Barbie & The Beast (24 page)

She got inside easily enough, then stumbled down a set of worn marble stairs. Her pulse skyrocketing, eyes wide, she hauled
herself up in surprise. Gaping. Mouth open. Standing there, expecting darkness, what she found instead was as mystifying as
anything she could possibly have dreamed up. Something very uncryptlike. Leaning more toward the
Twilight Zone
.

The place was cavernous, with a vaulted ceiling and tall gray walls. Light flickered from candles in sconces too numerous
to count, providing a hazy illumination. Twelve-foot-high mirrors in gilt frames leaned against two corners, reflecting the
candlelight in an eerie glow. Gigantic tapestries, rich, though muted by age into vast expanses of diluted color, hung from
branch-sized bronze rods. Oil paintings were everywhere—portraits, hunting scenes, animals, castles. Heavy antique furniture
edged the room, in both light and dark wood, upholstered lushly in every conceivable shade of red. All of it was tufted, tasseled,
and dripping with old-world opulence.

The place was every bit the size of the AM-PM Mini-mart, and twice as frightening in the middle of the night. Barbie stared
some more.

The gray marble floor had been covered by a Persian carpet in shades of brown and gold, with twisted fringe and a few visible
worn spots. The raised slab dead center of the room, similar to the one on which she had recently been stretched out—mausoleum
tract homes? she wondered— doubled as a table and was covered with a swath of ivory lace.

On the makeshift table sat an ornate bronze candelabra with a bunch of candles burning. In perfect arrangement beside the
candelabra were settings of gold plates and bowls, gold flatware, and crystal goblets that sparkled like rainbows. Complete
place settings for two. Totally unexpected. Beyond weird.

“Barbie?”

Confused, tight-jawed, Barbie turned her head. The room seemed terribly underpopulated for a gang’s crib. Too quiet. No oddballs
whooped it up with lassos or paraded their stuff. No coats, hats, or boxer shorts hung from the chandelier, which was a complex
dripping of crystal, candles, and solidified wax. There was not one skinny guy in a backward baseball cap. No leather-clad
biker boys with shaved heads and cigarettes dangling from between their teeth lounged in the chairs or upon the several velvet
cushions strewn about the floor. In fact, none of the carved chairs or stools were occupied at all.

“Barbie?”

The tone and familiarity of the voice registering at last, Barbie swept her gaze over the carpet to the farthest corner of
the space. There, against the wall, chained up in Spanish Inquisition–type hardware—rusted chains and manacles— and wearing
a tight black dress and a look of surprise, stood Angie Ward.

Stunned
was not the word Barbie would have chosen to best describe her reaction to the scene.
Flabbergasted
, maybe.
Perhaps an even better reaction would have been a four letter cussword she had never uttered in company, and thought seriously
about uttering now.

Before she could speak, however, and before she could make any reactionary sound whatsoever, a pair of muscled arms encircled
her. Strong, sinewy, hairless arms. Lightly tanned.

Glancing briefly at them, Barbie recovered her senses. Slightly. Enough to realize with an intake of spicy, scented air that
the arms belonged to Darin, and that he had removed the wolf costume. Also, her senses told her, it truly was Angie over there
against the strange, sumptuously decorated wall, with her wrists bound in iron handcuffs.

“Angie? What is going on?” Barbie demanded, wondering why Darin hadn’t gone to help free her friend. Wondering why Angie wasn’t
yelling. Wondering why her own feet were stuck to the floor. Maybe Angie had been shocked to silence. Relieved to the point
of being completely speechless? There was a first time for everything.

Still, did she have to do everything herself?

“Let me go, Darin,” Barbie said. “Hang on, Angie!” God love her, her best friend had been dragged here by heaven alone knew
who, out of her Fiat and into a mausoleum that looked like it had gotten stuck in some kind of Victorian time warp. “I’m coming,
Angie! I’m here!”

Struggling against Darin’s hold but failing to budge him, she only then noticed what Darin must have, hence his reluctance
to release her: Angie wasn’t calling out for help. Angie did not thrash about in an attempt to free herself. Angie’s hair
cascaded in waves of black, tipped with a purple wash. Her lip gloss was in place, her lips open in an expression of complete
incomprehension at seeing Barbie there. Not fright or terror, but true astonishment bordering on annoyance. Had Angie gone
and lost her mind?

