Vanilla Beaned (9 page)

“You'd better hurry, Holly,” a pretty blond woman said as her headpiece was adjusted by a costumer. “Fancy is in a mood today.”

“She's in a mood every day. Sunny, you'd better get used to that if you're planning to take the lead,” Holly said.

“I told you, I don't want the lead if it means you leave,” Sunny said.

Holly squeezed her hand. “These are my friends, Angie and Mel. We'll do proper intros and talk later.”

“Hi,” Sunny said. She gave them a small smile that turned into a grimace as the costumer wrestled her headpiece into place before letting her turn back to the mirror to touch up her make-up.

“That didn't look easy,” Angie said. “How much do those things weigh?”

“Some weigh as much as thirty pounds,” Holly said. She led them past the main dressing room and opened a door off the main room and entered. “Now imagine trotting up the three flights of stairs we just came down with
that on your head and having to do it ten times a show for costume changes.”

Mel's hand went instinctively to the back of her neck and she noticed Angie did the same. She was pretty sure she would die if she had to run those stairs even once.

As they stepped into the tiny dressing room, a voice barked, “Where have you been? Do you have any idea what I've been through trying to find you?”

But apparently, the person was just warming up as she continued her tirade. “Do you know what time it is? How could you do this to me? It is just so irresponsible! You never used to be like this. Ever since you got that crazy idea to open a cupcake bakery, you have changed and not for the better.”

Mel glanced past Holly into the dressing room and saw a tall, stout woman with ten pounds of makeup topped off by a pair of purple eyelashes that had to be about two inches long.
Wild guess
, she thought,
this must be Fancy Leroux
.

“Uh-oh, the warden is looking unhappy,” Holly teased. Fancy frowned but Holly was unfazed. She strode into the room and kissed the older woman right on the cheek. “Be nice. These are my friends.”

“Friends wait upstairs,” Fancy said. She turned her head and sniffed as if she was not the least bit interested in meeting Angie and Mel.

“I asked them to come down here,” Holly said.

“And now you ask them to go,” Fancy said. She crossed her arms over her considerable bosom and stared at Holly with one drawn-on eyebrow significantly higher than the other. It was a look that clearly stated there was no wiggle room here.

Holly turned back to Mel and Angie. She took them by the arms and walked them to the door.

“I'm sorry, guys,” she said.

“That's all right,” Angie said. “Truth? She kind of scares me and I don't scare easy.”

“She's harmless, really,” Holly said. “But I'm going to have Carlos hook you up with a table front and center for the show.” She lowered her voice and said, “I think something is up with Fancy, and I'd better deal with it solo.”

“Are you sure you're safe down here?” Mel asked. She didn't like to think of Holly making the dark trek up three flights by herself.

“Oh, yeah,” Holly said. “There is always someone around down here. Besides, it really is my home away from home.”

“If you're sure,” Angie said.

“Positive,” Holly said. “I'll text Carlos and have him meet you at the bottom of the stairs. After the show you can come backstage and I'll introduce you to everyone. It'll be fun.”

“Including Levi?” Angie asked.

Holly laughed. “Most definitely.”

They left, and as soon as Holly shut the door behind them, Mel heard Fancy start in again.

“I'm beginning to see why Holly is ready to leave,” Angie said. “Do you think ‘the warden' is like that every day?”

“I hope not,” Mel said. “That would be demoralizing to even the stoutest heart.”

“You know without all the hustle and bustle and glittery costumes, this place would scare me,” Angie said.

“I know,” Mel agreed. They stepped aside to let a man pushing a rack of sparkling red gowns pass. “How far belowground do you think we are?”

“I don't know, two stories, maybe three?” Angie guessed.

Carlos was waiting for them as promised. Mel wondered how he'd gotten down here so fast.

“Elevator?” she asked hopefully.

“There isn't one,” he said.

Mel glanced up at the winding stairwell. Coming down had been okay, but up, up was going to suck and she suspected be more than a little embarrassing. She figured she'd be wheezing by the time they got halfway up to the theater. She was right.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asked when they paused on the landing so Mel could catch her breath.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Mel sucked in gulps of air. Her thighs were burning. “Really, I'm good.”

