Dog Collar Couture

by Adrienne Giordano

  Oh, that was amusing. Wasn’t this whole thing unusual?

  A middle-aged man stormed by them wearing jeans, a black T-shirt proclaiming him to be a Cock Head and a baseball cap adorned with peacock feathers. He bumped Ro as he ran past.

  Ro whipped around. “Hey, take it easy.” She fluffed her hair and turned back to Lucie. “These Cock Heads are nutballs. Which is why you need to put what that woman last night said out of your head. We’re talking about a million-dollar dress here. Not some ten-dollar stuffed peacock. Trust me, we will leave here with answers today. I love you too much to have this fail.”

  “Damn,” Joey said, “that’s hot. I get worked up when you’re like this.”

  Ohmygod. Total overshare. Lucie shoved her fingers in her ears again. “Joey!”

  Making things worse, Ro wrapped her hand around Joey’s neck, mashed herself against him and kissed him. And probably tongues were involved.

  Lucie rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Good. They hadn’t popped out.

  “Let me know when you two are done.”

  “Honey,” Ro said, “if I could help it, we’d never be done.”

  At that, Lucie laughed. Joey and Ro, they were either the worst couple ever or perfection. Time would tell.

  “Now,” Ro said, “before I do your brother in the middle of this cattle drive—”

  “Technically it’s a peacock drive,” Joey said. “I’d definitely do you here, though.”

  Lucie gripped two handfuls of her hair and yanked. “Please. We need a plan. It’s only nine thirty and this place is mobbed. In another hour, it’ll be worse. I think we should split up.”

  “No way,” Joey said. “Your boyfriend called this morning. He’s freaking out about you running around here. He thinks it could be dangerous. No splitting up.”

  “Oh, my God.” Ro charged toward one of the tables in the row ahead of them. “Look!”

  The dress?

  Could they have gotten that lucky? Lucie rushed to catch up just as Ro scooped something off the table and held it up, cooing over it.

  Lucie’s shoulders dropped, that momentary excitement plummeting like cement from a tall building.

  “Peacock earmuffs.” Ro rubbed the feathers against her cheek. “These are just darling. Luce, I’m totally seeing peacock accessories in our doggie future.”

  Ro rummaged through her giant tote bag, eventually pulling out a twenty and handing it over.

  Now they were shopping? Everyone needed to focus. Sure, there was a lot of activity, but this crew—Lucie included—needed to settle down and concentrate on their mission.

  She locked onto Ro’s arm and dragged her back to where Joey stood.

  Ro waved the earmuffs at him, pulled her arm free of Lucie’s grip and set her new purchase on her head for Joey to see. “How cute are these?”

  Joey whistled. “Those are something all right.”

  A woman carrying a stack of flyers walked along the edge of the rows. “Maps. Anyone need a map? Maps here.”

  Yes. Lucie threw both hands up. “I’ll take one.”

  The woman wandered over and slid a couple of papers off the top of her stack. “Here you go. Can I help you find anything? There’s a system here.”

  “We’re looking for the Max memorabilia.”

  “Oh, well, that’s everywhere if you want T-shirts or something. But if you’re looking for replicas of the dress, those will all be in the back corner.” The woman pointed to the far left corner of the ballroom. “Just head that way. You can’t miss them.”

  At least now they had a direction. When the woman left, Lucie faced her partners. “We’ll start with the knockoffs. See what we can find. If nothing else, it’s a starting point.”

  “Atta girl,” Ro said. “Come on. We’ve got this.”

  Always one to take the initiative, Joey pushed through the crowd, clearing a path like a human lawn mower. Having King Kong as a brother offered perks. The biggest being people generally stepped aside when he wanted to pass.

  Still, with the size of this crowd, it took ten minutes to finally reach the back corner where racks and racks of black dresses lined the wall. Forty years ago, Italian widows would have had a field day in this place.

  “Jeez,” Joey said, “there’s enough black in here to fill a funeral parlor.”

  Lucie smacked his arm. “That’s what I was thinking. Well, sort of.”

  “Knock it off, you two.” Ro hefted her tote higher on her shoulder. “I’m going in.”

