Popped
Page 7
“Actually, I was wondering if you could give me the name of the woman who didn’t win the money. I need to contact her.”
“Lady, we threw her out. We don’t need customers like her. And we don’t give out our guests’ names. Besides, why would you want to contact her? She’s crazy.”
“I do makeovers. I felt sorry for her and wanted to offer my help.”
“Well, I will admit she was a good candidate for a makeover, but I can assure you that our manager escorted her out and made sure she never darkens our door again. You know, you ought to do makeovers on the contestants. Just between us, the woman who won the money could use some help. Her haircut reminds me of Buster Brown. She has no style at all.”
“You’re right. What a great idea!” Honey breathed.
“Just a thought. After all, the couple who wins will renew their vows in a hot air balloon. They should look their best, shouldn’t they?”
“They most certainly should! And I’m the person who can make that happen! Could you ring Danny Madley’s room for me?”
“You know Danny?” The woman didn’t wait for an answer. She connected Honey to his suite.
Honey’s heart practically stopped as the phone began to ring. The adrenaline flowing through her body could have powered the dancing fountains at the Bellagio.
“Hello.” Danny sounded rushed.
“Danny, this is Honey,” she began in her most cheerful and confident tone.
“Honey, I’m really busy now. I can’t talk. Maybe another time.”
Honey’s lip started to tremble as the dial tone buzzed in her ear. She sat frozen for several seconds, listening to an irritating recording play, “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and dial again. If you need help, hang up and dial your operator. If you’d like to make a call…”
Honey pressed the off button and slammed the phone down on her coffee table dejectedly. I can’t sit here, she thought. I’ll go crazy staring at these four walls tonight. I’m going out on the town. She picked up the phone and called her best friend, Lucille, a dealer in one of the casinos who luckily had the same nights off as Honey.
“Lucille, we’re going out!”
“Where are we going?” Lucille always got to the point. She was the original no-nonsense kind of girl. At the casino she swept up the losers’ chips faster than any dealer in Vegas.
“Out on the town. I got some things to do.”
Lucille laughed. “Like hunting down Danny?”
“Lucille!” Honey protested.
“That means yes. I’ll pick you up in my car. Danny won’t recognize it, and you can duck under the seat if the need arises.”
“I’ll be ready in five minutes,” Honey announced. After the day she had, there was not much more grooming her body could take.
“That’s nice,” Lucille replied. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
Honey hung up the phone feeling a little bit better. I’m going to get him back, she thought. He knows we were meant for each other. No matter what that rotten mother of his said about me.
21
“M y, my, my.” Madeline pulled a handful of letters from the sack. “I don’t know where to begin.”
In the front seat Shep shook his head and unconsciously pushed his foot farther down on the gas. “This is not a good idea,” he warned. “Why don’t you just call one of your girlfriends if you want gossip?”
Mad ignored him. “Look at these return addresses. All from Arizona and Nevada. There must be someone we know who’s written to Agony. Maddy placed the letters on the seat next to her and was about to reach back into the sack when she had an idea. She grabbed the sack and turned it upside down. The letters scattered over the floor of the car. “Now I can see them all.”
Maddy shuffled the letters around trying to decide which one to open first. She finally spotted an intriguing return address on a business-sized envelope—Brenda Nickles, Attorney at Law. Mad grabbed the plain white envelope and opened the thermos bottle. She ran the letter back and forth over the tiny trickle of steam. The seal on the envelope started to give way. Gingerly, Mad gave it a little extra prodding with her index finger.
“There we go,” she said, curling her tongue as she concentrated on her task. Ever so gently she tugged on the soggy envelope until it was completely open. “Not a rip or tear,” she declared triumphantly. She pulled out the letter and started to unfold it.
“Oh, my God!” Shep cried. “Where did he come from?”
A state trooper was right behind them, lights flashing.
Maddy glanced around in a panic. “Shep, what did you do?”
“I wouldn’t worry about what I did. You’re the one reading someone else’s mail,” he growled as he steered the car to the side of the road.
Frantically, Maddy stuffed the lawyer’s letter into a pouch in the backseat. Then she grabbed a fistful of the rest of the mail and jammed it back into the sack. Then another. Then another. She turned and saw the state trooper walking toward their car. “I feel like a criminal,” she whimpered to Shep.
“You are. Now just sit still.”
The trooper spotted Maddy in the backseat and approached the passenger side of the car with caution. Shep had rolled down the window.
“You’re in a little bit of a hurry,” the trooper observed.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize I was going over the limit.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Las Vegas.”
“License, registration, and insurance papers, please.”
Shep reached into the glove compartment and procured the necessary documents. The trooper looked at Mad quizzically.
“I get carsick riding in the front,” she offered quickly. “I always ride in the back. Always, always, always. It’s so much more comfortable. I can stretch out if I want.”
The trooper looked from Maddy to the pair of ladies’ shoes on the floor of the front seat. “Those your shoes up front?”
Maddy blinked. “Yes, officer. Those are my shoes up front. You see, what happened was, I thought I’d keep my husband company. But then, you know, my tummy started to hurt, so I—”
“I’ll be right back,” the trooper said curtly. He walked back to his car with Shep’s papers.
