Patrice Lyle - Health Nut 01 - Killer Kung Pao (5 page)

Was she talking about the tattoo or his muscle?

Either way, he didn't seem to mind. "Thank you, ma'am. I designed it myself."

She paused to inspect his arm and read the words aloud. "
Real women need real rocks.
That's cute, Tattoo Tex."

He smiled, and I forced myself to stop gawking at the twinkling image of the giant diamond ring wrapped in a spiral of green leaves. What really got me was the kind of diamond it was. Princess cut.

Holy chocolate babka. Could this guy get any hotter?

I was so overwhelmed, I couldn't speak.

"You okay there, Doc Meadows?"

Who cared if his
there
sounded like
thar?
What a silly thing to get bothered over. I took a deep breath and managed to say, "I'm fine. I was just taken aback by the beauty and clarity of your ring tattoo. It's incredible."

"Watch how it lights up." He flexed his bicep (make me drool), and the facets of the diamond practically shone beneath the glow of the overhead lights. "It's my secret angle of tattoo art. Gotta make it real, so the ladies like it."

Ladies? Who and where?

As if he read my mind, he said, "My mom and auntie were real close, and my auntie died unmarried, so I designed this for her before she passed away."

Aw. How seriously cute is that?

"Sorry about your aunt," I said. "But that was sweet."

He air-tossed his hand, as if to say,
Shucks, ma'am
. "I figure a fine woman deserves a fine piece of bling."

My heart swelled like a schoolgirl so I turned toward my booth. How was I going to be able to give my presentation after lunch when I was so smitten?

Act professional. Like now.

I slipped behind my table and sat on my chair. I took a much-needed deep breath while Aunt Alfa chattered and rearranged her oils and herbs. Then she excused herself to go take lunch orders, a designated part of her sentence for lying on my application. A moment of quiet was a good thing because my talk was looming, and I was so distracted by Tattoo Tex that I actually angled my KLCS pendant so I could see him in the reflection.

And what a reflection it was. That sexy face. That sexy body.

What am I doing? I need to focus.

I grabbed my
Health Nuts Rock
talk notes, intent on reviewing them for my presentation. Nothing like a little work to get my mind moving in the right direction.
H was for hydration. E was for electromagnetic pollution. A was for acid alkaline balance. L was for lymphatic health. T was for…Tattoo Tex.

No, it wasn't. T was for targeted supplements.

This wasn't going well. I needed to concentrate on something other than Tattoo Tex if I was going to pull this talk off without looking like a moron.

"Excuse me, miss," an old man's voice said. "Is this Alfa Sprout's booth?"

An older man leaning against a walker stood before me, his blond toupee perilously perched on the side of his head. That was the only messy thing about him, though. His ivory slacks were pressed. His teal-striped shirt appeared brand new. And his burgundy leather shoes were shinier than my rhinestone stethoscope.

"Yes, it is," I said. "But she just stepped away."

"What are her rates? Does she charge by the hour?"

"By the session, actually." I set my lecture notes aside and stood up. "Are you interested in aromatherapy or herbal remedies?"

He scrunched his face in confusion. "Neither. I read her spicy profile on
Wanna Get in My Granny Panties
."

"What? Aunt Alfa would never register on such a site. I think you're mistaken, sir."
Or possibly senile, given your appearance.

The man dug a crinkled piece of paper from his pockets and showed me. I gasped when I saw a familiar face in a not-so-familiar get up.

Aunt Alfa posed, one knee on a luxurious bed covered with a hot pink satin comforter and a mound of silver sequined pillows—hey, that was my bedroom—wearing her Mary Janes and a red leather bustier, with a red boa dangling from her neck.

"She's a babe isn't she?" The old man was practically drooling.

Tattoo Tex stepped across the aisle and peeked at the picture. "Wow. Your grandma's a hooker?"

"No." What an image that presented. "First, she's my great aunt, and she's an aromatherapist. Not a hooker." I grabbed the printout from the old guy and crumpled it up.

"I want that back." The old guy pointed at the paper ball in my fist.

"Not going to happen." My voice was firm.

The old guy flashed me sad puppy eyes, before turning to Tattoo Tex. "Some pink-haired Chinese guy is out there saying tattoos are bad for your health. I think he's trying to get you banned from the show."