“I can carry you if you want.”

Mel gave him a death glare. He smiled at her and she
realized the power of her death glare was diminished greatly by her heaving chest and hunched-over posture. She waved him away.

“Have it your way,” he said. He turned and jogged up the remaining stairs.
Show-off.

Angie stayed beside Mel, as a good best friend does, even though she wasn't breathing heavily at all, which was very annoying.

Mel decided to broach the question that had been bothering her since they had met Fancy. Yes, it was a stalling tactic to slow their climb down, making it possible for her to breathe and walk, but also she wanted to know if Angie had gotten the same weird vibe off Fancy that she had.

“Was it just me or did Fancy seem seriously unhappy about Holly leaving to open a bakery?”

“Well, Holly did say that Fancy groomed her for the role of star of the show, so it has to feel like a bit of a betrayal to Fancy for Holly to want to leave,” Angie said. “But she's like a hundred years old. It's not like she's suiting up to drive cars through the side of buildings.”

“No, but she's been in Vegas a long time,” Mel said. “She has to know people.”

“And by
people
, you mean, she could find someone to blow up one store and drive a car through another?” Angie asked.

“I'm just putting it out there,” Mel said.

“I get that she had the whole dragon lady thing going on,” Angie said. “Obviously, she was not thrilled to meet us, but I don't know if I got genuine evil off of her so much as old cranky pants.”

“Perhaps,” Mel said. “But we should probably keep an eye on her.”

“Fair enough,” Angie said.

They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, mostly because Mel had run out of oxygen, but also because it was taking all of her energy to pull herself up the remaining steps using the handrail. Mel was pretty sure she left her dignity down in Holly's dressing room.

As they approached the door where Carlos waited for them, Angie said, “You know you may want to think about—”

“No,” Mel gasped.

“You don't even know what I'm going to say.”

“You're going to tell me I need to work out, and the answer is no,” Mel said. She knew she sounded grumpy while gasping for breath, but she couldn't seem to stop her tirade. “I don't need to diet and I don't need to work out.”

“I've been your best friend for more than twenty years—how can you think I would ever say that?” Angie asked.

Mel leaned against the wall while she sucked sweet gulps of oxygen into her lungs and contemplated her oldest pal. Angie had never, not even during her heftiest years, told her she needed to change in any way. Angie was right to be peeved with Mel right now. And judging by the way she was scowling with her arms crossed over her chest, she was very peeved.

“I'm sorry,” Mel said. “Clearly, I confused you with my mother, probably from a lack of oxygen to my brain. What were you going to say?”

“That you should consider letting the stud carry you,” Angie said with a wink.

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Carlos said. He took the opportunity to flex again.

Mel would have been embarrassed but she didn't have enough strength left to blush. She pushed off the wall and strode into the backstage area, which seemed to have come alive with people in the time they'd been gone. Bodies were buzzing around like bees in a hive while they hurried to set up for the show.

“This way,” Carlos said.

He led them down a narrow hallway to a side door that let out into the back of the theater. From there they worked their way to the bistro area in front of the stage. He held out a chair for each of them at a small table front and center.

“If you ladies need me, just give a holler and I'll come running,” he said.

“If I were a single gal . . .” Angie said. Her voice trailed off as he left them.

“Yeah, right,” Mel said. “Tate has had a lock on you since we were in middle school, so even if you were single, Carlos wouldn't stand a chance.”

“Okay, let me change that to if I had never fallen for Tate—”

A phone began to chime, interrupting whatever she had been about to say. They both paused to listen. The ringtone was “It Had to Be You,” which was Angie's assigned ringtone for Tate since they felt their love story most resembled the movie
When Harry Met Sally
.

“Speaking of the love of my life,” Angie said as she reached into her handbag for her phone.

Mel sat back and relaxed while Angie answered. The tables were beginning to fill up as well as the theater seats behind them. Waitresses were working their way through the area and Mel looked for one to be headed their way. If ever a day deserved a glass of wine, today was it.

