Part 21 (1/2)
”No?” she screeched.
”Shhhh,” he said, jumping up to close the door. ”What do you want me to do? I can't make him give me the photos.”
”You realize that if those p.o.r.nographic shots of me get to the tabloid, my career is finished, right?”
”You never know, they could make you even more famous.
”Forget it,” she cried. ”I'd be ruined. I'm supposed to be the girl next door.”
”You are,” he said. ”Lots of girls next door are p.o.r.n stars.”
Heather sobbed as she paced the room. Even though she was crying, he saw no tears. If she weren't his girlfriend's sister, he would have nothing to do with this crazy a.s.s woman.
”Those photos cannot get out,” she ranted. ”My fiance will break our engagement.”
”He might like the photos.” He'd tell her anything to get rid of her. Why wouldn't she leave?
”My life will be ruined.” She pointed an accusing finger. ”And it's all your fault. I could kill you.”
”Me?” he asked with arched eyebrows. ”You're the one who let the photos be taken.”
”When I was eighteen,” she defended, ”I needed the money and my sister set the gig up.”
”She wouldn't do that.” Clarence shook his head.
”Of course she would,” Heather said with a disgusted huff. ”She's a money-grubbing b.i.t.c.h.”
”Get out.” Clarence opened the door. ”I'm not listening to that kind of talk about the woman I love.”
”You're delusional,” Heather said as she walked out. When she got to the top of the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder. ”I'll be back for those photos and you better have them. Or else.”
”Or else what, you crazy harpy?”
She didn't answer as she stomped down the stairs.
Clarence slammed the door to his apartment. Heather hadn't been gone a minute before there was another knock on the door. What did the stupid woman want now?
Pulling open the door, he screamed, ”What-”Then he spotted Mrs. Truesberry with an ugly scowl on her face. ”Oh, Truesy. It's you.” He tried to force a friendly smile.
”Don't Truesy me,” she said. ”I'm very angry with you, dear boy.”
”I know, I know.” He placed a hand on her arm. ”I'm so sorry about the noise.”
”Noise and you know I don't allow female visitors.” Her gimlet gaze narrowed. ”You have a girlfriend,” she accused.
”Heather?” he said, eyes widening. Then he laughed. ”She's not my girlfriend. She's a very demanding client.”
”What about that lipstick?” she asked, pointing to the tube on the bed. ”Why would she leave lipstick here if she wasn't your girlfriend?”
The old lady was getting on his very last nerve. ”You know I love only you,” he said with an insincere smile. ”The lipstick belongs to a client. They left it at the office and I picked it up by mistake.”
”Can I have it?” she asked.
”No,” he said, his smile stiffening. ”I have to take it to the client later.”
”Oh, I see,” she said seeming somewhat mollified. After a moment she asked, ”What happened earlier? I thought you were going to take me to the conference with you.”
He'd completely forgotten his off-the-cuff remark. ”I'm sorry. It turned out the agency wanted me to conduct some business while I was there, so I couldn't take you.”
”That must be why your colleague and her friend were here earlier,” she said.
”My colleague?”
”Ms. Tuttle.”
”Yeah.” He cringed, thinking about how furious Mo must be. ”Anyway, I'm gonna have to go back out now. More work you know.” He continued trying to usher her out.
She walked in front of him. ”I want to talk to you about something.”
”Tomorrow, Truesy,” he promised.
Nodding with a pasted smile on her face, she proceeded down the stairs. Clarence closed his door behind them and followed her down. No sense staying in his apartment waiting for Kubikov's gang to bust in. At the front door, he stuck his head outside and scanned the street. The only person outside was a tall young man leaning against a Toyota and talking on a cell phone. Clarence decided the guy wasn't a threat and headed out. Just as he was about to pa.s.s the car, the young man came around the b.u.mper and grabbed him by the arm with an iron grip.
”Hey, Clarence,” the young man said. ”Don't you remember me?”
Ross slipped out the motel room door and then eased it shut behind him. Inside the room, Mo relaxed in a bath while Talley lay curled up on a pillow Ross had placed on the floor in the corner by a bowl of water.
Their room was on the second floor of a motel in the less prestigious part of town. To face facts, the place was a bit of a dump located on the outskirts of the Historic District. Not quite the hourly rental status, but close enough. The rooms were situated with each of their doors opening to the outside elements. This particular room had a lovely view of a nearby industrial installation.
Some birthday this had turned out to be.
At least he felt clean. Mo had thoughtfully allowed him use of the bathroom first due to the fact that his slime-covered state from crawling around at the strip club exceeded hers. Ross had showered and changed into baggy jeans and t-s.h.i.+rt hastily purchased from a truck stop they'd pa.s.sed along the state highway before deciding to turn around and head back to the city. The t-s.h.i.+rt read: Bubbaland-presumably the truck stop's name. They should've purchased something to eat while they were there. But neither he nor Mo had been thinking clearly at the time. All she'd gotten was tuna...and that was for the cat.
Ross started down the metal walkway in the direction of the elevators. This place was a far cry from the penthouse suite he had in that four-star hotel, but their stay would only be one night. And surely the place wasn't totally barbaric. There must be an ice dispenser, he thought, glancing down at the plastic ice bucket that had been provided in the room. This little item seemed to indicate there would be ice somewhere in this h.e.l.lhole. And where there was ice there had to be a snack machine. Not a great source of nutrition but acceptable given his famished state. When he reached the elevator doors, Ross noted a sign indicating the direction of the ”refreshments” around the next walkway corner.
Ross rounded the corner. There they were. The ice dispenser and the snack machines stood against the wall. However, he also saw three young men loitering around the machine dressed in futuristic military uniforms, complete with plastic laser guns strapped to their belts. Obviously, they were part of that ridiculous film convention.
The first skinny, redheaded nerd held a pile of a.s.sorted snack packages in front of him.
”I want peanuts,” said the nerd with the curly black hair and gla.s.ses, taking a pack off the top of the pile.
Nerd number three, a slightly pudgy guy with stringyhair didn't speak. He nabbed the three top packages, leaving the redhead with a candy bar.
The three looked up, spotting Ross. Avoiding the group was impossible. Brilliant. What he didn't need right now was fan recognition.
”Hey ya,” the redhead said. ”You lookin' for some munchies too?”
”Yeah munchies,” Ross said in his best American accent as he walked to the machine. He examined its contents, keeping his back to the nerds.