Live and Let Lie

by Carolyn Scott

  There were no earrings.

  "Oh no," Angela said, frowning so fiercely it was obvious she was no Botox babe. "They don't appear to be here. Perhaps you left them somewhere else, Naomi. Shall we look in the other rooms?"

  Ah. I was getting it now. She wanted to check out the bedroom, find the earrings in front of witnesses, and confront Naomi as to her reason for being in there. Since Dante was the only other person upstairs, the lovers would be backed into a corner. If it were me, I'd want to confront my husband in private, but Angela apparently thought going public would be more satisfying. Maybe she was right. With witnesses seeing the evidence of his infidelity first hand, he wouldn't be able to wiggle out of a pre-nup. Angela was a smart woman, and I doubted she'd gone into marriage with a well-known philanderer without a clause that stated he got nothing from a divorce if he were unfaithful.

  "Wait!" Naomi cried. She looked to Dante, but he didn't move. In fact, he might have even stopped breathing, he was so still. "Um. They were here. I swear." Naomi nibbled her lip and swallowed hard. She looked at each of us in turn, her panicky gaze pausing when she got to me. "That maid…it was her! She must have stolen them after I came out. I saw her skulking around up here."

  Well, fuck.

  CHAPTER 2

  "It wasn't me!" I cried. "I've been in the kitchen for the last ten minutes. Ask the chef!"

  Naomi nibbled her lower lip in thought. "Um, must have been that other one," she said quickly.

  "The Latino one was up here," Dante said. "I saw her."

  I almost choked. "Sofia?"

  Naomi sniffed back tears. "Yes! It must have been her. I saw her too."

  "But she and I don't look alike," I pointed out. I wouldn't normally get involved in a domestic situation, but she'd dragged me into it and I wasn't going to roll over and get screwed. Nor would I let Sofia take the fall. "How could you mistake me for her?"

  "I saw her." Naomi tossed her blonde head then turned her shoulder to me. "She must have taken them. She had no reason to be up here."

  "Neither did you."

  She ignored me. "We should check her stuff."

  "After we check the other rooms," Angela said.

  It was weird to find myself on the same side as her, but she and I both wanted to prove that the earrings weren't missing at all, merely left behind in the room where Naomi and Dante had gotten down and dirty.

  It wasn't Angela who led the way out of the bathroom, but Dante. "Let's go find Sofia," he said as he headed back to the stairs. It was as if his wife hadn't even spoken.

  I glanced at Angela, expecting her to yell at her husband or head toward the bedroom anyway, but she did neither. She narrowed her eyes, then meekly followed him. Perhaps she was biding her time. Either way, she made sure we all went, including Naomi. The earrings wouldn't be moved by either of the lovers while we were gone.

  Dante spotted Sofia serving drinks to a group in the living room. He beckoned her to join us and we made our way to the back of the house near the kitchen, out of the way of the other guests. Not that it mattered. Everyone watched our procession. They may not have known what was happening, but they could sense pending drama the way a bear sniffs out its prey. Their whispers trailed us, and I saw more than one reach for their cell to snap photos or call someone to alert them to future gossip.

  We gathered in the corridor near the kitchen, an odd group of sparkling celebrities and me and Sofia in our drab outfits. Sofia focused her big brown eyes on Dante and tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked like she wanted to cry.

  "It was not me! I took nothing. I been down here, always, all night!" She appealed to me.

  I swallowed hard, kissed my acting career goodbye, and took her hand in mine. "She hasn't been upstairs."

  "How do you know?" Naomi snapped. "You said you were in the kitchen. Which, I might add, you shouldn't have been. Why would the drink girl need to go into the kitchen?" The events of the last few minutes must have sobered her, because she didn't seem as doped up as earlier. Her eyes were clear, her voice normal, and her movements once more dainty and feminine.

  "Sofia was with me in the kitchen." It was only a partial lie. She had come into the kitchen, but she hadn't been there the entire time. Not that I'd tell them that. This whole thing was ludicrous and I was getting pissed off that we lowly waitresses were the pawns in their game.