Tattoo Tex rocked back on his tennis shoes and lifted his hand to chest level. "Little dude, about yay high?"

The old guy nodded.

"I had a brief run-in with him at an expo in Dallas last year," Tattoo Tex said.

Imagine that. "I rode the elevator with Mystic Ming this morning, and he was most unpleasant."

"He's down right disrespectful." Tattoo Tex's eyes clouded for a moment. "He told me he hated cowboy hats."

The tautness of Tattoo Tex's jaw told me he didn't welcome such remarks.

"How rude," I said. Even though I secretly agreed with Mystic Ming, I would never tell anyone that. Especially a long tall Texan.

"That's the equivalent of blasphemy where I come from, ma'am."

"He could have got himself shot in the Lone Star State for making a comment of that nature," the old man said.

"You're darn right," Tattoo Tex said. "But I let it go. I reckoned a dude with pink hair didn't know any better."

I laughed. "That hair is something else."

Tattoo Tex smiled, and I admired his side-profile. His sexiness lit something inside that I hadn't felt in a while.

"Long time no see, Mervyn," Aunt Alfa said as she returned to the booth. She angled the notepad in her hand and swatted the old man's derriere. "You here to get in my granny panties?"

Death by Kung Pao Shrimp

Granny panties? Since when?
Aunt Alfa wore lacy thongs (trust me, I've tried to suppress that memory). I discovered this fact after she moved into my place. One Sunday afternoon, I found her hand-washed dainties lying on a towel to dry on my kitchen table. My kitchen table where I
used
to eat.

So why the ruse with Old Man Mervyn?

Mervyn shot Aunt Alfa a lascivious grin. "I can't stop thinking about your ad and how
personal
it was."

She laughed. "Can't catch a hummingbird without nectar."

What does that mean? On second thought, maybe I didn't want to know.

He gave her a slow once-over, his ogling eyes magnified behind his glasses. "Sure do miss you at Sunny Sands."

A sad look crossed her face. "I liked the pool."

"You wouldn't have gotten kicked out if you hadn't sunbathed in the nude. I told you that would make those old crows mad."

"Kicked out?" My eyebrows furrowed as I glanced at Aunt Alfa. "I thought you left because it was too expensive?"

Aunt Alfa shrugged. "Left, kicked out. They both add up to not being there."

"The place isn't the same without you." Mervyn frowned as if he'd missed getting his Social Security check.

My aunt air-kissed him on each cheek (on his face, you'll be happy to know). "I miss you, too, Merv. I don't miss those old crows, though."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and dabbed a few sweat beads from his forehead. "You're the hottest woman ever."

She slapped his derriere again. Then she turned toward me and held up her notepad. "I got everyone's orders except for yours. What'll you have for lunch, Tattoo Tex?"

"Where are you going?"

"Some Chinese joint."

"I'll have kung pao chicken," he said. "With extra celery and extra peanut."

I gasped. Was Tattoo Tex my Chinese-food soul mate? "That's my exact order."

"That's highly unusual, ma'am."

No kidding. "I've never met a guy into celery." I was intrigued.

Tattoo Tex gave me a look that told me he was equally intrigued. "I'm usually the only one who wants extra celery, with it being a filler vegetable."

"I'd like to fill something right now, but first things first." Mervyn playfully swatted Aunt Alfa's arm.

"Don't be a perv, Merv." Aunt Alfa's giggly tone indicated she wasn't giving an order. She was issuing an invitation. "You want your regular order, Pipe?"

I nodded, wondering what kind of retirement place Sunny Sands was. And exactly how well did Aunt Alfa know Mervyn?

Mervyn pointed to Aunt Alfa's notepad. "Why are you taking orders?"

"Because this jerk-wad psychic, who I wish would drop dead, started a big brouhaha, so I had to agree to pick up lunch in order to stay. My niece, Pipe," she said, gesturing at me, "had to cough up a brand new hundred-dollar bill."

"Sheesh, that's pricey." Mervyn looked around the exhibit hall. "Anyone have a menu?"

"No, but they have good Chinese food from what I hear." Aunt Alfa wedged the notepad under her armpit and fidgeted with a curler. "They have egg rolls, egg drop soup, chow mein, kung pao. The regular dishes."

