Part 4 (2/2)

”I don't know. Somehow I'd feel like a rat if I left Dwayne.”

”All I know is, a major agency could get you a lot more work and more money. And a girl with your talent deserves the best.” Seeing he was getting nowhere, Rick threw up his hands. ”All right, I won't say another word. You know how I feel, though.” He stopped in front of an expensive-looking restaurant. ”Here we are. Serena, Nurse Sanford, Nurse Johnson, would you care to have lunch with me?” he said, opening the restaurant door for them.

”It's Sat.u.r.day morning and time for another edition of 'Soap Opera Weekly,' where we bring you the latest on your favorite shows and introduce you to the stars,” the television announcer was saying as Bess shook Nancy's shoulder.

”Wake up, Nancy Drew!” Bess said, mimicking the announcer. ”Come on. The alarm went off ten minutes ago! Your aunt's still sleeping so I wheeled the TV in here. Rick's going to be on 'Soap Opera Weekly' this morning. We can watch while we get dressed.”

”Mumpfh-” Nancy mumbled, burying her head under the pillow. Was it really morning already?

She and Bess and her aunt Eloise had had such a great time the night before. They'd gone to see Soft Shoe Soft Shoe, the Broadway musical smash of the season. The show was wonderful, but they'd stopped for a bite to eat afterward. By the time they got home, it was almost one in the morning.

Flipping over and squinting at the TV, Nancy saw shots of different soap opera stars as the upbeat theme song played in the background.

”Our special 'Soap Opera Weekly' guest today is the star of 'Danner's Dream'!” the announcer said. ”Will he and Serena Livingstone finally tie the knot this time? Mr. s.e.x Appeal himself, Rick Arlen, will be here with us in just a few minutes! But first-”

The commercial came on, and Nancy realized there was no way she was going to get back to sleep. Not with Bess rummaging around the room, tossing one outfit after another on the bed and saying things like, ”What do you think, Nancy? The pink or the yellow?”

Pulling herself up onto her elbows, Nancy yawned and looked out the window. It was a glorious day outside-warm and sunny. A perfect day for seeing the sights, she thought happily.

”He's on! He's on!” Bess shouted a few minutes later. Nancy turned from the closet and saw Rick. He was seated casually across from the interviewer, waving and nodding as the audience clapped and cheered.

Cleverly refusing to give away any of the show's carefully guarded secrets, Rick did admit that he was considering leaving the show at the end of the season to star in a movie. The audience groaned, then applauded.

”Tell us about the real Rick Arlen,” the interviewer prompted. ”Could we be hearing wedding bells soon?”

Laughing, Rick made an old joke about the gossip columns having him engaged to three different girls. ”But then, you never can tell,” he added slyly, blowing a kiss to a ”special lady out there.”

”He means me!” Bess cried happily.

”I don't think so. That's just talk, Bess. He could mean anybody-or n.o.body.”

Bess shot her friend an angry scowl, and Nancy decided to back off.

After the interview with Rick, the show moved on to an update of that network's daytime and evening soap operas.' Bess snapped the TV off then.

”He said he'd be here in an hour. I can't wait!” Bess scooped up her makeup and headed for the bathroom. ”Hey, I wonder who he'll bring for you, Nancy. I mean, any friend of Rick's is probably cute, but I wonder what he'll be like.”

An hour later the apartment intercom buzzed, signaling the arrival of Rick and his limousine.

Bess checked herself in the mirror one last time. She looked terrific in an oversize cotton cardigan and flowing skirt and flats. ”Not bad,” she p.r.o.nounced. ”Come on, Nancy!” With that, she flew down the steps of the brownstone to the waiting limousine.

”Not bad at all,” Nancy admitted, looking admiringly at Rick's limo. The uniformed driver ushered them into the backseat, where Rick was waiting.

”Good morning, girls!” he said brightly. ”Welcome to my abode on the road.”

The first order of business was to pick up Rick's friend, a guy named Gilbert Frost. ”He's an old pal from acting school,” Rick explained. ”You'll love him.”

Bess threw Nancy a meaningful look, but Nancy just sighed and looked out the window. There was no way that she was going to fall for any of Rick Arlen's friends-not when she was in love with Ned Nickerson. Of course, Ned would understand her being on this date-she had to go. Someone's life was in jeopardy.

At the corner of Twenty-third Street and Park Avenue South, she noticed a skinny guy in jeans and running shoes, leaning against a streetlight. He looked totally normal, except that he was wearing big black-rimmed gla.s.ses and a false nose.

”What?” Nancy mumbled as the limo stopped in front of him. The man swept down in a low courtly bow.

”Hey there, Gil!” Rick laughed, opening the door. ”Girls, I'd like you to meet Gilbert Frost. Say h.e.l.lo, Gilbert.”

”h.e.l.lo, Gilbert!” the guy mimicked, sliding into the plush limo.

Bess was giggling uncontrollably, and Nancy couldn't help smiling as Rick's friend took off his gla.s.ses, revealing another pair underneath.

Finally, they pulled back into traffic and Nancy got a good look at Gilbert. Without his getup on, he was pretty cute. He had glossy black hair and warm brown eyes that twinkled with laughter.

”Gil is going to be the next host at the Comedy Bas.e.m.e.nt,” Rick said. ”He does stand-up.”

”I also do sit up and grow up,” Gil announced. Everyone groaned.

Throwing a proprietary arm around Bess's shoulder, Rick instructed the driver to take them to Forty-second Street and the Hudson River.

”Today we're going to do all those corny things you see in old movies about New York,” Rick said. ”Like go on a boat trip around Manhattan and to the top of the Empire State Building. Bess is a very old-fas.h.i.+oned girl,” he explained to his friend.

”Rick Arlen! I am not not!” Bess protested. Secretly, though, she was flattered by his remark.

By the time they got to the West Side pier, the four of them were relaxed and having a great time. Before leaving the limo, Rick put on sungla.s.ses and an old hat. That way, most of his face was covered. ”Just normal precautions,” he insisted. ”These go everywhere with me. Otherwise, the fans-well, I'm sure you can imagine.”

”I think you look adorable like that,” Gilbert said. Rick punched his friend lightly on the arm, and they all piled out of the car.

”So, Gil, how did you get involved in show business?” Nancy asked while they waited on deck for the cruise to start.

”Oh, now we're going way back-to the day little Freddie Gilbert was born in Illinois in a log cabin- No, no, just kidding. How did I get involved in show business, you ask. Thank goodness someone cares besides my mother.”

In spite of his nonstop chatter and putdown humor, Nancy decided she liked Gil. He seemed a little lonely, somehow, and afraid to be just himself, but instinct told her he had a good heart.

”You see, my real name is Fred Gilbert. I had to change it after I got to New York. There already was a Fred Gilbert out there in the show business stratosphere. And so Gilbert Frost was born. But he had the wrong nose. So I changed that, too. And then I had to darken my hair. By the time I was finished, the same club owners who used to tell me to get lost were dying to sign me. What can I tell you? It's a crazy business. Maybe someday I'll even make enough to pay my rent. And if I'm really lucky, I might even hit it big like old Rick here.”

”I'm sure you will,” Nancy said, looking up.

The view from the boat was spectacular-the skyline sparkled in the noon sun.

But as the boat trip continued and they finally circled the northern tip of Manhattan, Nancy couldn't help feeling that something was wrong. All through the ride, she had been keeping an eye on Rick. And she noticed other people were watching him, too. Nancy saw two women look at him, jab each other, and whisper. And a child tugged on his father's sleeve and pointed toward Rick. A portly man was also watching him, although he pretended to be looking at something else.

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