1 Hot Scheming Mess (33 page)

Madison looked down at her tote bag, saying, “So you don’t really care about all the evidence that Grandpa saved against you all these years?”

He laughed, “Oh, I can’t wait. This should be rich,” he said. “Dump it all out.”

She pulled the tote bag off her shoulder, bracing herself. With one hand, she turned it over like a teapot spilling its contents to the floor.

In a rush the contents poured out. The large envelope of old pictures from Jerry’s past, a small makeup kit, CDs of music for Madison’s singing telegram gigs, cell phone, purse, car keys, the sad stained tablecloth and towel, the flattened cardboard box, the paperwork all paperclipped together, and… the prop handgun tumbled out.

Like lightning, Madison caught it before it hit the ground, aiming at his face, just feet away from him but out of his reach. He had started to reach for his gun but froze.

“Okay, you son of a bitch!” She clutched the fake handgun in both hands, arms straight, feet apart, knees slightly bent, just like she’d practiced in the mirror at home. “You get a chance to run, keeping your little gun in your pocket so no one will notice you. Remember, blood is inconvenient. It causes other problems. You keep it quiet and uneventful, you might get away after all. There’s no one here to chase you. You’ll be ignored. And I’m not going to chase you because you have a gun.”

She aimed the prop gun carefully at his head, keeping distance between them and putting as much intensity into her voice as she could, although it didn’t take much pretending. “Otherwise, I shoot you in the head right here and now.” Gesturing toward the door with the prop gun, she said, “Do it.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he stood there studying her, his eyes weighing.
Damn it!
“Move!” she screamed. She tried doing that crazed one-eye twitch she’d seen in so many movies where the bad guy was clearly losing his shit, about to blow his top. “Do it NOW motherfucker!”

That got some movement. His lips pressed hard together like he was pissed as he put his hand on the doorknob, then he stopped. He looked back at her, seeming to make a choice, and said, “I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’d better think again!” She took a risk and tried getting closer to him, letting him see the gun get nearer and nearer, hoping he would try to take it from her. He went for the bait and lunged for the gun as Madison let it flip into the air, his body weight diving forward with his hands in the air trying to catch the prop gun. She ducked downward, her hand diving into his pocket grabbing the small revolver as he caught the prop gun in the air. Their feet tangled at that instant, Jerry almost losing his balance, one leg lurching forward to catch himself, but Madison tripped, her body and the real gun both tumbling to the ground and skidding towards the door. She scrabbled to her knees, speed crawling to the gun, hearing him yell freeze from behind her.

She grabbed the real gun as she sprang up, grabbing the doorknob, looking over her shoulder at Jerry. The prop gun was expertly aimed at her, but his brows were creased, looking down at the gun in his hands. The truth, a bitch slap on his face. His shocked eyes whipped up at her. She shrugged and said, “Spy blood.”

She ran out the door as screams from the party room hit her ears.

Chapter Thirty Two

Out in the party room, there was a different sort of fight going on which accounted for all the screams and muffled chaos she’d heard through the walls. Not having any pockets and not wanting anyone to see the small revolver, she shoved it down the front of her zombie one-piece bathing suit as she ran down the short hallway, pulling her poolside cover-up closed to help hide it.

Almost to the end of the hallway, she slid to a stop as a round table flew in her direction and landed at the entryway to the hall, falling to its side and rolling, blocking her exit. She shoved the table out of her way, seeing a full blown riot of wedding guests and angry zombies being played out in front her.

Dashing across the hostile room, she dove under one of the other tables, eager to call for help before Jerry got away. But…
No!
She didn’t have her cell phone. It got dumped out onto the floor when she’d emptied her tote bag. Peeking out from under the tablecloth, she tried to make sense of the pockets of fighting going on everywhere she looked.

Sparkle Pecs in a confusing blend of his wrestling vampire character turned zombie, held one of the groomsmen over his head, throwing him onto one of the round white tables, the table crashing in on itself, the tablecloth swallowing the groomsman in a tangle of linen.

