Evie Ever After

CHAPTER FOUR

AS SOON AS NIC LEFT I DIALED Arch. Unfortunately, the call rolled over to voice mail. Instead of leaving a message I decided to try again later. If he rang back while I was in the shower, we’d end up playing phone tag.

I thought about calling Beckett. Not for advice on how to handle Jayne’s dilemma, but to make sure he was all right. Except that seemed too intimate. Curse that kiss! If only I hadn’t felt a little zing. If only he hadn’t implied romantic interest. Before, I could’ve checked up on him as a concerned colleague. If I called now…would he read more into it? Would Arch read more into it?

I padded to the bathroom in search of Tylenol. Beckett would have one. The man carried an endless supply.

Stop thinking about Beckett.

I poured two pain relievers into my hand making sure they were what I thought they were before I swallowed them. I’d recently taken a pill by mistake and it had resulted in an embarrassing scene with the government agent.

I glared at my reflection in the medicine mirror. “Why do you have Milo Beckett on the brain?”

“Because you played with fire and you’re afraid he’ll get burned,” I could hear Jayne say in an otherworldly voice.

I also had Madame Helene on the brain. But I couldn’t do anything about her until I spoke with Arch.

I moved into my bedroom in search of something to wear. After I talked to Arch I’d shower and dress and then, hell or high water, I’d go shopping. Wall hangings, throw pillows…anything to make this wasteland more homey. I’d moved into this one bedroom apartment a year ago, after my ex, Michael, and I had separated, but I’d never really lived here. I’d been in too much of a funk to decorate. Then I’d just been oblivious. But after spending a week in Arch’s grandfather’s cluttered flat then time in my childhood home, not to mention a charming Victorian B and B, I just couldn’t warm to this cold, stark apartment.

It was beyond depressing. It didn’t help that I lived alone. I’d spent most of the past month sleeping with Arch. But that had been while on assignment or on holiday. This, I thought, soaking in the earsplitting quiet, is my reality. “At least Dorothy had Toto.”

I redialed Arch, wondering if I should get a cat.

“Yeah?” Arch’s stock phone greeting.

I replied midthought. “Whoever said ‘there’s no place like home’ was full of hooey.”

“Dorothy Gale,” he said in his knee-melting accent. “Wizard of Oz. 1939.”

I smirked. “I knew that. How could I not know that? It was a rhetorical statement.”

“Ah.”

“You’re grinning, aren’t you?”

“Aye.”

“Because I’m cheeky or because I said hooey?”

“Take your pick, Sunshine.”

I smiled. I wish you were here.

“What’s wrong, lass?”

Going through sexy Scot withdrawal. “It’s about Jayne. I’d feel better if I told you in person. I need your advice, Arch, and I need it soon.”

“I can be there in…half an hour, yeah?”

“I’ll be ready.” My mind jumped tracks. “Have you heard from Beckett?” Way to ruin a sexy exchange, Parish. Only I was genuinely worried about my boss, a man I considered a friend…or something.

“He called a few minutes ago. Just landed in Philly.”

Thank God. “And?”

“Mission accomplished.”

The pent-up ache in my chest eased. “Great. That’s…great.” Beckett was home safe and Chameleon was once again in good graces with the AIA. I pumped a fist in the air. Woo-hoo!

“Evie.”

“Yes?”

“I miss you.”

Okay. That was sweet. That was…unexpected. My heart skipped and raced. “I miss you, too.”

“Answer the door naked, yeah?”

Um. “Yeah. I mean, you bet. I mean…” Holy Smoke.

“See you in thirty.”

I could imagine his ornery grin, the one that made the backs of my knees sweat. I could imagine what he was going to do to me when I opened the door—hello—naked. I peeled off my sleepwear and hopped in the shower. Thirty minute countdown to creative sex. Yeah, baby, yeah.

I’D JUST MOISTURIZED WHEN my cell rang. Naked and hot-to-trot, I adopted a Mae West drawl. “Thought about you when I was in the shower, Big Boy. Trust me. You don’t want to be late.”

“It’s Nic.”

“Oh! Sorry.” Mortified. I slipped into the purple terry-cloth robe hanging on the back of the door.

