1 Hot Scheming Mess (2 page)

“I was hired to do improv,” she said. “I’m supposed to jeer and throw empty beer cans at Atomic Waist so he’s distracted with me while he’s raging at the audience. From there I improvise to get some laughs. Nothing was ever said about throwing me!”

“It
is
improv. We make up a lot of it on the spot to keep it fresh,” said Sparky.

“Oh, please. You’re doing fight choreography at best, with improv thrown in. You want improv, I’m your girl. I could be drunk for real and do a better job! But I’m not going to experiment with improvised fighting. Forget it! I’m out!”

“You can’t be out!” said Sparkle Pecs. “They’re opening the doors.”

Madison turned her head quickly; sure enough, the first few patrons were paying their entrance fees at the door.

Chapter Two

“I don’t care if the audience is in their seats. If I can’t feel safe I’m not doing it!” said Madison. She crossed her arms, her face like a rock.

Atomic Waist jerked his head down and back up, mouthing a silent “fuck.” He shook his head as he said, “Didn’t I say this would happen if you guys got carried away again?”

Dewey started, “But—”

“Didn’t I? And there’s no time to fix it now.”

Dewey Decimator rolled his eyes as he turned away, pacing the stage, studying the floor with hands on his hips.

ExBoy standing nearby leaned into her and whispered, “You get me hot when you’re tough.” She whipped her head toward him with a flinty look. He flinched. “Or not.”

There was a brief silence in the room broken only by the distant voices of people being admitted into the barroom. With a slow expelling of air, Atomic Waist rubbed one hand down his face and turned to Madison. “I’ve seen you on stage, Madison. I know this could work. So I’m hoping that if you at least watch the show tonight you might change your mind for next week.” He turned, walking backstage, and called, “Come on, we have to get ready.”

“I’m sorry,” Madison said, softening and wishing there were a way to fix it. She hated leaving them hanging. Her rent would be hanging now, too. Bye-bye immediate paycheck.

“But what are we going to do now?” Sparkle Pecs pushed his limp mohawk back as he called out to Atomic Waist.

Atomic Waist’s voice echoed back once more, “Wing it!”

Madison watched them head back stage as Sparkle Pecs and Dewey Decimator kept looking back at her, arguing with each other.

“You had to go and land on their table,” said Dewey, while Sparky said, “You were the one who said to throw her.”

The summer heat in the barroom added a sense of urgency as the consequences of her lost income sank in on her. So much for the undiscovered merits of a bad idea. She turned to the cocktail table, dug out her tote bag once again, and put the empty beer can props back into it. No one said a word to her as she packed the props away, throwing the big tote bag back under the table. Reaching for that icy cocktail, she plopped down in her chair and sipped her cold drink. Rum and Coke was Madison’s favorite cocktail and the chilled fluid felt good going down her throat, but it didn’t ease the situation.

ExBoy emptied most of his drink in one long draw and looked around the room. Madison could see those gorgeous blue eyes calculating. He took the last sip then stared at the ice in his empty glass, not moving. The longer he stood there, the more his eyes creased. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked.

Shaking it off, his smile was back as if it never had left. He set the glass down saying, “I gotta go,” and headed toward the back door. There was no predicting him anyway, but it still caught her off guard the way he could both show up and disappear without much warning.

She looked at Spenser who had her camera all set up now and sitting on the table waiting for the show to start, and said, “I guess it’s just you and me now.”

“What’s with him?” Spenser swung her head in the direction ExBoy had left, and added, “And what’s with using the back door?”

Madison shrugged. “Wish I knew.”

“Are you guys officially a couple yet?”

A rueful chuckle escaped Madison. “No, and I don’t think we should be. Forget that he comes and goes like a tormented superhero, he’s just too hard to figure out.”

“Uh oh.”

“What? I don’t like it when you say uh oh,” said Madison.

“He sounds mysterious and brooding. Hard to resist.”

“Oh, spare me! He’s just… just… hot as hell, that’s all.”

Spenser nodded and they picked up their drinks, clinked the glasses, and each took a swallow.

“I’m kind of glad you quit the gig tonight,” Spenser said. “I made Daniel promise me he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I don’t worry much about him, though. He’s so big, all those guys just bounce off of him.”

