Paradise By The Rifle Sights (Greatest Hits romantic mysteries book #5) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) (8 page)

"
Paris, you're a great guy," Roberto said. "You're gorgeous, smart and a true gentleman. And I wish you were gay."

I looked at my watch.
"I think, and I can't believe I'm going to say this, that we should get back."

Roberto signaled for the bill.
"Yes, we don't want to miss your little date tonight."

I threw some cash on the table and mumbled
, "No, we don't want me to miss that."

"There's an old saying in Hollywood: It's not the length of your film, it's how you use it."

~
Ben Stiller

Teri was again my chauffer, and she ignored me as I got into the car with three women.
I guess I deserved that. She dropped me, Cindee, Leila-the-tongue, and Bridget-the-mute, along with a camera guy, off at a sushi restaurant in Beverly Hills. I opened the door for the three women, and after introducing myself to the maitre d, I followed them to our table.

We had our own room, which was good because the cameramen were embarrassing in public.
They all looked like homeless men dragged off the streets, handed a camera, and given an assignment. And they filmed everything from every angle possible. And I mean
every angle possible.
It was difficult to ignore them.

After we ordered, I decided to make another attempt to get to know these women.
It wasn't their fault they only had seconds with me at the pool. They deserved the benefit of the doubt.

"
So, Leila, tell me a little about yourself." I asked, hoping she'd go into a monologue about her work with orphans or something like that. This was an opportunity to tell the world that she was a real person.

Instead, she treated it like an interview for a gig as a Playboy centerfold.

"
I'm a thirty-six double D," she began. "I like puppies and rainbows and my favorite movie is
Titanic.
" She ended with an ear-splitting grin.

"
No," I said, trying to give her one more chance. "I mean, who are you really? What are your interests?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cindee trying hard not to laugh. I was really in danger of liking her.

Leila struggled with an answer. She kept cocking her head to the side and stammering.
Finally, she gave up. "What is the right answer?" she asked.

I shook my head.
"There is no right answer," I said gently. "Just tell me what you're passionate about." I meant, does she fight for animal rights, or is she interested in women's rights.

What I got was,
"I'm passionate about you, Paris." Her eyes were huge, and she was licking her lips.

I sighed and turned to Bridget, who was once again, smiling silently.
"How about you, Bridget?"

"
Don't listen to Leila," she said. "She's brain-dead from years on the pageant circuit."

"
You can talk!" I sputtered.

Bridget giggled.
"Of course I can talk. What are you, stupid?"

I suddenly didn
't want to talk to Bridget anymore. Unfortunately, she wanted to talk to me.

"
I have goals in life," she continued. "I want to pursue a professional career. Not like that." She pointed at Leila, who actually hissed at her—something I didn't think women actually did.

"
Okay," I said slowly, "what do you do?"

Bridget grinned as if she
'd just one some sort of challenge. "I want to be a porn actress."

I didn
't say anything for a moment. This woman went from telling me I was stupid, to informing me her biggest dream was to have sex with men (or possibly women) on camera.

I turned to Cindee.
"Why are you here?" I asked.

"
I believe I told you that already." She really looked amazing tonight, in a Chinese, red satin dress that hugged her ample curves. It was hard to take my eyes off of her.

"
Thank God," I said to her. "You're not just trying to make it as a centerfold or in direct-to-video pornography?"

"
No. And I'm starting to wonder why I'm here." She glanced at her two date-mates (who were arguing about who had better tits—their word, not mine). "These women are all nuts. I wish I'd never come here."

"
I'm wondering about that too," I said.

"
Why are you here then?" Cindee asked. "I got the impression you didn't think much of this kind of show."

I winced.
"Can you blame me? You are the only woman here I find interesting."

Cindee frowned.
"I don't really know how to take that. Am I just an exception to what you think is the norm? Or are you trying to cover up for slighting me on the trip here?"

"
Yes. And no. You are an intelligent, thoughtful woman. And I haven't found anyone else like you among the contestants. You're the only one who will do well here."

