“Evie, g’see you. Got black eye.” Mumbles pointed to his good eye.
Whoa! He did have a black eye. “How did you do that?” I asked.
“Oh, he fell off the stool last night. We missed you,” Candace said.
“Someone really needs to check you two into rehab.”
“Ouch. That hurts.” Candace waved a hand in front of her face. “But know what, honey? You may be right, but what’s the good in it? I ain’t got no one in the world.”
“Uh-huh. You do, you just like to be the victim.”
“Damn girl. Don’t talk to Auntie Candace that way. Be nice and pour me another ’Special.’” She lowered her voice suddenly, “You know what, Sweet Pea? That boy over in the corner has it bad for you.”
“He’s weird,” Mumbles mumbled. “Questions. Movie. Dunnno know ‘bout him.”
“Huh?” I said.
“He’s not weird,” Candace slurred. “He’s an artist. A movie maker. I think Nick is being an idiot for not helping him out.”
“Creeps,” Mumbles mumbled.
I was definitely getting interested in this conversation.
“Slow down you two. First you.” I pointed at Candace while I stepped behind the bar and made her drink. ”You think he likes me?” I nodded my head toward Jackson.
“Oh yeah. He has the hots, girlfriend.”
“Creep,” Mumbles said a bit more clearly than usual.
I leaned in closer to him. “Why do you say that, Mumbles?”
“Dunno. Feeling. Looks at you. Don’t like it.”
“Oh Mumbles, you’re a softy.”
“You’s a kid. He’s…creeps.”
“Evie, honey, don’t listen to him. He’s an old drunk,” Candace said.
“What are you?” Becky butted in from her seat a few stools down the bar.
“You know what, bimbo? I’ve had about enough of you. In fact, I had enough of you twenty-five goddamned years ago.”
Whoa! I so did not expect that. Oh boy, this was getting good.
“I can say the same thing about you, you lush. And it’s been almost thirty years!”
“Girls, girls, girls!” Nick rushed out from the kitchen, his arms spread wide. “Can we please leave all of that in the past? Please? Let’s let things lie.”
“Lie as in dead?” Candace said. “Like Roger?”
Becky rolled her eyes and looked away, sullenly sipping on her wine.
Nick leaned in close to Candace but I could still make out what he said. “I warned you, Candy. I have told you time and again to let that shit go. It’s done and buried. I don’t need any problems. You and I are friends again. All cool, right?” He glanced quickly over at Jackson’s booth. Jackson had his dark eyes trained on the entire scene. He looked the way a dog does when it’s got an injured squirrel in its sights. For a split second, I understood Mumbles’ comments about Jackson, and a shiver spun its way down my spine. Sure, I thought him hot and cold but not really creepy, until that moment.
Candace sat back and crossed her arms. She eyed Nick for a long second and to me, it looked like a warning. I might just be a small town girl from Brady, Texas but even I could tell things were heating up good, as my mama would say. And that’s when a really big dude walked in. He looked like someone from the Sopranos, like Tony himself.
And when Nick spotted him, he recoiled.
Soprano didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Hey, you skinny, stupid fuck! We need to talk,” he was pointing a thick, meaty finger at poor Nick.
“Whoa…” I stepped out from behind the bar. I know I probably should have stayed put but no one has to take that sort of rude behavior where I come from. “You can’t come in here screaming at people like that. You need to leave.”
The big guy eyed me and started laughing. “She your bouncer, Nick? You’re cute, sweetie. Stick around for a little while and maybe we can have a drink after I’m done chatting with your boss here. Pietro SanGiacomo.” He reached out to shake my hand. I quickly shoved my hands in my back pockets and kept them there.
I was about to fire out a not-very-cute response when Nick stepped up next to me and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, which happened to be bare as I was wearing a sleeveless blouse—I also have to be conscious about people touching me and usually wear clothing that can be a barrier, but the summer heat had kicked in and LA was having all time high temps. It was at that second I got a brief insight into Nick. I had never touched him. I didn’t understand what I saw at all. A pool with a dead body, which looked to be that of a man and then Nick sobbing.
