had some sort of stress-induced hallucination and that Tommy Tiger was not really lying dead on my bed.

  ‘Hit me,’ I said to the barman.

  He looked amused. ‘You normally have to order a drink before you say that, so I know what you want.’

  ‘Right. Umm, give me a shot of something.’

  ‘Can you be more specific?’

  I pointed at a pretty bottle on the shelf. ‘That one.’

  He poured me a shot and got Billy a beer. ‘She always like this?’ he asked Billy.

  ‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘She’s fun.’

  I threw back the alcohol, gasping as a trail of fire blazed down my throat. ‘What was that?’

  ‘White Sambuca.’

  ‘Hit me.’

  He poured me another and I let that one join its predecessor.

  ‘Anything you want to talk about?’ Billy asked, hopping onto the stool beside me.

  ‘Nope,’ I said, slapping the bar top.

  Oh my God. Tommy Tiger is dead in my room. He’s dead. Someone killed him and put him in my room. Oh God. Who would do that? Who would do that?

  The barman handed me another shot. I threw that one down as well and waited to see if it was going to shut my brain up.

  Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. Hey, what rhymes with dead? Head. Ahahahhha. He was shot in the head.

  ‘Another,’ I said roughly.

  ‘You think that’s wise?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Certainly do.’

  Oh my God, ohmyGod, ohmyGod, OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD.

  The alcohol clearly wasn’t helping. Maybe it only worked with sorrow, not hysteria. ‘Give me a beer,’ I said.

  ‘Better?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Peachy. So,’ I said, ‘how’s your day been?’

  ‘Before or since I met you?’

  ‘Before.’

  ‘Bit of a bore.’

  ‘What about since?’ I took a sip of my beer and fluttered my eyelashes at him.

  ‘Much more interesting.’ He smiled and shifted further forward on his stool so that our knees were touching. A small zing fired up my leg at the contact.

  ‘Chanel Smith?’ A gruff voice asked from behind me.

  ‘Yeeeeessss,’ I said, swinging around to stare at the owner of the voice. I was starting to feel a bit floaty.

  ‘LVMPD,’ he said, holding up a badge. Another man stood behind him, in a relaxed, yet alert pose.

  ‘LVM what?’ I asked.

  ‘LVMPD. Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department.’

  I noted that they were both dressed in short-sleeved khaki-coloured shirts and pants, with gold star badges proclaiming they were from the police department.

  ‘That’s quite a mouthful,’ I said. ‘LAPD sounds much cooler.’ I heard Billy chuckle behind me.

  ‘I wouldn’t be so smart with that mouth of yours,’ the man who had identified them said.

  ‘You going to arrest me for having a smart mouth?’ I turned to Billy and said, ‘Can they do that?’

  He took a sip of his beer, his eyes shining with restrained mirth. ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘No,’ the officer said, ‘but we can arrest you for having a dead body in your room.’

  Oh Fuck!

  ‘Exsqueeze me?’

  ‘We have reason to believe that you have a dead body in your room.’

  Double fuck with a cherry on top.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have an arrest warrant to search her room?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Yeah. What he said.’ I took a big slug of my beer while I fought to restrain my panic. I could feel it running around in my stomach with the White Sambuca. They were having quite the party.

  The lead man – I peered closely at his uniform, ahh, Sergeant Turner – held out a piece of paper. ‘Of course we do.’

  How long did it take to organise a search warrant? I mean I’d only been gone from my room for a couple of hours, which meant they possibly would have had to have known about the body before it was actually put there.

  Stupid crooked cops.

  Billy took the paper from Sergeant Turner and stared at it. I took a sip of my beer and leant forward, trying to read it upside down. A trickle of beer escaped my mouth and dribbled onto the warrant.

  ‘Oops,’ I said.

  Billy’s phone made a burble and he pulled it out of his jacket and looked at it. He smiled slightly and placed it back in his pocket. ‘Right,’ he said, standing up. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

  ‘Really?’ I squeaked.

  ‘The sooner we let Beavis and Butt-head check out your room, the sooner we can get on with our drinks.’

  I didn’t bother mentioning that there wouldn’t be any drinks after they’d checked out my room. Not unless he wanted to accompany me down to the station. And I was pretty sure they weren’t going to let me drink there.

  I had a little trouble controlling my legs on the way back to the elevator, partly from the alcohol, but mostly from the terror. I spent the elevator ride wondering whether or not the State of Nevada handed out death sentences, and the walk to the room contemplating whether I would prefer to be electrocuted or lethally injected. Part of my brain – the rebel part – was considering sprinting for the fire-escape stairs. The alarm warning on the door didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent at the moment.

  Just as I was about to leg it, Billy reached out and squeezed my hand. I looked up at him, panic on my face, but he just smiled and winked at me. It was all right for him to be all smiley and winky. He wasn’t the one about to be arrested.

  Beavis and Butt-head waited while I dug around in my handbag searching for the key. I thought about pretending I couldn’t find it, and then I thought about vomiting into my handbag. Either way I was only putting off the inevitable.

  I dragged the swipe card out of my bag and handed it to Sergeant Turner who gave me a smug smile. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and waited for the door to open.

