“I don’t know.”
“So, multimillion dollar question time; what’re you going to do?”
Ryan sighed. “I don’t know.” He pulled into the parking lot of the Hollywood Division, turned off the car. “I’m going to meet with Anne at seven, get a legal opinion.”
Anger flared inside Syd. She didn’t know Anne, didn’t know any of the details of their marriage, but instinctively Syd didn’t trust her. “You sure that’s a good idea? I mean, she’s your ex-wife, she could have an agenda.”
Ryan realized Syd was jealous, though in his mind she had no reason to be. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
“Want me to wait for you here?” Loaded question, he better, Syd thought.
“If you don’t mind, I shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”
“No problem,” Syd said, relieved. “I’ve got plenty of work to do.” Syd wanted to lean over and kiss him, but other cops were in the parking lot so she just squeezed his hand and opened her car door.
“By the way,” Ryan said, stopping her. “What would you do?”
Syd thought about it for a moment. “What would I do or what do I think you should do?”
“What would you do?”
Syd smiled. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t have the ticket. You do.”
Ryan laughed. “Bitch. Okay, what do you think I should do?”
Syd may have only known Ryan for eight weeks but she felt she had a firm fix on his moral compass. This was a man who knew right from wrong. “There’s only one thing you can do,” she said.
That surprised him. “What?”
“Think about it,” Syd said and shut the door.
“What kind of answer is that?” Ryan called after her.
But Syd just smiled, turned her back and walked into the station.
SIXTEEN
It was all so confusing. She felt so good, so satisfied. Alice could never remember feeling such bliss. And it had nothing to do with the three incredible orgasms — her first orgasms with a man. In the past they had all come from masturbation.
No, her joy, yes, that’s what she was feeling, joy, came from lying next to a man she’d dreamt about for years. And now she lay naked, entwined in his arms as he slept peacefully. A dream comes true. Amazing.
This was the first truly good thing that had happened to her in years. Maybe ever, for that matter and she wanted to play it out. He was married, she knew, but she also knew that something happened to Adam, as well. She saw it in his eyes, the way he touched her, the way he kissed her. She wasn’t just another affair for him, she could tell. He was going to want to see her again, make her a part of his life.
And to her surprise, that’s what she wanted, too. Time was limited, of course. But all the more reason to make every minute count.
Alice slipped out of bed, grabbed her purse and walked into the bathroom then quietly closed and locked the door.
She looked at herself in the mirror. It always surprised her a bit seeing herself as a hot blonde with green eyes. In her mind’s eye she was always the dumpy, brunette Alice. But Alice had simply been the chrysalis before her metamorphosis into the Lady in Red.
She reached into her purse. Her hand passed the Colt Vest Pocket .25, passed the scalpel and grabbed her pill holder. She took it out, flipped open the afternoon dose, dumped the four pills in her hand: Arimidex, Tamoxifen and Cytoxan for the cancer and Aprepitant to control the nausea. She washed them down with sink water.
Seemed like a waste of time to her, but the Doctor said miracles happen. And now, suddenly, she wanted to milk this life of hers for every additional day.
She peed, winced a bit as she wiped. It was a little tender down there. Overuse, she thought, smiling. But the discomfort brought back the memories of that night eleven years ago when the pain was so agonizing.
It started so innocently. Alice had earned a scholarship to Camden Hall, a top of the line private school for the prodigy of Orange County’s wealthiest residents. She was sitting under a tree in the high school quad reading the latest Harry Potter. She heard laughter and looked up to find three boys looking at her: Adam Devlin, Colin Wood and Blake Hunter. They were seniors, like her. Adam, of course, she knew. The fateful bus trip to the Getty Center was only a month before and she was seriously, albeit secretly, in love with him. She’d seen Colin and Blake around. They were BMOC, handsome but spoiled sons of rich fathers who hung with the cool kids. Alice was on scholarship since her parents made so little money.