“Evie, it’s okay.” Nick turned back to Mafia Man. His hand off of my shoulder. “Pietro, why don’t we go in the kitchen and work this out.”
“Yeah. Why don’t we?”
We all turned to watch them go back into the kitchen. I did not like this one bit. I was debating on whether or not I should follow Nick when Becky reached out to grab my arm. I quickly pulled it away before she could make contact, and she looked at me with a bit of surprise. I mustered a weak smile. I was done seeing things that hurt and especially things that were unclear. I was not ready to see Becky’s demons if she had them, and I was pretty sure she did. “It’s going to be fine, Evie. Nick has this problem with gambling. He gets in a little deep with the wrong people. If he needs it, I’ll loan him the money.” She took a last sip of her wine and sauntered into the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Becky, Pietro the Goon, and Nick came back out. Pietro left, Becky went back to her wine, Nick started cleaning glasses behind the bar, and Jackson sat in his corner looking creepy and intense. Mumbles, Candace, and I were totally confused.
After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Nick put down his towel and gave me a piercing look. “Don’t worry about all this, Evie. I do want you to be more careful, though. L.A. can be rough and known to eat little girls like you for breakfast.” For a minute I thought he was going to head back into the kitchen, but he suddenly seemed full of energy. “Hey, by the way, remember that dude I was telling you about, the music mogul producer guy?”
I nodded. “The one who was supposed to come and hear me three weeks ago, then two weeks ago, and then last week?” I loved Nick and I knew he wanted the best for me, but this music producer thing was starting to wear thin.
“Now, Evie. Come on, you know these guys are busy. But he’s for sure coming tonight. No doubt.” He pulled his iPhone out of his front pocket and waved it at me. “Look, his text is right here. He’s confirmed. Now maybe you can dump that pain in the ass, Slutone you work for.”
“Her name’s Simone.”
“Whatever,” he replied. “She’s not good for you, kid, and she’s not good people. Trust me.”
I shrugged. “I can handle her, besides the job is easy…”
“Oh really? Being at someone’s beck and call at all hours just so she can get some powder and lipstick slapped on her face? That chick has you right here.” He held up his pinky and tapped it.
“Look. I know she’s different.” He eyed me. I held up my hand. “But the pay is great, and I have a place to live because of her, someplace I can keep my dog, too.” Cass looked up from where she’d flopped herself down.
“Whatever.” He fanned his hand over the meat on the grill. “Once this dude hears you sing, you can tell Slutone to go to hell.”
“Nick,” I warned.
“I’m sorry. I don’t like the way she treats you. Anyway, enough about her. Get your guitar ready and set up the mic. Prepare to become a superstar!”
Cass lifted her head up and gave sharp bark.
“Even she knows it,” Nick said, pointing to my dog.
“Okay, okay, already. I’ll be right back. Guitar is in the van.” I headed out the back entrance to the VW. As I slid open the doors to grab my guitar, my cell rang. I looked at the number. Crap. It was Simone. I muted it and took out the guitar. The phone rang again. Simone again. I gritted my teeth. Why did my dad have to be a Baptist minister? Guilt w
ashed over me as I stood looking at the number, ignoring it. Damn. Damn. Damn! What if something was really wrong?
Ugh. I flipped open the phone. “Hello?” I said meekly.
“Edie…” she still didn’t always get my name right. “I need you to come now. I think I’ve taken too many Sudafeds. The lights are so bright and blurring and, oh my God! I’m dying. I know I’m dying.”
“Okay. Um, well where’s Brenda?”
“That stupid bitch went to a party without me. I don’t think I can forgive you for glamming her up. She thinks she’s fucking Katy Perry now.”
“Right.”
“So I need you now!”
“Here’s the thing…I’m over at Nick’s.”
“That dive? Seriously, I don’t get your love of that place. At all.”
“I know, but Nick has this friend who is a record producer and he’s coming to hear me sing tonight,” I was trying hard to sound hopeful and not pathetic.
“Oh God, you’re kidding, right? You’re so fucking pathetic. Please. That guy doesn’t know anyone worth anything. Look you want an audition? I’ll get you one over at Sony.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Sure. Now get your fucking ass over here before I die!”