“Whatever. Listen, Evie. We’ve got trouble. Zippo-the-Clown just called and Fannie’s Flowers is in a snit. Fourth time this month Jayne didn’t show on time. She has a scheduled telegram in less than an hour. I need you to get over there now and cover her butt. Otherwise she’ll lose her job. I’m off to corral our wayward friend. Pretty sure I know where to find her.”

“Okay. I’m there.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

She signed off and I scrambled to dress. If I remembered right and I usually do, Jayne had taken a job with Fannie’s Flowers in order to make ends meet. Even though she was three years my junior, like me, she’d started losing casino bookings to younger, modelesque talent. It didn’t help that the once-popular character actor gigs were almost obsolete. Rather than nabbing a nine to five to keep afloat she’d resorted to singing telegrams. Something that went against my creative grain, but as Nic said, to each his own. Except Jayne was my friend and I’d do anything for her. Singing “Happy Birthday” to an office worker while dressed as Marilyn Monroe or a clown or—gak!—a chicken wasn’t going to kill me. Me, who’d once worked a high-roller Halloween party as PMS Pumpkin.

I think I set some sort of record blow-drying my hair and applying makeup. I was dressed and out the door in fifteen minutes. I shoved on sunglasses and race-walked to my car while dialing Arch.

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be here when you get here. I mean, there’s been an emergency. Jayne. She’s flipping out or something. I don’t know. Anyway, I have to cover one of her gigs.”

“Evie—”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I whipped open the door to my beat-up Subaru and slid behind the wheel. “If I don’t do this she might lose her job and I would feel awful. I already feel awful, but I can’t get into that.” I keyed the ignition only the car didn’t start. “Oh, no.”

“Evie—”

I tried again. Dead. Of course, I hadn’t started my car in two weeks, plus it was old plus…“Dammit.”

“Lass.”

Someone tapped on my window scaring the bejeebers out of me. I gasped and smiled.

Arch.

First I noticed he’d shaved off that sexy goatee. I’d never seen him completely clean shaven. Before the goatee, he’d sported a perpetual five-o-clock shadow—also sexy. Not that a clean shave diminished his appeal. You know how some women look great in any hair color? Same difference. Any way you cut it, or um, shaved it, the man was gorgeous.

He looked like a GQ model in his hip, casual wear. Like me, he was wearing jeans, only his looked pricey. He’d left the tails of his paisley oxford hanging out and the collar opened. I imagined ripping off that shirt, skimming my fingers over his chiseled abs, licking his sexy Celtic tattoo…I squeezed my legs together to suppress an erotic tingle. Get a grip, Evie. Think of Jayne. Right. I chucked my phone in my purse and rolled down the window. “You’re here,” I said, sounding surprised and breathless and, well, sort of stupid.

Arch grinned and pocketed his phone.

“My car won’t start.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Thanks.” Honestly, I was happy for his company. I lived on Brigantine Island. Even though it was less than a ten minute drive to Atlantic City, it felt a world away. I felt semidisconnected here. If I didn’t see the casinos, I didn’t think about them. A blessing. I wish I could say those entertainment meccas conjured memories of the best times of my life. The incredible musicians I’d sung with. The wacky actress roles I’d nailed. Jeez, once I even sang backup for a famous boxer turned B headliner, and there was the time I’d been a featured swing dancer at a Big Bad Voodoo Daddy concert. But all I could focus on was the depressing fact that I was no longer “in demand.” In my current mind-set the casinos represented rejection. They made me feel old. I ached to let go, to move on. I had moved on. The past month of constant travel had been a welcome distraction. But I guess it had also been a form of evasion. Now that I was back in the city, my former insecurities and disillusions threatened to crush me.

At least with Arch at the wheel, I could focus on him and not the cash cows that made me feel as if I’d been put out to pasture.

“Wow,” I said as he opened the door of a black Jaguar. “Is this your car?”

“One of them.” He handed me in then rounded the sleek-mobile and climbed behind the wheel. “What?” he asked as he revved the engine.

