Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1) (16 page)

Once you begin being naughty, it is easier to go and on and on, and sooner or later something dreadful happens.

–
Laura Ingalls Wilder

Enid stared in awe at the magical beauty of the Phoenician resort. Strategically placed lights and the soft glow of the sunset on the mountains gave her the impression that they were driving up to a fairy kingdom.

Jack drove past the valet parking and self-parked at the far end of the lot. Enid watched in fascination as he dug through the trunk of his car and pulled out a surprisingly sharp suit and shoes. The trunk was neatly packed with everything from a toolbox, a cowboy hat, hardhat, hiking boots and various other “props” as Jack called them.

Enid said, “Like Vivian called the cigarette her prop?”

Jack shot her a startled look. “It’s nothing like that.”

Enid stood guard at the front of the car as Jack changed his clothes behind the car. 

After several minutes, Jack
joined her and Enid found herself staring at him. He looked sort of – handsome.

“How do I look?” Jack said
.

“Like a mortician.”

He made a face.

They walked toward the Phoenician’s entrance, which shone like a gem on display.

“What about me? Aren’t I supposed to have a costume?” Enid said.

“You’re a wayward girl with an attitude.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means you had a dress, but you’re too badass to wear it.”

Enid grinned.

Does he think I’m a badass?

Enid cast a nervous glance at the valets who smiled and welcomed them. She expected them to block their entrance and give them the boot – it was obvious they didn’t belong to anyplace this perfect.

Jack leaned down, whispered, “Act like we belong.”

She glanced up at him in surprise.

Act.

He knows it too…

Jack strode through the entrance like he owned it.

Enid stopped. She couldn’t help but to gawk at the vista of glittering lights that illuminated the palm trees, golf course and sparkling blue of the pool surrounded by yellow bathing tents. A magical world stretched out in front of them, ending at the base of mountains bathed in a sunset of pink and violets. Enid half-expected to look down and see that her faded blue jeans and T-shirt transformed into a ball gown and her Converse sneaks morphed into glass slippers. 

“Come on,” Jack nudged her toward a wide staircase where a sign read: Annual Fundraiser for The Phoenix Home for Orphaned and Wayward Girls.

“Does ‘wayward girl’ mean I’m a slut?” Enid said.

An elegantly dressed lady walking up the stairs gasped, appalled. 

Jack hustled Enid down the stairs as the woman glared after them disapprovingly.

“A little louder next time – the Queen of England didn’t hear you.”

“How am I supposed to act?”

At the bottom of the stairs, Jack ruffled his hair so that it stuck up awkwardly. “Welcome to your first undercover case, Enid Iglow...?
”
Jack stopped, unsure and embarrassed.

“
Ski.
You’re daughter’s name is Enid Ivie I-V-
I
-E Iglow
ski
.”
Enid said.

“Iglow –
ski.”
Jack said as if trying to commit it to memory.

Enid smiled in mock approval. “Are we bonding yet?”

“Sarcasm ill becomes you,” he said.

Enid watched as Jack “nerded up” his appearance. He put on geeky glasses and hefted his pants up so that his previously perfect fit on the suit was now high-watered and wedgied.

“Ew,” Enid said.

“We don’t know each other,” Jack murmured. “Get a soda – I hear they’re free for wayward girls.”

“Huh?”

Jack nodded to a group of girls standing around a table loaded with drinks and eats.

Enid frowned, suddenly scared.
They
looked like the real badasses.

Jack said,
“See if you can find anything out. Remember, you’re undercover. Don’t blow it.”

Before she could protest, he was gone.

Nervous, Enid walked toward the girls and immediately felt the cold eyes of the tallest girl zero in on her. She had a mass of red hair that fell to her shoulders like a cloud of rusted cotton candy and a nose that crinkled like she had picked up the scent of fresh dog crap.

Enid felt her courage falter as she saw the girl she nicknamed “Red” nod toward her and say something that made the other girls laugh.

Palms slick with sweat, Enid was about to veer off when she reminded herself…

I’m a badass.

She locked eyes on Red and sauntered up, doing her best imitation of how she imagined a badass wayward girl would walk.

