Naked Frame (4 page)

"So, they won't bother us."

"Nope." Gabby led her to the back stairs.
"We need to go up to the third floor." He began to attack the
stairs, two at a time.

Rebecca followed suit. It brought back high
school memories. She could almost hear Mrs. Mattison fussing at
them for their enthusiastic, but illegal climbing of stairs. Right
now she longed for those days— when the only laws she was breaking
were in the school handbook.

They walked through a work room, past
several large tables and industrial grade sewing machines, to the
doorway of his office. "It's not much, but—"

"—at least it doesn't have a bloody corpse
in it."

"Yeah."

Rebecca noticed the pillow and blanket on
his couch. "You sleep up here?"

"Yeah. I had to give up my apartment.
Couldn't make the rent."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's not that bad. I'd do anything to
keep my shop. Whatever it takes."

"Don't say that to the cops."

"Oh. Right. So, let's see..." He walked
across the work room. Gabby's Originals hung all over the walls.
"Oh, this would be marvelous on you."

She followed him to a pink, low-cut
dress.

He took it off the wall and held it up in
front of her. "Try it on."

"Oh, no, Gabby. I don't really do pink."

"Which is why this will be
perfect. We need something your best friend wouldn't recognize you
in," said Gabby. "Do you
have
a best friend?"

She hesitated. "Melanie. She's dead."

"Oh, wonderful. Don't you have any friends
or family that are still breathing?"

"Just you, I guess."

"That's sad, Girl. But don't
worry. I'll be like
five
friends."

"You always were."

"That's right. Now try it on."

"Is there a dressing room?"

He put his hands on his hips and cocked his
head to the side. "Really?"

"Oh, what the hell."

She stripped down to panties and bra.

"You always did have lovely legs. And,
Honey, your butt is still nice and firm. Good job."

"Will you quit looking at me?"

"It's just that I admire the human
form...particularly when it's so damn perfect."

Rebecca frowned at him.

"A little over the top?"

"Yeah."

"That bra won't work. Hang on." He scurried
into his office and came back with a bra in hand. "Here's what you
need."

"You've got a selection of bras in your
office?"

"I like bras." He grinned and shrugged.

Rebecca reluctantly unhooked her bra and
took it off.

"Oh, my. You always had perky breasts.
Probably from all that weight lifting and basketball."

"Stop it!" She covered herself with her
hands, and turned her back to him. "All those times in high school
when I let you watch me get dressed—I thought you were gay."

"Why? Because everybody else thought so? I
told you I wasn't. And you said you believed me."

"I did. Sort of." She spun around. "Well, if
you weren't gay...if you're not gay, then why didn't you ever make
a move on me? Was I not pretty enough?"

"Not
pretty
enough?"

"I had zits all over my face. And because I
was a tall basketball player who liked to get physical on the
court, some of the kids thought I was gay too."

"I knew you weren't."

"Then why didn't you ever try to kiss
me?"

"Because...I wanted to be the strong one in
the relationship. And that was never going to happen with you."

"So, I never even turned you on?"

He smiled. "Oh, I didn't say that." He gave
her body the once over with smiling eyes.

"Quit looking at me that way."

"Okay. I'll try to restrain myself."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Ever been married?"

"No." He hesitated. "Okay, I know how that
looks. But I've been busy. How about you?"

"Have I ever been married? No. I've had a
few boyfriends. In fact, I moved here to Dallas to be closer to a
guy I was dating. I really thought we had something. But it didn't
work out. I always seem to scare them off."

"I'm sorry, Becca."

"It's no big deal."

"Now...the ponytail has got to go. You wear
it up most of the time, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let it down. Nobody will recognize
you." He went into his office and came back with a brush and a wig.
He handed her the brush. "Here you go."

Rebecca took the brush. "Is that for
you?"

"Yep. This is all I need." He positioned the
wig on his head.

"So,
you're
going to be the one with the
ponytail. You look like Paul Revere."

