Heart to Heart

by Meline Nadeau

  Sighing, she reached down to the floor and picked up the large hand-lettered sign with Marilyn’s name on it. She held it up to her chest with one hand, face out. Adjusting the photo, she placed it next to the sign in the other hand. “I look like a limo driver for a movie star, Ross.”

  “Marilyn’s not a movie star, but close enough, I guess,” he muttered.

  “Helloooo, there!”

  Carly turned at the voice and saw a dumpy middle-aged woman trotting across the hallway. The woman waved and heaved a strap of her sequined faux-leopard bag further onto her shoulder.

  Carly nudged Ross. “Hey. Do you know this person?”

  Ross looked up and frowned. “Nope.” He went back to his typing.

  Carly peered closer. The woman had long, blonde hair … kind of strange for a soon-to-be senior citizen. Her baggy violet terry jogging suit looked as if it came straight out of a retirement village in Florida, and the gold lamé sandals screamed “Gambling Granny.” The woman waved again, and smiled. She certainly looked familiar. Carly knew that smile. Nervously, she smiled back, and tried to place her.

  “Helloooo!” the woman called again, and raised her large, black movie-star sunglasses to the top of her head. Carly’s mouth dropped open and she kicked Ross.

  “She’s here.”

  Ross looked up again. “Where?”

  Carly pasted a fake smile on her face and said between her teeth, “Just smile and wave, just smile and wave.”

  Ross scanned the crowd. “Holy … shit.”

  Jumping up, he placed the laptop on the seat next to him and began to grin and wave like a robot. He glanced quickly at the photo in Carly’s hand and then back up at the flamboyant woman barreling toward them. “Are you sure? Please tell me this is your idea of a sick joke.”

  The woman lumbered closer and struck a pose in front of them, scanning the crowd. She dropped her sunglasses back down and leaned in close. “I’m early. No one recognized me, did they?”

  “I doubt it, seeing as how we didn’t even have a clue, Grandma,” Carly thought. Grinning still, she threw the sign and photo onto a chair and stuck out a hand. “Marilyn? How nice it is to finally meet you.”

  Marilyn reached up and placed a finger over Carly’s lips. “Shhh! I never manage to get out of an airport without having to sign autographs, and believe me, today is going to be a first. I’m much too tired to deal with my fans.” She raised her sunglasses again, and looked around expectantly.

  “Something tells me you don’t mind all that much,” Ross said with a chuckle.

  “Ross.” Carly kicked him. “Marilyn, this is our director, and he seems to have a case of foot-in-mouth disease this morning.”

  Marilyn stepped back and surveyed Ross. She swept her glittering scarf over her arm and looked around. No one seemed to notice. She looked him up and down, and then thrust her gaudy bag in his arms. “You’ll do, young man.” Sniffing, she turned and started for the exit, the scarf floating behind her.

  “Way to go, you just pissed off the star of the show,” Carly gathered up the sign and photo. She nudged Ross and hurried after Marilyn.

  He grabbed his laptop with his free hand and rolled his eyes. “I know what I’m doing, Carly,” he replied, “You know me … I could charm the crown jewels out of the Tower of London. I’m just establishing my territory is all.”

  Catching up with Marilyn, Carly looked at the picture in her hand and shook her head again. How in God’s name were they going to pull this one off? Mike promised her that Marilyn could play an ingénue. But what ingénue had a body shaped like a potato and an outfit that belonged in an arthritis medication ad? She reached over and shoved the headshot back into Ross’s backpack.

  “Uh … Marilyn? Shouldn’t we be getting your luggage before we go?” Carly asked.

  Marilyn threw her head back and laughed. “Darling. That’s what boyfriends are for.” She leaned back and peeked around Carly. Waving her sparkly fingernails, she called out in a loud voice, “Nicky, darling, make sure you have everything.”

  Carly and Ross turned together and saw Nicky, whom they both instantly recognized as a tall, bronzed surfer-type model from a sports drink commercial. He ambled toward them, his arms full of luggage, turning heads like “the wave” at a baseball game. Clad in skintight red leather pants, a snug T-shirt and dark sunglasses, he oozed sex appeal.