  Going in? What did she plan on doing? Lucie scooted up behind her, and they charged into the crowd, heads down, full speed.

  “Lady! Chill. There’s a line!”

  “I don’t want your table.” Ro pointed to the next table. “I’m going there. Dumbass!”

  Nice.

  Lucie tugged on the back of her blouse. “Let’s not start a riot. Okay? Trying to lielow here.”

  “You broads are wacky.” Joey angled around and planted himself directly in front of them. “Just let me do it.”

  “Folks,” he called, his deep voice rising above the crowd noise, “where’s the line?”

  A petite woman barely bigger than Lucie and standing four deep raised her hand. “Back here.”

  Joey held his hands out. “There you go. The wait shouldn’t be that long.”

  The three of them moved to the back of the line, Joey standing guard behind them making sure people didn’t plow them over. Lucie’s phone vibrated. Another text. What now?

  She checked it, found an unknown 312 number and punched the message.

  THIS IS WILLIAM FROM THE MEETING LAST NIGHT. NOTHING TO REPORT. WE’RE ALL ON ALERT.

  Ro peeked over her shoulder. “Who is it?”

  “William. He’s a Cock Head from the meeting. Nothing to report.”

  “Then why is he texting?”

  As if she should know? Lucie waved the phone. “No idea. Checking in, I guess.”

  “Lunatic Cock Heads,” Ro muttered.

  “Hey, they’re trying.”

  A guy wearing a black, button-down shirt and a pair of dress slacks wandered by, his eyes glued to Ro’s rear.

  Of course, the leather skirt and stilettos didn’t exactly blend with this crowd.

  “Dude,” Joey said to the guy, “eyes up before I take them out for you.”

  Then he grinned. Grinned.

  The man raised his fist for a bump. “Sorry, man. Couldn’t help it.”

  “I hear ya, Brother.”

  Only Joey could threaten to remove a man’s eyes and then make friends with him. Lucie stuck her finger down her throat and gagged.

  “I know,” Ro said. “Males. They might as well have their own country with the language they speak.”

  The two people at the front of the line moved off without making a purchase. Thank you very much. In a few minutes they’d be—hang on.

  Lucie slid up on tiptoes so she could speak to Ro without screaming. “Um, do you have a plan? I mean you just jumped on this line.”

  “No, I don’t have a plan. You said you wanted to start back here, so I dove in.”

  No plan. Total mess. “Glad I asked.”

  Ro snorted and added the eye-roll kicker.

  Lucie held up her hands. “I’ve got this. Follow my lead.”

  The woman in front of them purchased a peacock-feather headband and one of the replica dresses, which the vendor left on the hanger and pulled a dry-cleaning bag over. Nice touch there.

  When the woman left, Lucie stepped up. “Hello.”

  An older man with long, gray sideburns and a bushy mustache manned the table while a woman—his wife maybe—fiddled with the dresses on the racks. The man smiled at her. Not unusual. People tended to immediately respond to her with an aw-how-cute-are-you look. Most of the time, she despised it. Right now, she’d use it.

  “How can I help you?”

  “The dresses. Do you have any that have the double-eyed feathers like the original?”

>   “Real ones?”

  Ro leaned in, hit the man with a flirty smile. “She won’t say it, but we have money to spend. Rat-bastard, soon-to-be-ex-husband to screw.”

  She winked and the man’s face went deadpan. Just . . . nothing. Not a smile or even a smirk to be found. Lucie may have detected a bit of terror by the slightly raised eyebrows.

  “Uh, no,” he said, darting his gaze from Ro to Lucie. “No real ones. I could probably get you dyed feathers, and my wife can make the dress. There’d be a custom tailoring charge.”

  For the drama, Lucie made a pouty face. “I was hoping to get it today.”

  “Today?” The man puckered, ran one hand down the side of his face. “I could make some calls, see if I could find one for you. I don’t know if anyone here would have one. Check with Rudy. Two tables down. He’d be the only one. If he doesn’t have it, come back and I’ll see what I can do.”

  A lead. Maybe Ro was right, and they’d actually leave here with some good intel. “Great. Thank you.”

