The Prada Paradox

by Julie Kenner

  She made an unhappy noise, but didn’t smack him again. “Fine. Let’s just find a computer.”

  “The Apple Store,” Blake said. “There’s one just down the street. And it’s closer than the car.”

  Since that seemed their best option, they headed out of the bookstore and trotted the short distance to the computer store. Dozens of people milled around, buying computers, iPods, and all sorts of gizmos. The sales clerks were so busy they barely took notice, at least not until Blake elbowed a teenager out of the way so that he could get to one of the demo laptops.

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry. Emergency.”

  “Jerk,” the kid sneered, then skulked away. Blake felt a tinge of guilt and then shoved it away. The kid could shop for the rest of his life. At the moment, though, the rest of Blake’s life might consist of only a few hours. Desperate times and desperate measures.

  “Okay,” he said, sliding the CD into the drive. “Here we go.”

  Nothing happened, so Devi scooted over, then moused down until she found a directory. “Just click on Finder,” she said, “and…there.”

  Sure enough, the little box showed two files. She clicked on the first one, and a new program immediately opened. After a few seconds of whirring, the screen went black.

  “What happened?” Blake asked.

  “I don’t know,” Devi said, staring at the machine in astonishment.

  “Andy?”

  But Andy just shook his head and held up a finger. “Just wait.”

  “To hell with that.” Blake was just about to turn and get someone from the staff to help them when the screen filled up with a man’s face. Then the face faded, replaced by a woman. And again and again. Six faces on a constant loop.

  “Who—” Andy began, but Devi cut him off, her finger tapping the screen.

  “Bud Abbott…Marlene Dietrich…Lou Costello…Mae West…W. C. Fields…Jimmy Stewart…and Bud again.” She looked up at Blake. “I don’t get it.”

  “Me either,” Blake admitted. “Maybe the other document?”

  As soon as he suggested it, she clicked over, then opened the document:

  Oh, Marnie, send me no flowers. I’d rather be rich than face a kitten with a whip. But a bullet for a badman? Ah, such bliss. As soothing as the island of the blue dolphins.

  “That’s supposed to make sense?” Blake said. Once again, he wanted to lash out and hit something. There was a poison in his veins. He didn’t have time for inscrutable puzzles.

  Then he got a look at Devi’s face, and her smile told him everything he needed to know.

  “You’ve got it,” he said.

  Her grin widened. “Not all of it,” she admitted. “But I do know where to go.”

  “Where?” Andy asked, as she pressed the button to eject the DVD.

  “Universal Studios,” she announced. Kitten with a Whip. Send Me No Flowers. I’d Rather Be Rich. Marnie. Island of the Blue Dolphins. Bullet for a Badman. They’re all Universal movies.”

  “And you just know that off the top of your head?” Blake knew she always won Scene It? and the movie editions of Trivial Pursuit. But this was especially impressive.

  “Of course she does,” Andy says, with more than a little pride in his voice. “She’s been in movies all her life.”

  “He’s right,” Devi said. “But these I know because of my grandpa. He worked for Universal for a while. He told stories. Lots of stories. And I remember all of these titles from some of the tales he used to tell.” As she spoke, she tapped the key in the upper right hand of the machine.

  “What?”

  “The disk isn’t ejecting.”

  “Maybe we should—” He cut off the thought, though, because a sales clerk was coming toward them, the teenager he’d edged out of the way right beside him. And looking more than a little pissed.

  “We know the clue,” he said. “Keep your head down so he doesn’t recognize us, and let’s go.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “What if we need the disk? Let’s just buy the computer and take it with us. You’ve got your wallet, right?”

  “Yeah,” Blake said. And since that wasn’t a bad idea, he started to pull it out. Then stopped when a police officer stepped into the store, then crossed over to a nearby salesman and started talking earnestly with him.

  “Shit. Change of plans.” He nodded toward the uniformed officer. “If he knows what happened at the pier…”

  “Right,” Devi said. “We don’t have time to deal with questions.”