  I still had my eyes closed when I heard Sergeant Turner say, ‘All right, where is he?’

  Christ, was he blind?

  I opened my eyes and looked at my bed. It was empty. No dead body.

  ‘Where’s who?’ I tried not to show my surprise as I walked into the room, but I was as confused as they were.

  ‘You’ve moved him,’ Turner snarled. He grabbed me by the shoulder and shook me so hard I heard my back teeth clack together.

  ‘Cease and desist,’ Billy barked. I was pretty impressed with his use of the word desist.

  Turner let go and turned to his partner. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We won’t find anything here.’ They marched out of the room and stood in the doorway. ‘I’ll be watching you,’ Turner said.

  I put two fingers to my eyes and then pointed one at him, ‘And I’ll be watching you,’ I said, and then I stuck out my tongue. Sometimes the most childish responses are the most fun.

  I returned to my current problem. Where was Tommy Tiger?

  ‘Do y
ou mind if I use the bathroom?’ Billy asked after they had left.

  The bathroom!

  ‘Wait,’ I said, ‘I just need to tidy it up.’ I hurried into the bathroom and shut the door. Then I jerked back the shower curtain and checked the bath for the body. Apart from my used towel and toiletries, the bathroom was empty.

  I let Billy in and as soon as he had closed the door ran to the wardrobe and wrenched open the door, checking to make sure Tommy wasn’t hiding out in there. Not that I knew how he would have gotten there, what with him being dead and everything, but he wasn’t on my bed any more, which meant he could be anywhere.

  Maybe he hadn’t really been dead. Maybe it had been some sort of macabre joke and he was waiting behind the curtains to jump out and say, ‘Boo.’ But it hadn’t appeared that he would have been able to breathe with the plastic pressing his nose almost flat the way it had.

  I pulled back the curtains and then I checked under the bed, holding up the valance so I could peer beneath it.

  ‘Have you dropped something?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Shit.’ I banged my head on the bed and wiggled back out so that I could stand up again. ‘Thought I lost an earring under there,’ I said.

  No Tommy under the bed.

  ‘I need to head to the club soon to start work,’ he said. ‘What time do you need to be there?’

  ‘Not till eight.’ I yawned and stretched. ‘I might have a nap first.’

  His eyes widened a little and all of a sudden I could feel sexual electricity zipping between us. The alcohol had removed any shyness I might have normally felt and suddenly I wanted to jump his bones.

  There were, however, a couple of questions I needed answers to. Namely, where were Mum and Trent? And now I had the added worry of Tommy’s body coming back to haunt me when I least expected it. What if he were on my bed the next time I got back?

  So I kept a safe distance between us, and didn’t respond to the heat in his eyes, as I said, ‘Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight?’

  ‘Till tonight,’ he said in a husky voice that almost undid me.

  I managed to let him out of my room without touching him, instinctively knowing that it would only take one touch of skin-on-skin to ignite a fire between us. And then I managed not to open my door and call out to him as he strode towards the elevator. That would really have been asking for trouble.

  Instead, I had a cold shower and lay on the side of the bed that Tommy hadn’t been on, while I tried to work out what the hell was going on.

  7

  Things Just Got Even Weirder

  I was ready to go when Martine knocked on my door at half-past seven. She was carrying an array of shopping bags and sporting a new wig. This one was blonde.

  ‘That’s, arghh, an interesting hairstyle,’ I said. Her shoulder-length hair was standing up in clumps as if someone has teased it till it was matted. ‘Is it from the grunge range?’

  ‘An orangutan attacked me,’ she said as she pushed past me and into the room.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said, ‘it sounded like you said an orangutan attacked you.’

  ‘I did.’ She opened the door to my mini-bar and started rifling through the contents, finally removing a small bottle of vodka. Twisting the lid off, she downed the contents in one swift pull.

  ‘So, you had a good day then?’

  ‘It was peachy till I got back to the hotel. Then this huge, orange-haired monkey attacked me.’

  ‘Technically they’re not monkeys,’ I said. I had watched a documentary on them while I’d been in hospital.

  She stopped with her mouth half-open and raised her eyebrows at me.

  ‘Sorry, go on,’ I said, going to the fridge and pulling out another small bottle.

  Mollified, she took it from me and twisted off the lid, taking a sip before continuing. ‘It was waiting outside the entrance door, looking all sad. I stopped to make sure it was all right and it beckoned me over.’ She took another drink. ‘I thought it wanted me to pat it, but when I tried, it attacked me.’

  Geez Louise. She’d tried to pat it? She was lucky she still had arms.

  ‘It pulled my wig off but I managed to grab it. We had a tug-o-war and this is the end result.’ She pointed at her head.

  ‘You won?’ I was genuinely impressed. Orangutans were immensely strong.

  She grimaced. ‘Think of it more as if my wig were a Christmas bob-bon and I got the largest part.’ She pivoted to show me the back where a large clump of hair was missing.

  ‘So how was the shopping?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, looking a bit happier, ‘I only did it because you told me I had to look normal, but I bought the most gorgeous red dress and matching shoes and bag, and Nine West was having a sale and they had these pumps in my size.’ She pointed to her feet which were sporting black suede pumps.