I gawked at the leather upholstery and a couple of console gadgets that looked like something out of a James Bond car. “It’s just that, this looks really expensive.”

He shrugged as if to say not so much, which probably meant a small fortune. Again I wondered who he’d scammed in the past, how much he’d scored, and if he’d invested the money or stashed it in foreign bank accounts. He had to be rolling in dough because he lived and traveled in style. Not to mention, he’d bought a flipping Scottish Barony. I couldn’t begin to imagine how much that had cost.

I felt bad for envying his wealth. Mostly because he hadn’t earned it honestly. Then again, for all I knew, maybe he’d inherited a fortune from his family…although they hadn’t earned an honest living, either.

Crimany.

Arch backed out of my apartment complex’s parking lot and swung on to Brigantine Boulevard. “Where am I going?”

“Fannie’s Flowers. It’s on Baltic and—”

“I know where it is and if I didnae…” He tapped one of the fancy gadgets.

I buckled up and squinted at the screen. “Is that one of those GPS thingees?”

He shoved on his own dark sunglasses and smiled. My vocabulary was a constant source of amusement to the man. “It’s a navigation system with a few perks.”

He listed the perks and my eyes glazed over. I’d never been good with anything technical. I didn’t even know how to text with my cell phone.

“What’s going on with your mate Jayne?” he asked as he zipped over the bridge leading to the mainland.

His timing was great. Instead of looking at the upcoming casinos, I shifted and focused on him. In a long-winded ramble, I shared Nic’s concerns about Jayne and Madame Helene, including some background history on the area’s up-and-coming psychic. “Do you think we’re overreacting?”

“Last year Chameleon took down a fortune-teller who fleeced marks out of hundreds of thousands of dollars by convincing them that the money—whether a result of investments or inheritance—was evil. She conned some of them into believing that the ‘tainted’ money was the cause of their personal or professional trials, you know?”

“Wow.”

“Others were warned of impending doom should they not allow her to perform a ritual cleansing. The ritual, of course, involved the mark handing over the money.” He glanced over. “Follow?”

“Unfortunately.” I’d been reading up on various short and long cons. I thought I’d read it all. Boy, was I wrong.

“One woman alone handed over three-hundred grand. It all started with a ten-dollar tarot card reading. Using tricks of the trade, the fortune-teller gave a semi-accurate reading. The mark was hooked and started attending regular readings.”

My arms prickled with goose bumps. “Sounds eerily familiar.”

“The more the mark revealed aboot her life, the deeper the grifter’s hooks. By earning her trust and manipulating her fears, over time the so-called fortune-teller was able to con the woman oot of a hefty inheritance. So, no,” Arch said. “I dinnae think you’re overreacting.”

I shook my head. “Why does it seem like everyone in my life is being scammed in some way or another?”

“Because grifting is easier and more lucrative than ever, Sunshine.”

A troubling statement on several levels.

“Dinnae worry aboot Madame Helene, love. I’ll look into it. Just do what you have to do for your mate now and then we’ll proceed, yeah?”

And just like that I felt better. Arch had an amazing knack of staying calm no matter the situation, a quality that impressed and irked me at the same time. Just now I appreciated his nonchalance. By the time he parked alongside Fannie’s Flowers, I was even-keeled and ready to tackle Jayne’s gig. Whatever it was. How bad could it be?

Arch slid his glasses on top of his head, revealing those hypnotic eyes. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s okay. I just have to run in and pick up the costume and assignment.” I scrunched my brow. “I think. I mean, I’ve never done one of these things.”

“Singing telegram, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“With your background, lass, how hard could it be?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. I just hope I don’t have to wear anything too skimpy. I don’t do sexy well.”

“Sure you do.”

Okay, that was sweet. That was…hot. “I’m hoping for a nerd or a Dame Edna or a dancing box of chocolates. You know, something goofy.”

He leaned in, green eyes twinkling with mischief and…uh-oh. I knew that look. He winked. “I’m hoping for a belly dancer.”

My inner thighs tingled and racy thoughts undulated through my brain. “Time’s ticking,” I squeaked while grappling for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” he said, stealing a kiss before I stole away. “Thinking aboot what I’m going to do to you later. Naked.”