“What do you want?” Red asked, staring at her with disdain.

“I’m a badass!” Enid blurted out.

Red stared at her incredulously. The other girls fell silent, staring at her like she was menta
l.

“Checking into motel ‘wayward girl’ tomorrow.” Enid tossed her head like she’d seen the cool girls do it back in Florida.

“How come you’re dressed like that?” Red sneered.

“Um…” Enid fumbled for something to say and, coming up empty, was about to fade into silence when she saw Red’s eyes flicker with triumph. Without thinking, Enid ferociously burst out, “I do what I want!”

After what felt like eternity, Red shrugged, “Don’t worry, they’ll get you back on your meds after you check in. What are you, bipolar?”

“Uh…”

Red pointed to each girl, “Tweaker. Spaz. Bones.
Heather
. When Tweaker checked in, she got beat up three times before they got her meds straight. Don’t go tryin’ to break any records.”

Tweaker looked like a twelve-year-old trying to hide coat hangers under her ugly blue dress. She was so skinny that her bones jabbed at the fabric like they were trying to make a run for it.

Spaz had corkscrew black hair and a gap between her front teeth. Her tentative smile was more like a vague plea for mercy – like she was silently begging “Uncle” with every smile.

The girl named Bones had a muffin-top waistline that strained against her dress so that the buttons looked ripe for popping off. She had a nervous habit of twisting a strand of her long brown hair, sticking it in her mouth and sharpening the strand of hair to a point, which she would occasionally stab into her cheek. 

Heather had long blond hair and gazed at her with eyes that shone with a cynicism that belied her years. She looked like a typical pretty sixteen-year-old in a flowered sundress – until you saw her eyes. The expression in her eyes reminded Enid of a dog who’d been beaten and starved, but was fighting to stay alive. 

“I’m Red,” The girl with the mass of red hair said. 

Enid grinned, surprised that she had guessed her nickname. “Enid.”

“E-
what
?” Red what derisively.

“E-
nid
. Short for ‘don’t-mess-with-me-
Red
!” Enid blasted back.

Red burst out laughing. The other girls followed with their own versions of nervous laughter. 

“What are you in for?” Red asked.

Enid grabbed one of the sodas and popped the tab. “Waywardness.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Are they going to m
ake me wear a dress?” Enid said.

“For parties – bullshit like that.”

“So,” Enid asked, trying hard to appear casual, “What’s the four-one-one?”

Red’s eyes narrowed suspiciously
.

Enid said,
“Looking for a heads-up. What kind of crapstorm am I walking into?”

They stared at her with such foreboding that Enid looked away. “Who’s in charge of the monkey house?”

“Hargrove.” Red said, “You haven’t met her yet?”

Enid shook her head.

Red made a face, “Total bitch.”

“I tried to kill her,” Heather murmured.

Enid looked at Heather. She didn’t seem to be joking.

“We can’t decide,” Tweaker said, “Heather wants to shoot her, Bones wants to
slowly
...”

“Meth-odically,” Bones chimed in.

Tweaker said, “Boil her alive in her own piss! While Spaz here – ”

“I ain’t doin’
nothing. I’m not going to jail,” Spaz growled.

“Spaz is a dink,
” Tweaker said, “
I
have the best plan…”

“Shut up!” Red said.

Tweaker fell silent, pulling nervously at her dress, which accented the sharp jab of her collarbone. 

“What’d she
do?” Enid asked.

Red was about to say something when she caught sight of someone in the crowd. She frowned, glanced at Heather, who seemed to understand what was wanted and, with a sigh, dumped her soda onto the ground and disappeared into the crowd of partygoers.

Red said, “You’re going to
love
it here. A real home away from home – assuming you grew up
in hell
.” Red followed Heather.

The girls followed her and, as Bones passed, she hissed,
“Run!”

Cold goose pimples
ran down Enid’s arms as she watched them disappear into the crowd.

A clever, ugly man every now and then is successful with the ladies, but a handsome fool is irresistible.

–
William Makepeace Thackeray

As Jack wedged his way deeper into the heart of the party, he wondered again at the phrasing of “wayward girls” – it sounded like Charles Dickens with a splash of soft porn. 

