Charming Blue

by Kristine Grayson

  And she wasn’t ready to do that. Because she might be warning off the very person they all were trying to catch.

  She frowned just a little as she turned south off Sunset onto the 405. It was still early in the day. Traffic actually moved on the 405, so it was the shortest route. In another hour, she’d have to avoid the freeways altogether.

  Blue didn’t seem to notice, and Tank had probably never understood the road system in Los Angeles in the first place. Jodi didn’t like the thought she’d had.

  What if one of her clients was the person who had cursed Blue? What if that same person had created the Fairy Tale Stalker?

  Shouldn’t she have been able to tell? She tried to avoid evil wherever possible. She thought she had weeded it out of her clients (even though she still had to contend with it on a daily basis with the studios).

  She turned off the 405 less than five minutes after getting on it. She rounded several corners, suddenly realizing what she was doing.

  Her subconscious had known what to do all along. She had always been that way, trusting her gut.

  She was taking him to Century City.

  Back when ALCOA started building Century City in the late 1950s, she had hated it. The aluminum company had purchased the old 20th Century Fox lot and had “developed” it into the skyscrapers that were now iconic in LA. But back then, she hated the destruction of history, not realizing quite yet that that’s what LA did—destroy its own history.

  Now she spent a lot of time in and among those skyscrapers, just like everyone else who worked in “the Industry,” as those inside the entertainment called it. She even had a favorite restaurant.

  Blue sat up. “Where are we going?”

  His voice sounded calm, but his lower lip trembled, as if he couldn’t control it.

  “I know a place we can talk,” she said.

  “Here?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Tank was sitting up now too. They slowed as they went into a parking structure underneath one of the high-rises. The sudden darkness made Jodi’s eyes hurt. She pulled off her sunglasses with a practiced movement and almost tossed them on the passenger seat like she usually did.

  She managed to catch herself just in time.

  “All steel,” Tank said. “I hate that.”

  “You got a better suggestion, Miss Seagull Enemy?”

  Tank glanced up, as if seagulls lurked on the ceiling of the parking structure. “Not at the moment,” she said.

  “You have an office here?” Blue asked.

  “No,” Jodi said. “Just come with me.”

  She put the top up on the car as she pulled into her favorite parking space. Then she got out. Tank flew out tentatively, as if she really did expect to be attacked by a seagull in here. After a moment, Blue got out too.

  Jodi got the papers he had worked so hard on out of the backseat, along with her briefcase, then locked the car.

  “Let’s go,” she said. She walked ahead of both of them to the elevator. As they stepped inside the lavish gold and mirror structure, she typed in a floor number.

  “I’ll meet you,” Tank said and flew to the already closed door. She put her hands on it in despair as the elevator started up. She flew around in circles, clearly upset.

  “This is just as fast,” Jodi said. She was lying, but not by much. The elevator was an express that opened onto the entrance of Echoes, one of the hottest restaurants in the business.

  As soon as the doors opened, Tank flew out so fast that Jodi had only seen a blur. If Tank had said something, Jodi hadn’t heard it because of the music. The music wasn’t blaring—it was at an afternoon level—but it wasn’t soft either.

  It was technofusion, probably composed specifically for the restaurant, and it filled the entry. The entry was black and silver, with the harsh sunlight-like lighting that Echoes used in the daytime. At twilight, the lighting grew darker, and by evening the place had more shadows than a haunted house, but right now it strove for bright and gorgeous and relevant.

  She didn’t know about the relevant or even the gorgeous, but it did manage the bright.

  “We can’t stay here,” Blue said. “We’re not dressed for it.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jodi said.

  “We can’t talk about what’s going on,” he said, sounding panicked now. “I mean, all that mayhem and everything?”

  He was already using coded language. He didn’t mean “mayhem.” He meant “murders.”

  “Where do you think people discuss their next film? I’ve heard people talking about everything from natural disasters to poisoning the water supply,” Jodi said. “Trust me. This is the perfect place.”

  Tank was no longer with them. Jodi hadn’t seen her fly off. She figured Tank would join them once they settled.

  “Seriously,” Blue said, “can’t we find somewhere else? I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Does anyone in the Industry know you?” Jodi asked without looking at him.

  “The Industry?” he asked. “You mean the movies?”

  “And network and cable and music? Do they know you?”

  He looked confused. “I-I-I hope not.”

  “Good,” she said. “Then we’ll be fine.”

  The maître d’ came over, clutching two menus and nearly bowing in his eagerness to see her. “Ms. Walters. Would you like your table?”

  She shook her head. “I need one of your private rooms, Carlos. Do you have one on such short notice?”

  The question was a formality. Echoes always kept a few rooms in reserve in case someone famous or important wanted them. Jodi wasn’t famous, but in Hollywood terms, she was important, so she got what she wanted in a place like this.

  “But of course,” he said and snapped his fingers discreetly at one of the staff behind him. That poor person—a thin man who looked scared to death—hurried ahead of them.

  “I’ll need a third setting,” Jodi said. “A friend might join us through the back entrance.”