  The three of them race-walked for the door, heads down, then pushed out onto the promenade without looking back.

  “I hope this is okay,” she said. “We can go to Universal, but what if we can’t figure out where to go once we get there?”

  “We will,” Blake said. Because about that, they had no choice.

  Chapter 46

  They’d lost him in the crowd, and Janus was finding it hard to keep hold of his famous patience.

  He told himself it would all work out. It had to. She was, after all, his destiny. Never mind the way she looked at Atwood. He’d be taken care of soon enough.

  She’d be punished soon enough.

  He stood in the middle of the promenade, his gaze skimming over the area, looking for any sign of the three of them.

  Nothing.

  He took a deep breath and told himself it would be fine. Soon, he’d pick up her scent again.

  And then—as if to prove that she really did belong to him and no one else—he heard the sweet, sweet words.

  “Honest to God. It was Devi Taylor and that guy who’s starring in that movie with her.”

  “Bullshit,” said yellow-haired teenager, carrying a skate board.

  “No, man. It’s solid.” That from the first speaker. A dark-haired boy with a black T-shirt.

  “You’re really not shitting me?”

  “No way. Here.” He pulled out a disk. “This was what they’d shoved in the computer I was working on. The clerk got it out after they left.”

  “He just gave it to you?”

  “I lied. Told him it was mine. He was a little po’d, but what was he gonna do? Keep it?”

  “So what’s on it?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t looked yet.”

  “Well, come on, man. Let’s go back to your place and look. Maybe it’s sex stuff like Paris Hilton or that Pamela Anderson tape.”

  “Whoa. You think?”

  “We can hope, right?”

  As the two boys walked toward the parking garage, Janus followed, fingering the gun hidden in his jacket. He wouldn’t fire it if he didn’t have to. That wouldn’t be sporting.

  But if he needed it to persuade?

  That he was prepared to do.

  Chapter 47

  Even though I grew up on movie sets, I’ve always had a special affinity for the Universal Studios theme park. That is, in fact, one of the reasons we had the cab drop us off there rather than at the black tower that makes up Universal Studios’ corporate offices. The game’s about me, we figured. And I have more knowledge of the park than the offices.

  Plus—on a more practical note—we had to assume that whoever was leaving these clues around Los Angeles would have had easier access to the park, too.

  As always, the Citywalk and the area in front of Universal is loud and vibrant, filled with the buzz of locals and tourists, not to mention the honeybees, lured there by the many tourists who’ve lugged soda-pop cans with labels promising a few dollars off the ticket price. I stand there, shifting my weight from one foot to another, as we wait in line near the giant Universal globe, a fountain with a cloud of fog emerging from below.

  The line moves at a snail’s pace, and I’m sure Janus is going to walk up behind us and blow my head off. I’m considering using my celebrity status to get us in—so much for low profile—when Andy spots the Fast Tickets line for those of us willing to pay full price with a credit card.

  We’re willing, and we’re inside
the park in no time at all. Being inside, however, doesn’t answer the question of where to go next, and we shift off to the side away from the incoming crowd as we try to figure that one out.

  “What do you think?” Blake asks, looking around the plaza area with the kitschy shops, the hacienda-style furniture, and the bronze sculptures of various folks shooting a movie.

  “Honestly,” I say, “I don’t have a clue.”

  “Is there an Abbot and Costello exhibit in the park?” Andy asks. “A tribute to Mae West or Jimmy Stewart?”

  Since I don’t know the answer to that, I can only frown and look down at the map of the park we’d been handed along with our ticket. I’m about to announce that I don’t see anything along those lines when I hear someone screech my name, and all of a sudden chaos erupts.

  For half a second, I’m terrified. And then I realize what’s going on. Fans.

  Dozens and dozens of teenage girls and boys (and a few adults, too) are standing around me, pads of paper, maps, hands, and anything else you can write on thrust at me. I’m not really sure what to do, since we need to get out of there, and I sign a few as I try to explain that we’re in a hurry and need to get a move on.