"
I guess I should be happy about that. It sounds like you think I have a better shot at you than the others."

I stared at her.
Was I wrong about Cindee? Or was she mocking me? Her face was impassive. She wasn't letting me have any clue.

"
Maybe you should pay attention to Leila and Bridget? They are your dates too," Cindee said, and then I knew she was upset.

"
Why does this have to be so difficult?" I asked her. "Why can't you see I'm paying you a compliment?"

Cindee
's frown deepened. "Oh, so now you'd rather I giggle and swoon when you speak? Like you think the others are? Which is it, Paris? You can't have both."

This was not going well at all.
I turned to Leila. She was scowling at me with her arms folded across her chest. Bridget had four empty rocks glasses in front of her and was nearly passed out at the table.

Our sushi came
, and we ate in silence. This wasn't very good television. But none of the women wanted to talk to me. And I was beyond confused. Wasn't it good that I was looking for a woman of substance? What did I do wrong?

"
Well that was boring as hell," the cameraman muttered as he shouldered past me to the limo. The ride home was silent. I wondered how they'd spin this when it aired. Bimbo women, or idiot Bachelor?

An hour later we were all in the den for the elimination.
Four groups of women stood before me. A tray of pink roses at my left. I had to send one group home.

Most people who would later watch the sushi episode might think that I would send home Cindee
's group. After all, there appeared to be no attraction between me and those women. What a mess.

"
Wanda, Monterrey, and…" what was the other woman's name? It didn't matter because they all stepped forward with huge smiles on their faces. They were happy they weren't the last group—the group that doesn't get a rose.

"
You're going home," I said.

I ignored the looks of shock on each of their faces and handed out the roses to the other women.
I fled to my suite before anyone could speak. Bad television? Probably. Maybe they'd fire me and send
me
home.

The F-Troop theme was blaring in the background.
I'm sure the crew was pissed and punishing me for a crappy night. I didn't care. In fact, I didn't really need to be here. The cameramen would be busy dealing with three sobbing women as they packed. I had my own separate entrance to the house, so I used it.

Of course, once I got outside I realized there was no where I could really go.
None of these cars were mine. Maybe I could call a cab? But to where? There might be a small chance Roberto was still around. I headed to the garage to check it out.

"
Roberto?" I called out. The garage held ten cars of various shapes and sizes. The only thing they had in common was that they were all very expensive.

The sound of a metal tool landing on cement drew me toward the limo.
Teri stood up, and upon seeing me, shook her head.

"
Going AWOL, Fabio?" she asked.

"
The thought has crossed my mind." I walked over to where she was and leaned against the car.

Teri looked me up and down.
"You wear a suit to lounge around the house?"

"
They didn't really give me anything else to wear. No shorts, no polo shirts, just suits."

"
I guess you are kind of a slave to what the masses want to see, huh?"

Was she being a smartass, or was that sympathy I heard in her voice?
"Pretty much sums it up."

Teri leaned against a grey
Bentley, facing me. "I heard you screwed everything up tonight."

"
Good news travels fast." I put my hands in my pockets. "I don't want to be here."

"
Then why are you here?" Teri asked. Her eyes looked further into me than I thought possible. To my surprise, I realized that I liked her too. That wasn't like me, to be interested in two women at the same time. The idea embarrassed me. I'd always been a one-woman guy. At least, that's what I'd told myself. Teri was complicating things, and I felt uneasy about my interest in her.

An idea formed in my mind, allowing me a distraction.
"I just auditioned as a favor to Chuck Plimpton—the producer. I wasn't supposed to win the audition—just show the others how it was done. Chuck's a friend of my grandmother."

Oh
, God. Grandma Mary would roll around in her grave (if she was dead) if she knew I'd put her in the same league as this asshole. But this was a better excuse than the one I had before—and I might get some info on Plimpton and get Teri to stop looking at me like that.

"
Your grandmother is a friend of that pig?" Teri looked appalled.

A normal person would
've defended his grandmother's honor. But my grandmother once killed a room full of Yakuza by herself using only a nail file and a jar of mayonnaise. She could defend herself.

