A Taste of Fame (30 page)
When I heard the alarm in Lizzie’s voice, I left my duties in the catering kitchen, grabbed a cab, and went straight to Lizzie’s hotel room. She opened her door before I could knock. “What is it? You’re pale as a ghost,” I said as she ushered me inside.
Without speaking, she handed me an opened lavender envelope. I pulled out the card and studied the handwritten words.
“Done? Done with what?” Lizzie asked, her voice almost a whisper.
I walked over to the window and turned over the card in the stream of dust-speckled light that flowed in between the closed drapes.
I looked up as Lizzie joined me. “If this had been slipped under my door, I would have assumed it was from Faye Gage.”
“At least she’s safely tucked away in Summit View,” Lizzie said. “But it’s signed ‘B’—for Bubba?”
“Or Boudreaux.”
Lizzie ran a hand through her hair. “Is that Bubba’s last name?”
“Boudreaux is Bubba’s cousin, who’s supposedly here in New York with the Wild Cajun Cooks, though I haven’t seen him. Bubba claims he’s the one you saw with Amy.” I peered into the envelope for a closer look. “Hang on, what’s this?”
With Lizzie’s head almost touching mine, I pulled out a dark hair that was stuck to the glue on the envelope’s inside flap.
Lizzie almost squealed. “Can we run a DNA test?”
I laughed. “Not possible. No crime’s been committed, and who’s to say this note card actually poses a threat? The language is a bit ambiguous.”
“It reads like a threat in my book,” Lizzie answered. “Don’t you agree?”
“Sure I do, but trust me, the authorities wouldn’t see it that way.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I guess we put every person with dark hair who’s involved with the show on our suspect list.”
Lizzie began to pace. “Goodness, that would cover everyone on both Team Batter Up, the Wild Cajun Cooks, the camera crew, and—”
“You,” I teased.
Lizzie plopped down on the edge of her bed, her shoulders slumped. “For what it’s worth, I’m innocent.”
I sat down next to her and patted her leg. “Don’t worry, my friend. You couldn’t hurt a fly.”
Lizzie lifted one brow. “Unless my friends were threatened. Then I’d be a force to be reckoned with.”
I actually giggled, imagining Lizzie in full angry librarian mode, giving our phantom note writer a good “Shhh!”
“This isn’t funny,” Lizzie snapped. “Besides, who can even concentrate with poor Goldie dealing with Jack’s heart attack?”
I sighed, put my arm around Lizzie, and gave her a squeeze. “Goldie’s been on my mind all afternoon.”
Lizzie stood up. “And here we are playing games. How did we ever get into this mess?”
I nodded, suddenly feeling weary. Lizzie looked back, then stopped her tirade. She sat down next to me again. “Donna, here I am ranting about my woes when the powers behind this show have continued to harass you.”
“And on national TV.”
“How are you holding up?”
I returned to the window and parted the curtains with my hand to peer down at the busy streets. “I’m hanging in there.”
Lizzie joined me. “But how are you really doing?”
I shrugged. “I feel confused, kinda angry.”
“Angry at Faye, you mean?”
The depth of my emotion surprised me as it exploded. “Why won’t Wade protect me from her?”
Lizzie raised her brows and folded her arms across her pink Team Potluck shirt. She cocked her head. “Tell me. I know you’re dating David; so what is it with you and Wade? Do you still care about him?”
“No … yes.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I don’t know. I mean, we were in love once, back in high school. But after so much loss and time, you’d think I’d be able to move on, but …”
“But you can’t, can you?”
“When I stop by Wade’s trailer and see him with little Pete …”
“Are you attracted to Wade or to Wade
with
Pete?”
I blinked hard. “Pete’s close to the age of the baby we lost when Wade and I were in high school, and, well, when we’re all together, it seems …”
“Like the family you missed.”
“Exactly.”
“How would you feel about Wade if Pete’s mother showed up and took Pete home with her?”
My voice dropped. “I’m not sure. But I have to find Thelma. I have to know Pete’s future. Plus, no offense, Lizzie, but we all know that recovered alcoholics sometimes relapse. How do I know Wade will stay sober?”
“No offense taken, friend. And believe me, I understand your concern. It’s been a struggle to stop my little drinking habit. In a way, I’m really grateful that you pulled me over after I’d had one too many.”
“That was hard on me, Lizzie,” I admitted.
She gave me a hug. “That makes me appreciate it all the more.”
The next couple of days were a blur of activity, though we were all greatly relieved to get regular reports from Goldie about Jack’s steady progress. But the good news didn’t undo the trauma of me getting fitted for the Fay Wray dress, which was nothing more than a yellow satin nightgown.
Lisa Leann held it up at the costume store. “Isn’t it adorable?”
“What there is of it.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll wear a slip.”
“What it really needs is an army jacket.”
Lisa Leann giggled then touched my short curls. “We’ll get Sasha to give you a few hair extensions, and you’ll look just like Wray in the bedroom scene.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, where Kong reaches in through the window and pulls her out of bed before carrying her to the top of the Empire State Building.”
I rolled my eyes. “Lovely.”
Lisa Leann patted my arm, “Trust me, you’ll be one drop-dead gorgeous emcee.”
“Speaking of, how’s the entertainment coming along?”
