by Amy Harmon
“I’ve never understood how photosynthesis works,” Slade said. “Could you explain it?”
No, not really. She glanced over at the dashboard and faked a gasp. Slade looked first at her and then at the dashboard. “What?”
She let out an exaggerated sigh. “For a moment I thought we were out of petrol. And wouldn’t it be horrible to be stuck out here without even so much as a torch? Or what if we had some other car trouble? I mean, can you see us crawling around the boot or the bobbie dressed like this?”
“The bobbie?” he asked.
“Bonnet,” she said. “I meant bonnet.”
He nodded. “Oh, right. Bonnet means hood in England, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s what I meant.” She cleared her throat again. “A bobbie is a policeman. And I can tell you, there’s never a bobbie around when you need one, so it’s a good thing we have enough petrol.”
“You were telling me about photosynthesis,” he said.
“Oh, you don’t want me to talk about my work.” She turned slightly toward him. “Why don’t you tell me about your job? How have things been in Hawaii?”
He shook his head. “I pitched a script, and the producer rejected it.”
“I’m sorry.” And then because he didn’t say anything else she added, “What will you do with it now?”
“I don’t know. I’ve gone through about every producer I can think of.” He took his gaze from the road long enough to look at her. “What do you think I ought to do with it?”
“Could you produce it yourself?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Movies cost a lot of money, though. It would be the equivalent of putting all my eggs in one basket. If the film bombed I’d be—”
“Chickenless?”
“Exactly. And I’d have to find the right actors and actresses.” He glanced over at her again. “Perhaps that wouldn’t be so hard though. These days it seems everyone is trying their hand at acting.”
She smiled back at him weakly, feeling more trapped by the second.
“Besides,” he went on. “I don’t know that I have the stamina to do the whole movie. I’m not sure it’s worth it to try.”
“If you believe in something, then it’s always worth it to try, even if you fail.”
He shrugged. “You may be right. But it would take a lot of my time, and I don’t have the best luck balancing work and my daughter.”
Just the segue she needed. “Don’t you have someone to help you?” she asked.
“I have a nanny.”
“Is she a good nanny?” Clarissa asked. “I mean, do you like her?”
Slade smiled. “She’s a good nanny. Although…”
“Although what?”
“Although sometimes she does things that make me wonder what in the world she’s thinking.”
Clarissa ran her hand along the door handle absentmindedly. “That doesn’t sound like you get along well.”
“Sometimes we get along very well.”
“Oh.” She tried to analyze what this meant, but couldn’t quite grasp its meaning. “So you consider her a friend?”
“Yes, except that friends listen to you more. Sometimes Clarissa refuses to listen to me.”
The friendship part was good to hear. She didn’t listen to the rest of his comment. She just ruminated about friendship and wondered if he meant “friends” as in the same way he felt about Meredith or “friends” as in there could be more to it. Before she could devise a question that would help her find out, the resort came into view.
Slade pointed it out. “There’s the Mahalo Regency. Isn’t it beautiful? You drive up to it and get the feeling you’ve been here before.”
Clarissa shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Um, yes, you do.” He knows, she thought. Somehow he knows, and any moment now, he’s going to reach over and unmask me.
Slade pulled into the parking lot. “I need to talk to you about something before we go inside.”
“Oh?” She braced herself for the accusation.
“You see, while I was avoiding a certain woman, I gave some people the impression that you were my girlfriend. If it isn’t too much to ask, could you play along for tonight?”
“Sure,” Clarissa said. “I mean, if it will help you out.”
He slowed the car down as they drove up to the front of the building. “It will be our own masquerade within a masquerade,” he said and winked at her.
She smiled back at him and fiddled with her claws.
So he didn’t know.
Of course he didn’t know. How could he have known? She was just being paranoid, and if she didn’t start acting with more confidence, she’d end up giving herself away.
Slade put the car in park, and a valet came and opened the door for her. She stepped out, then waited for Slade to join her. When he did, she held out her arm for him to take. Instead, he put his hand around her waist and drew her close.
“Remember,” he said, “you’re my girlfriend.”
He guided her through the lobby and to the ballroom with his arm around her waist the entire time.
The room was decorated with pumpkins, fake spiderwebs, and cornstalks, but it was the people who caught her attention: Robin Hood, Rapunzel, The Grim Reaper, Marie Antoinette, and a couple of Klingon warriors all mingled in the crowd. She also noticed Zorro. He stood in a corner with one arm around a girl in a red devil’s miniskirt and the other around a buxom genie. She wore her bottle around her neck and very little else. He seemed quite engrossed with both women and not at all concerned with what Cinderella might be doing. Which is why, Clarissa supposed, he hadn’t dressed as Prince Charming.
Slade saw her staring in that direction. “You’ve noticed Zorro at work.”
“Is that who he’s supposed to be? I thought he was Don Juan.”
Slade laughed. “No, Don Juan is who he is in real life. As Zorro he gets to ride a horse—” Slade suddenly stopped himself. “I’ve forgotten—Landon is one of your favorite actors. I should introduce you.”