"
I guess so." I feigned ignorance. "Why do you call him a pig?"

Teri shook her head.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"
So, have you seen him around? I'd heard he likes to visit the set, but I haven't seen him."

"
I heard from Mel that Chuck had gone to his house in Bora Bora." She shrugged. "I really don't miss him. He was an asshole to the staff." She gave me a little smile, and I felt drawn to her. This woman didn't mince words. She called them as she saw them. It was intriguing. Why couldn't these contestants be more like her?

Then I realized she
'd said Chuck was in Bora Bora. I really was stuck on this stupid program.

"
So," she said, filling in the silence, "what do you think of the ladies you have here?" Why did her questions put me on the spot? It was like going through a human lie detector. I felt vulnerable, and yet, I liked it. Teri could hold her own and call me out.

"
This isn't what I expected. Some of these women come on so strong. I don't want a woman to shove her tongue down my throat the first time she meets me."

Teri snorted.
"Yeah, right. They all say that. Every single one of the Bachelors. They all say they want to find something meaningful—then they sleep with half these bimbos and wonder why it never works out in the end."

Well
that
hurt. "I don't know about the other guys, but I really mean it. How can you honestly pick out a soul mate from a random group of women?"

Teri narrowed her eyes.
"I'm trying to figure out if you really believe that."

I stood up straight.
"Of course I really mean it!" And I did too. So why didn't she see that?

"
Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes. "Look, I've got a lot of work to do before I go home and show up again tomorrow." Teri turned her back to me. "See you later."

And that was it.
This conversation was over. And it hadn't gone well.

"
Who shot him?" I asked.

The grey man scratched the back of his neck and said:
"Somebody with a gun."

~
Dashiell Hammett

"
Rise and shine, Paris!" Roberto's voice spoke somewhere above me.

I opened my eyes to see my valet standing over me.
"Everything hurts," I said. My whole body ached from the yoga session yesterday. In the background on the TV, Forrest Tucker was yelling at someone. Oh right. I was still in hell.

The housekeeper brought in more boiled goat meat and pureed flowers.
As soon as he left, Roberto produced a sausage and egg biscuit from his very expensive messenger bag. I devoured it, dumped the goat out the window, and somehow he managed to coax me to the yoga room.

If yesterday was an experiment in the impossible, today was an experiment in pain.
Just moving my limbs a fraction of an inch caused searing agony. And Dushyant not only didn't understand English, he also didn't understand my screams. Or he thought they were part of my breathing. All I know is I spent an hour begging for mercy from someone who didn't understand me.

Roberto helped me up the stairs when we were through and somehow got my knees to bend to get into my mud bath.
It helped, like the day before. But this time, he refused to give me any painkillers. I don't even remember getting out, showering, or dressing. If I hadn't woken up on the floor, soaking wet, I'd swear I drowned in the mud.

We met Mel in the pool area.
The women weren't there.

"
Today," he started, "you are going to take another group of three on a day date."

I hoped I didn
't look too disappointed. I really wanted to try to find Teri and convince her I wasn't on the make. The idea that she felt that way had kept me up most of the night. All I saw in my mind, over and over, was her disapproval, and maybe a hint of disappointment. I went over lines I could've said that would've changed everything, but it was too little, too late.

"
We've gone ahead and picked a threesome for you," Mel said, shaking me out of my thoughts. "They are waiting for you at the airport."

"
The airport?" I asked.

"
You said you wanted your dates to be at county fairs in Iowa. It happens to be county fair season now."

Oh
, shit. I didn't want to go to a county fair in Iowa. Were these idiots really going to follow every request on my list?

Roberto stood back.
"I think he should change first…"

That was a good point.
I was wearing an Armani oxford shirt with Chinos and Tod's loafers. None of these things look good with cow shit and cotton candy smeared on them.

Mel took me by the arm.
"No time. You have to go now."

I tried to protest as he led me back through the house to the driveway where a limo was waiting.
Mel pushed me inside and shut the door behind me. I hoped maybe Cindee would be there. No such luck.