"I was going for
hippie
. Alright, we'll
grab you a pair of shoes on the way out. They're on the first
floor. You still wear a 10B, right?"

"I can't believe you remembered."

"Are you kidding? How many times did you
throw your smelly basketball shoes at me?"

Rebecca laughed.

"Okay. Let's go to Café Nue and do some
investigating."

"You like to go there because of the sexy
young waitresses."

He grinned. "Sure. As well as the food. It's
exquisite. I love their chateaubriand with pommes de terre truffée
and the Cabernet Sauvignon."

"I'd rather have a burger with fries and a
diet Coke."

"They have that too."

As they went down the
staircase, Gabby said, "I love the
name
of the place. Café Nue. It's
French, you know. It means—"

"—I know what it means. Nude Café."

CHAPTER 5 - Monday, 11:25 p.m.

As they walked up to the
entrance, Rebecca pointed to the sign on the door:
By Reservation Only
.

Gabby waved it off. "Don't worry. I'll
handle it."

They walked into the foyer and stepped to
the end of the line.

The maître d' towered over the podium as
almighty judge of the mere peasants below hoping to gain entrance.
Rebecca couldn't tell whether he was male or female. Male, she
finally decided. And he was either standing on a platform or he was
seven feet tall.

He raised his long arm, extending his index
finger toward the exit. The couple at the front of the line turned
around and cursed their way back out to the street.

Rebecca whispered to Gabby, "This guy's got
an attitude. There's no way he's going to let us in."

Three men moved forward to await their
verdict.

"Name?"

"Johnson," said one of the men. "Bill
Johnson."

The maître d' searched his list. "Yes, Mr.
Johnson. For three." He offered a fake smile of approval. "You may
enter."

A beautiful young woman led them inside.

Gabby leaned over to Rebecca. "This is not
the regular guy."

The couple in front of them were rejected
out of hand—apparently due to their lack of respect. Or perhaps he
didn't care for the color of their eyes.

Gabby stepped forward.

"Name?" The man was scary-tall up close.

"Gabby."

"Hmm. I don't see—"

"—it's Gabby with double B's."

The giant stared down at Gabby. "I don't
think so, Honey. You're a Double A at best."

Rebecca glanced at Gabby's chest.

"Sorry," he said, looking down his nose.
"There's no Gabby here."

Gabby leaned in and whispered, "Perhaps it's
under G'Blee."

"
G'Blee?
You're Gabby G'Blee?
The
hot, new
designer?"

Gabby smiled and put a finger to his lips—as
though he wanted to stay under the radar of the paparazzi. "Yes.
That's me."

The maître d' bent down and whispered, "Oh,
Darling, I absolutely adore your work."

"Thanks."

He reached over and placed his hand on
Gabby's shoulder. "I would give my right arm to have one of your
originals. Any chance I could get you to design an evening gown for
me? Something low-cut?"

"Come and see me. We'll talk."

"Wonderful. Oh, that would be
scrumptious."

"What about my...reservation?"

"Oh, of course." He returned to his standing
position.

"For two."

"Yes. Please enjoy yourselves. See you
soon." He winked at Gabby, and nodded to the lovely young hostess
waiting by the entrance. "Table twenty-one."

They followed the woman through the door
into a long, dark hallway. The black walls faded to beige, curved
outward, and were gone. One moment they were walking through the
hallway. The next, they were several feet into the café. What a
weird sensation, thought Rebecca. When she looked back, she
understood. They had walked out between two enormous, but
beautifully sculpted, butt cheeks.

Rebecca hadn't seen so many bare breasts
since her high school locker room days. And she knew the waitresses
wouldn't be completely nude. But when she saw how tiny the thongs
were, she wondered how the place could be legal.

The café was larger than Rebecca had
expected. More of a hall than a room. The bar, which was located at
the back, in the center, was oval-shaped, topped with white marble.
There was a pool at the center of the bar which was fed by a
fountain. The gentle flow of water into the pool provided a
soothing drone.