  Ross whistled between his teeth. “Sweetie, I’m jealous.” He flashed his never-fail grin at Marilyn and wiggled his eyebrows.

  She regarded him for a moment, and then thawed. “Yeah.” Reaching up and pinching his cheek, she declared, “Honey, you should be.” With another flounce of her scarf, she walked through the automatic doors into the brilliant sunlight.

  “Marilyn Masters!” screeched a voice behind them. “OHMYGOD. It’s Marilyn Masters.” A little old lady shoved past Carly and Ross and knocked them backward into Nicky, who lost control of the massive bags. They ended up in a heap of arms, legs, and bright red leather suitcases. Ross groaned, clutching his precious laptop and Marilyn’s animal print bag to his chest.

  “Dammit,” Carly muttered. Hastily she extricated herself and yanked on a five-hundred pound garment bag. She uncovered Nicky, the Greek god, who gave her a sheepish smile.

  “Here we go again.” he said. “Gotta love her, Marilyn gets mobbed everywhere we go.”

  Ross gripped Carly’s arm. “Jesus. He’s hot, I’ll grant her that, but she dressed him to match her luggage.”

  “Shhhh,” Carly admonished him, giggling.

  By the time they had righted themselves and sorted out the bags, Marilyn was holding court outside the terminal. She stood on the sidewalk like a queen, surrounded by a gaggle of old women. “Just one more, darlings, and then I simply must fly,” she exclaimed, as she signed a wrinkled airline ticket with a flourish.

  “What on earth brings you to Albuquerque, Marilyn?” cooed one of the women, thrusting a piece of ripped notebook paper in her direction.

  “Why, I’m starring in a play, naturally, darling,” said Marilyn, “and all of you must come see it, yes?”

  “Yes,” the women chorused.

  One of them piped up. “Where is it? When can we get tickets?”

  Marilyn raised her eyebrow and glanced at Ross. “Yes, muffin, where can these fine ladies get tickets?”

  Flashing a nervous smile, Ross shifted the luggage in his arms and cleared his throat. “Uh … Ruby Spring Theater. They go on sale … day after tomorrow … aren’t you lucky?”

  “Oh, yes,” the women said in unison.

  “Remind me to remind Asher to call and get that box office phone installed today,” he whispered to Carly.

  Carly frowned. “Asher? Why is he doing it?”

  “Because daddy Daniel is a little preoccupied right now. I thought I told you … Asher is taking over producer responsibilities for the next couple of weeks.” Ross groaned and shifted the bags again. “I hope he knows which end is up.”

  Carly gave him a reassuring smile. “You worry too much, Ross. I think he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

  Ross looked her up and down and grinned. “I’ll just bet you do, hon.”

  She flushed and looked back at Marilyn. Still surrounded. “Well, that remains to be seen.” Time to change the subject. “Let’s see if we can’t pull her away without losing some precious ticket sales, huh?”

  Nicky, who stood next to them watching Marilyn with a fond smile, spoke up. “Allow me.” He winked at Carly and strutted over to the throng of white-haired women. His tanned biceps flexed as he bent to kiss the papery hand of one of the fans. “Ladies, ladies. Don’t you all look pretty today?” They looked him up and down in shock. More than one pair of eyes came to rest on the crotch of his red leather pants.

  As soon as their attention shifte
d, Marilyn made a hasty exit and stomped into the street toward the parking garage, giving the finger to a car that came screeching to a halt in front of her. Once across, she waved at them. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get the F outta here.” She reached up to her shoulder and yanked on a bra strap.

  Ross and Carly glanced at each other, grinning. “Well, what do ya think, partner?” he asked.

  Carly shrugged. “I’m not sure yet, but at least she’s a character.”

  Ross grunted under the heavy load and stepped off the sidewalk. As he began to stagger across the street, he threw back over his shoulder, “That she is. And … just think of the box office. Ka-ching!”

  Chapter Eight

  Marilyn, it turned out, was more than just a character. She was a comedienne extraordinaire. Carly wiped her eyes as they parked in the lot next to the Ruby Spring Hotel. “No more, please. I can’t take it.” she gasped and looked sideways at Marilyn.