Mervyn adjusted his hands on his walker. "I'll take some egg foo young."

"Good choice." Aunt Alfa scribbled his order and held her hand out. "Now I just need Pinky's keys, Pipe."

A stab of panic hit me. Auntie Alfa driving my gorgeous Sparkle O car? No way. No how. Not
ever
. When I'd agreed to her getting lunch, I'd assumed she could take Yoga Girl's car. My aunt wasn't a horrible driver, but she'd need a booster seat to get her chin above the steering wheel. And when she turned on Elvis Radio, she'd pay more attention to the King of Rock and Roll than the traffic. But how to say this politely?

"Um, my keys are in our room." Hopefully that would do.

"Can you be a dear and go get them? Slutty Yoga Girl said I'd need to take my own car."

Mervyn lifted his fuzzy gray eyebrows. "I didn't know Bertha was here."

Aunt Alfa laughed. "She's not, and Bertha took Pilates, not yoga." She cut her gaze toward Tattoo Tex. "What about you? You got a ride an old gal could borrow?"

He shot her a wide-eyed gaze. "Sorry, ma' am, but my truck's awfully tall."

Aka, you'd need to forklift to get in.

Mervyn blotted his face again, stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket, and retrieved a giant blue fuzzy-dice key ring. How had he squeezed that in there? It was huge. But I really didn't want to imagine how things were arranged in Mervyn's pants.

I'd leave that to Aunt Alfa.

He dangled the dice and said, "Let's take my Caprice Classic, babe."

"Ooh, fancy car." She looped her arm through his and looked at me, all smiles. "Before I forget, Pipe, change of plans. Your talk's before lunch." She gestured toward the small stage where a couple of hotel audiovisual techs were setting up. "In like fifteen minutes."

"What?" I might have just pierced my eardrums, along with everyone else's. "I thought Mystic Ming was going before lunch?"

"He changed his mind. So you're on."

Holy chocolate babka.
This couldn't be happening. I wasn't focused. I'd been too distracted by Tattoo Tex. And apparently Aunt Alfa had a profile on some
get-in-my-granny-panties
website.

She certainly hadn't denied it.

"You can do it, Pipe. Love you." She winked and shuffled off with Mervyn, obviously more interested in a hot date than my talk.

Not that I could blame her.

Tattoo Tex sauntered over to my booth. "You're going to rock your talk." He slipped his hands into his pockets and flooded me with a smile bigger than Texas. "All you have to do is get up there and let your sparkliness shine."

He was officially my hero.

"Thanks. I based my talk on my title, but now I'm worried I haven't memorized it enough." I'd planned on winging it, but that was before I'd met Tattoo Tex. He was a major distraction.

What if I bombed on stage, and people laughed? Or what if Mystic Ming's spirit guide got people to laugh at my hair? I grabbed my emergency dark chocolate crisp bar from the inside pocket of my purse. The first bite went down smoothly.
Yum.
You can do this, I told myself.

Just focus on your notes, not Tattoo Tex.

"A doc who eats chocolate? Sign me up for an appointment."

I nearly melted like a dark chocolate bar left in a hot car. I'd been waiting my whole life for a man who'd appreciate my chocolate addiction. Who would have thought he would come in the form of a jock cowboy?

I flashed him a smile. "I'm accepting new patients."

"Lucky me."

He sure was cute and nice too. Nice enough, I bet, to do me a favor. Why not ask? "If Mystic Ming asks an obnoxious question, will you inquire about my Karmic Law of Caloric Subtraction philosophy?"

"Certainly ma'am. Just as long as you tell me what it is."

I quickly filled him in on my
spiritual-bloating
beliefs, and he nodded as if he got it. And I didn't think it was an act either. He actually did understand. The next question I wanted to ask him was:
Where have you been all my life?

But I still had the whole Floyd thing going on—plus it might be a tad bit too soon.

"Excuse me, everybody." Yoga Girl appeared on stage in front of the mike. "Our lunchtime speaker is Dr. Piper Meadows. A special treat because we aren't going to allow doctors at the show next year."

I glanced at the psychic-surgeon dude and wondered about his fate at next year's expo. He sat beneath his morbid sign, staring blank-faced at Yoga Girl. Maybe he was exempt?