“Darn it,” Angie said. “I missed his call. Oh, wait, there's a text message.”

Mel waited while Angie opened her messages.

“Oh, no,” Angie said. Her tone was grim.

Mel glanced at Angie's face, trying to gauge how serious the situation was. A vee was gouged into the space between her eyes as she studied the screen of her smart phone. Not good.

“What is it?” Mel asked. “Is Tate okay?”

“He's fine,” she said. “Or I assume he is since he managed to text me, but it's bad news. Scott Jensen died from his injuries an hour ago.”

“Oh, no,” Mel said. She hadn't known him for more than an hour at most but still, he had died working for them and she couldn't help feeling somehow responsible, or maybe that was just her survivor's guilt kicking in. She dreaded having to tell Holly the news.

“The Las Vegas Police Department has not ruled out homicide as the cause of death,” Angie said. She lowered the phone and glanced at Mel. “Shiz just got real.”

“And how,” Mel said.

Mel's phone started to chime and she glanced at Angie. “That's probably Tate calling me because you didn't answer the text.”

“Tell him I'm texting him back now,” Angie said.

“Never mind,” Mel said when she looked at her phone. “It's Manny.”

Angie's eyebrows went up as Mel answered her phone. Mel's Uncle Stan was a longtime detective in their hometown of Scottsdale, Arizona. His partner was Detective Manny Martinez, a man with whom Mel shared a complicated relationship since he had saved her life and was very clear that his intentions toward her were more than that of a buddy. It was further complicated by Mel's attraction to the detective despite being steadfastly head over heels for county prosecutor Joe DeLaura. It made for a complex
love life that weirdly left Mel single more than she would have thought possible.

“Hello,” Mel answered. She glanced at Angie, who was texting Tate while obviously trying to listen to her conversation.

“Mel, how are you?” Manny asked.

“I'm in Vegas, I'm great,” she said. She hoped she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt, because frankly the news that Scott had passed away felt like a cinderblock on her chest.

“You can't even lie over the phone,” he said. “Pitiful.”

“What makes you think I'm lying?” she asked.

“Tate called Joe, Joe called me,” he said.

“Tate called Joe?” she asked, looking at Angie, who tipped her head to the side as if she was uncertain what to make of all this. Mel felt the same.

“Yes, Tate was concerned about the possibility that Frank Tucci's reach extends all the way to Vegas and that you were in the crosshairs.”

“We're all a little jumpy because of Tucci,” Mel said. She didn't want Joe and Manny to be concerned for her in Vegas, where they were powerless to help. It wouldn't do anyone any good. “But I don't see how a Realtor's tragic and accidental death could be viewed as an attempt on any of our lives.”

Angie was blatantly listening and she nodded. Mel knew she was thinking the same thing as Mel. There was no need for their friends and family back in Scottsdale to get worried and upset for no purpose.

“Listen,” Manny said. It was his stern cop voice, which
always got Mel's attention, whether she liked it or not. “A random explosion would have been weird, and I could have let it go if a car hadn't been launched into the second location you looked at for your franchise.”

“Sounds like Tate really has given you the four-one-one on what's happening. But isn't this out of the Scottsdale PD's jurisdiction?” Mel asked.

“Maybe,” he said. “If it's Frank Tucci behind the two incidents, I will consider it extenuating circumstances.”

“It might not be,” Mel said.

People had filled the tables around them and there was a hum of excitement filling the air.

“What do you know?” Manny demanded. She noticed that Manny's cop voice sounded a lot like her Uncle Stan when he was in pursuit of the truth. She never had been able to lie to Stan when he used that tone of voice, and she couldn't lie to Manny now.

“Not much, just that Holly, the woman looking to buy a franchise with us, has a stalker,” Mel said. “She doesn't know who they are or if they mean her any harm, but she receives gifts, notes, and lately the person has started calling the theater and asking for her and then hanging up.”

“So creepy but not violent as yet,” Manny said.

“That's what Holly thought, but who knows if the person has upped their game for some unknown reason,” Mel said. The music grew louder and she couldn't hear as well. She plugged one ear and said, “The show's about to start. I have to go.”