I looked back at Nick’s place and then down at Cass who stood there staring at me, and I swear if she were human, she’d have been shaking her head at me. “I know. I know,” I said, gritting my teeth. Simone was right, I was pathetic.
I walked back into the front entrance, not wanting to face Nick in the kitchen. I caught Jackson staring at me and managed a smile. He waved but I didn’t return it. Ever since Mumbles’ comments earlier, I’d been feeling a bit uncomfortable about the guy.
I walked quickly over to Candace and turned her around on the bar stool.
“Oh no, no more lectures, little missy. I ain’t going to rehab. I don’t have no one to love me and I can’t afford Betty Ford. And after that little show here tonight, I ain’t going nowhere. Even with her here.” She pointed at Becky and glanced at Mumbles who sort of nodded. “Place is entertaining!”
Mumbles mumbled, “I got a black eye.”
“Plus, I was sober once and it sucked,” Candace interjected.
“Right. I don’t want to lecture you,” I replied. “Just tell Nick I had to go. It’s an emergency and I’ll try and be back as soon as I can.”
“Emergcy?” Mumbles looked at me. “You got black eye?” he mumbled.
“Gotta go.”
“Wait hon,” Becky said, trying to stop me. “Where are you going?”
“I just have to be somewhere.”
Yes, I know—it was a crappy thing to do. I really believed Nick this time about the music guy, but I’d also been here long enough to realize Nick’s music mogul may have been past his prime, and frankly, I couldn’t take the chance of losing my job with Simone. Plus, she promised me an audition with Sony!
I ran out the door and got behind the wheel with Cass staring at me as if I was the devil incarnate. I felt her eyes on me and was afraid to look over at her. She can chastise like nobody’s business. Only my father does a better job. We sped up La Cienega, across and over to Wilshire. Hopefully I could save Simone from her Sudafed overdose and become the next pop sensation.
CHAPTER SEVEN
So my rush to save Simone’s life turned out to be a bust, except that I am now the new owner of a cat. I know, I know. Cass was so not happy.
It went like this: I high-tailed it to the diva’s house only to find her in her movie room watching one of the Ocean’s Eleven movies. “Hi,” I said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. There were eight rows of plush movie theater-type seats in the screening room. She was in the middle seat of the middle row.
“Shhh! It’s getting to the good part. Come watch it with me.” She patted the seat next to hers.
“I’ve got Cass in the car, and you seem better.”
“No.” Simone shook her head vehemently. “I am not better, Edie. I’m sick and I need you. Your dog is cool. I’d say bring her in, but I think I’m allergic to animals. I think that’s my problem. Actually, you’re gonna have to take my cat.”
“What?” This was getting ridiculous. I sat down next to her.
“Yeah. You got to get my fucking cat out of here.” She turned and stared back up at the screen. “Hey, who do you think is hotter? Clooney or Pitt? Damon has that weird lip thing, so he’s out. I don’t even know why I’m asking. They’re like, way too fucking old, but I kind of like old guys. Oh, see what that Sudafed has done to me? I’m losing it. So, what do you think?”
“About what?” I was still mulling over the cat comment.
“The guys! God, are you high or something?”
“No. I’m just confused. I don’t know who’s better looking. What did you say about your cat?” I asked.
“Are you gay? How can you not know those guys are fucking hot? Even if they’re old.” She pointed to the screen. “I’ve seen this movie twenty-seven times. Ooh boy, Sudafed high. Seriously kind of weird and kind of good. Hey Edie, I know a chick you might like, since you’re gay.” She kept her blue eyes trained on the screen. “She’s da’ bomb, too. Like she’s this gourmet chef who owns like six of my favorite restaurants. How cool would that be?”
“I’m not gay!” I shouted.
She flicked a hurt glance my way, “Hell, you don’t have to bite my head off. What, are you prejudiced?”
“No! I’m not prejudiced. I just—big sigh, “Can you tell me what you meant about your cat?”