The three boys were looking at her, whispering among themselves, laughing, and then Colin and Blake shoved Adam in her direction. With an annoyed glance back at his friends, Adam reluctantly walked up to her.
Her heart did flip-flops as Adam got closer.
“Hi,” he said as he knelt down next to her. “It’s Alice, right?”
“Right,” she said, so nervous she was barely able to speak.
“My friends and I — you know Colin and Blake, don’t you?”
“I’ve seen them around.”
“We’re having a party later at Colin’s house. We wondered if you’d like to stop by.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. She wanted to scream, yes, but fought to stay cool. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, say seven o’clock.”
She was free, but wanted to stay cool. She pretended to consider it for a few moments, then said, “There are a few things I’ll need to move around, but I’d love to come.”
Adam gave her the address, and then returned to his friends who greeted him with high fives. That struck Alice as a little odd, but she ignored it and started thinking about what she was going to wear.
Alice spent the rest of the day deciding between skirt or jeans? Heels or sandals? Thong or boyshorts? She finally decided on black jeans, her favorite blue tank top, black boyshorts and her rainbow strap wedge sandals.
She was hoping to sleep with Adam. At least be able to jerk him off or blow him. All the boys she did it with told her how good she was, so if she could impress Adam, well, before she knew it she could be finally be hanging with the cool kids.
So with sex a distinct possibility, Alice sprinkled a little J’adore by Christian Dior on her nipples and pubes for a little unexpected treat for Adam.
She arrived at seven-fifteen; can’t seem too anxious after all. The house was a typical ten-thousand-square-foot Orange County McMansion. She was surprised that there wasn’t a line of cars parked on the street. School parties tended to attract big crowds. She rang the doorbell and Colin answered. He had a beer in one hand a joint in the other.
“Alice,” he said, all smiles. “So glad you could make it. Come in, come in. We’re in the game room. My dad’s in Cabo so we’ve got the house to ourselves.”
He led her through the sprawling house to an oak-paneled room dominated by a nine-foot pool table. Adam and Blake were in the middle of a game.
“Hi,” Blake said. “Can I get you a drink?”
She looked at Adam, the only boy she really cared about, but he was preoccupied with lining up a shot.
“Yeah, sure,” she said. “I’d like a coke, diet if you’ve got it.”
“Want a little rum with that?”
Alice had had a few glasses of wine before, beer and drinks with some of the boys she’d dated, but never really liked it. But she didn’t want to seem a prude, so she said, “Sure. Rum and coke it is.” Then she looked around, confused. “Where is everyone? I thought there was going to be a party.”
Colin and Blake exchanged a look. “More kids are coming later,” Colin said. “But we wanted a chance to get to know you first.”
Blake handed her a rum and coke. “Cheers.”
She clinked her glass with his beer and drank. The rum and coke didn’t taste too good. Too much rum, not enough coke, she guessed. Oh, well, she thought, maybe it’ll help me relax. She took another big sip.
“You play pool?” Blake asked.
“No,” she said. “It looks like fu
n, though.”
“Adam,” Blake said. “Why don’t you show Alice here how to hold your shaft — I mean cue.”
Colin and Blake snickered as Adam shot them a disapproving look.
Alice caught the double entendre; a couple of warning bells went off in the back of her mind, but the thought of spending time with Adam was too tempting. “Please, Adam,” she said. “I’d love to learn to play pool.”
“All right,” Adam said finally looking at her. She saw something in his eyes, what was it, regret? “Here,” he said handing her a cue.
She had her drink in her right hand. She moved to set it down.
“Just go ahead and finish your drink, Alice,” Colin said. “I’ll make you another.”
Alice downed the rest of her drink and handed Colin her glass. “Not so much rum this time,” she said.
“Sure, no problem,” Colin said, grinning. “Rum and coke, light, coming up.” That got another laugh out of Blake who joined Colin at the bar.