Maddy stuffed the few remaining envelopes on the seat back into the sack of mail.
“Do me a favor, Maddy. Keep your mouth closed,” Shep said wearily. “You’re making yourself seem suspicious.”
Maddy shifted down in her seat and tried to avoid the glances of people in the passing cars. She knew what they were thinking. It’s what she always thought when she saw someone pulled over on the side of the road by the cops. Lawbreaker! Those flashing lights were downright embarrassing.
The trooper came back and handed Shep a hefty ticket for speeding. Twelve miles over the limit. “You go to Las Vegas a lot?” he asked.
“Yes. We love Las Vegas,” Maddy answered. “Our son is producing a reality show up there.”
“Can I take a look in your trunk?”
Shep nodded, pushed the button that popped the trunk, and got out of the car.
“Be careful, honey,” Maddy cried.
The officer took a quick look at the luggage in the trunk, then walked back to Maddy’s window as Shep got back in the car. “Mind if I take a look in that sack you got there?” he asked Maddy.
“The sack?” Maddy repeated.
“That’s right, ma’am. A lot of people transport drugs on these roads. You wouldn’t have anything illegal back here now, would you?”
Maddy just about fainted. “No, sir, not at all. Just a bunch of letters we’re delivering to Aunt Agony.”
“Aunt Agony?”
“The gossip columnist.”
“Oh, yeah. My wife likes her.” He opened the door of the car. Maddy slid out of the way and pushed the sack toward him. He started poking through it, just as Maddy had done minutes before. “I hope there isn’t a letter in here from my wife,” he jok
ed.
Maddy laughed a little too hysterically. “I can check for you if you’d like.”
He stared at her. “You shouldn’t be going through this mail. What are those envelopes I see there on the seat?”
Maddy stopped laughing quickly and looked down to discover that she had ended up sitting on two letters. When she slid over, they were in plain view. “Officer, they must have slipped out of the bag somehow.”
“Hand them to me, please.”
Thank God I hadn’t steamed those, she thought. Maddy handed the officer two flowery envelopes that were probably filled with heartbreak. He examined both sides, saw that they hadn’t been disturbed in any way except for being sat on, and dropped them into the sack.
“What’s the name of your son’s reality show?” he inquired.
“Love Above Sea Level. We’re hoping it will be on the Balloon Channel this Friday night. Do you get the Balloon Channel?” Maddy asked, coquettishly smiling up at him.
“I never heard of it.” He tied the rope of the sack decisively, then double-knotted it. He gave a slight wave and walked back to his car.
Shep pulled onto the highway. “I hope you learned your lesson.”
Maddy nodded. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute. “I did, my dear. The only thing is, I have one letter in the pouch here. It looks very interesting.”
22
R egan shut the door of her room with a profound sense of relief. The quiet, empty room was a welcome change. Even the sight of all the dice designs on her bedspread didn’t bother her. She kicked off her shoes, sat down on the bed, propped up the pillows, and leaned back. I would love to close my eyes, she thought, then take a nice soothing shower and go out for a relaxing dinner.
“No dice,” Regan said aloud as she stared at the decor of her room. “So to speak.” She opened the file on Barney and Elsa Schmidt. Boy, they had some day. Barney falls and hurts his arm, then Elsa hits the jackpot. Hey, Regan thought. I fell in that same spot. Maybe I should play the slots tonight.
After looking through the files on all three couples, Regan realized she didn’t have much helpful information. All their addresses gave only the towns and P.O. boxes. No street addresses. No Social Security numbers were given. No occupations. There was lots of information about their likes and dislikes, why they wanted to be on the show, how the couples had met. Regan raised her eyebrows. These shows were primarily concerned with how the contestants come off on television. It’s about whether they work for the concept of the show. Who cares if they have violent tendencies?
She picked up her cell phone and called Jack. He answered on the first ring.
“Regan, how’s it going?”
“Only in Vegas.” She laughed. “Since I talked to you a couple of hours ago, one of the wives won over $400,000 on a slot machine and threatened to quit the show.”
“Can you blame her?”
“Well, she’s decided to stay. Why not? In a few days she might bag another million.”
“Do you want me to run some of those background checks?” he asked.
“I only have names and P.O. boxes. That’s all the information I could get so far. I’ll see what else I can find out at tonight’s cocktail party. But the fact of the matter is, Danny needs everyone to stay. Without them, he doesn’t have a show.”
“When you think of all the people who are dying to get on these reality shows…” Jack observed.
“I know. But it’s too late to replace anyone. Roscoe Parker is the one I want to find out about. He’s very eccentric. At five o’clock today he blasted a very loud whistle and threw everyone off the grounds of Hot Air Cable. He does this when both productions need every minute to prepare for Friday.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I wish I were. That was one shrill whistle. Roscoe said that no one could come back until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Oh, and as long as we’re on the subject of things that could be considered annoying, I slipped and almost fell in the studio today. In the exact same spot as the contestant who went to the emergency room. Somebody put oil on the floor. I’m sure of it.”