Zing. Zap.

I thought about the costumes in my closet and grinned. “How do you feel about French maids?”

CHAPTER FIVE

NIC HADN’T BEEN KIDDING when she said Fannie’s Flowers was in a snit. Just my luck, or Jayne’s luck, it was the boss herself.

A cashier showed me to a back room of the bustling store where Fannie labored over a gargantuan flower arrangement. Her work was lovely, her manner was not.

“Great,” she snapped. “A substitute.”

She paused and I fidgeted. She maneuvered random buds and I swallowed a lump of dread. She looked ticked and harried and I anticipated getting bounced from a job that wasn’t even mine.

She glanced at her watch, me. “What’d you say your name is?”

“Evie.”

“Listen, Evie, if you screw this up—”

“I won’t.”

“—Jayne’s fired.”

No pressure there.

“I’m thinking of letting her go anyway.”

“Please don’t.” I tucked my hair behind my ears, wet my lips. I told the truth. Sort of. “She’s been going through a rough time, but she’s coming around and—”

“Yeah, yeah. Life’s a bitch.”

I wondered if Fannie was always this brisk or if she was just having a bad day. I thought about my normally carefree, wacky friend and wondered if this job was worth saving. Except it did help pay the bills.

It also funded her Madame Helene habit.

One problem at a time, Evie.

Right.

Fannie jerked her head. “Follow me.”

Instead of showing me to the door, she led me deeper into the storage room. Mostly it was filled with flowers and vases and baskets—florist stuff. But beyond a case of ribbons and cards, I spied two racks of costumes—entertainer stuff.

“Ever done anything like this before?” Fannie asked.

“Lots of times.” Not a bald-face lie, just a spin on the truth. No, I’d never walked into a commercial office or a private home, singing birthday or anniversary greetings, dressed as a clown or some such stuff. But I’d appeared at plenty of parties or special events dressed as a clown or some such stuff. Sometimes I sang. Sometimes I danced. Sometimes I just roamed around in character making people laugh. I’m thinking that qualified me for this gig.

I was feeling jazzed and confident, but then Fannie produced my costume.

My mouth went dry. “You’re kidding.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is there a problem?”

It was my worst nightmare, literally, come to life. “No problem.”

I stared at the furry black costume, my mind reeling with the cosmic significance. For the past month I’d had sporadic dreams about gorillas. One involved wearing a gorilla suit, much like the one in Fannie’s arms, hawking used cars with a sign that said, You’ll Go APE For Our Prices. My ex-husband had been there with his arm wrapped around his new pregnant wife. He’d made an insensitive crack about my age. I took the dream literally, thinking it indicated the hairy demise of my career.

But Jayne had consulted one of her new age books, offering me a different account. “If you dream about apes then beware of a mischief-maker in your business or social circle. Unless the gorilla is docile. Then the dream is a forecasting of a new and unusual friend.”

I knew this was probably one of a hundred interpretations, but it did pique my interest. Since Arch and Beckett had entered my life at that time, it was hard to dismiss as hooey. Call me intrigued. Or obsessed. I still didn’t know if the ape dreams were warnings of trouble or forecasts of something good. I just knew I was still having them.

Fannie dumped the heavy suit in my arms then handed me my head, I mean the ape’s head. I didn’t even want to think about what it smelled like inside. Depended on who wore it last and if the shop had had it cleaned. I started itching and sweating and worrying about peripheral vision. But mostly I pondered the significance.

“You’ll want to put that thing on after you get there,” Fannie said, now searching through files. “Hard to drive wearing those big monkey feet.”

“I have a ride,” I said distractedly, flashing back on the time I’d arrived at an event via limo dressed as a bumblebee. Only this time Arch was my driver and I’m not sure I wanted him to see me as a gorilla. Dame Edna would have been sexier.

“Do you know the song ‘Born in the U.S.A.’?” she asked while pulling out a folder.