“Tell the truth,” said Madison, curious. “Do you call him Daniel or Atomic Waist when you two are alone?”

Spenser smiled. “Mr. Waist, Atomic Toy—”

“Okay, that’s enough—”

“Satin Buns—”

“You can—”

“Tasty Waisty—”

“… stop!” Madison tried slapping her own face, but it was too late. She had a visual.
Tasty Waisty?

The barroom was getting noisier as people arrived, finding seats and ordering drinks. The crunchy thump of cheap wooden chairs dragging across scuffed wooden floors, mixed with bursts of laughter at different tables. The tone of people’s voices took on a new quality of bass notes and sharp spots as the size of the audience grew from a gathering of small groups to a crowd. A local DJ’s mix of Break Beat music started up in the background.

Madison jerked upright. “I just remembered my grandpa. He’s here somewhere.” She turned in her chair looking for him. He wasn’t anywhere nearby. She leaned to one side scanning all the patrons gathering around tables and chairs. “Haven’t seen him much this last year. Somehow time gets away.” She craned her neck, looking around. “And now my mother is back in Seattle.” Turning back around to face Spenser, Madison knew that more than any of her friends, Spenser would understand the significance of what she was about to say. “The FBI finally approved her transfer so she’s working in their Seattle Field Division now.”

Spenser looked up in quiet surprise. “Have you seen her yet?”

“No, but we talked on the phone.”

Spenser seemed to hesitate, then asked, “So how’d that go?”

Madison shrugged her shoulders. “It was nice. But weird.”

“Why was it weird?”

“Because it was nice.”

Spenser sat quietly, watching Madison. “This is kind of big news. You seem to be taking all of it so well.”

“You mean like a grown-up? You can say it.”

Digging through her duffle bag again, Spenser pulled out an elastic hair band, saying, “Well, you actually are a grown-up now.” She pulled her blonde hair up into a ponytail. “But you can’t beat yourself up for behaving like a kid when you were a kid.”

“I invited her and Grandpa to come tonight, but I guess she didn’t show.”

“You’re not surprised, are you?”

Madison sighed. “No.” She leaned forward onto her elbows, bringing a hand up to run fingers through her hair, “What was I thinking?” She gripped some hair. “She’s never approved of what I do and she’d hate this place.”

“Little Freudian slip on your part?” Spenser pulled her hair through the last twist of her elastic hair band, the ponytail turning out crooked. “You know, like a declaration that you’re going to be yourself and all that?”

“No, I wasn’t trying to…” She stared at Spenser a moment, the thought sinking in. “Well maybe. So I guess she’s being herself, too, and refused to come.” She stood up, saying, “Situation normal.”

Standing there, Madison searched all the way into the back of the barroom until her eyes landed on her grandfather. “There he is,” she said.

Sure enough, he was sitting near the back like a big sentry at the door. Late sixties, Vincent Cruz was still somewhat robust from the hard toil of his landscaping business. Six feet two inches tall, his rolled-up sleeves exposed strong forearms, but his face was leathery and lined like an old treasure map still unsolved. His five o’clock shadow was barely perceptible, but Madison knew it was fierce enough to sand these old tables smooth again. Although he had some hair, he opted to shave off what little he had left, refusing to do a comb-over. He’d finally sold his business and retired last year but couldn’t seem to keep his hands out of the soil.

Madison wished she hadn’t forgotten he was here, but she doubted he had noticed. He seemed more interested in everyone who walked in, checking out each person as they walked through the door as if they needed to pass his inspection. It wasn’t like him.

Madison asked Spenser, “Do people worry more when they get older?”

“I don’t know,” said Spenser. “Why? Is he worried about something?”

“Hard to say. He won’t admit if anything’s wrong.” She pushed her chair back under the table. “I need to tell him I won’t be performing tonight.”

Threading her way through the crowd, she squeezed sideways between the backs of old wooden chairs holding excited people, making her way to the more open space where he sat. Through the force field that was his presence, she slipped easily into the place that others seemed too intimidated to occupy. His face lit up as she approached and he pulled a chair up next to his. They did a well-worn hand to hand routine in which they’d bump fists, press palm to palm, lace their fingers together, and bend their hands downward, pretending to crack their knuckles while they each made a loud cracking sound effect.

