The Prada Paradox

by Julie Kenner

  “Tobias had to go to New York, so the schedule’s all turned around. Like I said, a big boring mess. I’ll see you soon, though, and update you.”

  “I want all the details about you and Blake.”

  I think about our wild time between the sheets last night, and decide that all the details is an elastic term. “Sure,” I say.

  “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.” And despite Janus and this stupid game, that’s a promise I intend to keep.

  In fact, it’s time to get busy again. I’m rested, my body is still humming from last night, and I’m feeling pretty much invincible.

  At least until I remember the blogs that Lindy mentioned. If she could find me, so could Janus, and I hurry a bit as I climb back into my clothes and rush into the main area of the bungalow.

  I find Blake in the kitchen, staring down a pot of coffee, as if watching it will make it brew faster.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say, then explain about the blogs. “If Lindy can find us, so can Janus.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  I look around. “Where’s Andy?”

  “Said he was heading to the business center. He thought maybe the message was hidden on one of the hotel computers.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I hope to hell he’s right, because I sure don’t have a better idea. And the clock’s ticking down. We need to figure this out and find the damn antidote.”

  “We’re going to find it,” I say, moving closer and hooking my arms around his waist. “I promise.”

  He strokes my hair. “Look at you,” he says. “Trying to make me feel better when you’re just as deep in this shit as I am.”

  I manage a smile, but he can probably tell it’s fake. “You’re the one with a countdown. Me, I just have to deal with an assassin.” I lick my lips, trying on false bravado to hide my fears. “I survived Janus once before, after all. I can do it again.”

  “I know you can,” he says. “We’ll both survive, and then we’ll get back to our life. Back to the movie. Back to…”

  He trails off, but the message is clear. Back to us.

  I hear it, but I can’t focus on it. Not right now. Because it’s the other thing that he said that has caught my attention. “The movie,” I say, then plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Blake, sweetheart, you’re brilliant!”

  Chapter 36

  Blake wasn’t sure that he was brilliant, but he appreciated the compliment nonetheless. More, he appreciated her easiness with him now. The way she touched him and looked at him. The fact that she wasn’t shy at all with him after their time together last night.

  He’d been so afraid that she’d opened her arms to him simply out of fear or pity or both. Fear of the game. Pity that he might not have another night left. Or maybe just in the hope that when they were alone in bed, the horror would evaporate.

  It had. For just a few hours, there had been only the two of them. She’d been so soft in his arms, and yet so intense. And he’d known that—at least right then—she needed him as much as he needed her.

  Now, he saw that it hadn’t only been about sex, and that one simple fact fueled his courage and gave him hope.

  “So why am I so brilliant?” he asked, but she just smiled and dove for the phone.

  “Um, hi. Devi Taylor again. Listen, do you have a message for Melanie Prescott?”

  She put her hand over the receiver. “He’s checking.” And then, “Yes, yes. It’s for me. It’s the character I’m playing. Long story. Right. No, thanks. I’ll run in and get it. Great. And, listen, can you do me one more favor? I need to get three cell phones with Web access and a laptop. Yeah, right. As fast as you can. And some clothes, too.” She gave the concierge her size and Blake’s, then described Andy and asked the guy to guess. Then she hung up and smiled at him. “We’re set.”

  “Tracking device?” he said, with a significant look at her laptop.

  “Can’t be too careful. I’ll give mine to housekeeping. In the meantime, let’s go. The message is waiting at the front desk.”

  “And the concierge is just going to find us phones and clothes? No explanation necessary?”

  She just laughed and took his hand. “Doting on celebrity whims is the earmark of a good hotel. As is no-questions-asked.” She gave him a quick hug, then a kiss on the nose. “You have a lot to learn about being a bad-boy celebrity, Blake Atwood. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”

  She tugged him toward the door then, and he realized he was actually laughing, his mind far from the horror in which they’d been living for these last hours. A nice break, and undoubtedly his head’s way of keeping him from totally losing it under the pressure of the game. He hated the thought that soon they’d be on the run again. At least, he hoped they would be on the run again. It was, of course, a double-edged sword. He didn’t want to play the game. He had to play the game.

  Devi, he realized, had been playing a game of How to Think Like a Celebrity her entire life. The concierge was a case in point. The life she knew wasn’t real…and yet it was, for her. Just like the damn game they were playing wasn’t real…and yet if they lost, the consequences were very real indeed.

  She reached out and grabbed his hand as they moved from the private patio into the open pool area. “You have a look. Are you doing okay?”

  “A look?”

  “Yeah.” She squeezed his hand. “We’re going to figure this out.”

  She smiled up at him then, and he breathed it in, the sparkle in her eyes almost enough to cure him of whatever poison was running through his veins.

  Almost, but not quite.

  “I know we will,” he said. “Come on.”

  He’d only been to the Chateau once before, when he’d been dating an up-and-coming television action star. He’d worked with her on all her martial arts sequences, and she’d worked on him until she got him in her bed. Not long after that she’d started to lose interest in him. Fortunately, it was mutual. But she was quite the party girl, and before they split up, she’d taken him to more L.A. hot spots than he could ever have imagined.