  A defense came from an unlikely source. "Sofia came highly recommended," Angela said coolly. "She's never stolen anything from her other employers."

  How did she know that? Her assistant had done all the hiring. Or was she making it up to get the interrogation over with faster?

  Dante took his wife's hand in both his own and gave her a sleek smile. He reminded me of a schmoozing politician. "Darling," he said, oozing desperation. He was on the back foot and he knew it. "Let's check anyway. There's no harm in it."

  "No harm!" I cried. "You can't go around accusing me or Sofia of theft without evidence. Just because we're desperate enough to get a role in one of your movies that we're willing to take this crappy job, doesn't mean we can be used as scapegoats."

  "You're not a scapegoat if you're guilty," he said.

  Man, I wanted to punch those perfect teeth of his. Or get someone else to do it—I wasn't a violent person. Mostly.

  "Look, Cat." His face softened and he didn't look quite so smarmy as he turned his entire focus to me. My temper eased a little. Damn, he was as good an actor as any. "Your name is Cat, right? Well, we can do whatever we want here. It's our house."

  Angela bristled. No doubt she wanted to remind him it was her house, down to the last dime.

  "Fine," I said. "If you think Sofia did it, call the cops. Let them sort this out."

  He laughed. "Don't be so naive. As soon as the police get involved, the media will find out."

  "If you don't want the police finding out, then don't accuse an innocent person of theft!" My blood was really boiling in my veins. My temper didn't show itself too often, but when it did, it was an uncontrollable volcano. Volcanic eruptions tend to lead to chaos and destruction, usually mine. I'd been in jail once, lost a few boyfriends and burned some bridges thanks to losing my temper. I liked to think my anger was justified in all those instances, but not everyone would agree. Namely my parents.

  "Empty your pockets, Sof," Naomi said.

  "No!" I shouted. "You don't have to do that."

  "It's okay, Cat." Sofia gave me a small shrug. "If it will prove I did not take anything, then I do it."

  We all watched as she took everything out of her pockets. Dante then took it upon himself to frisk her. She slapped his hand way when he went to touch her breasts. Good for her. I was glad to see that Latino fire hadn't completely gone out. She nodded at me. "You do it."

  I stepped forward and Sofia tilted her chin up. Her eyes flashed in defiance, but she held out her arms to be frisked.

  "Turn around to give her privacy," I said.

  After an uncomfortable few moments, I declared that Sofia wasn't hiding anything.

  "What about her bag," Naomi said. "She would have had a chance to slip the earrings into her belongings." She appealed to Dante. He gave a slight, encouraging nod.

  I had to hand it to them. They were playing out the scene to the bitter end. We all knew there was nothing in Sofia's things.

  "For fuck's sake," I muttered. "This is getting ridiculous."

  Yet Angela still didn't end it when she easily could have.

  Once again we all followed in a train past the kitchen to the broom closet where the staff stored their belongings for the night. Evan poked his head round the kitchen door and asked me in a whisper what was going on. I told him. He followed us, clearly curious and not in the least offended that a staff member was being harassed. If someone had handed him popcorn, he would have thought he was at the movies.

  Sofia fished out her bag from the closet and handed it to Dante. He went through it, twice.

  "There!" I said. "She hasn't taken any
thing."

  Naomi stamped her hands on her hips. Her long fingers, tipped with blood red nails, wrapped around the outthrust bone. "Maybe she hid them in someone else's bag."

  I pointed my finger at her. "You do not have any right to go through my stuff! If you want to do that, call the cops. We'll wait."

  "No need," Angela said. "We'll check the other rooms now." She did a dramatic turn and marched off toward the front of the house again. Dante, Naomi, and the witnesses followed her. I hung back with Sofia.

  "Pssst," Evan hissed, beckoning us. "You don't want to miss the best part."

  The chef emerged from the kitchen and glared at him. "Get the fuck back in here, you little fucker. I'm this close to firing you after you burnt the fucking sauce."

  "Asshole," Evan muttered. His shoulders slumped and he followed his brother-in-law back into the kitchen.

