Someone Bad and Something Blue (14 page)

“Call it a perk for taking illegal alcohol, drugs, and firearms off the streets. I think you beat a record or something. That went down fast.” He scratched his head.

I hopped over and hugged him. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

He patted my back and lifted me back to the other side of the limo. He cleared his throat. “It's okay. You need to get a move on if you want to surprise the girls before they head downtown.”

“You're right, but I need to get out of the backseat if I'm driving this puppy.” I handed him his coat back and let him help me step out of the limo. “I'm curious. What will happen to the party-goers and Luxe's staff?”

“If they're innocent, then they're innocent. We have our ways of knowing. Don't worry about that. Now go.”

“And Rosary? Luxe is pretty pissed at me, actually her. We haven't found her yet. What if Luxe sends someone after her? Is she in any more danger?”

“Luxe, better known as Lucas Dumas, isn't a concern. The person who supplied him the shine is, however.”

“The distiller?”

Maxim nodded. “We need to find the supplier. Hopefully, Luxe can give us that information.”

“I don't know if he can. It's a pretty secretive enterprise. What will happen to Rosary if he doesn't know anything?”

He squinted at me, then touched my arm. “We'll find Rosary before any real trouble starts.”

I wanted to believe him, but my gut wouldn't let me.

 

 

 

When I reached home Justus was waiting for me in the driveway. I motioned for him to back out so I could pull the limo in. I hoped it didn't stick out into the road.

“If we keep this up, I'll have to get you a key.” I stepped out of the limo.

He gave me a half smile. “Angel, is this what you wore tonight?”

I twirled around in it. “Yeah, Whitney picked it out, and that girl knows how to dress me. I owe her big.”

“Did the task force specifically tell you to wear that dress?”

“Of course not, but that's beside the point.”

“No, you're missing the point.” He wasn't smiling now.

“What does that mean?”

“Angel, you're the investigator. You pick out your own disguise. Why did you choose this dress? What were you really after?”

“Someone Bad.” I huffed. “Look. Bad people don't act like you. They're greedy. They want what they can't have and the way I look—this fantasy—is something they cannot have, but they will do their best to try and get it, even if that means going to jail for it.”

“And then what does that make you?”

I waved one hand in the air. “Now you sound like Maxim.”

His eyebrow rose. “And what did Maxim say?”

“Same thing you are insinuating. But you're both wrong. I came out in one piece and I'm back here in record time, something that wouldn't have happened if this dress didn't play. The dress played well.”

“Is this a game to you? Is this limo the prize? Because you're worth more than that.”

“Justus, where is this coming from? When you met me I wore something just as provocative. You didn't mind then.”

“Back then I didn't think that there would be a possibility that you would be mine.”

Justus had a way of saying things so final that you couldn't respond. You had to act.

I reached into the limo and put Ava's coat back on. I wrapped myself into it tightly. “You won't see that dress again. Now I have to help a bride fight for a dress in the morning.”

He touched my hand. “Did we just make it through our first argument?”

“If that's your idea of an argument, then yes. Can I have my good-night kiss now?”

“Uh huh. I can't kiss you like I want to when you're dressed like that, though. How about a date tomorrow night?” He chuckled, then gave me a kiss so hot it melted the cold bad girl in me away.

 

U
sually at this early in the morning you would find me trolling through Decatur dive-ins or peeking into Winder hole-in-the-walls to find FTAs (failure to appears), deadbeat dads, guerrilla pimps, or my daughter's supposedly dead father. But today this bail recovery agent and pseudo-graduated private investigator was on the hunt for something most hunters ran away from: a size eight, ivory, silk taffeta, strapless Amsale gown from the Blue Label collection.

Don't get too excited. The gown wasn't for me. It was for Lana.

Sure. Justus had a way with me (last night's kiss), but getting engaged after knowing him for such a short time wasn't one of them.

“Congratulations on your big bust,” Tiger repeated for the third time over my phone.

“Are you saying it because you mean it, or is this a backdoor way for you to fire me?”

“You're fine, Angel Soft. I'll be your huckleberry forever, and to show you that I mean it I'll talk to Sean today about Rosie for you. There's no need for him to tell the Feds, but he'll tell me, if he knows what's good for him. That way you can relax, finish out your vacation, and help Lana find a dress that Congresswoman Turner would love you for life for,” Tiger said with his deep raspy voice.

Tiger had promised me he had stopped smoking, but it didn't sound like it. I could taste the smoke rings through my earpiece.

“The best thing you have working for you is having Turner in your back pocket. Rosie's gon' need her help once we bring her back and I wring Sean's neck,” Tiger added.

He was right. “Elaine could help me, but Sean might throw Rosary under the bus, if he hadn't clearly come clean to Maxim.”

“I'll kill him before I let that happen.”

“You will do no such thing. . . .” I chuckled, but I understood his sentiment.