  Marilyn pursed her lips and waggled her fingernails. “Cougar? I’m not a wild animal. That’s absurd. Think of me as a sinfully sexy Robin Hood. I rob from the cradle and give to myself.”

  Bursting into another gale of laughter, Carly pushed open the car door and jumped onto the pavement.

  “What’s so funny? What could possibly be so funny?” called a sobbing voice from the front porch.

  Carly turned and shaded her eyes. Nancy was crying again. What was wrong now? Sighing, she stomped up the steps and sat in a rocker next to the sniffling woman. Still smiling, she reached out and massaged her shoulder. “Hey, Nancy … what’s got you so worked up?”

  Nancy burst into another round of blubbering. After wiping tracks of mascara off her plump cheeks with the tape measure around her neck, she held up a folded costume in trembling hands. “This,” she wailed, “this is what’s wrong.”

  Carly frowned and took the dress, shaking it open. Immediately, she gasped and threw it to the porch. “What the hell?”

  The bodice of the dress was still beautiful, a deep pink satin, edged delicately with black lace. But the front of the skirt was another matter. It was ripped angrily in several places, and covered in smears of mud. Carly spread it out gently and sighed.

  “Oh, Nancy, what happened?”

  “That’s not all … that’s not even close,” cried Nancy, “Turn it over.”

  Ross bounded up the steps, skidding to a halt when he saw the ruined costume. “Oh, hell. Nancy, what happened?” he echoed Carly.

  “Just turn it over, Ross,” Nancy whimpered.

  Ross raised an eyebrow, bent down and flipped the dress over. The zipper was ripped out and lay ragged near the waist. All over the back, streaks of black spray paint covered the skirt. Near the hem he spied the words, scrawled in paint.

  “Bitch, go home,” he read. Sinking onto the steps, he covered his head with his hands.

  Carly sucked in a breath and glanced over the railing. Marilyn was only a few feet away. She kicked the dress into a pile. “Hey, funny lady. Do you want to see the theater, or go to your room first?”

  Marilyn hopped up the steps and peered down at the shiny pink lump. “I hope that’s not mine,” she stated, noting Nancy’s tear-stained face. “I look terrible in pastels.” Opening the screen door, she slipped inside, calling over her shoulder, “Nicky … come along now. I need my things.”

  Ross raised his head and looked at Carly. “Wheeler,” he said.

  “Wheeler,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes.

  Ross rose and gathered up the pitiful dress. “Nancy, did you see anyone down at the theater this morning?”

  “No. I was at the costume shop. Well, for about ten minutes, anyway. Until I saw … this thing spread out on one of the counters.” She gestured at the dress.

  Because there wasn’t a true costume shop, Nancy had been using the old hardware store next door to the hotel. It served well, because the large windows allowed for good light, and the many counters were useful space for cutting out garments. The only problem was security. The keys to the front and back had been lost years ago, and the old doors were too rotten to hold a padlock in place. So, Daniel had said to just let it be … who would want to bother a rickety old store, anyway?

  Carly brushed the hair out of her eyes and peered down the street. “I’ll have to replace those doors soon, and fit them with deadbolts. Authenticity be damned.”

  “Could you do me a favor and at least wait until Asher can go down there with you?” Ross asked.

  Carly opened her mouth to refuse, but saw the concern in his eyes. She turned to Nancy and saw the utter terror in hers, and relented. “Yes. Of course. It’s not like we can call the cops for protection is it?”

  • • •

  Asher paced in the hotel lobby and cursed himself. He should have left the hospital earlier and stayed with Carly. Not that Ross couldn’t protect her, but Asher had promised Daniel that he wouldn’t let sweet Carly Foster out of his sight. What if she had been the one to find the ruined dress? He brushed the thought away. There was no reason for Carly to be down at the costume shop, anyway.