Mystic Ming stood up and booed. How immature. But when Tattoo Tex shot the rude psychic an ultra-masculine look that said,
back off,
I was grateful. And excited in a romantic tingly way. My temperature spiked as I gazed at Jock Cowboy.

Why had I been so ignorant about Western stuff?

Mystic Ming glared at Tattoo Tex. "You again? Don't you know cowboy hat look stupid at beach?"

Tattoo Tex stiffened, but his face remained composed.

"Mystic Ming, please be respectful of all expo speakers and vendors," Yoga Girl warned.

Mystic Ming sat in his chair and crossed his arms, while an
I-twisted-my-chopstick-too-tight
look settled on his face.

"Dr. Piper Meadows received her naturopathic doctor degree at Brook University of Natural Medicine." Yoga Girl read my bio from a sheet of paper. "She has a growing practice in Sea Spray, Maryland, where she helps people transition into healthier lives without prescription drugs, using natural health principles. She's written a book called
Health Nuts Rock
. Without further ado, may I present Dr. Piper Meadows?"

I edged toward the stage amidst a lackluster welcome. A few people clapped, mainly Babette, who let out an ear-piercing shriek. Followed by, "Make health nuts proud." And then Tattoo Tex let out a whoop, followed by a loud, "Health nuts rock."

My confidence soared as I glided toward the podium, taking center stage. My heart wasn't pounding like a jackhammer, and I wasn't sweating like a marathon runner in Miami. I felt like me. Dr. Piper Meadows, ND.

Saving the world…one chocolate-lover at a time.

"Hi, everyone. I'm so happy to be here today to talk about how you don't have to be a nut to be healthy." I held up a copy of my book that Yoga Girl had left on the podium. "The title of my book is
Health Nuts Rock: You Don't Have to be Certifiable to be Certifiably Healthy
."

That got a few smiles. Yes!

"When a new patient comes to see me, I find out what caused his or her symptoms." I paused to let my message sink in. "Many chronic health problems that Western medicine routinely addresses with medications can be alleviated with a comprehensive wellness program. Let's go through each letter in the term,
health nut
. H stands for hydration. The body needs water to function optimally, including your brain. I always ask people, would you rather have a plump plum brain or a raisin brain?"

More smiles. But the biggest one was from Tattoo Tex. He'd come closer to the stage and stood with one foot pressed against the wall. His intense focus was on me.

The audience seemed to be digesting my talk, judging by a few people who nodded. One lady even took notes. I was happily on to A, for acid alkaline balance, when the crowd rallied. I glanced up from my notes and saw Aunt Alfa trailing behind a hotel worker who was pushing a cart filled with take-out bags.

The Chinese food.

She smiled at me and winked, and then she oversaw the food distribution, playing the perfect hostess. Except when she came to Mystic Ming. She grabbed his bag and pelted it at him.

He caught it and inspected the gigantic letters written on the paper bag. "Better be peanut-free killer kung pao, like it say."

"It's killer, all right." She edged toward him, her arm muscles flexed. "Killer spicy."

Yoga Girl, who was perched on a chair at the edge of the stage, cleared her throat. "Can everyone please refrain from conversation while our speaker finishes her talk?"

I let out a breath, happy to have avoided a Mystic-Ming-versus-Aunt-Alfa brawl.

"Now we come to L, for lymphatic exercise," I said. "Your lymphatic system is part of your immune system. It's called your doctor within that neutralizes foreign invaders—"

Mystic Ming crinkled his bag, tossed it into the corner of his booth, and shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth. I was about to resume my talk when he clawed wildly at his throat.

"Help Mys…" Then he collapsed.

Not again.
I rushed off stage, even though he'd
cried peanut
before, just in case. When I arrived at his booth, the rude psychic writhed on the carpet for a moment before going as still as a frozen chicken. I bent over him and checked his vitals.

Holy chocolate babka. I can't find a pulse.
He wasn't faking it this time.

"Is Mystic Ming okay?" Yoga Girl asked in a squeaky,
OMG, I'm-so-totally
-
freaked-out
tone.

"No." I stood up and announced the bad news. "Mystic Ming's dead."