Don't Make Me Choose Between You and My Shoes (14 page)

She almost ran to the elevator. As the elevator door closed, she mumbled to the walls, “I just hope I don't end up wishing I'd stayed in Texas.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Celina said, on the verge of tears.

Matt pulled up the sheet and tucked it around her. “Shh. Don't say that. You're wonderful.”

Her purchase of sexy and sophisticated lingerie did not a wanton paramour make. Her inexperience with men had become glaringly obvious in no time and she had mostly embarrassed herself.

But he wasn't inexperienced. That, too, had become obvious. “No, I'm not. I'm klutzy and dumb.”

“You're wonderful,” he repeated and kissed her slowly and gently. “Celina, I don't want a sophisticated woman. What I want is a caring woman. And one who's honest.”

Honest
. That was the second time he had used that word. Had someone been dishonest with him? If so, whoever she was must be insane. There was no part of him that wasn't perfect, clothed or unclothed.

“I wish you didn't have to go back to Texas,” he said and pulled her body against his. “I wish we had a chance to spend more time—”

“But I have to, Matt. Dime Box is my home. Granny Dee is my only family.”

“You said earlier that you liked New York.”

“I do. But in a serious conversation about it, I have to be
honest.” She smiled. “There's that word again. Listen, New York is a fabulous place to come to, but I think I'd go crazy living here.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “You've got this private-detective bug, too, don't you?”

“Not so much anymore. This conference has been an eye-opener for me. That session on blood spatter was awful. And I almost lost my breakfast during the film on serial killers. In all of my imagining of mystery solving, I never thought very much about the…well, the gruesome part of a murder investigation.”

“Homicide is gruesome. No question about it. But you get used to it.”

A shudder passed over her. “I don't even want to get used to it.”

“Poor choice of words. I should say you get to where the puzzle and the challenge to find the killer override everything else.”

“I don't think I'm tough enough to be a detective.”

He buried his face against her neck and teased beneath her ear with his tongue. “You don't have to be. I can be tough enough for both of us.”

“I do hate to leave you,” she said, no longer able to hold back tears. “I never expected to meet someone like you in my whole life, and now that I have, I don't know what to do about it.”

“Shh. Don't cry. Maybe we should concentrate on figuring out what to do about it together.”

“I'm not crying because I'm sad, you know. I'm crying because I'm happy.”

He leaned forward, kissed the tip of her nose, then gave her a big grin. “I'm happy, too.”

“My grandmother has always told me not to waste my life being ordinary. I've never, ever felt less ordinary than I feel right now, Matt. I feel like a princess, like Cinderella. And it's you who makes me feel that way.”

His hand came to her face and brushed back strands of her hair. “You're unbelievable. You're beautiful. You're smart and kind and gentle. Everything I've ever wanted in a woman, in the mother of my kids.”

“Kids?”

“Do you like kids?”

“Well, yes. I don't know many, but—”

“I want a big family. I came from a big family filled with love.” He trailed a finger down her arm. “I want the same thing in my future.”

Celina could feel her heart swelling in her chest. “It would be wonderful to have a big family. I've never had anyone but my grandparents.”

He brushed a kiss across her cheek, across her eyelid. “I'm great with kids. Just ask my sisters. My nieces and nephews think I hung the moon.”

“So do I, Matt.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, then moved over her. “It'll be better this time.”

E
dwina counted only five contestants besides herself.

Feigning stage fright, she waved off the DJ's effort to coax her to sing, allowing the others to go before her. She wanted to be last. She wanted to—as they always said in show biz—end the evening with a big finish. While she waited, she had a straight shot of tequila with nothing but a lime and some salt, the way they drank tequila in Texas.

Besides the trio of drunks who had butchered Frank Sinatra, there was a visually challenged woman who couldn't see the words on the screen and spent most of her song adjusting her glasses. After her followed a young, clean-cut guy who couldn't carry a tune and a duet of young women who giggled more than they sang.

Finally Edwina's turn came and the eyes of the audience
landed on her. Hell, she wasn't even nervous. With the sassiness of Shania Twain, she pranced up on the stage and took her spot. The music blasted from the speakers and she began to sing the Lee Greenwood favorite. The words flowed. She had never sounded better, not even in the shower at home.

But one of the obnoxious drunks began to heckle her. “B-o-o-o! B-o-o-o! Get off the stage! Where's the hook? B-o-o-o!”

She stopped mid-lyric, planted a fist on her hip and gave him a glare. Determined to not be deterred, she picked up and continued.

“Get off the stage!” the man bellowed, but others in the audience shouted him down and she heard them clapping. She could see the drunk's friends trying to quiet him down, but their laughing did little to convince her that they meant business.

She looked to the DJ, but he just made a circle with his hand, urging her to go on.