  Beside me, Sofia wiped away her tears. I put my arm around her and squeezed. "It's okay. This is just some game they're playing and you got stuck in the middle. Don't worry. Angela's going to find those damned earrings in the bedroom and accuse Dante and Naomi of having an affair. Then it'll be our turn to watch them squirm."

  "Then why do this?" She indicated the closet and bag. "Why not Ms. Levine go to the bedroom first?"

  "Angela's an entertainer. She knows the value of building tension. It'll make the big reveal so much sweeter. For her."

  Sofia spat on the ground. "Bitch."

  "Amen to that."

  She sighed and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "We should get back to work."

  "No way. I'm done. I don't want to work for her anymore."

  "But you need this job."

  "Yep. My credit card is maxed out and the rent is due. I also need to get some acting work, but not like this and not for her. The least we can do is follow along and be entertained like Angela wants. She owes us, not the other way round."

  "You a good person, Cat."

  "Not really. A good person wouldn't want to see Dante Ramirez's balls nailed to the wall by his bitch of a wife. Nothing would make me happier right now."

  At least that made Sofia laugh.

  She and I followed the search party from room to room upstairs. I couldn't help it. I had to see it out to the end.

  Angela directed us through the myriad bedrooms, powder rooms, and retreats that must stand empty most of the time. It was a massive house for just the two of them. The curious cat in me wondered if they slept together or had a bedroom each. Which one had Naomi and Dante chosen to have sex in?

  "Whoa," came a familiar lazy drawl behind me as we entered a large room with a sunken Jacuzzi in the middle. "Look at this place!"

  "I thought you were supposed to be working," I said to Evan.

  "I snuck out when Chef wasn't looking. Can't miss this shit. It's better than a movie."

  The rest of the party went through the motions of looking for the earrings. I stayed near the door with Evan and admired the opulence. As well as the Jacuzzi, there was a giant TV built into the wall and tilted at an angle to give someone relaxing back in the tub the best view. Tasseled cushions on the two chaises begged to be nestled against, and dim lighting and golden hues gave the room a luxurious feel. It was my idea of heaven.

  "Hey, Cat," Evan whispered. "How much do you think that TV cost?"

  "More than I'll earn this entire year."

  "Ramirez scored big time when he married her."

  "Do you know how they met?"

  "At the circus. He was a clown or something."

  "I doubt he was a clown." Even as I said it, I realized I didn't know exactly what Dante had done at the circus. I'd assumed acrobat because of his sexy frame, but he could have been the bearded lady for all I knew.

  Over near the Jacuzzi, the two guests who'd come along as witnesses seemed to be growing bored. One sat on the edge of the tub and dangled her hand in the water while the other wandered around studying a series of photographs on the wall. I wasn't close enough to see who was in them, but I suspected it was Dante after the guest beckoned him and together they laughed at one of the pictures.

  "Poor Sofia," Evan said from behind me. "She's had a crap night. I'll have to comfort her when this is all over, maybe give her something to relax her."

  "Like what?"

  "I've got weed in my bag."

  I spun round. "Fuck, Evan! Are you crazy? Why did you bring that stuff with you?"

  He shrugged. "Because I knew I'd need to roll a joint after working with my brother-in-law. Maybe during too."

  "What if you get caught with it?"

  "Who's going to go through my stuff?"

  "They went through Sofia's bag without her consent."

  "She's a foreigner."

  I stared at him for a few beats. "Nope, you need to explain that comment to me. Are you saying they picked on Sofia just because she's Mexican?"

  He rolled his eyes. "Well duh. And she's not Mexican."

  "Yes she is. She told me."

  "Then she lied." I received another eye-roll. I waited until his own words sank through the mud that clogged his brain. "Why would she lie?"

  "Exactly. Why would she?"

  We both watched her as she trailed after Angela. They were nearing the end of their search and would soon move on to the next room.

  "Why do you say she's not Mexican?" I asked Evan.

  "Because I've surfed at Puerto Escondido, like, a billion times. Do you know how friendly the local girls are?"

  "You slept with, like, a billion of them?" I mimicked. "Even while we were going out?"