Maybe that’s what they’re going for…

A line of bathing tents was set up around a large pool that reflected glittering lights. It reminded him of the Arabian Nights stories and the Sinbad movies he was so fascinated with as a boy.

A server offered him a flute of champagne and he grabbed a crab puff from a passing platter. Popping the crab puff in his mouth, he scanned the crowd for any resemblance to the woman in Jeni’s photo – an older version of the girl with the Venus Flytrap eyes. 

It was the typical upscale Arizona shindig. Lots of old white guys with their aging trophy wives and a generous scattering of hot young wanna-be-wives looking for a rich sugar daddy.

Welcome to Arizona.

He asked a woman with a face tighter than a drum if she could point him in the direction of Vivian Hargrove.

She pointed to another woman twenty feet away.

Vivian Hargrove was standing in a knot of people, like an empress holding court. Now in her fifties, she was striking, if not beautiful. Walking toward her, Jack looked for any sign of the girl who had once been a stripper and known a thing or two about crashing parties and trolling for a rich husband. That girl was cleverly concealed behind designer duds, jewelry and hair that looked like it could survive a wind tunnel.

As Jack got closer, he saw the upsweep of her eyebrows that had reminded him of startled birds taking flight from a snowy field when he first saw the photograph.

Jack changed the cadence of his step to something quirky. He cleared his throat with a nasally sound and asked, “Pardon me…?”

Vivian acknowledged him with an aloof nod and returned to listening to a man with pork chop sideburns.

Jack stuck his hand out so that Vivian couldn’t ignore it. “Nathaniel Hawthorkin. I think this is a commendable and
highly
worthy cause…”

Vivian raised her eyebrows in apology to Pork Chop as she shook Jack’s hand.

Jack pulled out his checkbook. “I’ve been searching and
searching
for the right charity – I’m rather short on my yearly deductions –
so says my CPA –
whom do I make the check to?”

“It’s a silent auction – if you’d like to bid…” Vivian waved her hand toward a series of tables set up with everything from gift baskets to weekend getaways to exotic locales.

Jack pulled out a pen, clicked it. “One hundred thousand…?”

Vivian’s eyes lit up and Pork Chop was relegated to the back burner. She took Jack’s arm like he was a dear friend, “Make it out to: Phoenix Home for Orphaned and Wayward Girls.”

Jack wrote, murmuring, “Wonderful cause – simply wonderful.”

“Mr…?”

“Hawthorkin.”

“How is it that we’ve never met?” Vivian cooed.

“My therapist says I need to stop being so
anonymous
with my donations. Deeply rooted mother issues, you know. My therapist says the only way to overcome them is to find a worthy charity and
give, give, give
– until it hurts.”

“You’re interested in children’s causes?”

Jack gave his best nerd smile, “I do
what
I can
where
I can.”

“Perhaps we can schedule a tour of the girls’ home?”

Jack studied her thoughtfully,  “Say, you look familiar – oh!” He snapped his fingers like he was remembering something, but then held himself back, murmuring, “Striking resemblance.”

“Everyone has a doppelganger, I suppose.” Vivian smiled, eyeing the check. She attempted to pluck it from his fingers, but he pulled it back, seemingly unaware of her efforts.

Jack said, “Did I mention I’m an amateur historian? I’m honored to say I have an article coming out in the Arizona History bimonthly magazine and – believe it or not – oh, it’s quite risqué, but that’s what drew me to the project, I must admit…”

Viv glanced nervously from Jack’s face to the fluttering check.

Jack said, “Have you ever heard of – The Sugar Shack?”

Viv froze, the color draining from her face. 

“I came into possession of a photograph that I plan to publish with the article and – my gosh! If you aren’t a dead ringer for one of the – ” Jack made air quotes, “Unnamed dancers.”

The corner of Vivian’s eye twitched.

“You could be the same person!” Jack said.

Vivian cleared her throat, “Mr…”

“
Nate
.”

“Nate. Would you care to join me for breakfast tomorrow? At my villa.”