She wanted to talk to Landon, but not like this—not as Kim, and not with Slade beside her.
Slade took a step in Landon’s direction. Clarissa didn’t move. “That’s all right. I think I know him well enough right now.”
Slade grinned at her. “Yes, I suppose you do.”
He led her in a different direction, introducing her to the people he knew. He always kept his hand on her waist—except for the times he ran his hand slowly up her back and put it on her shoulder. It was hard to breathe during those times.
He was the model boyfriend as he made the introductions, calling her “hon” and telling people they’d met while he was researching some plants for a possible script idea. “It was love at first sight,” he told everyone. “I knew I was hooked when she spoke, and suddenly I thought mold and spores were the most interesting things in the world.” Here he always ran his hand up and down her back. “Yep, since then I’ve been likin’ lichen.”
Clarissa just smiled and said as little as possible.
They danced a few dances. Clarissa enjoyed the break, enjoyed not having to worry about what to say while the music played. And she enjoyed being so close to Slade. He smelled of some rich cologne that was probably made with large doses of testosterone.
When the two of them went to the refreshment table, Landon and Sherry sauntered up. Sherry wore a Wonder Woman costume and held a golden lasso, which she swung against her thigh absentmindedly.
Landon looked from Slade to Clarissa. “Well, look at what the cat dragged in.”
Slade rested his hand between Clarissa’s shoulders. Even through her costume she could feel the heat from his hand. It felt soothing and strong. “Landon, Sherry, this is my date, Kim Jones.”
Clarissa stuck her gloved hand out to shake Landon’s. He took her hand and kissed it instead. “You look beautiful enough to make me want to take up a life of crime.”
“You better not say that too loudly,” Clarissa told him. �
��After all, you’re standing next to Batman and Wonder Woman.”
Landon’s gaze went from her hand to her eyes, and his look held hers for a second longer than normal. Clarissa thought he suspected something, but the next moment he turned back to Slade. “Zorro can take on Batman any day. Anyone who needs a boy wonder to help him fight crime can’t be a serious superhero.”
Slade picked up a donut. “You’re just jealous because I have a cool car, and all you have is a horse.”
Sherry put her hands on her hips in Wonder Woman style. “Hey, I’m the coolest. I’ve got an invisible jet.”
“What’s cool about that?” Slade said. “It just means you can never find where you parked the thing.”
Landon elbowed her. “And the people on the ground get an interesting view as you fly overhead.”
“Watch it,” Sherry told him. “Or you’ll find yourself lassoed to the refreshment table.”
Clarissa put one claw to her lips. “I don’t have any cool gadgets or gizmos. I don’t even have a horse. How does Cat Woman ever get anything done?”
“She has magical dancing powers,” Landon said and reached out and took hold of her hand. “I’ll prove it to you.” Then he pulled her from Slade’s side and out towards the dance floor.
Slade stood, donut still in hand, shaking his head. He didn’t try to stop Landon from dancing with Clarissa. Clarissa didn’t stop him, either. Somehow, seeing Sherry right next to him, joking as though they were friends, bothered her.
A slow song was playing, and as Landon held her in position he asked her where she was from and how she knew Slade. She responded with the Kim answers she’d rattled off all night. In the back of her mind, however, she tried to formulate the right way to bring up Sherry.
So I was wondering if you’ve ever told Sherry any personal secrets that might embarrass you if they were printed in the tabloids.
This wasn’t going to be easy. Perhaps she could fake some psychic powers or something.
The song was nearing its end before she got up her courage. She leaned close to him. “This is going to sound peculiar, but I have a message to pass on to you from a friend.”
Landon’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “Really?”
“Never trust a woman who was named after an alcoholic beverage.”
He nodded with a smile. “And I thought you were Cat Woman. You’re actually the Riddler, right?”
“I’m serious.”
He glanced back to the refreshment table where Slade and Sherry were talking. “You’re wondering about Wonder Woman?”
Clarissa almost forgot her English accent and caught herself just in time. “She sold you out, Landon. She tried to tell Sylvia about your father’s drinking problems.”
Landon actually stopped dancing. He stood there, staring at Clarissa with complete seriousness. It struck her as she watched his expression that it was probably the first time she’d ever seen him not acting, not putting on a performance. “How do you know about my father?”
“I told you. I’m only delivering a message from a friend.”
Landon still stood without dancing. “Who?”
Who, yes, and then the next questions would be why and how. Maybe she should have gone with the psychic powers after all.
“Is the message from Slade?” he asked.
“No, not Slade. Don’t mention it to him.” She pulled at Landon’s hand to move him forward a bit. “People will wonder why you’re just standing here.”
Landon moved his feet and hands in a poor imitation of dancing. “What exactly did Sherry do?”
The music ended. Slade was watching them expectantly.
“I can’t tell you right now. We’ll talk later.” But only if she couldn’t find a way to avoid Landon for the rest of the night.
She took his hand and pulled him back to Slade and Sherry. Slade held two drinks, and as Clarissa walked up, he handed her one. “I think Zorro was right. You do have magical dancing powers.”