“Okay,” Adam said. “The key to a good pool shot is the bridge.” He spread his fingers on the table forming a circle with his thumb and index finger. “You try.”
Alice spread her fingers, but as she tried to form the circle, she was hit by a wave of dizziness. She looked at Adam, but his face blurred, and then she felt herself falling.
All she remembers next are fragments.
Hands pulling off her clothes…
Blake’s face looming over her…
Cold hands on her bare skin as she was dropped onto the pool table…
Her legs being spread…
Whoops of laughter…
Sharp, stinging, pain…
She woke up hours later. She was alone in the game room. A clock over the bar said it was three-thirty. She was on the pool table, naked. Her clothes were scattered on the floor. She climbed off the table then crumpled to the ground as pain swept through her. Her head spun and she vomited. She hurt everywhere, her head, stomach, her vagina, her butt.
Dear God what did they do to her?
Terrified, humiliated, she scrambled into her clothes and staggered out of the house. Tears ran down her face as she drove home. Alice snuck in the back door and crept silently into her room. She wasn’t going to tell her parents what happened. She wasn’t going to tell anyone.
Then she found out about the video.
Back in the hotel bathroom, Alice touched up her lipstick. She heard the TV come on in the hotel room. Adam must be awake. She slipped into the plush white terrycloth hotel robe and stepped into the hotel room.
Adam was on the bed, the remote control in his hand, channel surfing. “I must’ve dozed off,” he said. He grinned. “No surprise, you wore me out.”
Alice laughed, slid onto the bed next to him. “That makes two of us.”
He kissed her sweetly. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” She kissed him, playfully sucking his lower lip. “Now, you promised me some food. I’m starving.”
Adam looked around, spotted the room service menu on the end table, handed it to her. “Order the five most expensive items on the menu.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She scanned the menu as Adam went back to the TV. “Hey,” he said, turning up the volume. “I know him.”
Alice glanced up to see a clip of Colin Wood on the TV. “Hollywood actor, Colin Wood, was murdered last night in the parking lot of Havoc, a Hollywood nightclub,” the announcer said. “Witnesses say he was seen leaving the nightclub with a blonde woman, she is being sought by authorities for questioning.” The picture cut to video of a building on fire. “A fire engulfed a warehouse in Culver City…”
Adam muted the TV. “Unbelievable,” he said.
Alice enjoyed watching Adam’s reaction. He was shocked for sure; if he only knew. “Was he a client?” she asked.
“No, no, we went to high school together. He was a really great guy.”
“Were you friends?”
“Oh, yeah. We had some good times. Crazy times.”
“Tell me.”
Adam shook his head. “Just stupid high school stuff.”
Alice wanted to probe further, but sensed that now wasn’t the time. “Did you stay in touch?”
“No, we drifted apart when we went to college. I’ve seen him in a few movies, since then, always meant to call him, say hello, congratulate him, but never did.” He shook his head. “Murdered, wow.”
“Guess you’ve got to be careful who you pick up in bars these days.”
“Tell me about it.” Then he turned back to Alice. “Good thing I met you in a parking lot.”
She smiled. “Much safer.” And then she kissed him.
SEVENTEEN
Musso and Frank Grill was the oldest restaurant in Hollywood, and felt like it. It’s got wood-paneled walls, red leather booths and the same menu as when it opened in 1919. Want Turkey a la King, liver with onions, broiled squab with bacon, lamb kidney sauté; this is your place. But old-fashioned is the charm of the place. And they’ve got a great bar.
Anne sat at far end of the bar nursing a vodka tonic. She was surprised how nervous she was. Anne was never nervous. Not in a boardroom or courtroom. But she could feel an anxiety buzz, and she didn’t like it.
Of course, her life was in turmoil, her marriage over, her job gone. Rick’s father may bail them out but Anne was sure rumors would leak about her and Rick forging his father’s signature and her reputation was sure to take a big time hit. What a fucking mess.
“Hey, Beautiful.”