Nice touch, thought Rebecca. But not at all
Big Bill Smotherburn's style. Then she realized the bar resembled a
toilet seat. And the stream of water flowed from a large pipe
hanging out over the pool which looked very much like a penis.

The hostess led them to their table and they
sat down. "Please feel free to adjust the table lights to your
liking. They're touch sensitive." She flicked the nipple of one of
the hanging boob lights and it got brighter. "Your waitress will be
with you shortly." She walked away.

Gabby smiled at Rebecca. "I told you I could
get us in."

"Do you really enjoy looking at these
women?"

"Well, I don't
hate
it."

"You're a regular horndog of a man, aren't
you?"

Their waitress appeared from nowhere. "Hi.
My name is Cotton Candy. May I take your order?"

Gabby said, "Two Diet Coke's. With lemon.
Two steak burgers. Well done."

"Yes, Sir. I'll have you order right out.
Thank you." The waitress walked away.

"You still take lemon with your Diet
Coke."

"I figured you did too. Was I wrong?"

"No." Rebecca smiled. "What are the steak
burgers like?"

"They're just fancy hamburgers made with
Angus Beef."

"I'll bet they're expensive?"

"Twenty bucks."

"For just the burger?"

"Yep. Don't even ask how much they charge
for the booze."

"And then there's the tip."

"Yep. But that's the best part. Oh, I hope
I've got some cash."

"Where do you put the tip?"

"Under the thong strap."

"Men." Rebecca shook her head. "So
predictable when it comes to sex."

"True."

"Grabbing a hamburger with you kind of
reminds me of when we used to go to Jackie's after home games."

"Except Jackie was wearing clothes."

Rebecca winced. "Oh, great. I'll never get
that image out of mind."

"What image?" Gabby grinned.

"Of Jackie walking up to our table in a
thong. How old was she? Ninety?"

"At least."

Rebecca grimaced.

"You just pictured the boobs, didn't
you?"

"I'm changing the subject now."

"Okay."

"This is kinda fun, Gabby. But what can we
hope to accomplish here? Our waitress is not going to tell us
anything."

"A guy named Joey Ketrousie runs the place
for Big Bill. I hear he's from New York City. Maybe he's
Mafia."

"Oh, great."

"Anyway, we'll find out if he knows what
happened to Big Bill tonight. He wouldn't know yet, unless..."

"Unless he had something to do with it."

"Right."

Cotton Candy delivered their food and
drinks.

"Wow, that was fast," said Rebecca.

"Thank you, Ma'am," said Cotton Candy.

Rebecca didn't appreciate
being called
Ma'am
by the perky young thing.

After the waitress walked away, Rebecca
leaned in. "How are we going to talk to Joey? I mean, where is he?
And even if you find him, how are we going to ask him about Big
Bill without getting ourselves killed?"

"You mean
capped
, right? I love
that cool gangster talk."

"You won't love it so much
when you're
dead
."

"Gabby grabbed his burger with both hands,
took a big bite, and began to chew. He stopped and contorted his
face.

"What?"

He jumped up from the table and yelled,
"What the hell kind of crap is this?" He threw the burger on the
floor.

"Oh, God." Rebecca slumped down.

Cotton Candy ran over to Gabby, followed by
two other waitresses. "What's wrong, Sir?"

"How much was this so-called steak burger?
Twenty bucks?"

"Yes, Sir."

Gabby's face turned red with
rage. "Well the damn thing's not worth fifty cents. Hell, it's not
worth
one
cent."

Cotton Candy said, "I'm so sorry, Sir.
Please let me get you another one that's cooked to your liking. Now
if you'll have a seat—"

"—no. Hell, no. I want to speak to the owner
of this joint. Right now."

Throughout the room, half-chewed bites and
half-spoken words awaited the resolution of the spectacle Gabby had
created.

"Yes, Sir. Sure. Come with me."