  Most weren’t his style, but he had to admit he’d been impressed with the Chateau Marmont. It truly did resemble a castle perched high above Sunset Boulevard. And, of course, the place was both famous and notorious, having been the home away from home of many a movie star, and the site of many a tragedy.

  He’d only seen the main lobby and the bar before, and this early-morning view of the pool was enough to take his breath away, and almost enough to make him forget about the game. The pool itself wasn’t huge. But it was the presentation—not the size—that made it so remarkable. An oval oasis, surrounded by bungalows, all hidden by thick foliage and privacy fencing.

  They walked along the edge of the pool, passing the few people lounging on the carefully aligned chaise longes. They followed the path, then entered the lobby, the foyer of which had an open feel, with painted white brick walls and furniture that seemed vaguely Moroccan.

  They made their way over to the front desk, and Blake was impressed that the girl already knew they were coming. “Someone will be right here with the envelope,” she said.

  As they waited for that someone to track down the message, Devi leaned on the counter, then gave him an appraising look.

  “What?”

  “I’m really…I don’t know…freaked out about who could be behind this.”

  “Babe, I think the situation is freakish enough. Do we need to waste time pondering who’s pulling our strings?”

  “Not even if it helps us end this thing?”

  “What? You’re thinking of doing an end run around the game? Figure out our ultimate bad guy and stop the game in its tracks?”

  Her chin lifted a little. “Well, yeah. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  She looked so confident and stubborn that he couldn’t help but smile. And wasn’t that just like Devi? Why take the circuitous route when you can go straight to the source? Unfortunately, there were
serious flaws in her plan. Like the fact that it was already almost nine a.m.

  If their calculation was right, he had eleven hours before any antidote would be useless. In theory, he’d love to find the asshole behind the game.

  In reality, he just needed to solve the next clue. And fast.

  Chapter 37

  Patience.

  He had such patience. And that, he knew, would be his reward.

  They may have lost him in the foothills, but now he knew where they’d gone.

  The Chateau Marmont.

  He parked nearby, with a view of the driveway leading up to the famous hotel. He’d considered going inside, looking for them. But the tracking device that the game had blessed him with lacked specificity.

  Better to wait. To watch.

  Sooner or later, they’d have to come out.

  And he’d be right there, waiting for them.

  Chapter 38

  This time the clue is actually printed on a piece of paper. I consider that good karma. I’m a paper-and-pencil kind of girl, converted to the wonderful world of Macintosh and the like only because I had to. A paper clue will surely be easier to interpret. Paper has life. It has a vibe.

  It can tell you its secrets.

  Unfortunately, this piece of paper is determined to stay remarkably quiet.

  Not terribly surprising, I suppose, considering the nonsense printed on the page. As we’re walking back to the bungalow, I hold tight to it, my eyes dipping down to soak in this new riddle:

  You can do-si-do

  And then do more

  You can pull horsetails from the floor

  By the ocean, by the sea

  From an age long past, but still here to see.

  Don’t talk, don’t speak, you can’t, you’re full

  All it will take is a little pull.

  I mean, honestly! Who was thinking this shit up?

  “Anything?” I ask Blake.

  “Not a damn thing.” He looks at his watch, his expression grave.

  I reach over, cupping my hand over his wrist and hiding the watch. “We will figure this out in time. We’ve started something again, and I’ll be damned if you’re getting out of working on a relationship just because you’ve got some stupid poison in your veins.”

  “Started something, huh?” he says, looking at me with dark, inquisitive eyes.

  I feel my cheeks heat. “Didn’t we?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  I want to say more, but we’re back at the bungalow. As we come inside, Andy stands up, his face a mask of fury. “Where the hell were you? I’ve been going nuts!”

  I take a step backward, surprised by the vitriol. “We went to the lobby. Looking for the message, just like you.”

  “Dammit, Devi, I’m your protector. You can’t just fucking leave.”

  I stand up a little straighter and open my mouth, prepared to let him have it. But then I deflate. Because you know what? He’s right.

  I might feel safe at the Chateau, but I’m not. Until this game is over, I’m not safe anywhere. And, yes, I was with Blake. A little fact that makes me feel all the more guilty for leaving, because the truth is, I feel safer with Blake. Not unreasonable, really, considering Blake’s training. But Andy is my protector. In my heart, though, that job belongs to Blake. So, for that matter, does my heart.

  “Well?” He’s staring me down, clearly irritated, and clearly waiting for me to say something.

  I say the only thing I can. “I’m sorry. I was stupid. I won’t be stupid again.”

  I think my contrition surprises him, because he gapes at me for a second, and then nods. “I didn’t find a damn thing in the business center. You?”

  My grin stretches so wide it’s almost painful, and I pass him the paper without comment.

  “Wow,” he says after reading it. “Have you got any leads on interpreting this thing?”

  “Not a clue,” Blake admits.

  “Me either,” Andy says. He looks between the two of us. “So how did you find it?”

  “The girl I am now,” I explain. “I’m playing Mel. So I asked if there was a message for her—”

  “And there was.” He nods approvingly. “Good job.”