Madison said, “How’s my hero?”

“Fine. I think that pretty waitress over there likes me. Keeps offering me drinks,” he said nodding.

“You should take her up on it.”

“Nice try,” he said. “I already told you not to be spending your money on me. I just wanted to see your show.”

“I won’t be performing tonight after all.”

“Heard that discussion all the way back here.” He smiled and knuckled her chin. “My tough little girl.”

“Disappointed?” she asked.

“Well, I did want to see you wipe the floor with those young fellas. Show them how it’s done.” Madison was relieved to see that old twinkle in his eye. “Their loss,” he added. “So I think I’ll get going.”

“You don’t have to go, you just got here.”

“Sweetheart, you were the only reason I had any interest in the show. That and I was hoping to see you and Ann together again. It’s been so long I don’t even have a photograph of the two of you that isn’t old. But she called a little while ago and said she has to work late.”

“She probably didn’t want to come.”

“Well,” he looked around the room with a soft chuckle, then back to her face. “This might not have been the best time and place for a reunion.”

Madison twisted her lips to the side as if she were giving that some hard thought.

“Don’t give me that, you stinker. You did it on purpose,” he said.

“Nuh-uh! Spenser says it was Freudian.”

“Whatever it was, it was bullshit.”

Madison’s shoulders dropped. She exhaled and rubbed her face with both hands.

“Why don’t you give Ann a call tomorrow,” he said, “and offer to go meet her for coffee?” Madison looked across the room. Where was a distraction when she needed one? Spenser? ExBoy? A barroom brawl?

“I just want to stay out of trouble,” she said.

He laughed. “Since when do you stay out of trouble?”

“You know what I mean. She’s never approved of the choices I made even though she was never around.”

“She was just a baby herself when she had you. Give her a chance.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his, saying, “I raised you both, and I have every confidence that the two of you can pick up the pieces.”

Madison sighed. “All right. I’ll arrange it.”

“It’s just coffee, sweetheart. It’ll be a good start,” he said. “She really misses you.”

Madison said, “When I talked to her on the phone, she did say one thing that was worrisome. She said you may have had some personal information stolen?”

His eyes looked away. “Ann told you about that?”

“Yeah. She said the University of Washington was hacked. It must have been bad if the UW called the FBI. She said they got into the archives of old employee records. Weren’t you one of their gardeners?”

“Ancient history,” he insisted.

“She’s just trying to warn you, Grandpa. Some people steal social security numbers to open credit cards with.”

“Okay. I heard you,” he said.

They stood up and she hugged him, saying, “I promise I’ll try to make it work tomorrow.” He hugged her even harder after that and left.

Arriving back at her table, Madison pulled her mobile phone out of her purse and looked through the pictures she kept on her phone. Grandpa was right. The most recent photo that Madison had of her and her mother together was so old Madison had been in junior high—a painful time of her life. She gazed at the surly image of her young self and wished there were a better picture.

I should hire Spenser to do a portrait of us together
. Her heart grew lighter at the thought.
Grandpa would love that!
The more Madison thought about it, the more excited she got at the idea.
Mom would love it, too. In fact, she’d like that I initiated it
.

She knew Spenser would not ask to be paid, so Madison needed to raise the money first, then present it to Spenser and insist that she wouldn’t let Spenser do it unless she let Madison pay her.
More money issues but I have to find a way.

“Are you okay?” Spenser asked.

Madison said, “Other than mommy issues, boyfriend issues, and wondering where I’m going to get the rest of my rent? I’m fantastic.”

Spenser stuck her lower lip out which was what she always did when she was about to try to cheer Madison up. She said, “Can I beat up your mean mommy for you?”

Madison gave a short laugh. “My mom could kick your ass.”

Spenser giggled and said, “Special Agent Ann Cruz could kick both our asses at the same time.”

“And look good doing it,” said Madison.

“While holding a drink and not spilling it,” said Spenser.

“Or wrinkle her pantsuit,” said Madison.

“Or smearing her lipstick, or…”