I wanted to talk privately with Elaine about the events that had happened the past few days, but there was no time. She was overbooked and too overcommitted to take her own daughter bridal-dress fighting today, let alone chat with me about her right-hand man. So Elaine was about a half hour away hosting a town hall meeting with Sean that snake.

Knowing Tiger would be hanging around made me feel a little better. I was glad to have my old friend back. I wondered what new information Maxim had discovered from Luxe.

“It would make my day to get enough information on Sean Graham to get him fired.”

“Now, that could work,” Tiger said. “His little show in my office scared off some of my best customers. You know convicts can't deal with that much fuzz around.”

I laughed. “Ironic, but yeah. I got you.”

“I was surprised to see you there, but I had it coming for not having your back with Riddick, Angel Soft.”

“Water under the bridge. Where's Riddick, by the way?”

“Don't know. Haven't heard from him since that day you threatened to sue him.”

“Hmm, that's weird.”

“Nope, that's Riddick. He's like a ghost. It's a good trait to have in our line of work.”

Someone patted my shoulder. I looked up. It was Whitney. “I gotta go.”

“Have fun, Angel.” He ended the call.

“You hungry?” Whitney asked.

“Is there food here?” I asked.

She pointed to our right. “Over there.”

I squinted past the crowd until I spotted the Incredible Flying Soup Mobile food truck. It was stationed in the Phipps Plaza parking lot.

My mouth watered. “Yummy.”

“They brought a special morning batch of Italian Wedding Soup to warm up the brides.”

Brides began moving around us. Noise swelled toward the host radio station kiosk. I'm not sure if Filene's Basement was about to open, but there was a lot of clamor in its direction.

I stood up. “I think we may be missing breakfast.”

“Aw, sookie sookie now. It's about to be on. I'm going to get the girls.” Whitney squealed and ran off toward the limo where the girls were.

I'm thankful Maxim lent me the limo. Lana was a giddy mess when we picked her up last night. Despite her mom's political obligations Lana had more pressing concerns. In two months she would wed Atlanta Falcons new star wide receiver Kenny Harvey. The wedding would take place at a barrier island off the affluent end of the Georgia Coast.

Although Harvey had local celeb status, Lana didn't have baller-wives' bank, yet. Lana had just passed the bar and would not begin her first gig as a peds attorney consult at Children's Healthcare until after the honeymoon. So her money was funny. However, we needed a highline dress with Elaine's constituency-approved price points and very little time for error. Therefore this jaunt to Filene's Basement Atlanta Department Store's annual Running of the Brides was paramount for Lana and, of course, stressing her out.

To make matters worse, Lana's maid of honor and self-appointed publicist, Stacy Albright, had been reminding Lana all night that being here was also great PR for Elaine and Kenny. I didn't like her. To me, she was a fame seeker and dumb as a pack of synthetic Yaki. I'm sure Sean would spit her out of the loop the second her big mouth placed Elaine's candidacy in jeopardy.

My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket. It was Mom.

“Hey, Mom. How's Bella?” I asked before she spoke.

“She's fine. But I have a question for you. Will you be snatching a dress for yourself or will you do with Justus what you do best, throw away another golden opportunity?” Mama asked.

“What are you talking about?” I noticed the bridal team—Lana, Whitney, Stacy, and Lark—coming toward me.

“I saw you guys last night. The whole neighborhood saw you last night. If you don't marry this man, I'm going to have a light stroke and you know my face isn't built for medical challenges. Now Beth Morgan across the street, that woman's face can withstand a tornado. She's withstood a stroke; a broken jaw from that weasel of a dead husband of hers, Carl; the scar on her eye when she went splat into her garage the day she brought her bike home from the store; and then—”

“Ugh, Mom!” I shook my head and searched for the Q100 FM Radio's complimentary coffee kiosk. “Justus and I aren't talking about marriage or anything remotely close to that, so stop eyeballing me, texting me, and please don't even start putting the cart before the horse. No wedding dress. Just dating.”

“What's that supposed to mean? ‘No wedding dress. Just dating'?” she mumbled. “That kind of man doesn't date. If you're not seriously considering being a pastor's wife—”

“Mama, stop. I'm concentrating. I need to keep my mind clear.” I spotted the kiosk and began walking toward it.

“Justus isn't an ordinary man.”

“I know that, Mom. Is Bella ready for school?” I hoped she would catch the hint and get off the phone.

“Don't change the subject. I said that Justus is not an ordinary man. Darlin', you . . . well, you're a piece of work, and for a man of the cloth to even consider taking your mess on is a miracle. If I were—”

“Mama, please stop insulting me, else I'm going to break it off.”

“Stop acting simple and stop interrupting me when I'm talking. I just want you to consider your future with a man who obviously has contemplated one with you.”

“I'll think about it while you get Bella ready for school.”

Whitney and the girls had finally joined me. Lana was still farther up chatting with another bridal team.

“Fabulous. I'll make sure Whitney pulls some dresses for you while you're there. We need another wedding in this family and right now you're my only hope.”