  Behind them a woman lurched forward, shoved from the crowd. She righted herself and spun backward. “Hey, watch it!”

  “It wasn’t me, lady.”

  Lucie glanced right. The jerk yelling was the same guy who’d given Ro the business about cutting the line a few minutes earlier.

  “What is with this guy?”

  “He’s an ass,” Ro said, “that’s what.”

  Once again Lucie’s phone vibrated. Her phone was blowing up with texts. Another Cock Head with nothing to report. Who reported in with nothing? Why bother?

  Whatever.

  “You shoved me,” the lady in the aisle yelled, her voice packing some serious mean. Lucie looked up from her phone.

  The guy jerked his thumb at the chubby, thirty-something nerd next to him. The nerd wore a T-shirt proudly proclaiming him to be a Cock Head and one of those hideous peacock-feathered baseball caps. Someone here had to be selling those things.

  “Yeah,” the nerd said, “because you shoved me.”

  The first guy—the ass—gritted his teeth. “Newsflash, genius. There’s a shitload of people here. Kinda hard not to get pushed.”

  “No need for that kind of foul language,” the nerd said. “But what should I expect from rude people?”

  “Uh-oh,” Ro muttered.

  Joey sighed. “Fellas, let’s keep moving. No one is hurt. No harm done.”

  Huh, this being-in-love thing might be mellowing her brother out, because when had he ever been the voice of reason?

  “Rude?” the guy said. “How was I rude when you pushed me? Fatass.”

  The nerd’s cheeks turned a twisty shade of purplish-red. He scrunched his nose and raised his fists, pumping them in front of his face.

  “What?” the jerk said. “You gonna hit me?” He tapped his chin. “Go ahead, fat boy. Right here.”

  Boom! Crunching bone sounded above the crowd noise, and Lucie reared back, closing her eyes, almost afraid to look. The nerd had clocked him. Right there on the chin. Walloped him.

  Good for him. Not that she condoned fighting, but that guy? Totally deserved it.

  “Ohmygod,” Ro said. “Cock fight.”

  “Ah, dammit.” Joey’s voice.

  Lucie opened her eyes just as the jerky guy fell into a crowd of onlookers.

  “Cock Head down!” someone in the crowd yelled. “Cock Head down!”

  The place went wild, the noise kicking up another decibel. A group of Cock Heads began a chant of “fight, fight, fight.” If that continued, they’d have even more of a riot.

  Lucie held up her hands. “Stop chanting! Please, stop.”

  In front of her, Joey grabbed hold of the seething nerd, who attempted to outmuscle him.

  Good luck, buddy.

  “Hang on, dude,” Joey said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to kick his ass, but trust me, this guy’ll have you arrested. Been there done that.”

  Two security guards pushed through the growing crowd demanding people step back and let them through.

  The first security guard stepped up just as the jerky guy roared back, fists flying.

  “Joey,” Lucie screamed.

  Joey raised his elbow and—whap—the guy ran straight into it, his nose taking the full thrust. Ouch. Not only did he have a possibly broken jaw, he might need a new nose to boot.

  The guy’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor.

  “Thank you,” the nerd cried, hugging Joey.

  Ro shook her head. “Craziest cock fight ever. Who wins a fight and acts like that? He should be strutting.”

  “Everyone hold still,” the security guard yelled.

  Joey immediately put his hands up while the guards tended to the nerd and the bloodied jerk on the floor.

  Lucie’s phone buzzed from her back pocket. What now? But since her part-timers were filling in for her, she’d better answer. An issue with one of the dogs wouldn’t help. She checked the screen.

  Tim.

  Come on. Why would he be calling now? She couldn’t answer it. Couldn’t. Not with all this chaos. She’d let things settle down and then call him.

  “Who is that?” Ro asked.

  “Tim.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “I know. Unbelievable timing.”

  Still in her hand, the phone buzzed again. Incoming text. She knew who that would be. Considering she’d just ignored his call. She tapped the little envelope and, yep, Tim’s text flashed across the screen.

  CALL JUST CAME OVER RADIO ABOUT A FIGHT AT THE CONVENTION. PLEASE (PLEASE) TELL ME YOU’RE NOT INVOLVED.