“…where at least I know I'm free—”

“You'd have to be free, sweetheart. Nobody would pay you for it!”

Edwina saw red. Not only was he insulting her, he was making light of the single most true-blue American ballad since “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Why, he was spitting in Uncle Sam's eye and it ricocheted right into Vic's. She stopped. “There's just way too much tolerance for bad behavior,” she mumbled.

Ridding herself of the mike, she headed for the table of drunks. From out of nowhere a woman walked up and
poured a drink over the loudmouth's head. Edwina was dumbstruck, but quickly recovered when she realized who her defender was.

Cher!

The gutsy Italian was all over the group, shouting cuss words even Edwina had never heard. The tirade started with their lack of manners and ended with the shortfall of their physical endowments. Cher ended with a flip of her hand, pivoted sharply and walked away.

The loudmouth stood up and yelled, “Fuck you, bitch!”

With no hesitation, Cher spun around, picked up a chair and threw it at him. Suddenly they were all on their feet, either punching one another, overturning furniture or moving to safer ground.

Edwina had never run from a fight in her life, especially when someone had come to her defense. An empty table sat close to the wall. She reached it in three strides, climbed on top and saw the perfect opportunity to jump and land on the back of the loudmouthed asshole.

She stepped back to give her leap full throttle. The table tipped and crashed to the floor. At the same instant, she felt something grab near the nape of her neck and she found herself suspended in midair, her feet inches off the floor. Twisting her body, she realized the strap of her halter top had snagged a hanging art object and she was pinned against the wall like a side of beef on a butcher's hook.

 

Debbie Sue thought it would take forever to reach the lobby.

Someone had been on the elevator before her and pushed
all the buttons, forcing the car to stop at every floor. She got off at the next floor and switched elevators. When the door finally opened into the lobby, she made a beeline for the bar. Her heart jumped to her throat when she saw ahead of her the hotel manager and two uniformed policemen.

Holy Mary, mother of God
. The best she could hope for was that no one was hurt. Hell, she hoped no one was dead.

She jogged to the doorway and peered inside. Her jaw dropped. The usually dark bar was lit up. Furniture was overturned. Glasses and napkins were strewn everywhere and at least a dozen people were all yelling at once.

Two police officers were trying to restore order as the bartender, cocktail waitresses and the manager began to turn the chairs and tables upright.

Edwina was nowhere to be seen, and Debbie Sue was relieved. Perhaps she hadn't given her pal enough credit. Perhaps Edwina was already gone and had had nothing to do with whatever had occurred here.

Then she saw her. Hanging on the wall like a dress hastily stuffed back in the closet on a hanger. She appeared to be limp and lifeless, and for a brief second Debbie Sue wondered if she was even conscious. Then she saw movement. Edwina reached up and patted her hair. She was fine.

Debbie Sue threaded through the crowd to Edwina and looked up at her. “Whatcha doing?”

“Guess you'd get pissed if I said, ‘Just hanging around.'”

“Ed, I'm not pissed, but I'd sure like to know what happened.”

“Well, don't you think I'd like to know that too?”

“You don't look worth a damn as a picture on the wall.”

“What am I hanging from? I'm afraid to move. I didn't want my top to get ripped off and then there I'd be. Topless and embarrassed.”

“Yeah, Ed. You sure wouldn't want something embarrassing to happen. I can't believe I don't have a camera phone. I'd like to send this picture to Vic with the text message, ‘Wish you could hang out with us in the hotel bar.'”

“Get me down from here before those cops come over here. They might arrest me.”

Debbie Sue looked around. Right beside her was a turned-over table. She righted it and pushed it against the wall beneath Edwina's feet. Then she dragged over a chair. Close examination revealed that the strap on Edwina's halter top was caught on a massive iron sculpture of a tree. Beside it, a bronze plaque read T
HE
T
REE OF
L
IFE
.

“Good Lord, Ed. You're hung up on the Tree of Life.”

“This ain't no time for half-baked philosophy. Just get me down from here.”

“I'm gonna have to untie your top, so hold on to it,” Debbie Sue instructed. She began to loosen the knot at Edwina's neck. “The table is right underneath your feet, so you won't fall. Here we go.”

As her feet touched the tabletop, Edwina grabbed her halter top and hopped to the floor.

“Quick. Tie your top back on and let's just sneak out of here,” Debbie Sue said. “That manager and those cops look like they're really pissed.”

“Cher started it,” Edwina said, tying the strap of her halter
top around her neck. “Some drunks insulted her and—”

“Tell me later,” Debbie Sue said. “Right now, let's just get out of here.”

They sidled along the wall, avoiding the confusion in the center of the room. They had almost reached the door when a policeman and the hotel manager blocked their exit with their bodies.

“Hold on there, girls,” the cop said. “You're not going anywhere until I find out what happened here.”