Mama had a knack for sounding borderline rude and downright overbearing. Yet after what went down a few months ago with Ava, the Atlanta PD, and my murdered brother-in-law, I knew she spoke to me only in love. Plus she knew that getting under my skin was the best catalyst to kick me into the right gear. I did need to think about my future with Justus.

“Do that, Mom.” I nodded back, although I knew she couldn't see me.

“Ladies, we'll be opening the doors in one hour for our ROTB contest winner only,” Jenn Mobley, one of the radio personalities of Q100's
The Three Jenns Show
and host of the Atlanta's Running of the Brides event, spoke to the crowd. “She'll get five minutes of alone time in Filene's, then y'all can go for what you know.”

Some women clapped. The women around us sighed about the wait and joked about their hope that the winner didn't choose their gown during her spree. It didn't bother me.

I had a good idea where Lana's dress was or at least on which rack. What self-respecting bounty hunter wouldn't? Everyone knew VR3 wireless cameras shared the same four frequencies as basic baby monitors and are, thus, accidentally compatible to them. The shared frequency made it super easy to listen in on and watch what went down on the other side of those thick department store walls. I knew the fastest way to retrieve it, and I also knew that Courtney Miller, the bridal spree winner, was about four sizes too big for Lana's dress.
We have this in the bag,
I smirked to myself.

I turned around and surveyed the line of women watching us or pretending to sleep through our foolishness and then my nose twitched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

I gasped. “You gotta be kidding me.”

I spotted through the crowd, at about five teams behind us in line, a team so huge they could only be described as a football team. Ten men and ten women dressed in pink and black. The men wore the pink shirts with blond ponytail wigs and fake handlebar mustaches; the girls wore the black shirts and were—no surprise there—blond. But what made the hairs on the back of my neck stand was the content of their WeddingWire posters.

WeddingWire, a sponsor of the Running of the Brides, provided large posters bridal teams used to share with the other contestants the type of dress they were searching for and the dress size. These posters proved helpful after the run when brides traded the dresses they yanked for the dress they really wanted.

Lana wanted a size eight, strapless Amsale. The bride of the pink and black super team wanted the same dress. Unfreakingbelievable.

“I hope the groom isn't in that bunch,” Stacy Albright said. “Any self respecting man wouldn't be caught dead playing a woman's sport unless he was on the down low.”

“I agree, but now I wish we would have forced the groomsmen to join us.”

Whitney squeezed my shoulder. “It's too late to convince me that you're afraid of a few divos.”

“Nope, I'm not, but I promised Elaine I would be good today.”

“So all this time all I had to do was ask?” Stacy smirked.

I gave her the side eye.

I giggled. “Would you be mad if I told you the truth?”

Whitney softly popped me on the back of my head with her hand. “Be nice.”

“Ow.” I rubbed my head. “I was going to say that I would be mad if we let those bridal cheaters steal Lana's dress.”

The girls began cheering. I scanned the crowd again until I laser focused on an old, familiar, unfriendly face.

“Whitney, do me a favor. Take the girls back up to our spot with Lana. There's someone I need to speak to who could be the answer we need.”

“Why?” she whispered. “What are you about to get us into?”

“Nothing. Go prepare the girls for the run. I'm coming and that's all you need to know.”

She huffed and stomped off. I could hear her mumbles, although her body had disappeared from my view.

Tara Tina Ramirez was the name I knew her by, but according to Tiger's great jackets she had plenty more. Her longtime boyfriend, Cesar Cruz, was an old headache at BT Bail Bonds. Rosary was supposed to be helping me locate him, but she was missing and Riddick had probably paid her not to tell me anything either. Tara Tina, affectionately nicknamed “TT,” was also Cesar's indemnitor, the person who signed Cesar's release on the bond and my reluctant source. She had disappeared with him, too, until today.

Before my vacation I had had every intention of bringing his sorry butt in and getting that five grand bounty. Now I wanted to enjoy the rest of my vacation, plus I didn't want to chase anyone at the Running of the Brides. That wouldn't make good sense.

Tara walked toward me in line with a team of three Latina women who were also recognizable to me. They all wore candy red tees, painted-on skinny jeans, and smirks that let everyone know that they didn't mind getting gully about a wedding dress. Only Tara wore an additional baseball cap with BRIDE etched in white crystals across the brim.

Bad disguise
. I shook my head and smiled. I wondered whether my boy Cesar was the groom.

I saw them making their way up the line, but they didn't see me. I knew this, because if TT had, she would have scattered fast like a lost WeddingWire poster in March's whipping wind.

When she got within earshot of me I shouted her name. “Tara Tina Ramirez. Why am I surprised to see you here?”

She stopped, then lifted her brim from over her eyes. When she saw me her jaw dropped. Her knees bent. Her friends stepped back into a stance. I hoped those chica divas didn't try anything crazy, because I had no problem going straight loco on their behinds.

Someone pushed me from the back. My heart raced. I glanced behind me, then hissed.

“Whitney!” I frowned. “What are you doing back here?”