  Being a truth-dedicated person she tapped out the only message she could.

  SORRY. :)

  Lucie Rizzo attracted trouble like a three-time felon. Maybe four-time.

  Tim stood in the hotel lobby, arms crossed, listening to a cop explain what he knew about the altercation that took place inside the ballroom.

  Ten minutes earlier, he’d heard Lucie’s side of the story. A story that included Joey actually stopping the fight instead of starting it.

  Best news so far.

  Now if Tim could get this cop to shut up, he’d ask him to check the security footage that should prove Joey’s innocence.

  Before, of course, he broke someone’s nose. Which resulted with him handcuffed in the back of a squad outside the lobby doors.

  Never a dull moment with this Rizzo bunch.

  The cop took a breath, and Tim refused to let that opportunity pass.

  “Do me a favor,” he said. “Let’s look at the security footage. I talked to a few witnesses, and they say Joey Rizzo tried to break this thing up.”

  The cop laughed. “Joe Rizzo’s kid and you don’t think he’s mixed up in this?”

  Tim fought the urge to remind this cop that the system they were sworn by was built on the basic premise of innocent until proven guilty. No matter the suspect’s last name.

  Instead, Tim held up his hand before the guy said anything else classified as stupid-to-the-nth. “Based on what he says, his sister says and the five hundred people who witnessed the altercation say, I think he’s being straight with us. Let’s look at the surveillance video and see.”

  The corner of the cop’s mouth lifted into a smirk. “Sure, Detective.”

  Sarcasm. Even better. Tim bit down, locking his jaw before he popped off. Last thing he needed was a beef with this cop. As it was, Tim’s lieutenant would probably give him a rip for even being on scene. The boss had been in a meeting when Lucie’s text came through and Tim took it as a sign. A big one that avoided him having to ask permission to check things out at the Cock Heads convention. Getting into it with a beat cop wouldn’t help.

  His phone beeped. He nabbed it from his suit pocket. Lucie texting from where she watched him—ten feet away—do his thing with the cop.

  EVERYTHING OKAY?

  If he had anything to say about it, it would be. And then the two of them would have a conversation about her slowly killin
g him. A molecule at a time.

  “Listen,” Tim said to the cop, “I’m gonna talk to the sister again. I’ll meet you in the security office in five.”

  The cop walked off, probably pissy about being ordered around by a detective. Well, too bad. Tim wanted this situation dealt with so he could get back to his own cases.

  And avoid his boss’s wrath as much as humanly possible.

  Lucie started toward him and stopped—probably unsure if she should approach—but he closed the distance between them.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “Yeah. Me, too. We’re gonna look at the surveillance video.”

  “Good. You’ll see Joey tried to break up the fight.”

  “Then he’ll be released, and you can all go home.”

  “But . . .”

  No flipping buts. She needed to get the hell out of here. But Lucie stared up at him, all big blue eyes and cute face and, once again, he was toast.

  As hard as she made it to stay mad, he couldn’t give in. She had to stop putting herself into situations that could cause her harm. End of story.

  “You need to go home,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here, running this investigation of yours. One of you could have gotten hurt in that fight. What if one of those guys had a gun or a knife? Your brother could be in a morgue now.”

  “It was a random thing. We didn’t start it. We were just in the wrong place—”

  “At the wrong time. I know. That happens with you. A lot.”

  She scrunched her nose and growled—growled—at him.

  So damned cute. And infuriating. The two sides of Lucie. Killing me.

  “It’s not as if I can help it, Tim.”

  “Maybe you can’t, but you make it worse by turning into super sleuth. The other night with this Bill character should have scared the crap out of you. What’s it going to take?”

  He stepped back, squeezed his eyes shut and winced. This would be life with Lucie Rizzo. From the day he’d met her, she’d been getting caught up in nonsense.

  And he wasn’t good at nonsense.

  He got his head together, opened his eyes. “I’m not arguing about this now. Let’s get the situation handled. I’m heading upstairs to look at video. Hopefully, when I come down, your brother will be free to go, and all of you will head home. That’s all I got, Luce.”