"
Hi!" said a woman I remembered as Destiny. The other two women, Rio and Ophelia (they said), smiled and slid toward me. This was going to be a long day.

The only thing that saved me was the fact we had to buckle into our seats on the plane.
During the drive to the airport, I'd been caressed within an inch of my life. At least on the plane, the stewards insisted they remain seated. One of the guys winked at me, and I wondered if Roberto had something to do with this.

I tried to chat the women up during the flight.
They spoke a little, but about nothing. I wondered if there was now a script—a way they felt they had to act on this kind of reality show. They weren't dressed for a county fair either. All three wore skin tight dresses with stiletto shoes. Between them, I figured their hair extensions were long enough to circle the fairgrounds.

Why did women do that?
I just didn't get hair extensions. I could understand if they'd had chemo and lost their hair. But making long hair longer didn't make sense to me. At some point, it was just too long for anything except maybe strangling a man with it.

So the flight was quiet, the ladies looked bored, the cameraman was pissed, and I wanted to be somewhere else with Teri or Cindee.
Probably apologizing. It was frustrating that I'd met two interesting women and had offended them both. What had happened to me? I was one of those guys who had women friends. I was sensitive, thoughtful, and full of respect.

But
Hollywood and a reality show had turned my world upside down. I wondered how many other men were screwed up from this shit. If I did find Chuck Plimpton's body, I'd kill him all over again.

The plane taxied to a landing
, and an SUV arrived to take us to the Clinton County Fair in DeWitt Iowa. Destiny, Ophelia, and Rio never stopped smiling but didn't say anything else. The camera guy had gotten nothing from the flight. For some, bizarre reason, I wanted to make him happy.

"
So, Destiny, where are you from?" Lame, but functional. After all, everyone's from somewhere, right?

Her smile dazzled so brightly I thought she was wired for electricity.
"I'm from New York City!"

"
Great," I said, "and what do you do there?"
Come on, give me something.

"
Well, Paris," she said as she pulled her hair all around her head to hang down on her left shoulder, where it fell to her hips, "I'm a model and an actress."

I tried not to flinch.
"Really? That's interesting. What have you done?"

Destiny frowned
, and I immediately regretted asking. "Nothing yet. New York theatre is blind to true talent."

I suddenly lost the urge to talk to her anymore.
I turned to Rio and asked her the same set of questions. It felt vaguely familiar.

Rio
giggled and pulled a huge wad of gum out of her mouth. She rolled down the window and chucked it out. "I'm from Miami. And I'm a consultant."

"
That's interesting." Well, actually it was. "What kind of consulting work do you do?"
Please let it be something I can build a conversation around.

Rio
seemed encouraged by my interest. "Marketing! I'm a marketing consultant."

"
Okay," I said slowly, "that's what I do too. What kind of marketing?" Alright, I didn't really. Marketing Consultant was my cover, but I did have a degree from Wharton.

"
Seriously? We should sooooo work together!" Rio smiled, and her violet eyes grew wider. Violet eyes? She must've had colored contacts.

"
That would depend on who you consult with," I answered.

"
Oh, yeah! I work mostly with pet food." She straightened up and in a deep voice said, "If your dog is fat, Purser Pet Food can help with that!"

"
I remember that campaign. You came up with that slogan?" Maybe Rio had some promise.

She shook her head.
"No, but I picked the font for it!"

Ophelia moved in for the kill.
"Don't listen to them, Par…"

Did she just call me Par?
It's not like my name is so long it's hard to say.

"
I'm the only one you need to talk to tonight," she purred.

"
And why is that?" I asked, in spite of the fact I really didn't want to know.

Ophelia responded by grabbing my cock through my pants and tugging.
If she were a man, I'd have killed her on the spot. But just then the car slowed down, and the driver turned toward us.

"
You're here," he said dully. "Meet back here in two hours."

We got out of the car, after extricating Ophelia
's hand from my groin. It had taken everything in my power not to pull her arm off and shove it down her throat. The three of us stood in front the entrance to the fairgrounds. An old man was sitting at a card table out front.