  ‘Nice,’ I said, wishing I had a new pair of pumps.

  She took a mobile phone out of her bag. ‘I just got one,’ she said, ‘because I figured you could use Lorr… umm Tess’s.’

  ‘Good idea,’ I said, pulling Mum’s phone out of my bag. I programmed Martine’s new number into Mum’s phone and she added Mum and Trent’s to hers.

  ‘How did you go with Big H?’

  I told her about my conversation and about Lou the Brain. Then I told her about Tommy Tiger.

  ‘Holy smoking Batman and Robin,’ she said, putting a hand to her heart when I got to the part about the search warrant. ‘Why are you not in jail?’

  She looked nervously around the room as I told her the rest.

  ‘I’ve checked pretty well,’ I told her. ‘He’s not here any more.’

  ‘This is getting too fucking weird,’ she said, slumping onto the seat opposite me. ‘So we have Tess taken because of a body that’s turned up after 25 years, a group of Russian Mafia that want to catch us, and a dead body.’

  ‘Just add water and mix,’ I said. ‘I suspect the dead body and the Russians are related.’

  She nodded her head thoughtfully before coming to the same conclusion I had while lying on the bed. ‘They whacked Tommy for leading us to them. Then they used the name on your credit card to locate where you were staying, called the cops with a tip-off and put Tommy in your room.’

  ‘Something like that.’ To be honest, I hadn’t been smart enough to make the connection between my credit card and the hotel.

  ‘And then somebody else removed him.’

  ‘The really freaky part is how all these people are getting access to my room?’

  ‘You’re not going to stay here tonight are you?’

  ‘No way. I’ll sleep in Mum’s room.’

  ‘You can crash with me if you get scared.’

  That was a really nice offer, but I wasn’t quite sure if Martine went to bed as Martine, or as Martyn, and I didn’t feel like finding out.

  ‘We’d better get going,’ I said, looking at my watch.

  ‘I just need to change my wig,’ she said. ‘Again.’

  We met the rest of the girls in the foyer and I let myself get caught up in the excitement of their first show. I think the alcohol still lingering in my blood stream helped with that.

  ‘Got a full house,’ Billy informed us when we turned up. He was manning the front door and looking super-hot in tight, faded-denim jeans and a white t-shirt. ‘Private word,’ he said, pulling me aside.

  I found myself with my back to a wall while he loomed over me. ‘Can’t stop thinking about you,’ he murmured, running a finger down my cheek.

  A shiver ran down my spine and then bomb burst out to the edges of my body. I wanted to say that I couldn’t stop thinking about him either, because that normally would have been the case, but I had been a little pre-occupied of late. Now though, as he leant in closer, he had my full attention.

  He bent down so that his nose grazed the side of my neck and said, ‘You smell nice.’

  I smelt nice? He smelt so damned good I wanted to chew on his neck. Now was probably not th
e time or the place though. I had to maintain a grip on my priorities.

  What time do you finish?’ I asked, wondering where the hell my priorities had gone.

  ‘Late,’ he said. ‘Really late.’

  I shoved a mental pillow over my disappointment and smothered it. ‘That’s a pity.’ I fluttered my eyelids at him.

  ‘Billy,’ a man’s voice called from inside. ‘You working or what?’

  ‘Or what,’ Billy said as he pulled away from me. ‘Can we hook up tomorrow?’

  I went through my list of things to do tomorrow: find Mum; find Trent; try not to find Tommy Tiger. ‘Sure,’ I said. I was using getting information out of him as an excuse to see him and I knew it.

  ‘Pick you up at nine?’

  ‘Can’t,’ I said, ‘Martine and I are having breakfast at The Chocolate Bar.’ The girls had seen it that day when they were out shopping and had been raving about the chocolate fountain all the way here. There was no way I was going home without trying out that baby.

  ‘What about lunch?’

  ‘Not at that café?’

  He laughed. ‘No, I’ll take you somewhere nice. Pick you up at one?’

  ‘See you then.’ I sauntered off towards the dressing rooms, thankful I had worn my Jimmy Choo high-heels with my champagne sequined dress so I could get some proper hip action going.

  On the way, I passed a dour-looking man wearing a deep-grey suit with a pink rosebud poking out of the lapel. His thick, dark hair was slicked back with what must have been an inordinate amount of hair-gel. He was staring at Billy with a look of distaste on his face. I was guessing he was the one who had broken up our ‘moment’. He turned to observe me, his facial expression changing like a chameleon from unpleasant to welcoming. ‘Miss Smith,’ he said, ‘may I call you Chanel?’

  ‘It is my name.’

  ‘I just wanted to welcome you and your lovely mother to our humble club.’

  I looked around the ‘humble’ club with my eyebrows raised. There was nothing humble at all about it. Giant chandeliers glistened on the ceilings. Plush carpet covered the floors and the walls; I was guessing that was for the acoustics. The bar was a masterpiece of cut glass and silver, and the enormous stage could be viewed from two levels. Bruce would have been green if he could have seen it.