“Ang!” Barbie cried, if more tentatively. “Let me get you out of those chains.”

Angie cocked a hip. “You do anything of the kind, and I’ll dye every hair on your head green.”

Barbie felt as though her feet truly were nailed down. She knew her mouth was hanging open.

“How did you find me?” Angie demanded.

“What is going on?” Barbie said.

“It seems, honey,” Darin answered, mouth close to Barbie’s ear, “that timing actually is everything.”

“I’ll second that,” Angie declared.

“You’re chained!” Barbie shouted.

“Am not!” her friend responded, screwing up her face. “Well, maybe a little, but I can get free whenever I want, so it doesn’t
count.” Angie casually removed her wrists from the loose metal cuffs, held them up for Barbie’s inspection, then carefully
stuck them back inside, smiling.

Barbie leaned back against Darin’s chest, all the fight gone out of her. “Cripes, Angie! We were worried!”

“Might be better to worry about what kind of a fashion statement you’ve got going,” her friend suggested.

As if it was the right time to remark about someone else’s external presentation before answering vital questions about her
own sad state of health and disposition. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

“My clothes got shredded,” Barbie explained, exasperated. “What about you? What happened to you? Why don’t you need our help?”

“Shredded by who?” Angie asked.

“A wolf. Long story. Now, answer my question please.”

“I met the man of my dreams,” Angie said, still grinning.

“Oh yes, certainly looks like it. You should see yourself, Angie.”

“Might want to peek in one of those mirrors, yourself, Barb. You’ve been outside like that?”

Barbie nestled her nearly naked tush deeper into Darin’s protective embrace. Funny how perfectly she fit inside of his arms.
Their bodies cupped together like the old cliché of hand and glove. His chin rested on the top of her head.

He didn’t seem too worried.

“Is he the wolf who tore your clothes?” Angie asked, alluding to Darin with a tilt of her head, her right breast nearly popping
out from her skintight dress.

“Breast ahoy!” Barbie warned.

Angie looked down, removed one hand from the chain bracelet, and adjusted herself. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And yes, actually,” Barbie said. “Angie, meet the wolf, Darin. Darin, Angie. Darin was my date last month,
as you might recall.
The
date.”

“He was also,” Angie said, “Bachelor Number Three this evening.”

Gad, had that stupid game show only been that evening? Seemed like a month ago. So many things had happened. So many emotions
had risen to the surface.

Barbie went on. “Now that introductions are over, what is my best friend doing here,
Angie
? What is this place, and why are you in those cuffs? The man of your dreams has cuffs?”

“Hello, Angie,” Darin said in the lull that followed those rapid-fire questions. “Nice meeting you at last.”

“Oh my,” Angie said, eyes fixed on Darin. “Can you please repeat that?”

Darin remained quiet.

“She wants you to repeat the
hello
,” Barbie prompted.

“Hello,” Darin said warily, arms wrapping tighter around Barbie.

“Damn, if that isn’t the voice to end all voices,” Angie declared, rattling her cuffs slightly. “Maybe I should get mad at
you, Barbie, for telling me you didn’t know who belonged to that voice when it was on your answering machine.”

“
Blind
date, Angie. The definition of which is, person without substance or familiarity until you meet face-to-face.”

“That’s semantics,” Angie scolded. “This is the voice.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. You’re right.” Barbie shrugged. “I should have told you. I just didn’t want to go into it.”

“Did the wolf get his clothes, too?” Angie queried, head tilted at a smug angle.

Only then did Barbie stop to consider what Darin’s bare arms might mean. It meant that the naked arms might be an extension
of a naked body. There were no rolled-up shirt sleeves on the tanned skin. She could, when she turned her head, see a bare
shoulder. It sort of made sense, she supposed. Unless he had extra clothes hidden somewhere, what could he have changed into
when he ditched the wolf suit? Where had he ditched the wolf suit? How had he gotten himself out of it so quickly? Velcro?

“Darin?” Barbie said, momentarily forgetting Angie.

“I’m using you for cover,” Darin replied to her unspoken question. “Couldn’t find a fig leaf.”

“Damn,” Angie sighed. “He’s completely naked back there?”

Barbie wiggled a little. Sure enough, her keister was up against Darin’s bare groin. Darin was utterly and completely naked.