He looked us up and down.
"I think you might be in the wrong place, son."

The cameraman paid for our tickets and preceded us into the fairgrounds.
Sawdust and dirt filled the air, covering us immediately. Kids ran past holding cotton candy, while adults openly stared.

Now, when I say they stared at us, I don
't mean they just looked us over. They gawked, slack-jawed—the men stared at the three sets of fake breasts I escorted, and the women scowled. This could only go downhill from here.

"
Oooooooh!" Rio squealed, "Paris! Win me a giant monkey!" She pointed at a booth to our left.

"
Me too, Paris!" Destiny shouted louder.

"
No, me!" cried Ophelia, even louder. The women were making a huge scene, and it was clear they loved the attention. If I asked them to be quiet, they probably would've gotten naked and resorted to arson.

"
Alright," I sighed and made my way to the booth. Now I'd have to win three huge stuffed animals and probably carry them around for the rest of the night. But doing
something
would bring me that much closer to the end of the night. And I was pretty sure I knew which group was going home.

The carn
ie behind the counter grinned toothlessly as I put money on the counter. It was one of those games where you shoot the water pistol at the creepy clown's mouth to blow up a balloon until it burst. And it was likely rigged.

"
Good luck, kid," the carnie said, and I realized with a start that it was a woman. The cameraman was eating it up going from the homely, middle-aged carnie to the trio of silicone ladies with me.

I took the pistol into my hand and felt the weight of it.
It was plastic and smooth from years of use. The sights would be worthless. One quick squirt at the target told me immediately to aim up to the left to compensate. Within five minutes I had three enormous monkeys in my arms.

"
Howdjya do that?" mumbled the carnie.

"
Just lucky, I guess." And training with handguns since I was five. But that was beside the point.

"
Thank you!" the three gir…I mean, women chorused.

The rest of the time, I carried three monkeys as I followed
Rio, Destiny, and Ophelia around the fairgrounds as they ran from one thing to another. Apparently, none of these women had ever been to a carnival before. And apparently, none of the Iowans there had seen three scantily clad women at a fair before. I guess it was a win-win for everyone. Everyone except for me.

"
Oooh! Paris!" Rio squealed. "We have to go the powder room! Wait here for us!" She planted a kiss on my cheek, somehow dodging the monkeys, and the three women fled. The cameraman knew he'd get more interesting footage with them—so he followed.

"
Powder room?" some little kid asked another. He shrugged. I felt the same way.

I turned into an alley between two long tents and sat on a bench there, dumping the monkeys on the ground.
I'd seriously screwed up. Between Dushyant, F-Troop, and the first of what promised to be too many dates at county fairs, I'd made a huge mess of things. Teri thought I was a con artist, and Cindee thought I was a jerk. There were only two women worth talking to, and I'd alienated both of them.

Something crunched behind me
, and I was on my feet. A black blur barreled into me, knocking me to the ground. I was just about to wonder who'd let a steer loose when I heard a male voice above me.

"
Gotcha now." A fist smashed into the side of my face.

Instinct took over
, and soon I was up and had my attacker on his feet, heading face first into a large tent pole. He bounced off and fell down. I spun him over, face down in the dirt while jamming his arm up and back at a painful angle.

"
Not looking for a fight here," I said. "You've had too much to drink. Go home and sleep it off."

Beneath me, my victim writhed.
"I'm looking for you, Paris Bombay."

Well this was unexpected.
Was this related to the guy at the hotel? My hesitation allowed him to kick backwards, pushing me off him. We scrambled to our feet.

"
What do you want with me?" I growled.

The man snarled.
"I want you dead." It was too dark to see anything more than a silhouette, but I heard the switchblade snap into place sure enough.

"
Good luck." And I lunged at him, knocking the knife from his hand. This time he fell back against the same tent pole. And this time he went out cold.

"
What's going on here?" A large, shadow appeared.

I swiveled.
I knew that voice. "Coney! I didn't know you were working here!"