  I’m not making a dent, though, so Blake gives it a shot. That, of course, only leads to more squealing when the girls clue in to who he is. (They do shift away from me, though, giving me some breathing space. Which is good…except for the fact that it does little for my ego.)

  The problem has only been exacerbated, though, because now we’re both surrounded, and only Andy is there to break the crowd up, and although he’s trying, he doesn’t really seem to be making a dent.

  That’s when I hear someone call his name, and it sounds familiar. I cock my head, as I hear it again.

  “Andy? Andrew Garrison?”

  Lindy!?

  “Hey! I thought that was you,” she adds. “I’m Devi’s friend Lindy. We met once during rehearsals when I was visiting the set. What are you doing—”

  “Lindy!”

  She turns, her eyes wide as she sees me. Fortunately, she knows me well enough to know that I’m not interested in being mugged for autographs. And she’s also enough of a take-charge woman to do something about that.

  “Okay, folks. That’s enough for now. Ms. Taylor and Mr. Atwood have important meetings to get to. Check the schedule later to find out when they’ll be doing an appearance for more autographings.”

  I raise an eyebrow at that last bit, but it seems to work, and the crowd scatters. “What are you doing here?” she asks, as the last person disappears into one of the nearby shops. The question is asked with quick, sharp glances at both Blake and Andy. Lord only knows what she’s thinking.

  “Long story,” I say, which really doesn’t cover it, but it’s all I can say. “You?”

  “Jenna’s in town,” she says, referring to her fifteen-year-old niece. “I’m being the good aunt and taking her through the park.”

  I turn and look in the direction she’s facing, and sure enough, there’s Jenna loitering by the exit.

  “We were on our way out when I saw you. I did right rescuing you?”

  “Totally,” I say. “I was beginning to feel claustrophobic.”

  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have bothered if you were still working for Universal. But since you’re not currently on our payroll, I decided to cut you a break.” She says it with a smile, but the effect on me is hardly funny, and it’s all I can do to withhold my excitement as she begs off from spending any time with us. “I’ve promised Jenna dinner,” she says.

  “No worries,” I say, much too eagerly, practically shooing her away.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t notice my hyperness (or else figures I’m just being me). As soon as she’s gone, I pull Blake and Andy off to one side. “Employees,” I say. And then, because they’re looking so blank, I add, “All those actors were contract players for Universal at one time or another.”

  “Brilliant,” Andy says.

  “No kidding,” Blake says. “But what do we do with that tidbit?”

  “I have no idea,” I admit. “But we’ve got to be getting close.”

  A guy wearing a name tag walks by, and Blake calls him over. “Is there someplace the employees go to change clothes? Especially you guys who have to wear costumes?”

  The guy stares at Blake, and then me, and for a second I think we’re going to have another fan on our hands. Then I guess his don’t-annoy-the-celebrities training kicks in, because he nods and says, “Yes, sir,” and points vaguely into the park. “Down the Star Way,” he says, referring to the giant, multilevel escalator that leads down into the lower level of the park.

  We thank him, then head on, passing restaurants like the Frank ’N Stein and strolling characters like Groucho Marx and Doc Brown from Back to the Future. Finally we reach the Star Way, and as we begin our slow descent, a canned voice tells us about the attractions and urges us to enjoy our day. Even under the circumstances, I have to admit I feel a tingle of nostalgic excitement. The park is kitschy, but I do love it. And I dearly wish that instead of going on some life-or-death scavenger hunt, Blake and I had come here alone to ride the silly rides and then take the tram through the backlot. We’d hold hands and listen as the guide told us stories about the movies and television shows filmed on the lot, like Psycho and Back to the Future and Desperate Housewives.

  Since we’re stuck on the escalator behind a family of five, I allow myself a minute or two to feel sorry for myself. But the second we step onto the pavement of the lower level, I force myself to turn it off. I’m stuck playing this game, whether I want to or not. No sense moaning about what I can’t change.