“How did you get here, Angie?” Barbie asked, refocusing with difficulty because she was thinking about Darin in the raw. In
the buff. Behind her. No wolf suit to hide behind.

Would he have tan lines?

Would any part of him resemble the wolf suit in any way?

Was it really hot in this mausoleum?

“It’s not the way it looks,” Angie said, bringing the focus back to her strange plight.

“I hope not,” Barbie scolded, “because it looks a little like an orgy palace, Ang. I mean, how much velvet can there be in
one room?”

“It’s not an orgy!”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I sort of met someone, like you did.”

“You stopped by my place no more than half an hour ago.”

“To tell you I had a date. You weren’t there, so I figured you were busy elsewhere. I used your key to open the door and tossed
your purse inside.”

“Then you came here? For a date?”

Angie shrugged. “Coincidence?”

“Fate,” Darin said from behind.

“What?” Barbie and Angie chirped in unison.

“Angie. . .May I call you Angie?” Darin began.

“You can call me anything you want in that voice,” Angie said.

“Why don’t you want to be rescued?”

“Yeah, why don’t you want to be rescued?” Barbie echoed. “Exactly?”

“Why don’t
you
?” Angie returned defensively. “You said a wolf tore off your clothes.”

“I asked first,” Barbie said.

“
He
asked first,” Angie pointed out, waving to indicate Darin, chains clanking.

“Fine,” Barbie said. “Answer him. I’ll listen.”

“Okay. Truth is, I like it here,” Angie said without so much as a smidgen of defensiveness over her predicament. In fact,
she was showing signs of agitation over the intrusion, and had started a little tap-dance routine in her six-inch stilettos.

Barbie glanced around the room a second time. “You like postmodern stuff. This is more like a haunted-castle movie set.”

“I’m eclectic in my likes. I have a whole new appreciation for medieval.”

“So, how did you get in here?” Barbie pressed.

“My guy lives here.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

In fact, to Barbie, Angie did not look like she was kidding.

“You’re in fake chains. How is this possible?” Barbie had to
know.

“They’re real chains. They just don’t work so well anymore, being antique and all. Walter collects things like this. We were
playing games with them.”

“Who is Walter?” Barbie asked, more confused than ever. When she felt Darin nod his head, she had an aha moment. Darin, it
seemed, knew what Angie was talking about. Possibly also who Angie was talking about. He had relaxed somewhat.

“So,” Darin said pleasantly, and as though they were passing on the street instead of rendezvousing for a rescue in The de
Sade Museum. “You don’t need rescuing, Angie. You’re certain?”

“What?” Barbie cried, mortified.

“Quite certain,” Angie said.

“What?” Barbie repeated.

“Walter is a very nice. . .person,” Darin told her.

“You know him?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ve known him for some time.”

“Where is this. . .Walter?”

“He’s probably around,” Darin said. “He is rather shy.”

“Until you get to know him,” Angie threw in. “Then shy is no longer an option.”

Barbie tilted her head, considering this new information. “How did you meet Walter, Ang?”

“Long story,” her friend replied, smiling enough to show teeth.

“Got all night,” Barbie fired back.

“No, we don’t have all night,” Darin corrected.

“Figure of speech,” Barbie said, “to get the other person to come clean with information sooner rather than later.”

“I think it’s fairly clear that later would be a better option for details,” Darin cautioned gently.

“Amen to that,” Angie muttered. “Lunch? Tomorrow? Then I’ll want the details on how you left the country club with Bachelor
Number One and ended up here with Bachelor Number Three.”

Barbie grimaced. “Okay, I get it. Later for details—if you’re positive you don’t need rescuing.”

Angie again slipped both wrists out of the cuffs and made a peace sign with her fingers.
All show
, she was again pointing out. And she liked it.

“Never would have figured this,” Barbie muttered. “Angie Ward in bondage.”

“Ain’t life grand?” Angie said with an honest-to-goodness twinkle in her eye.

“Just one more question, Angie. Please. What is. . .?”

“Walter,” Darin prompted.

“What is Walter doing to you in those chains?”

“Are we nosey?” Angie replied.

“Always willing to learn, Ang.”

“If you must know, it’s foreplay. At least, I hope it is.” Barbie felt her eyelids flutter.

“A special kind of foreplay,” Angie continued. “The kind every woman might secretly dream about.”

Barbie’s mouth moved. No sound came out. Pure, unadulterated excitement showed in Angie’s face—that was for certain.