“Regan,” Jack said, his tone turning serious. “I don’t like the way this sounds. Be careful, would you? I’m going to call some of my contacts out there and see what I can find out about this Roscoe Parker. And I’ll try to check out the contestants. What are their names?”
Regan relayed the information to him.
“Anything else?”
“Danny thinks someone working for him may be out to sabotage his show. I’ve met a couple of his employees, but I don’t even know their last names yet.”
“Call me as soon as you know more. I want you to be safe and sound on Friday night.”
Regan smiled into the phone. “I will be.”
“Regan, I do worry about you, you know.”
“Jack, I’ll be fine,” Regan assured him, still smiling into the phone. “Danny wants me here as an extra pair of eyes and ears. I’ll be careful. I just hope that his show is a success on Friday. Then I’ll be happy.”
“What do you know about the sitcom that’s being produced?”
“Not much. I’ll see what I can find out about that as well. If anyone has a motive for trying to ruin things for Danny, it’s someone from that camp.”
“Again, just call if you have other names for me to check.”
“You’re so good to me,” Regan teased.
“I know.” Jack laughed. “There’s something about you, Miss Reilly. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t wait to see you.”
When she hung up, Regan jumped up from the bed. Talking to Jack always made her feel alive. She was invigorated and ready to face whatever the evening had to offer.
23
“H ow about adding more of a ballooning theme to the story line?” Noel suggested to Bubbles. “Roscoe is crazy about balloons.”
Bubbles and the Irish twins had a hard night ahead of them, and to complicate things, Bubbles couldn’t get her mind off Pilot Pete. She’d worked with some weird actors before, but he took the cake. Even the actor she’d rehearsed with for a class in L.A. who had wanted to hold a switchblade to Bubbles’s neck instead of a prop knife so their acting would be more “believable” didn’t seem as crazy. After one scene with that guy, Bubbles vowed to stick to comedy.
Noel, Neil, and Bubbles were sitting at a small corner table in the bar of the 7’s Heaven Hotel. Bubbles knew that 7’s was on a par with the Fuzzy Dice, which was a slight consolation. The reality show group wasn’t living in the lap of luxury, either.
“Our sitcom family already runs a ballooning company. What more do you want about ballooning?” Bubbles asked impatiently. These two were clearly no Laurel and Hardy.
“There are some funny facts we can incorporate. Neil and I went on the Internet and looked up the history of hot air ballooning.”
I’m going to kill myself, Bubbles thought.
“Human beings have dreamed of balloons since the beginning of time. But I bet you don’t know where hot air ballooning was actually invented.”
“That’s correct.”
“In a kitchen in France. In the 1780s. Two brothers who were scientists discovered that they could float paper bags of hot air over their kitchen fire. Joseph and Jacques Montgolfier decided to build a larger air bag made out of fabric and paper. Under the balloon they hung a small cage. Hot air ballooning was born,” Neil explained, smiling.
“How do you plan to incorporate that into the show?” Bubbles challenged.
It was Noel’s turn to speak. He pointed his finger at Bubbles. “I bet you don’t know who the first three passengers were on a Montgolfier balloon flight.”
“I can’t say that I do.”
Noel cleared his throat. “France, 1783. A duck, a rooster, and a sheep were sent up in a balloon because the brothers didn’t know whether a human could survive the flight.”
“It’s a good thing PETA wasn’t around then,” Bubbles observed.
“Well, cockadoodledo.”
“Exactly,” Neil cried. “Because most balloon flights take off at sunrise when the winds are calm, we were thinking we could have a resident rooster on the show. The rooster will be in the field at sunrise to greet not only the day but the hot air balloon passengers. We’ll say he’s a descendant of that very first rooster to fly in a balloon.”
Bubbles stared at them in amazement.
“We’re still trying to figure out what to do with a duck and a lamb,” Noel admitted. “But we have a unique opening for the show that we can use every week. If the show is picked, that is.”
“What is it?” Bubbles’s voice was quieter with each word.
“With most balloon landings there’s a good chance that the balloonists end up trespassing,” Neil began.
“Right.”
“Well, in eighteenth-century France the farmers were petrified by balloons descending from the sky onto their land. They’d never seen anything like it. So you know what they did?”
“No.”
“They attacked them with pitchforks!”
“They did?”
“Yes!” Noel and Neil cried in unison.
Noel picked up the story. “So the balloonists figured out that if they carried champagne on board, they could present it to the farmers when they landed.”
“Hopefully before they got poked with the pitchfork.”
“That’s right. Get the farmer drunk and happy. Seriously, that’s how the traditional champagne ceremony at the end of balloon flights started.”
“I thought it was to celebrate making it back to the ground in one piece.”
“There might be a little of that, too,” Noel agreed. “But we thought we could recreate a genuine eighteenth-century landing at the beginning, with you guys dressed in period clothing. Grandma and her beau will be the farmers, and you and James and Pilot Pete will land in the balloon. They’ll come running at you with pitchforks, and you break out the champagne. Roscoe told us to feel free to use his balloon for the show.”