The Book Stops Here (35 page)

He was scowling at something only he could see. “They took my show away. They gave it to
him
.”

He wasn’t addressing my questions, just sticking to his own twisted reasoning. He was talking to himself now, devolving. That was never a good thing. I had to get out of here.

Without warning, I screamed as loud as I could.

“Shut up!” Gerald slapped his hand over my mouth. “I like you! I don’t want to hurt you. I-I saved you! You would’ve been poisoned, too. You have to stop screaming.”

“No,” I mumbled behind his hand. I tried to scream again, but the sound was completely muffled.

“I saved your life!” he shouted. “You can’t betray me now!”

This was probably not a good time to point out that my life wouldn’t have had to be saved if he hadn’t put poison in Randolph’s makeup. “You tipped over those stage flats on top of me. And you put that snake in Randy’s dressing room.”

My stomach lurched again at the memory.

“I didn’t do it to you,” he muttered angrily. He began to babble, insisting that he didn’t want to kill Randolph, exactly. He just wanted him off the show so Tom and Walter would give him another chance. It was
his
show, not theirs.

“Now I’ve got my chance,” he said, his voice growing more manic. “Randy’s still sick. They’ll make him go back to the hospital and I’ll take over.”

“You know tonight’s the last show,” I said cautiously.

“Be quiet!” he shouted. “I can’t think.” He shook his head and rolled his shoulders as though he were working out the kinks in his neck muscles. Was he loosening up and getting ready to attack me?

I tried to flatter him. “You really fooled us all with your Garth disguise. How did you learn to do that?”

He smiled vaguely, as though he were remembering the past. “I was an actor.”

“I’ll bet you were really good.”

He preened a little, which was better than his rage-induced craziness. “In Cleveland theater circles, I was known as the master of disguise.”

“I can see why.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his tone reasonable. “I have to figure out what to do.”

“Nobody will even bat an eye if you walk out of here and leave the studio. I won’t tell a soul.”

He looked at me, paced a few feet back and forth, then stopped and looked at me again. “No. I can’t trust you. You’ll tell your boyfriend. Women always tell. You ruined everything.”

He stepped closer, then closer still, until his face was right up next to mine. “You. Ruined. Everything.”

All of a sudden he grabbed me by the throat. I couldn’t breathe. I slapped at his arms but he wouldn’t let me go.

His lips were thin with rage and his hands tightened around my throat. “I didn’t want to hurt you but you wouldn’t shut up. Why don’t women ever shut up?”

So it was my fault,
I thought, as I tried to get my legs to work. I kicked at his shins, but he didn’t react. He was in some other world. But here in this world, I was about to pass out.

I had a sudden vivid image of my self-defense class, of Alex coming at me, reaching for my throat, trying to teach me how to fight back. Over and over again. What had I done? How had I reacted to her? She’d come at me again and again until I got it right.

But that was fake. This was real.
Real
was harder. Oh, hell. It took every ounce of will I had left in my head to relax my shoulders and go completely limp.

I must have shaken him, because he gasped and pulled his hands away. But just as quickly, he slapped my face. “Wake up!”

First he’s trying to kill me and then he’s slapping me to bring me around?
He was insane, for sure.
Had I angered him by pretending to lose consciousness?
Fine. That worked for me.

I slid a little lower. He started to slap me again. But this time I lifted my hand and slammed it, backhanded, into his, deflecting the blow just as Alex had showed me.

It shocked Gerald and I took advantage of that. It felt like slow motion as my body followed the movement of my hand, spinning around until I had my back to him. Then I elbowed him in the stomach and kept turning until I was facing him again. I kicked him in the shins and this time it made an impact. While he was reacting, I slammed my foot down on his instep.

He yowled in pain.

“I liked you better as Garth!” I shouted.

The door flew open and Derek rushed in, roaring at the top of his lungs. He yanked me out of the way and slammed his fist into Gerald’s face. I cringed at the sound of bones crunching, followed by an unearthly scream of pain. I saw blood spurt across the mirror and spatter on the wall.

I heard myself moan, right before I passed out on the floor in a dead faint.