  He pouted. "I asked you to come with me. We could have had fun there together."

  I held up my hands. I wasn't going down that path with him again. Prior experience proved it to be a pointless exercise. "You still haven't explained why you don't think Sofia is Mexican."

  "Yeah, I have. You're not listening. I can speak some Mexican, but when I tried to talk to her, she said she couldn't understand me."

  "First of all, it's Spanish, not Mexican. Second of all, maybe your accent was bad."

  Most people would be offended by that, but Evan merely shrugged it off. "Whatever." He strode past me and made straight for Sofia.

  Whether he was right or not, he got me thinking. Sofia may not be the person she portrayed. Besides the accent thing, something else had been bugging me. I was pretty sure her earrings were diamonds. Not that I'm a gem expert, and there are some awesome fakes around—I've bought some myself. But she touched them constantly. It was as if she were checking that they were still there. To me that meant they were expensive and she wasn't used to wearing valuable jewelry.

  So they were new, real, and she'd bemoaned to me about how much she needed this job. Why would someone as poor as she claimed to be, wear a pair of diamond earrings to a catering job?

  Maybe a lover had given them to her. But she'd already told me she didn't have a boyfriend.

  The more I thought about it, the more questions I came up with. Like why was she taking crappy waitressing work between acting jobs if she could afford those earrings? Was she in the house for another reason? To steal perhaps?

  Well, crap. I admit that my imagination could sometimes get a bit wild, but that was taking it too far. I mean, Sofia was so nice. Besides, Naomi's earrings were not missing. They were waiting for us to discover them in a bedroom somewhere.

  "They're not here," Angela declared. "Next room."

  Someone groaned. I got the feeling it was Evan, because it didn't look like he'd gotten anywhere with Sofia. She was already striding away from him to follow Angela and the others out of the room.

  "Stay together!" Angela cried as she marched past me. She was every bit the war general assembling her troops.

  Naomi shot Dante a worried glance behind his wife's back. He offered her a grim smile and indicated she should walk ahead of him. I didn't follow immediately, but hung back to check out the photographs on the wall. There were three of them, all depicting Dante Ra
mirez in costume. In two he wore a top hat and tails, and in the third his face was painted white and he held the hat in his hands. The photos must have been taken when he was a performer. Going by the absence of tights, he wasn't an acrobat after all. Pity. That ass would have looked good in spandex.

  A hysterical cry from the next room sent my heart leaping into my throat. I ran out of the Jacuzzi room, wondering what the hell had happened now.

  CHAPTER 3

  I found everyone in a pink-and-black fifties-themed bedroom. Elvis stared heavy-lidded from a poster hanging on the wall, and Marilyn Monroe winked in another. Naomi sat on the pink Cadillac bed, her face in her hands. Nobody comforted her. Nobody dared. She was the woman sleeping with Angela's husband and Angela was the most important person to the careers of everyone in that room, including me. We all just stood about watching her and thanking the powers that be that we weren't the ones having the public meltdown.

  "I feel so violated," Naomi sobbed into her hands. "Humiliated. I can't believe this is happening to me."

  "Don't be so pathetic," Angela snapped. "It's a pair of fucking earrings."

  "But they're diamonds!" Naomi wailed. "And they're gorgeous."

  Angela muttered something under her breath and jerked the top drawer of the dressing table open. It was empty. "They've got to be in here somewhere." She slammed it shut and opened the next one down. The two guests glanced at each other, shrugged, then also began to search the room.

  Angela was right. This was the last room. We'd gone through the others and not found the earrings. If Naomi had taken them off, then she'd put them somewhere obscure.

  Naomi's breathing became erratic. She flapped a hand in front of her face and gulped in air. "I…can't…breathe."

  Evan went to her side. "Put your head between your knees." He grasped her head and shoved it hard.

  Naomi yelped. "What are you doing?"

  "Chill. This is what I always do when a big wave knocks me around."

  Angela thumped another drawer closed. "Where are they?" she muttered. "They've got to be in here." She got down on her hands and knees and peered under the bed.