  I can’t help the little rush of pleasure. I may have been freaking when this damn game started, but now I’m at least holding my own. That’s good, I think, since the consequences of playing poorly are more than a little severe.

  I shudder, thinking about the man against whom we’re playing. Janus. A man I’ve imagined around so many corners, but never once seen. And now here he is again, holding my life in his hand.

  I give myself a quick shake, determined not to sink back into that quagmire of fear. I’m no good to anyone in that place, least of all myself.

  I tap the note still in Andy’s hand, forcing my voice to sound calm. “So where do we begin?”

  “The first line,” he says with a sigh. “What the hell is a do-si-do?”

  At that, I manage a genuine laugh, because Andy really is a computer geek if he’s never heard of a do-si-do. “It’s a square-dance move,” I say. I look at Blake for confirmation, because I’ve never square-danced in my life. “Isn’t it?”

  “Pretty sure it’s the part where you circle your partner,” he says. “But square dancing isn’t exactly all the rage in L.A., so what are we supposed to do with that information?”

  “It will key in somehow,” Andy says. “That’s the way these clues always work.”

  There’s a tap at the door, and both men move closer to me, their stances protective. “Guys,” I say, “I don’t think the killer is going to knock first.”

  Just in case I’m wrong, though, I call out before opening. It’s the bellman, who has a new laptop for us, courtesy of the hotel and a local computer store. Our phones and clothes should arrive within the hour. I tip the guy a huge amount, give him the old laptop to pass off to housekeeping, then hand the new computer to our resident computer geek. He immediately gets it up and running, and we spend the next few minutes searching for information on movies and horses, ultimately learning that there were a lot of movies about horses made in Los Angeles. Some took place by the ocean (but not many) and some of the stars (in this case, many) lived near the beach.

  Too bad we haven’t the faintest idea what to do with that information.

  “Maybe we’re coming at this the wrong way,” Andy suggests. “After all, Devi could just as easily be getting L.A.-themed clues as movie-themed.”

  “That’s true,” Blake says.

  “But where does that get us?” I ask.

  “Lets think about where in the area we’d find horses by the beach,” Blake says.

  “Malibu,” I say right away. “And Santa Barbara. Didn’t Kevin Costner buy an equestrian ranch up there?”

  “Santa Barbara’s probably too far away,” Blake says. “Unless you have a connection to it? Ever live there? Own a house? Shoot a movie?”

  “None of the above,” I say, and we cross Kevin’s ranch off our list of possibilities.

  “There must be some horses in Malibu,” I say, and Andy types Malibu Horse Rentals into Google and ends up with a gazillion sites, none of which are screaming Pick me! Pick me!

  “What about the do-si-do thing?” Blake asks.

  “What about it?” I ask, too sharply, but I’m feeling surly.

  He holds up his hands in a classic self-defense maneuver, and I immediately feel contrite. He’s the one at immediate risk here. Well, I am, too, but at least I don’t have some poison in my blood.

  “How do horses and square dances mix?” Blake asks, apparently forgiving my bitchiness.

  “Hay rides, barn dances. Horses would be all over that kind of thing,” I say.

  “Any barn-type dance halls around here?” Andy asks.

  “Umm.” Honestly, I have no clue. I nod at the computer. “Give it a shot.”

  Blake starts pacing as Andy tries this new search. “If we could just latch on to one part o
f the clue—”

  “Horses,” I say, hoping to spark a flash of insight. “Near the ocean. And they’re old horses.”

  “But still around,” Blake says, pointing a finger at me.

  “Right…” I hold my breath. I know that look in his eye.

  “Okay, this is a long shot, but what about the Santa Monica Pier?”

  Andy’s head pops up. “How do you get that?”

  “The carousel,” Blake explains. “Old horses. From a past age.”

  “Hmm.” Andy frowns, clearly considering. “I think you may be on to something.”

  “What about the square dancing?” I ask. “I’ve been to the pier hundreds of times, and trust me when I say that square dancing would not fit in.”

  “Not square dancing,” Andy says. “Do-si-do.”

  He stands up. I guess we’re ready.

  I don’t move. “Explain, please.”

  “That’s the circle-your-partner part, remember? That’s what he said,” he adds, pointing to Blake.

  “Damn, Andy,” Blake says. “Good call.”

  “Hang on, boys. I haven’t jumped on the do-si-do bandwagon yet.”

  “The carousel moves in a circle,” Andy explains.

  “Oh, man.” I reach down and grab my Prada bag, then tuck the computer and phone inside. “Let’s book.”

  Chapter 39

  The Santa Monica Pier is a bustling, loud, boisterous, touristy hangout.

  And I love it.

  It’s like stepping into a carnival atmosphere, with street vendors lining one side of the wide wooden pier, and an actual amusement park on the other side, complete with roller coaster and Ferris wheel.

  Blake and I had come here on our very first date, and I’d dragged him around to look at all the things I’d loved so much as a kid.

  Today, we’d come under much less auspicious circumstances.

  We’d left the Chateau via the concierge desk, and were lucky enough to arrive just as our phones and clothes did. We used the lobby restrooms to change, then raced to get the car and head toward the beach.