Manny's voice was muffled but she heard him say he'd
be in touch, or at least that's what she thought he said. She shouted a good-bye and ended the call.

“What was that about?” Angie called out.

A waitress stopped by their table with a bottle of champagne and a tray of appetizers.

“Compliments of Holly,” she said. She deftly popped the cork and poured them each a half glass of the pink bubbly before she left.

Angie leaned back in her chair. “I've got to say our girl has style.”

“She does, doesn't she?” Mel sipped her champagne as she recounted her conversation with Manny. “Any more news from Tate?”

“Just that he's on his way,” Angie said. She glanced at the door and Mel saw the wistfulness in her expression. It had taken a long time, years in fact, for Angie to land their boy Tate and Mel knew she was still getting used to the idea that he was hers, that they would be married and do the whole happily ever after thing.

Mel was happy for them, really she was, but sometimes, well, she wished she had a loving relationship of her own.

Joe DeLaura had owned her heart since she was twelve years old. It had taken her twenty years to get him to notice her that way, but between her skittishness and his career, they'd been apart more than they'd been together. She was beginning to wonder if there'd ever be a happily ever after in their future.

Maybe someday, if he ever got this trial done, they'd get a shot at the same happiness Tate and Angie had found, but for now, she was flying solo.

She forked a pile of stuffed mushrooms onto her plate. As always, food helped.

“Why did Joe have Manny call you?” Angie asked.

“Manny didn't say, but I think Joe's still playing it cautious,” Mel said. “I don't suppose I'll hear from Joe directly until Frank Tucci is locked up for good.”

“This trial has been going on forever,” Angie said. She loaded her plate with several bacon-wrapped jalapeños. “Did you two ever talk after that night?”

“What night?” Mel asked. She was playing dumb on purpose. She hadn't set eyes on Joe in over two months, after a crazy night where they caught a murderer and then Angie and Tate came careening into the alley behind the bakery, honking and yelling that they were going to elope.

Joe had jumped right into crisis prevention mode. Since she was the youngest child and only daughter of a large Italian Catholic family, it would kill Angie's mother if Angie eloped. Tate let go of the rash plan pretty quickly but Angie was harder to convince. It had taken a full-on intervention with the rest of the brothers to get her to see the light. When Angie had finally abandoned the plan, Joe left and Mel hadn't seen him since.

During this trip, Mel had been keeping a close eye on Tate and Angie just in case the elopement bug hit again. Mel would have no problem putting Angie in a body-locking bear hug if that's what it took to keep her from doing something dumb.

Mel was a bit surprised that the brothers hadn't insisted on coming to Vegas to supervise the trip and make sure there were no matrimonial shenanigans. While most of
the family welcomed Tate, there were a few holdouts among the brothers, who were convinced that no one was ever going to be good enough for Angie. Period.

“You know what night I'm talking about,” Angie said. She waved a celery stick at Mel. “It looked like you and Joe were in the middle of something heavy when Tate and I arrived, but you've never admitted it.”

“And with all the badgering you've done, too,” Mel said. She sipped her champagne and gave Angie a pointed look, which was summarily ignored.

“I know. I'd be proud of you if I wasn't so annoyed by your tight-lippedness,” Angie said. She studied Mel with a look that was understanding and exasperated at the same time.

“There just isn't much to say,” Mel said. “We had a moment, but then it passed and I haven't heard from him since.”

“Really?” Angie asked.

“Okay, he sent me flowers, forget-me-nots,” Mel said. Her throat knotted up at the memory of getting the pretty little blue flowers. “But that was weeks ago.”

“How long are you willing to wait for him?” Angie asked.

“I don't know,” Mel said. She shook her head. “And I'm coming to realize that even if he does circle back around, what happens when he takes on another bad guy who threatens his loved ones? Will he dump me again? My self-esteem is shaky at best. I don't really know if I can do this again.”

Angie was quiet while she thought over what Mel had
said. Then she nodded. She reached across the table and squeezed Mel's hand.

“Joe is my brother, my favorite brother and if you tell the others that, I'll deny it,” she said.