“Walter was feeding me before you waltzed in. You’ll never guess what he’s been feeding me,” Angie said, slipping her bonds
and prancing to the slab of a table. Triumphantly, she lifted the lid of a golden bowl. To Barbie’s amazement, Angie took
out a partial package of. . .chocolate fudge-covered Oreos.

Totally bewildered, Barbie laughed.

“Walter knows what a woman wants.” Angie chuckled excitedly. “This here is ritual foreplay at its best.”

Darin chose that moment to begin a retreat. He backed up slowly toward the doorway, dragging Barbie along.

“Dating rules can sometimes be challenged,” Angie added with a little wave. “I may be all night, depending on when we run
out of cookies. Suffice it to say”—she pointed up and down at Barbie’s seminaked body—“that the night promises to be interesting
for both of us.”

“Amen,” Darin whispered.

Barbie turned, still locked in Darin’s arms. Her movement caused a grinding together of their frontals. Although Darin was
buck naked, he sure wore a terrific smile.

“Would you mind handing me a pillow, cushion, or piece of cloth?” he asked. “I seem to have lost my clothes.”

Barbie looked into his eyes. “I think now might be a good time for a bit of blackmail.”

“Are you one to take advantage of such a situation?”

“What situation would that be, exactly? Oh, the one where you rip my clothes half off and that’s okay, but when you lose yours,
you’re skittish?”

“That would be the one, all right.”

“Seems to me, then, that a movie and dinner tomorrow night might be in order.”

“It’d be a tall order, and maybe not so easy,” Darin replied. “Unless you exchange dinner for lunch.”

“Hey! You guys! Love you and all, but do you mind?”
Angie’s plea was tempered by a flickering of all of the candles in the room, almost magically all at once, as though a breeze
had penetrated this thick-walled, windowless space.

“What was that?” Barbie asked.

“That would be Walter.” Darin’s tone was confidential. “And I’m not skittish about my body. I was thinking about your reaction.
If tongues aren’t allowed on a first date, think what complete nakedness might do to shake things up on a second.”

“Barbie!”

“Oh, all right, Angie.” Barbie spoke over her shoulder to her pal. “Glad you’re fine, Ang, except maybe mentally. Still, very
happy you have a boyfriend prospect. We’re going now. We’ll leave you to it.”

What ever
it
was. With whoever this Walter guy was.

Angie sighed loudly. “Thanks. Now, there is one teensy thing you could do for me.”

“You mean outside of dialing 911?”

“Yes, Miss Smarty-pants. Instead of that.”

“What?”

“Do you think you could move a little so I might catch the naked show before your asses hit the road?
I’m
not skittish.”

Barbie looked at Darin.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned.

“So, you are skittish.”

“Wouldn’t want to spoil Angie, is all.”

Barbie grinned. “A little exposure might serve you right.”

“This is not my fault, Barbie.”

“Who was the blonde?”

“Jess Russell. My little sister. I swear.”

Barbie cut her eyes to Angie. Angie shrugged.

“Cross my heart,” Darin added.

Barbie nodded. “Okay. Promise me you’ll answer all my
questions when we step outside this door, and I’ll help you out of this sticky situation.”

“I won’t be able to answer your questions once we step outside that door.”

“Barbie!” Angie was beyond impatient.

“We’re ruining my friend’s private party, Darin. Will you comply?”

“No.”

“No?” Barbie hadn’t expected this answer. Now what? Try again. “Why?”

“Because I could very easily fall in love with you. I might have fallen already. If I answer all of your questions, there’s
a possibility I won’t be able to see you again. If we walk out that door, I won’t be able to speak of this at all.”

Darin loved her? There was a good chance he
loved
her?

Barbie held up a hand to let Angie know she was trying to rush things along and that she needed another minute.

“Are you a criminal? Homicidal maniac?” she asked Darin.

“Of course not.”

“Barbie!”

“I’m sorry, Angie. We’re going.”

Though the candles flickered again, Barbie kept her focus on Darin’s face. Darin said, “I think we’re annoying Walter. We
really don’t want to get on the wrong side of him. That is a fact.”

Barbie spoke loudly, for Angie’s benefit. “Is Walter a homicidal maniac or criminal?”

“No,” Darin replied. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“Is he one of those things that go bump in the night?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”
Barbie was a bit taken aback.