I knew every Bruce Springsteen song ever written. Well, the biggest hits anyway. My ex-husband had been a Springsteen fan since the singer’s Asbury Park days. As an entertainment agent, one of Michael’s favorite stories was the time he almost signed The Boss as a client. That story had always made me a little sad, because I could hear the wistfulness in his voice. Like me, Michael had had bigger dreams than Atlantic City. I’m beginning to think it’s the only thing we ever had in common.

“I know the song,” I said, feeling more anxious by the moment.

“Lucky for Jayne.” Fannie handed me two tickets and one long-stemmed rose. “You’re going to sing that song with a twist on the title—‘Born in the U.S. APE.’”

“Clever.” Not.

“Then you present the guy with the rose and tickets. They’re a gift from his wife.”

Front row seats to an upcoming Springsteen concert. Lucky man. Generous wife. I shuddered to think what she’d paid. “What’s the occasion?”

She looked at the file. “Second anniversary of their first date. Sappy. But sappy is good for business. They’re having lunch at a gourmet restaurant.” She handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s the exact location, the guy’s name, and his description.”

My breath seized when I read the info. I’m pretty sure the blood drained from my face.

Fannie cleared her throat. “Is there a problem?”

I thought about Jayne. “No problem,” I croaked.

I wondered what I’d done to deserve this? Or maybe it was some sort of cosmic test. If I could survive this, I could survive anything.

I pulled an elastic band from my hip pocket and tamed my hair into a ponytail. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll slip into costume now.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” said Fannie. “Just make it quick. You’re due in twenty minutes.”

“BRILLIANT.” ARCH CHUCKLED as I stuffed my bulky gorilla self—sans head—into the passenger seat of his car.

I slid him a disgusted look.

“You wanted goofy, love. I’d say this qualifies.”

I didn’t bother stating my issue with gorillas. I just passed on the pertinent information.

“Shite.”

“You can say that again.” I placed the ape head on the floor between my big furry feet then tried to fasten my seat belt and failed.

Arch reached over, made some adjustments and slid the buckle home. He stayed close, his face hovering near mine, his gorgeous gray-green eyes shining with concern. “You dinnae have to do this.”

“Jayne will lose her job if I don’t.”

He gave me the once-over. “This monkey suit looks a bit big, Sunshine. Bet it’ll fit me.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Cannae think of much I wouldnae do for you, lass.”

I kissed him. Hard. My heart pounded with affection as I cupped his gorgeous face with my furry paws and ravished his mouth. He matched my fervor, holding my head captive while conquering my tongue. Possessive. Seductive. The kind of kiss I would have dragged out forever if I weren’t under the gun.

I broke off with a groan. “We have to go.”

“My loss.”

“Sweet talk like this is going to pay off big-time when I get you back to my place,” I said with a little smile.

Grinning, he pulled back into the one-way traffic. “Never shagged a gorilla before.”

I snorted. “Good to know.”

He turned the corner and headed toward the boardwalk. “Didnae know Stone and Sasha were back from their honeymoon.”

“Neither did I.” Over a week ago, Michael had called me from Paris, drunk and lamenting a fight he’d had with his blushing bride over me. Given the nature of this gig, I guess they made up. Whoop-te-do. “They’re celebrating the second anniversary of their first date,” I said, folding my furry arms over my gnarled stomach. “Michael and I weren’t even separated then.”

He reached over and smoothed the backs of his fingers over my cheek.

Sizzle.

That tender gesture was even hotter than that five-alarm kiss. I was definitely besotted. “To top things off,” I said, squirming in my seat, “the casino they’re dining in is the last casino I auditioned at. I’m not even sure I’m allowed on property after the stunt I pulled.”

“All the more reason for me to take this on.”

“Can you sing ‘Born in the U.S. APE’?”

He slid me a look.

“Never mind. I can do this. I need to do this. For Jayne. For me. Call me crazy, but it feels like some kind of test.” I plucked the gorilla head from the floor and fluffed the fur. “Just let me out at the main entrance. Park up there along the side. I’ll be in and out in ten minutes. Fifteen tops.”

He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. A phone chimed—his.

I fiddled with the tickets and the flower while he took the call.

“Yeah?” He listened and frowned. “Bloody hell. No, I didnae know. Do some digging. See what you can find oot. I’ll be there within the half hour.”