“You're guests here,” the harried manager spat. “I've seen you around the conference area. This is unacceptable. You're going to have to leave the premises.”

Stunned, Debbie Sue and Edwina stared at the manager.

“Now wait a minute,” the officer said. “Don't be jumping to conclusions. You don't even know if these women did anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” Edwina cracked, “step back, Adolf. This is still the U.S.A., and we're innocent until proven guilty.”

“But you don't understand.” The manager clasped his hands together under his chin, a pained expression on his face. “I'm just the night manager. Mr. Pembroke's the general manager. When he finds out about this, he'll bust me back to bellhop. I've worked in every flophouse in this city for the past fifteen years, waiting for this opportunity. I can't let a barroom brawl ruin it.”

He was almost in tears, and Debbie Sue felt sorry for him.

Edwina gave him a long, steady look and then told her side of the story to the cop. It was corroborated by others in the bar. Finally, the policeman persuaded the night manager
to let the Domestic Equalizers go and concentrate on the real troublemakers.

“How dare that jerk make fun of you, especially when you were singing ‘God Bless the U.S.A.,'” Debbie Sue said. “I'm glad I wasn't there. It would've been even uglier.”

“I know,” Edwina said, hoisting her chin with real indignation.

As they started to pass the manager, Edwina stopped. “We'll be expecting an apology from you before we leave, Adolf.”

They walked on outside to the open lobby and Debbie Sue laughed. “That was great, Ed. You sounded almost regal.”

“A girl has to do something to redeem herself when she's hung on the wall during a bar fight,” Edwina said smugly.

“Wait a minute.” Debbie Sue grabbed Edwina's hand. “You said Cher started it. I didn't see her in there. Did she get arrested? What happened to her?”

“A lot of people made for the exit when the fight broke out. I saw Frank Rogenstein take her by the arm and they left together.”

“Frank Rogenstein, the detective?” Debbie Sue asked.

“The only Frank Rogenstein I know.”

Debbie Sue gasped. “That bastard left without helping you?”

“Yeah, it kind of surprised me, too. But he was out of there in no time.”

Just then a voice behind them called out, “Hey, lady, lady.”

The two turned and saw a man approaching them. “Oh, I know him,” Edwina said. When he came nearer, she said,
“Debbie Sue, this is the DJ in charge of the contest.” She looked up at him. “Listen, I'm so sorry about all of that.”

The DJ shook his head. “You don't owe me an apology. It wasn't your fault. This happens from time to time. In fact, you deserve the prize, I just wanted to give you this.” He handed her two one-hundred-dollar bills and a fifty.

“Well, my stars.” Edwina thanked the man profusely. After he walked away, she turned back to Debbie Sue, beaming. “You need to call your mom. I've got a title for her next song, ‘I Lost the Fight for Your Love, but I Won a Pair of Jimmy Choo Shoes.'”

They laughed all the way back to their room.

“Wonder why something terrible is funnier later,” Edwina said after they had locked themselves in their hotel room.

“I guess because you survived. Besides, sometimes laughing is the only thing you can do. You can regret it, but that doesn't change it. So the best thing is to laugh.”

“I guess so.” Edwina walked over to the bed and pulled back the bedcovers. “I'm worn out. I'll bet I don't have any trouble sleeping.”

“Did you put the Do Not Disturb sign out? I'd like to sleep in tomorrow. We don't have to be downstairs until ten. We've been going nonstop. It'd be nice to lounge around a little.”

“You're right. I'll put that sign out. Let's sleep in 'til, say, eight or eight thirty.”

“Perfect.”

Edwina opened the door to place the sign on the outside. She closed it suddenly and stage-whispered to Debbie Sue,
“That detective is in the room next door. I just saw him going in. And Cher was with him.”

“What?”

“Shhh. I said, that detective's room is next door and he just went in, leading Cher.”

Debbie Sue gasped. “I thought he went out with Celina. I told you there was something you couldn't trust about that little shit—”

“No, no, dammit no.
Not
Detective McDermott. Detective
Rogenstein
.”

“And Cher was with him? Ohmigod. What if she's in trouble? What if he's detained her for starting that fight downstairs? Or what if he's arrested her for soliciting?”

“Good Lord. It could be either one. I can't just go to bed. She defended me. She stepped up when not another asshole in the whole room did. I have to know if she's all right.”

“What are you gonna do? Knock on the door and say, ‘I'm sorry to bother you, but is my prostitute friend that started a fight on my behalf okay?'”

“I'm gonna do one better than that.” Edwina rushed around the room throwing clothes, shopping sacks and newspapers everywhere. Finally she found what she was looking for and turned triumphantly, holding up the listening device they had acquired downstairs. “You and I, my friend, are going to test the Ear.”

Debbie Sue laughed. “Good idea. Hook her up, boys, and let her rip.”