Anne turned to find Ryan behind her. “Hey, Handsome.”
That’s how they used to greet each other when they first started dating, those intoxicating wonderful days of young love.
“Sit, please,” she said. “What’re you drinking?”
“I’ll have a beer.”
Anne caught the eye of the bartender. “Michelob draft for him,” she said, and then looked at Ryan. “That all right?”
“I’m surprised you remember.”
It was easy for Anne to remember, Rick drank the same thing. But she smiled shyly and ordered another vodka tonic for herself.
“Amazing,” Ryan said. “I haven’t seen you in seven years and now twice in one day.”
“You complaining?” she teased.
“No, not at all.”
The bartender delivered the drinks. No reason to beat around the bush, Anne thought. “A toast,” she said, holding up her glass, “in honor of your Lotto winnings. To wealth, wisdom and happiness.”
“One down, two to go,” Ryan said. They both laughed and drank.
Anne had to be careful here. She wanted to seem helpful without being predatory; friendly and just a hint flirtatious. But she couldn’t seem opportunistic. She had to play this just right.
“You know our firm has represented a number of Lotto winners over the years.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Believe it or not, winning the lottery is a dangerous proposition. Sometimes winning the lottery is the unluckiest thing in the world. One third of all Lotto winners are bankrupt in five years. One client won eleven million dollars, ignored our advice and plowed it all into slot machines and crap tables. He now lives in a trailer park. The brother of another client hired hit men to kill him so he would get the inheritance.”
“Jesus.”
“There’s story after story. Another guy won fifteen million, so bought a house for his mom, cars for all his relatives, gave hundreds of thousands to his church, tens of thousands to his friends, sent money to people who wrote him sob stores; he ended up spending it all. Died of a heart attack and there wasn’t enough left to pay for the burial. And I read about this woman who won twenty million, went out to celebrate and was killed driving home.”
“Okay, that’s it, I’m ripping the damn thing up.”
“No! There are also plenty of stories about people whose lives have been blessed by the money. All I’m saying is, yo
u have to be careful. Get a team around you: lawyer, CPA, people you can trust.” As soon as she said the word trust, Anne regretted it. How would he ever trust the woman who betrayed and dumped him? “People who know and care about you,” she added.
Even in college Ryan knew Anne was going to be a great lawyer. She was articulate and convincing. And smart. Hearing all the potential downsides of winning the lottery made him very glad he’d agreed to meet her.
And she was so damn beautiful. When they were together, he used to spend hours staring at her face; when she talked, while she read, as she slept. He used to tell her that her face massaged his eyes. And looking at her now he realized that nothing had changed.
“I do need some advice,” he said. “You see, my winning the Lotto is a little more complicated than normal.”
“Complicated how?”
Ryan took a sip of his beer and told her about the tow truck driver and finding the ticket on the ground. “And I know enough law,” he said finishing, “to know that the ticket is not legally mine.”
Anne listened to the story with an increasing sense of doom. She knew Ryan well enough to know that he would probably want to do the right thing. Turn the ticket in and let the Lotto officials try and find the tow truck driver.
But it’s hard for anyone, even Ryan, to turn down tens of millions of dollars that no one could prove wasn’t his. And she needed him to claim that money. A rich Ryan would solve so many of her problems.
Then she had an idea, a brainstorm really, something that Ryan would probably find irresistible. So she went to work. “Okay, we’ve got a real conundrum here, don’t we?”
“Yes and no. I mean, it’s simple, really, isn’t it? The ticket is not mine. I have to turn it in.”
“Do you know what will happen if you turn it in?”
“Not really. I’m mean, I guess they’ll try and find the tow truck driver.”
“You’re a detective. Any chance they’ll find him?”
“I didn’t pay that much attention to his face. I’m sure there was a company name on the tow truck but I don’t remember it and I didn’t even glance at the license plate. So no, I could never identify him.”
In Cold Blonde Page 9