  “Should I keep an eye out for this friend?” the maître d’ asked a bit too eagerly. He was supposed to stay calm in the face of celebrity, but usually someone who snuck in the back would be famous enough to impress the most jaded maître d’.

  “She’ll find us,” Jodi said. “No need to worry.”

  Blue was looking at Jodi as if she had grown a third head. He tugged on his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, trying to make himself seem presentable.

  Jodi wanted to reassure him, but she couldn’t. They were already threading their way through male and female diners all in Armani suits or something equally black, equally conservative, and equally expensive.

  “See,” Blue hissed at her. “I’m underdressed.”

  “Only the plebs dress up, Blue,” she said. “They’re all on expense accounts, and right now they’re all wondering who you are.”

  His cheeks grew red. People were watching him.

  “Oh, that’s not wise,” he said. “Really, that’s—”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Handsome men are a dime a dozen in this town. Strikingly handsome men are too. These folks’ll remember that you’re pretty and they’ll remember that they don’t know you, but they won’t remember your face unless it becomes famous.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said.

  Of course she was. She had been doing this kind of thing forever. They were in her world now, and she felt a lot more comfortable than she had in that rehab center.

  The maître d’ took them up a small flight of stairs to what looked like a wall of smoked glass. He grabbed a nearly hidden doorknob and pushed open a door. Then he took menus from a female member of the waitstaff who had snuck in from one side, and he cradled them to his chest as Jodi and Blue walked inside.

  The room was already set up for three. The smoked glass was a one-way mirror, with a view of the corridor and of the restaurant. On the other side was real glass that opened onto a private terrace which, Jodi knew from ex
perience, was walled off from the other private terraces connected to the other private rooms. Through the half-open door, she could see red and pink flowers, some orange that she couldn’t identify, and a lot of green.

  “We can set you up on the terrace if you like,” the maître d’ said as he pulled out her chair, “but you had said the meal was private.”

  “It is, thank you, Carlos.” Jodi sat down in the offered chair, took the menu, and nodded toward the seat next to her.

  Blue bit his lower lip, then pulled his own chair back and sat quickly, as if his entire body might decide against it. The maître d’ handed him a menu, but sideways, as if Blue’s presence offended him slightly.

  Jodi knew that Blue would sense the attitude and would attribute it to his real past, when actually, the maître d’ was ignoring him because he believed Blue to be a nobody in the entertainment world.

  “We’d like a bell, please,” Jodi said as the maître d’ set the remaining menu on the empty place. Blue’s frown got deeper. He didn’t know what she meant.

  But the maître d’ did. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small paging device. In the past, Echoes had used an actual bell, but that meant that the waitstaff had to listen to see what was happening. This worked better; she could summon a waiter when they were ready for one so that no one hovered.

  “Do you like meat?” she asked Blue.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good, then we will order now,” Jodi said. “Two prime rib sliders, one large watermelon salad, lots of bread, and ice tea.”

  “And for your third party?” the maître d’ asked as if he was used to taking orders—which he was, in this circumstance. His hand hovered over the menu on Tank’s place.

  “We’ll figure that out if she gets here,” Jodi said in her most dismissive tone.

  “Thank you,” the maître d’ said, then he picked up the menu and left, closing the interior door behind him.

  “What the hell was that?” Blue asked.

  She took a deep breath. She hadn’t realized that she had been nervous too. “You wanted discretion. This is discrete.”

  “But the people out there, they saw us,” he said.

  “And immediately dismissed you. This is the most mortal of mortal worlds,” she said. “It’s a place where if you haven’t done something last week, then you’re not important. And importance is all that matters—their kind of importance. Right now, you’re an unknown.”

  “But you aren’t,” he said.

  “I’m not known to the paparazzi, and I can guarantee there were some paparazzi ringers out there letting their employers know who was having lunch with whom in this place. They don’t care about me because I’m a talent wrangler. If I had come in with a studio head, then maybe they’d pay attention, but probably not. Because I’m a problem-solver of a kind they don’t care about. But the studios do, which means that I have a lot of clout in this town. Carlos and guys like him know that, so they stay on my good side. And part of staying on my good side is not talking about my lunch partners or the deals that I’m working on.”

  She held up the pager, and Blue followed her fingers.

  “This thing works both ways. They’ll let me know when they’re bringing food, and I’ll let them know if I need them.”

  “Wow,” he said, “I thought the rules in my father’s Kingdom were strict.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a different kind of royalty in Tinseltown, and fortunately, you’re not part of it. Which means that we won’t get interrupted at all.”

  Famous last words. Because at that moment, Tank flew in from the terrace and landed on the back of the empty chair. She had changed from her black dress into something pink and gauzy that matched her wings. It also made her less conspicuous. She could actually stand in the middle of the table, and the unobservant would think her part of the floral arrangement.

  “I love this place,” she said. “Do you mind if I sit on the table?”

  “Only if you stay inside your place setting,” Jodi said.

  “Then how’s a girl supposed to eat?” Tank asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Jodi said. “I’ve taken care of it.”