Mel laughed. She would never. But she totally understood. She loved all of the DeLaura brothers as much as her own brother, Charlie, but yeah, Joe was her favorite, too.

“But as much as I love him,” Angie said, “I love you, too, and I hate to see you . . .”

She stopped and Mel waited. After a few seconds, she said, “You hate to see me what? Fat? Grumpy? Lonely? You're killing me here.”

“I hate to see you sad,” Angie said. She looked miserable on Mel's behalf, which actually made Mel feel better. “When Tate and I are, well, I just want the same for you.”

Mel squeezed Angie's hand tight and then released it.

“I know you do, and I really appreciate it,” she said. She took up her glass and drained it. “Can we not talk about this anymore? We're in Vegas, in VIP seating no less, let's try to be happy.”

“You're right,” Angie said. She raised her glass and drained it as well. “Viva, Las Vegas! Hey, maybe you'll get lucky with one of the Elvis impersonators at our hotel.”

“Yeah, right,” Mel said.

“Aw, come on, can't you just see one of them sashay up to you and break into ‘Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love'? It'd be all over for you, and you know it.”

The image made Mel laugh hard. It felt good. Whatever would she do without her friends?

The lights in the theater dimmed, and she and Angie grew serious as they turned their attention to the stage. The rest of the crowd hushed as well. Mel had never been to a show with showgirls before so she wasn't really clear on what to expect. She figured there would be sparkles, feathers, and high kicks, but she wasn't sure what else was involved in the whole performance.

Music started overhead and the theater went completely dark. Mel watched the curtains on the stage, waiting for them to part, but the music swelled louder and louder with no sign of movement from the stage. She could barely make out Angie in the darkness but noted that she was watching the stage with the same intensity as Mel.

With the boom of a drumbeat, the lights flashed on at designated spots in the theater, and as if they had been conjured out of thin air, dancers dressed all in silver with three-foot headdresses stood amid the crowd.

The audience broke into spontaneous applause as the girls began to shimmy and shake to the music. It was lighthearted and joyful and Mel found Holly standing just a few feet away from them. This was the heavily made-up woman she had met the day before, and it took Mel a second to reconcile the glittering vision before them with the mom in the ponytail just a few hours previous.

Angie nudged Mel, letting her know she had spotted their friend as well. The music swelled and the dancers moved among the crowd, working their way toward the stage. Holly was the first on the stage and began to pump turn, spinning while kicking one leg out then in with her
arms in a delicate arc over her head, while the rest of the girls moved forward to join her.

Mel watched with her jaw a bit slack as Holly kept spinning and spinning, the footlights hitting her costume just right and making her look like a bit of silver flame. Mel lost count of her revolutions. When Holly stopped, she slid effortlessly into the chorus line and led the girls in a series of choreographed high kicks that moved down the row of dancers one after another in perfect sync.

The girls broke off as the curtain behind them opened. They moved into smaller groups and continued dancing until Mel was breathing hard just from watching them. Their finale ended on a huge staircase that filled up the back of the stage. The girls parted in the middle and a man in a snappy tuxedo appeared at the top of the steps.

Mel saw Angie bounce on her seat. The man held a mic up to his mouth and he started to sing. It was a silly ballad about Vegas, rolling the dice, pretty showgirls, and what happened in Vegas staying in Vegas. His voice was low and rich and he punctuated his words with a wink here and there. The crowd loved him and went wild as he made his way to the front of the stage.

Levi Cartwright was in the house and he clearly owned the stage. He was tall, lithe, and good looking in a traditional Rat Pack sort of way. A glance at the crowd and Mel could see that the women wanted him and the men wanted to be him. The man released charm like the rest of them exhaled carbon dioxide.

Once the song ended and the raucous applause died
down, he went into a monologue about the silly things people did in Vegas that had people holding their sides as they wiped tears from their eyes. He went on for fifteen minutes and then the girls showed up to dance in new costumes. Again, Mel saw Holly leading the flock of pretty girls in complicated dance patterns around the stage. When Levi came back, Mel saw Holly meet his gaze and give him a small nod.