Shattering centerpieces made tinkling sounds with women’s screams and men’s roars of rage. Chairs bounced across the dance floor where Daniel, in his Atomic Waist attire with zombie blood starting at his head, going down his face, and across that amazing six-pack, had a fistful of the front of a man’s white shirt, his other fist hitting paydirt on the man’s face, as another man in a torn shirt tried to grab Daniel’s arms. Spenser nearby, grabbed what was left of that torn shirt, and swung the man in a circle trying to keep him away from Daniel, till the man tripped on his own feet, going down to the floor. Toonie rushed up and put her hands under Spenser’s armpits, picking her up and walking her away while trying to yell some sense into her head.

Men and women yelled, trying to drag each other away, while two women in blue satin gowns rolled across the floor together in a hair pulling match.

Madison turned in time to see Dewey Decimator run and jump on a table and use it for a launch pad to leap on top of a small group that was beating up on Sparkle Pecs. Madison could only see his elbows coming up and his fists going down, but she couldn’t see who was on the receiving end.

She was trying to tell the real blood from the fake blood when another chair flew through the air, landing in a cluster of fighters near where Target was on the floor holding her foot in pain, Crystal trying to examine the foot. The faux hawk guy from the elevator that morning ran up to her and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her away from the fighting and out the doors as Crystal hurried after them. Madison realized her friends must be here because of her, because Target remembered the blue satin gowns from the elevator and knew they were on the second floor.

Across the room Madison saw ExBoy and Jason back to back, punching and swinging and fighting off some of the younger men who’d removed their suit coats, fighting in their slacks and cummerbunds, as a punchbowl skidded across the floor nearby.

It was all happening so fast. Madison didn’t know where to look or how to stop it. She dashed out, running up to Daniel who’d just thrown off an opponent.

“Daniel!”

He turned, surprised, yelling, “Madison! Are you okay?”

“I’m all right! Help me get to ExBoy! He has my mom’s number in his phone!”

They ran to where ExBoy and Jason were doing their best but were definitely outnumbered. Daniel grabbed the back waistline of a man’s pants with his left hand and slung him around backward into a second guy, causing both to go down stunned, while Daniel’s right fist plowed into a third, making an opening for Madison to get close to ExBoy, yelling, “Your phone! Call Ann!”

ExBoy threw the phone out to her, then Daniel, Jason, and ExBoy surrounded her, forming a protective bubble. She called her mom, the call connected, and Ann, speaking quickly and panicky, said, “Xander, we’re in the lobby. Have you found Madison?”

“Mom!” Madison cried over the din, her mother’s voice sounding wonderful to her ears. “We need help! Second floor, wedding reception. We have Jerry!”

“What?”

“Hurry! And Mom? The zombies are the good guys!”

Just then she saw Jerry at the back of the room, crouched at the end of the hallway, then springing out to make a run for it. Madison dropped the phone, bursting out from the protective bubble, and tore off after him.

In the three seconds she ran at him, picking up speed, she didn’t know what the hell she would do when she connected, but she’d be damned if she let him get away after everything he had done. She was sick of the nightmare he’d created and wanted it over. Now.

She leaped, her shoulder slamming into him at the side of his ribcage in her best imitation of football games she’d seen on TV over the years, one arm around his back, the other arm around his belly, one of his arms getting locked down in her clutch. They went down to the floor.

She was shocked to find that it was surprisingly effective. It also hurt like hell.

He rolled across the floor with her, and she didn’t know how long she could hang on since every limb ached. Her skin still hurt from the scrapes on the floor from impact. Worn out muscles from fighting with the zombie fairies, then bruises and cuts from table corners added to this current indignity of wrestling a man on a hard dance floor. She’d never been trained on how to fight so this was the best she could do. She thought of poor Vladik, the passionate old Russian warrior lying in the back storage room, having tried to right a wrong. She held on even though Jerry was hitting her with his one arm, trying to stomp down on her legs with his feet, dragging them both halfway up off the floor before falling back again, Madison’s body taking the brunt. His savage desperation put real wounds next to the latex wounds. She closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth; her arms like a vice, she held on.

A familiar voice said, “I’ll take it from here.” She felt herself being quickly pulled up and away from Jerry as she gladly released her grip. She thought her heart would burst as her big strong grandfather got her out of harm’s way. Then as Jerry tried to scrabble across the floor Vincent grabbed him. He wadded up Jerry’s expensive collar in one fist, and with the other he poured his fury into Jerry’s face in one spectacular blow, knocking Jerry out as well as some teeth. He slumped to the floor.