  Tank rubbed her little hands together and hopped from the back of the chair to the table. “Okay,” she said. “Where do we start?”

  “I don’t know,” Jodi said. “Maybe at the beginning?”

  Chapter 26

  Starting at the beginning put it all on him. Blue was nervous enough. He hadn’t been to a restaurant like this in years, except to cause a scene. He didn’t believe he had caused one here, or they never would have let him back in, but he wasn’t sure. He did look different when he was sober. And Jodi seemed to have a lot of pull, which surprised him.

  It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

  He wondered if she had enough pull to get him past the maître d’ if indeed he had trashed the place and didn’t remember. Probably. And he probably had done something wrong here, given the coldness the maître d’ had shown him. There was probably some kind of gossip network among maître d’s at places like this, spreading the word about people who were trouble.

  And he had been trouble.

  He adjusted the silverware, noting how heavy it was. Real silver. And he supposed the water glass was real crystal and the tablecloth real linen. He hadn’t even looked at the prices here, but he imagined they were high.

  He could afford it. He’d brought a lot of gold with him from the Kingdom, and he never spent it, not even during the worst of his drinking. But he didn’t have any money on him. He only had one credit card and he doubted a place like this would take it.

  “What do you remember about your chatelaine?” Jodi asked.

  Blue shook his head. He was nervous enough, unsettled enough, that going back to his past right now would upset him further. He needed to grab on to something, and this restaurant wasn’t it. This restaurant made him more uncomfortable than staying at the rehab center had.

  “Do you have—did you bring—do you have the papers?” he asked.

  Jodi gave him an odd look, then said, “Yes. In my briefcase.”

  She stood and picked it up, and then opened it on the unused edge of the table. Her movements were smooth and graceful. He could watch them forever.

  Then he made himself look away, caught himself at it, and sighed. His heart was pounding. He didn’t know how to be. He didn’t know who to be. He’d never experienced anything like this before.

  Tank was sitting cross-legged in front of the linen napkin. Someone had folded it in a cap-like shape, and she was leaning against it. Apparently the fabric was sturdy enough to keep her up.

  She was watching him like she had never seen him before.

  “Why don’t you want to figure this out?” she asked.

  Jodi sat down, the papers in her hand. She set them in front of him. “Leave him alone, Tank.”

  “Well, seriously,” Tank said, her little face turned toward him. The pink in her cheeks matched the pink in her dress. If her blue eyes weren’t so full of mischievous intelligence, she would look like Tink. “The only way to figure out what’s going on is to know how it started. You both know that’s how the magic works. We can’t unravel it without knowing the cause.”

  “You assume I can remember,” Blue said. His voice was shaking. He was shaking, inside and out.

  “Yeah, I am,” Tank said.

  He was starting to panic, and for the first time since he got out, he wanted a drink. Maybe he did have a problem, since he wanted a drink to quell the panic. Normal people didn’t drink for that reason. Or at least, that’s what Dr. Hargrove told him.

  Doctor Hargrove wouldn’t lie.

  Would he?

  Did they?

  “Tank,” Jodi said in that voice the brooked no disagreement. “We’re going to take our time on this. If you don’t like it, I can brief you on our conversation later.”

  Tank made a little face and crossed her arms,
as if that made a difference.

  Then Jodi smiled at him. The look made his breath catch. He wasn’t going to turn away. He wasn’t. He needed to make changes, and looking at a beautiful woman was one way to do it.

  “Blue,” Jodi said with real warmth. “Let’s just go over the work you did last night. I’m sure it’ll be useful.”

  He nodded and reached for the papers just as Jodi started to hand them to him. Their fingers brushed, and something so electric shot between them that Blue thought for an instant there should have been sparks.

  His heart was pounding, and his breath caught. Jodi looked at him in surprise. She had felt it too.

  Or maybe she had just been startled that they touched.

  Surely she had just been startled.

  There was no way a woman like her could be attracted to a broken-down ruin like him. Not unless he had turned on the charm, which he most decidedly hadn’t.

  He wasn’t sure he was ever going to try to charm a woman again.

  He held her gaze, though, then nodded just a bit, as if acknowledging her. Then he slipped the papers out of her hand.

  He was shaking violently, but he managed to control it enough so that the papers didn’t vibrate. He set them on the table quickly.

  “You kept them in order,” he said with surprise.

  She smiled. “Of course I did. You worked hard on it.”

  Somehow that sentence didn’t sound patronizing. It should have sounded patronizing. Doctor Hargrove would have made it sound patronizing.

  She made it sound like the most logical thing in the world.

  “Thank you.” Blue separated them back into their piles, and as he did, the pager buzzed.

  Tank cursed and flew upward without uncrossing her legs. “What the hell?”

  Jodi glanced at the pager. “Our drinks and some bread,” she said. She tapped it, apparently letting them know it was all right to bring everything in. “Just turn over the top pages for a moment.”

  He nodded, his heart pounding. But differently now, a fear-based pounding rather than one based on a surprise connection.