“Fine, but pick a dude first. Who you doing? I mean if you had a choice? I’m going Clooney cause I think Angelina could kick my ass and who needs that. Then, like all twenty-five bazillion of their fucking kids would jump me, and they’d be haters, and, oh, whatever…” She tossed up her hands.
“Right. I actually think Matt Damon is good looking.”
She stopped staring at the screen to narrow her eyes at me. “You’re a strange chick.”
“Um, can you please explain your situation with your cat, because I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”
Simone rolled her eyes. “It’s not complicated. No wonder you’re a make-up chick.” She shook her head.
Okay, right about there I had a very clear vision of my fist punching into her cosmetically-enhanced nose. I even had a fleeting thought of quitting, but then the reality of what I now had and where I’d come from hit and I shut my mouth.
“The cat. His name is McConaughey. Get it, after Matthew who I had a little fun with one night, but then he had to shack up in that trailer and have babies with that Brazilian chick... Anyway, I’m totally allergic to McConaughey, and he has to get the fuck out of here.” She wiggled her fingers.
“And you want me to take him?”
She pointed at me and winked. “Bingo. You’re catching on.”
“What do you want me to do with him?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Take him to the pound.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Okay, where is he? I really do need to get home. If I have to be back here by seven, I should get some rest and so should you.”
“Look at you, mommy. Stay the night here. I got room. Obviously.”
“No. I can’t. I can’t leave Cass in the van and I, uh, I always water the lawn at night to be, you know environmentally conservative.” I so did not want to be stuck overnight at Simone’s place.
She gave me an odd look. “Whatever. Just hope I don’t fucking kick the bucket tonight.”
I shook my head. “I think you’re okay. Drink lots of water and go to bed,” I said, and then muttered under my breath, “and maybe you should wash your mouth out while you’re at it.”
“Oh sure, then I’ll be pissing all night long. Wouldn’t that be great? Hmmm. The cat. He’s around here somewhere. He’s an orange tabby with a weight problem.”
“Would you, by chance, have a cat carrier?” I asked.
“Where the fuck d
o you think you are? Petsmart?”
“I’ll figure it out,” I said.
“See you in the a.m.”
I found McConaughey on the kitchen counter eating what looked to be the remnants of that evening’s dinner—some kind of fish. Lucky cat. And Simone had not been kidding about the weight problem. He was at least twenty-five pounds. His name should have been Garfield. I eyed the plate of leftovers McConaughey was currently chowing down on…it was pretty clear how he got so fat. Simone’s cleaning service went home daily and she had drop off delivery for her meals, which meant the leftovers sat out for the following morning’s cleaning service to clean up. If there were any left.
I sighed. “Okay, kitty. Looks like it’s you and me and my dog.” The cat eyed me suspiciously as he continued to lick the plate clean. “And I’m sorry buddy but as of this moment, you are on a diet.” I already knew there was no way I could take the cat to the pound. In my family, the animals were part of the family, too. I was banking on Cass being cool with her new feline friend considering my mother had two cats back home.
What I didn’t expect was Mac (I had to shorten the name. There was no way I could visualize Matthew McConaughey when I called the fat cat) might have an issue with Cass.
The car drive home was interesting. Mac hissed and howled at Cass who sat in the front seat, her chastising eyes boring into the side of my head.
I decided it best to drop Mac at the house and lock him in the laundry room while Cass and I went to the store to pick up necessary cat items—a litter box for starters and some diet food.
Finally, way past our bedtimes, Cass and I walked through the front door of the mansion. She froze. Her ears pricked forward and the scruff of her neck stood on end. “What is it, girl?” I whispered, noting there was something strange in the air. I’d had that feeling before but this time, it was front and center. The air felt dense, heavy. Really heavy. Almost like water. And again—that damn smell of pot in the air! I took another step inside the house. Cass let out a low growl. My fingers grew cold and a shiver went straight down my back. Suddenly, I felt a breeze pass through me, not over me, but through me. I shivered again. And then Cass dropped her guard and began sniffing me, the surrounding foyer, and family room beyond.
A Perfectly Purloined Pinot (Nikki Sands' Mysteries) Page 8