  Which was why it was odd that Wheeler had vandalized a costume. What did a frilly pink dress have to do with anything? Either Wheeler was as stupid as he looked, or he was completely erratic. It was probably the latter, and that’s what scared Asher. This meant that he had to stick to Carly like glue, no matter how much she squawked about it. And she would. Now all he had to do was try to keep his hands off her. With danger lurking around them, it would be completely irresponsible to try to get her into bed. He needed to focus on keeping her safe … and catching that bastard red-handed.

  Fantasizing about smashing a fist in Wheeler’s pretty-boy face, Asher gave a grim smile. He had always despised Wheeler, anyway. In high school, the idiot had broken into his locker, smearing motor oil all over the drawings he kept in a sketchbook. So what if Wheeler’s cute date to the senior fall dance had dumped him for Asher? Wheeler should have done what any other normal boy would have done, challenged him to a fight behind the locker room. Not ransacked personal property. The guy was unhinged, and Asher should have seen it coming. This was all his fault.

  He slammed a fist down on the front desk and cursed again. Looking up the stairwell, he cleared his throat. “Carly? Hurry up. What are you doing up there? We’re just going down to the theater to work, for God’s sake.”

  Her door creaked open and she poked her head out, staring down at him. “What’s the big rush? It’s not like we’re headed to a fire,” Her head shot back inside and she slammed the door.

  “I hope we’re not headed to a fire,” muttered Asher.

  He walked to the window and peered into the dim, dusky light. Wheeler could be out there. Asher folded his arms and frowned. Well, so what? Ruby Spring belonged to the Day family, and had for nearly twenty years, since an old family friend “Aunt Ethel” had died and left them the property. It was his to take care of, and his to protect. Asher gripped the windowsill and cursed yet again. Behind him, Carly bounded down the stairs, rolls of drawings under her arms.

  “Ready?” she asked in a bright tone.

  Asher ignored her cheeriness. He grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned in, his stormy eyes an inch from hers. “Do not … and I mean … do not get ten feet away from me, do you hear?”

  She sucked in a breath at his closeness. It never failed to make her weak in the knees. God, even when he was angry, he made her want to kiss him. Maybe even more so. She looked up at his intense expression and caught her lower lip in her teeth. This was ridiculous. Here they were, in an anxious situation, and all she could think about was sex. Ridiculous. But her willpower was pretty much nonexistent. It was probably the stress. And she knew a good way to relieve stress.

  Smiling, she leaned up and kissed his lips. “I promise.”

  The kiss worked, because t
he cloud of anger lifted from his face. He grinned and placed a finger over her lips. “And none of that, which is unfortunate.” He sighed and caught her hand. “C’mon, it’s time to work.”

  Walking hand in hand with Asher down the dusty, darkening street, Carly’s heart soared, despite the awfulness of the costume situation earlier that day. She knew he wanted her. She was sure of it. What was wrong with flirting with a handsome man? As long as it didn’t go too far … and she kept her heart out of it, it was nice to feel attractive. Shifting the rolls of drawing under her arm, she smiled. Asher Day had to loosen up. Wasn’t that what he had told her not two days ago? Well, it was good advice.

  Once at the theater, Asher adjusted the grasp on her hand and switched on the lights. They walked down the center aisle, gazing at the ceiling. “We certainly have a lot of labor ahead of us. Talk about a blank slate,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Carly said with a sigh. “But I don’t want you to get worn out. Ross told me today that you’re taking over producer duties for Daniel for a while.”

  “It’s no big thing. Besides, I have to keep tabs on you. The fact that I am a world-famous painter is just a bonus.” He winked at Carly and began to set up a tall ladder.

  She cocked her head in curiosity. “Really?”

  “Really, what?” he answered.

  “Are you really a world-famous painter?”

  He laughed uneasily and took a roll of drawings from her. “Be serious. I’m just trying out … being dramatic. We are in a theater, right?”

  Carly stepped back and folded her arms. “Somehow I think you’re not exaggerating about your fame, but I’ll leave you alone about it.” She put another roll on the stage manager’s desk and spread it out.

  “Thanks,” Asher replied in a wry tone as he climbed the ladder with a charcoal pencil. He seriously doubted if she could leave him alone about it for any length of time. It was better to throw her a bone. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his damned career.