•   •   •

T
hey canceled the last three segments of the show, which meant that we would all get to come back on Monday and finish it up.

“You should feel a lot better by then,” Tom said to Randy, as we watched Gerald being carted off to jail.

“I feel better already,” Randy declared, even though he still looked deathly pale.

I was glad one of us felt better. I was still a little woozy and more than annoyed that once again, I’d taken the brunt of his stalker’s vicious anger. I decided I wouldn’t hold it against him,
though, since he had his arm wrapped securely around Angie’s waist and they made the cutest couple.

Earlier, when I’d been locked up with Gerald in the dressing room, Derek had gone out onstage to find me. He’d run into Randy, who’d told him about the phone call he’d just received from the doctor at the hospital.

“He says I’ve been ingesting poison through my skin. That’s so weird. I can’t figure out how that could’ve happened.”

Derek had taken one look at his pasty complexion. “It’s in your makeup.”

They’d hurried back to find Chuck, but as Derek passed Randy’s dressing room, he’d heard Gerald’s howl of pain. That’s when he’d slammed through the door and rescued me.

Of course, by then I was doing pretty darn well on my own. I had made Gerald scream like a baby, and I was about to make my escape when Derek arrived. Everything would have been fine if he hadn’t gone and broken Gerald’s nose and cheekbone and caused all that pesky blood to go flying.

I never had reacted well to the sight of blood.

Still, faint notwithstanding, I was pretty proud of myself. I’d gotten out of trouble all on my own. I was lucky, though, to have a man rush to my rescue—even if I didn’t need rescuing after all.

Chapter Twenty

I slept remarkably well that night, probably because of the two heaping glasses of wine I’d consumed when we got home. I’d given Alex a quick call and begged off trying on dresses. She’d completely understood and suggested I come by in the morning and I’d promised I would.

I couldn’t wait to tell her how her cupcakes had played a role in unmasking a vicious stalker.

Saturday morning, after gulping down a hearty protein drink and a cup of coffee, I zipped over to Alex’s place.

“Come in,” she said, swinging the door open. She searched my face. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Sure, why do you ask?” She didn’t quite make eye contact and it didn’t take much to figure out why. “I see. Mr. Big Mouth told you what happened.”

“It’s not Derek’s fault,” she said. “After you called to cancel our dress fest, I was concerned so I texted him. He said you’d had a run-in with someone, but the guy is in jail.” She gave me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

In the kitchen she made a café latte and served it with mini cupcakes while I gave her the whole scoop.

“My run-in last night wasn’t with the guy who attacked me. It was with the stalker.”

“The one who was targeting the host of the show?”

“Yes. Turns out it was the ex-host.”

“That makes sense.”

I gave her the play-by-play, and when I was finished she laughed and clinked her latte cup with mine.

“Congratulations—you did it! You fought back. You rock.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” I said, but I was beaming with pride. “Oh, what the heck? It was pretty exciting. Not the preliminary, psycho-chase-scene-where-I-was-scared-to-death part, but the part where my brain finally kicked in and I worked the moves you gave me. I was a fighting machine.”

“You’re awesome.”

“Yeah. Until I fainted dead away.”

She laughed until she realized I was serious. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” I sipped my latte and tried not to shudder. “It was the blood. When Derek clocked Gerald, it flew everywhere. It was gruesome. I blame Derek.”

“He left out that part.”

“That’s because he knows I would smack him if he told anyone I passed out.”

“I don’t blame you. It sounds gruesome.” She put our cupcake plates in the sink. “Ready to try on some dresses?”

“I should tell you, Alex. I rarely wear dresses. I have a few long skirts, but otherwise . . .”

She waved away my comment. “It’s never too late to start. Come on.”

Her extra bedroom was a revelation. The entire room was a walk-in closet, just as she’d said. It was ruthlessly clean and orderly. There were two levels of hanging clothes and she explained that they were switched every six months, depending on the season.
Everything was hung in order of color, naturally. Dresses, pants, blouses, suits, and coats.

In the center was a chaise longue, because why wouldn’t you take a quick nap in your walk-in closet?