Landon didn’t say anything. He stared at Sherry.
Slade gestured at two uniformed police officers who walked through the door not far from them. “It seems like law enforcement is the costume of choice tonight,” he said. “You picked the wrong time to be a criminal.”
The officers stopped a passing Bo Peep, talked with her for a few moments, and then headed across the floor toward AJ.
“I don’t think those are costumes,” Clarissa said.
“Of course they’re costumes,” Slade answered. They all watched silently as the men reached AJ.
Decked out in cowboy boots, spurs, vest, hat, and holster, AJ turned to the officers. One of them said something to him, and AJ’s jaw dropped. The officers gestured toward the door, and AJ stormed across the room with the officers following close behind him. As he walked past Clarissa, she heard him growl out, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
AJ disappeared into the lobby, continuing his verbal assessment of the situation and using increasingly colorful adjectives. Slade took a sip of his drink. “I don’t think those were costumes.”
“What would AJ be in trouble for?” Landon asked.
So she wouldn’t have to offer an opinion, Clarissa took a drink from her glass.
Sherry stepped sideways and craned her head to get a better view out the door where AJ had gone. “It’s probably a security problem or something,”
Without moving the glass from her lips, Clarissa surveyed the room. Sylvia was here somewhere. Clarissa knew it.
Chapter Thirty-two
Clarissa looked around the room for a costume that could plausibly conceal the reporter. A witch maybe.
Sherry was still staring out the door after the policemen.
“Do you see anything?” Slade asked her.
“Just a few people waiting in the lobby,” Sherry said. “AJ went down the hallway.”
Clarissa scooted forward in order to see out the door too. Along with a few miscellaneous people, Sylvia and the other reporter, Doug Rockwell, stood in the lobby. They stared expectantly down the hallway.
So, not only had Sylvia taken the bait, she’d taken the police out fishing with her.
Clarissa glanced around the room again, wondering if S.W.A.T. team members were close by, scaling the resort walls in commando fashion. Then she took another sip of her drink.
Landon walked over to the door to better see what was happening. The rest of the group followed. For several minutes there wasn’t any activity in the lobby, unless you counted Sylvia pacing around.
Then AJ and the police officers came back down the hallway. AJ had the swagger back in his step and laughed as he walked. “Well, officers,” he said in a booming voice, “you’d be hard-pressed to shoot anyone with those guns, but if anyone else complains, direct them to me and I’ll try.”
One of the officers gave him a curt nod. “I’m sorry we bothered you, sir. Thanks for your cooperation.”
The officers turned toward the front door, one talking into his hand-held radio.
Sylvia swept over to them. “You didn’t find anything?” she asked incredulously. “Did you check all of the crates? He’s probably hiding the real ones.”
The police officer gave her a patient look. “We examined the prop weapons, ma’am. We have no reason at this point to issue a warrant.”
Sylvia took a few steps forward until she stood between the officers and the door. “That’s it? You’re going to let him get away with weapon smuggling because the rifles weren’t sitting out in the open where you could see them?”
The police officer said something back to her. His voice didn’t have nearly the volume of Sylvia’s, so Clarissa couldn’t tell what. After a moment the officers stepped around her and went out the door. Sylvia stood glaring after them with clenched fists.
AJ put his thumbs through his belt loops, stepped sidewise so his feet were slightly apart, and for a moment actually looked like a cowboy about to take down a heifer. “So that’s what yo
u’ve sunk to. Now you’re making up accusations and trying to get the police to believe them.” AJ nodded to her. “I think you’ve stepped over the bounds of reporting and into the field of harassment, Ms. Stanfield. I wonder what my lawyer will have to say about all of this.”
Without waiting for a response, AJ turned and strode back into the party.
Doug walked toward Sylvia, smiling. “And to think I was afraid I wouldn’t get a story on this trip. How does this sound…?” He held one hand up as though showing her something suspended in the air. “Celebrity Reporter Has Paranoia Attack and Calls In Police to Search Props.” He laughed, then held up the other hand. “Or how about: ‘Sylvia Stanfield Reassigned to Cover Cultural Issues in Borneo’?”
Sylvia shook a finger at him, her lips pursed into a scowl. Then she caught sight of Sherry standing in the doorway. Her finger and her scowl immediately turned to the actress. “You,” she spat out. “You set me up!”
Sherry took a startled step backward, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sylvia’s face flushed red, and her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Yes, you do, and don’t think I’ll let you get away with this.” She turned and stormed across the lobby.
As she heaved open the glass door, Doug called out to her, “What are you going to do about it, Sylvia? Call the police?”
Sherry stepped away from the doorway and back into the ballroom. She was shaking. Her face looked pale against her red lipstick. “I don’t know what she was talking about,” she said again. “I don’t know why she said those things.”
“You should sit down,” Slade said, concerned. “You look like you’re about to faint.” He took hold of Sherry’s arm and led her to a chair. She went with him without protest.
As Landon followed, Clarissa reached out and took hold of his arm for a moment. “Do you hear that sound?” she asked.