Her grandfather held his hand within his other hand, unable to move it having likely broken it, as he said, “God damn, that felt fantastic!”

*****

“Well, the good news,” said Daniel, a limp on his right leg as he walked up, his lower lip fat and swollen on one side, “is no one wants to press charges.”

They were all sitting up against a wall just outside the wedding reception room. All of the guests from the wedding reception had gone home. Madison’s group of friends had stuck around, having been mildly or moderately involved in the events surrounding Madison and the FBI business. They each had questions to answer, giving their version of how things went down. Seeming satisfied for now the authorities had said they could go.

“You’re kidding!” said Sparkle Pecs, a cut above his left eyebrow and one bloody nostril. “I know we won most of those fights. They don’t want to get even?”

“We won because half of those guys were drunk, you idiot,” said Dewey, his black eye swollen mostly at the bottom half of the eye. He followed up his comment with his usual punch to Sparky’s shoulder, but this time it produced pained groans from both of them as Dewey bit his lower lip, shaking his sore hand, while Sparky held his tender shoulder.

“No,” said Daniel. “They’re not pressing charges because they know we could press charges back. They attacked
us
when we ran in.”

Toonie said, “No one wants any trouble that’ll last longer than their injuries.” She had her tall chef’s hat in her lap, her puffy white hair looking none the worse for wear.

“What about the hotel?” asked Spenser. “They’re not pressing charges either?”

With a fat lip like Daniel’s and purple blooming on his left cheek, ExBoy said, “They probably don’t want word getting out that a murder happened at their hotel.”

“Okay, so that’s the good news,” said Dewey. “What’s the bad news?”

“The elevator is out of order.”

“No way—”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yup.”

“No fucking way!”

“We have to take the stairs?”

“All the way up?”

A chorus of moans and groans were heard at this news.

“Can’t we camp out by the elevator till it’s fixed?”

“Or sleep at the booth?

“I’m hungry.”

Madison sat up against the wall with her friends but leaned into her grandfather, his good arm around her, a temporary sling for his broken hand on the other arm till he could get it x-rayed. He had been relegated to the wall with everyone else… something about missing teeth. She loved hearing her friends carry on about normal problems, aches and pains that would heal and go away, complaints that made them all feel like they were in this together. She hadn’t been this happy in a while.

Yet she knew that new problems awaited her small family. The Cruz family, population three, had just increased by one, making it four as far as Madison was concerned. But Grandpa warned her that it was going to be a hard sell for Ann. Madison’s mother was not upset with her father, Vincent Cruz. Not in the least. She thought him the most decent and wonderful man. But they couldn’t get Ann to even talk about Veronica Fedora. Madison knew it wasn’t fair if Ann wouldn’t at least hear the whole story.

But for now, Madison was going to enjoy the fact that Grandpa was safe and not in trouble with the authorities. They had offered to wave any illegal adoption charges in exchange for his testimony against Jerry Rosser.

Nearby, Madison heard Agent Cole say, “Vladik was still wired, so even though he was dead, we got everything that was said near his body. It’s more than enough to convict.”

Aaron Reed stepped up to him, offering his hand, saying, “It was a pleasure working with you. I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back home.”

“We have to figure out how to get this stuff off, first,” said Agent Riley. “This damned glitter gets everywhere. You can follow it like breadcrumbs to see where we’ve been.”

Aaron chuckled. “Better you than me.”

“You realize we’ll never live this down?” said Agent Cole.

“Ah, come on,” said Agent Riley. “I had a blast. How many special agents can say they had to dress up as a zombie fairy in order to help catch a double agent?”

“Hopefully, none.”

Madison looked around, wondering when her mother would get back. Their initial depressurizing hug had been brief and not nearly enough for Madison. Her mother had remained professional, seeking assurance that Madison was all right, then immediately had donned her special agent persona and gone to work… although there was a brief moment when her mother had looked down at Madison’s stomach, her face twisting into confusion upon seeing the outline of the small revolver Madison had hidden in her zombie bathing suit. Madison had said, “No. I’m not pregnant with a gun.”