The woman had at least a hundred pairs of shoes, too, all neatly arranged by color and style. There were hooks for belts and scarves, a long row of purses, and dozens of drawers filled with sweaters and lingerie. Three long, thin drawers pulled out to reveal dozens of cubbyholes for every type of jewelry known to man. Or woman.

“You are my idol,” I whispered.

She laughed. “I’ve selected a few things that I thought you might like. They’re over here. If you don’t like something, I won’t be offended.”

“My tastes are pretty simple.”

“I don’t agree,” she said, “but we can argue about it as we go along. Here’s the first thing I thought would suit you.”

She held up a simple black suit.
Not simple at all,
I amended as I stared more closely at the gorgeous material and the softness of the lining.

“It’s pants and a jacket,” I said.

“It’s a tuxedo suit. Yves Saint Laurent. Black pants, black jacket. Silk. Simple, elegant, sexy.”

“It’s beautiful.” The jacket was the thickest, softest silk and fitted through the waist. “The shoulders are perfect. Do you have a blouse that you wear with it?”

“No.”

“Ah . . .”

“Try it on.”

I tried it on and was truly surprised. I looked sexy. And high-powered, and taller than usual. Did I mention sexy? The pants were slim around the hips and flared at the heel. “I want.”

“I have a fabulous black bustier you’re welcome to wear with that. I’ve also got a few dresses I want to show you. And if you happen to see something still hanging that appeals to you, grab it and try it on.”

“Have you worn everything in here?”

She scanned her clothes. “I have a few new goodies I haven’t worn yet, but mostly yes. I like variety. And I like to keep people guessing, even if it’s just them wondering what I’m going to wear that day. It sounds silly, but keeping them guessing about my wardrobe is just one more way to make an impression. And it amuses me.”

“You do make an impression,” I murmured. “You really do.”

•   •   •

I
tried on twelve dresses and six pantsuits, although it was difficult to call them pantsuits. That term conjured up a dowdy image that didn’t appeal to me, while Alex’s suits were sharply tailored and powerful and gorgeous. And they all looked fantastic on me. It was such a revelation. And fun. Who would’ve guessed?

After three hours, I had whittled my choices down to two.

“I absolutely love the black tuxedo, but I think I want to go for this dress.” I held up the little black silk dress that fit me better than anything I’d ever worn.

“It’s Halston,” she said on a sigh.

“He was a genius.” The dress wrapped around me like a sarong while hiding flaws and accenting my better parts. It was a simple design yet it made me feel glamorous and powerful. How did they do it?

“Derek will be in heaven.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I said, tingling a little. “But he would love the tuxedo, too. I wish I could find something like that somewhere.”

“I’ll call my shopper at Nordstrom and have her hunt one down.”

“You have a shopper?”

“Yes, she calls me when something comes in that she thinks I’ll like.”

“We live different lives.”

“Maybe a little.” She stared at my shoes.

“I guess I’d better go shoe shopping,” I said, my spirit sagging.

“Won’t be necessary.” She strolled over to her shoe rack, found what she wanted, and handed the pair to me.

“Oh, my goodness,” I whispered, staring at the black satin pumps. “Those are sensational. But I can’t—”

“Try them on.” She smiled serenely. “Men like those shoes.”

“You’re the devil.” But I tried them on and looked down at my feet. I didn’t recognize them. I stood and wobbled over to the full-length mirror. “Oh, my.”

“Very sexy,” she said. “You’ll practice walking. Take them with you. And this.” She handed me a small black bag.

“It’s so pretty. It’s perfect. I can’t.”

“It’ll make me happy if you will.”

I laughed. “You make cupcakes and loan me clothes. I am bringing nothing to this friendship.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve had more fun in these past three hours than I have in months. That’s much more precious than cupcakes.”

•   •   •

B
efore I left, Alex took a small velvet box from a drawer and pulled out a slim diamond necklace and matching earrings.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “This is crazy. You’ve been too generous. I can’t take anything else from you. Besides, I would worry all night, wearing those.”

“First of all, they go with the dress,” she insisted. “It’s a package deal. All or nothing. Second of all, you’ll be accompanied by two ex-operatives so I think you’ll be safe. And third, I’m getting everything back tomorrow, right?”