“
De-
lighted!” 

Viv pulled a card from her purse.

Heather, sullen and staring at the ground, walked up to them. 

“Nate, this is one of our best girls. Mr. Hawthorkin, Heather. Heather, this is Mr. Hawthorkin.”

Heather nodded but did not meet his eyes.

Vivian said,
“What do you say, Heather?”

“Nice to meet you,” Heather murmured, holding out her hand. She gave Jack a wilting handshake and wiped her hand on her dress.

“Nice to meet you,” Jack said, eyeing Vivian, who had a gleam in her eyes that was causing a prickly sensation down his spine.

“Nine o’clock?” Vivian said to Jack
as she made a final reach for the check.

Jack absentmindedly tucked the check into his pocket. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world! I’ll have my CPA print a nicer check and I’ll have it for you in the morning.”

Viv opened her mouth to protest, but Jack pretended like he spotted someone and, with a wave, he was gone. Jack spotted Enid and gestured for her to follow him.

In the parking lot, Enid hurried to keep up as she breathlessly asked, “What’d you say to that woman? She about sprinted after you when you t
ook off.”

“Hurry up,” Jack said, glancing behind him. “If we don’t hightail it, she might fender-hop us.”

“Why? What’d you do?”

“I like to get while the getting is good.”

Driving down Camelback Road, Jack breathed a sigh of relief and said, “What’d you find out?”

“You met Heather?” Enid said
.

Jack glanced at her in surprise. He hadn’t really expected her to find out anything. He’d given her the assignment simply to keep him out of his hair.

“Heather tried to kill Mrs. Hargrove,” Enid said matter-of-factly.

Jack gaped at her. “Vivian Hargrove?”

“Total b-i-t-c-h, by the way. One of the girls wants to boil her in pee.”

“You’re making that up.”

“They said being at the girls’ school is like being in h-e-double-hockey-sticks. They hate her.
Big-time
.”

“How’d you find that out?”

“Told them I was a wayward girl checking in tomorrow,” Enid said with pride.

“Really?” Jack said thoughtfully.

“Sounds worse than jail,” Enid said.

Jack stared at the road leading them back to his house. An idea was forming, but his gut told him it was –
sketchy
.

“Did you like
working undercover?” Jack said.

“Yeah, sure,” Enid shrugged. 

“How do you feel about – working undercover – at the home?”

Enid’s head snapped in his direction, her mouth dropping open in astonishment.

Jack said, “Tomorrow
only
. You can check in as a wayward girl, spend the day there, find out what you can and I’ll get you out of there before the day is over.”

“So, you’re willing to
use me – as
bait
– in a place I just described as h-e-you-know-what?”

“If it’s all right with you.”

Enid stayed silent for several seconds. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“You don’t work for free, do you?”

Jack shot her a look, “It’s not work – it’s
bonding
.”

“I bond better with cash.”

Jack rolled his eyes. 

“You’d be paying for my time
and
my expertise,” Enid said haughtily.

“What expertise?”

“Forget it.” Enid shrugged, “Obviously, the need for my expertise is not that important to your case.”

“Considering you’re the one who ratcheted down my price with all your ‘student-
discount-payment-plan’ garbage…!”

Enid tossed her head in defiance.

“Do I look like I’m rolling in green?” Jack said.

“Fifty bucks,” Enid said, crossing her arms. “And I want some new clothes.”

“Twenty-five and we stop at Target.”

“Fifty dollars and we go to the
Mall
.”

Jack drove for several minutes in silence.

“And
no bonding
!” Enid said.

Jack made a face. “Fifty dollars, Target –
no bonding
. It’s a deal.”

“You promise to get me before lights-out?”

“Yeah.”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say: I
promise
to get you out of that place before the lights go out.”

“Why do women always want promises?” Jack exclaimed in exasperation.

“Because we know what we’re dealing with!” Enid said. “
Promise
.”

Jack sighed. “I promise to get you out before the lights go out.”

Enid nodded, satisfied. She pointed to an upcoming Dairy Queen, “Blizzard!”             

Jack flipped on the turn signal, “You drive a hard bargain.”