  As soon as we reach the end of the escalator, we’re accosted by the roar of the Jurassic Park Splash Ride. We get our bearings and find an employee over by the Revenge of the Mummy Coaster. A few minutes later, we’re heading toward the Backdraft show and the employee area tucked just behind.

  We’ve obviously arrived during a shift, because the place is essentially empty. One teenage girl looks at us curiously as we enter, but doesn’t say anything, and after a minute or two, she leaves through a back exit.

  As soon as she does, I slip down the aisle, checking to see if anyone else is around. No one.

  “What now?” I ask, a little frantically since we’re so close to running out of time and I’m completely out of ideas.

  “The clue has to be somewhere permanent, right?” Blake says. “And with so many people coming and going, it can’t just be on a shelf. What if the gizmo gets lost? Or the cleaning crew sweeps it up?”

  “Makes sense,” I say.

  “And we’re pretty sure we’re dealing with employees, so I figure it must be in a locker.”

  “Brilliant,” I say, looking around us. “That has to be it.”

  “So we just need to start opening all the lockers?” Andy asks. “That’s going to take some doing. Especially since most of them look to be locked.”

  He has a point.

  “We need to figure out which locker,” Blake admits. “That part I haven’t managed yet.”

  “No worries,” I say. “We’ve come this far.”

  He is worrying, though. He has to be. Because it took us over an hour to get here from Santa Monica. Traffic in L.A. is bad at the best of times, but during rush hour it’s insane. We’d left the pier around four. It’s now already past six. If we’re remembering right, Blake ate the strawberry around eight. But we could be off half an hour—and if he ate the thing at seven-thirty, we’re really pushing it timewise. Especially since we don’t even know for certain that this is the last clue.

  “The movies,” I say. “The clue has to tie to them. The weird message listed, what, six movies? And there were six faces on the slide show.”

  “Six it is,” Blake says, already moving to that far end of the building. “Shit,” he says upon arriving. “It’s locked.”

  “Can you break in?” Andy asks.

  “I damn
well better be able to.” He gives the lock a tug, and when it doesn’t budge, he turns to the side, bends in a move I’ve seen him do during many a workout, then thrusts his leg out. He hits the locker dead center, making the metal crumple in and one of the nicely fitted corners stick out. “A lever,” he says, and Andy and I both scurry around, looking for something that will work.

  The only thing I find is a metal folding chair, but Blake puts it to good use, jamming the back into the opening and using the leverage he’s created to force the door off.

  I hold my breath…and then let it out when I see the contents: Three copies of Seventeen. Lip gloss. And some shoes that obviously don’t comply with company policy.

  “Maybe locker sixty-six?” Andy suggests.

  Blake just looks at him, then exhales. “That better be it. I’m in fighting shape, but not for taking down a metal locker.”

  We head that way, not nearly as optimistic as we were two minutes ago. This locker’s closed up tight, too, and just as Blake is about to whack it good, I have a thought. “Wait!”

  Both men turn to look at me. I look only at Blake. “Do you still have your phone?” Mine and Andy’s were destroyed in the ocean. But if Blake has his…

  He does, and he hands it to me. I immediately try to get a Web browser, and realize I can’t.

  “Hang on,” I say. I run to the door, opening it and standing half in and half out as I look at the signal bar on the phone. I shift around until, finally, a signal.

  Then I go to the Internet Movie Database. I type in Kitten with a Whip, then I’d Rather Be Rich. So far, so good. Just to make sure I’m right, I type in Marnie and Island of the Blue Dolphins.

  I don’t remember any of the other movies, but I don’t need to. I’m completely confident that the answer is the year these movies were released, and I race back inside. “Locker 1964,” I say. “Try locker 1964.”

  We’re in enough of a hurry that neither man asks me how I came by that. Instead, Blake just does his Hot Martial Arts Dude shtick again and gets the locker open.