Lisa Leann seemed to quiver with excitement. “During the reception, we’ve got the green light to show rotating clips from the original King Kong movie, avoiding, of course, the scene where Kong gets shot and falls off the tower. Then, to open the show, we’ve got a couple of jugglers who volunteered to perform in exchange for national exposure, and they’re pretty entertaining, plus we’ve got a choreographer who’s directing his troupe of costumed dancers, so that should be kinda fun.”
“Costumed?”
“Imagine this: there will be ten Fay Wrays and ten King Kongs dancing in front of the windows overlooking the New York City skyscape next to our twelve-foot-tall model of the Empire State Building. Isn’t that a riot?”
“I guess.”
“But that’s not the half of it. Nelson discovered that both Cher and Dolly Parton are in town this weekend, and they both volunteered to sing a duet or two.”
“Wow! That ought to be worth the price of admission. Do you know what they’re singing?”
She lowered her voice. “They’ve been secretly practicing arrangements of ‘Jolene’ and ‘If I Could Turn Back Time.’ ”
“That’s unbelievable! Good job, Lisa Leann.”
The day of the event was crazy, there were so many last-minute details. In the midst of it all, the boys kept jockeying for my attention. Wade would say, “I can’t wait to see you dressed like Fay Wray.” To which David would say, “Why? Don’t you think she looks fine now?”
But just before I was to head to the makeup chair, David stopped me. “Do you have a minute?”
“What’s up?”
“I found something, a clue to the puzzle you’ve been working on.”
I laughed. “Which puzzle?”
“This ‘B’ thing. Look.”
David pulled a napkin out of his pocket with a handwritten note penned with the now familiar handwriting.
I’LL BE WATCHING.
B
I stared into David’s chocolate brown eyes. “Where did you find this?”
David pointed to a side door that led to a back hallway, which was usually used by the hotel’s staff but was now temporarily under our domain. “It was on top of a crate of bananas, back in the prep room. What do you make of it?”
I looked at the card and shook my head. “My reaction? As of Tuesday night, the whole world will ‘be watching.’ ”
“But don’t you take this as a threat?”
I nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. Though it’s not clear how.”
“I have some thoughts. Where can we talk? In private, I mean.”
I looked at my watch. “That’s not possible right now. I’ve gotta run to hair and makeup.”
“I’d go with you, but I’m needed to start making several gallons of virgin banana daiquiris.”
I laughed. “Better you than me.”
David took my hand for a moment. “You be careful, okay?”
“No need to worry about me. I’m on the job.”
David’s forehead wrinkled, and he leaned over and brushed the top of my head with his lips, then pulled back. “That’s exactly why I am worried.”
The party got off to a great start. The celebrity guests had arrived, posing on the red carpet for the paparazzi. Our guests seemed happy to be served by our troop of gorillas and Fays with an occasional Team Potluck gal in a hot pink apron. When someone complained about the lack of alcohol, we used the answer David had suggested. One of the non-gorilla-masked members of our team would explain that our drinks were the latest trend in frozen organic party drinks.
Happily, that explanation seemed to do the trick.
But things weren’t going so smooth in prep. Somehow, an entire gallon of our daiquiris had been toppled, creating a sticky mess, plus a whole tray of one of our banana desserts was upside down and smashed into the carpet. As I, along with Mike the cameraman, surveyed the damage, Wade walked in and pulled off his gorilla head. “What happened?”
“Who knows? We’ve had a lot of people in and out of here.”
“I guess you just can’t get good help these days,” he quipped.
I nodded. “Quite an admission from a guy who makes his living as a hired hand.”
Wade laughed. “There’s a difference. I’m the kind of help who can be trusted. But you know that.”
I smiled, then continued to blot the mess with a large sponge before someone could slip in the sticky goo. “Good thing we still have plenty of food.”
Vonnie, who was next on the scene, saved the day. “You two run along and keep serving our guests. I’ll stay back and clean up.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked.
“You kids go. I’ll be fine”
But moments later, when I returned to the kitchen area, I noticed that not much of the spill had been cleaned and Vonnie and Mike were nowhere to be found.
When I went back on the floor with another tray of desserts, I began to canvas my pals and the waitstaff. I even asked Judge Isabelle, “Have you seen Vonnie or Mike?”
Without exception, everyone shook their heads, including all the gorillas.
But a few minutes later, one of our furry beasts handed me a napkin, which appeared to be written in David’s neat penmanship.
MEET ME IN CONF. ROOM B, 16TH FLOOR,
5 MINUTES. RE: VONNIE. DAVID.
I looked hard at the gorilla. “David, is that you?” I whispered.
The black hairy beast before me nodded, then disappeared into the crowd.
I checked my watch. I was supposed to start the entertainment portion of our event as the night’s emcee in just ten minutes, but with Vonnie gone missing, the show could wait.
Somehow, I managed to slip away from the cameras and crowd and rode the elevator to the floor David had specified. When the doors opened, I was surprised to see the lights were dim and the hallway decorated with a couple of ladders and paint-splattered drop cloths as well as a large white sign that read, “Please pardon our mess.”
Ah, this floor was being renovated, which made it isolated. It was the perfect rendezvous point away from the cameras and noise of the party to meet quietly with David.
When I found the conference room, I tried the knob of the heavy door. It was unlocked. Quietly I pushed it open and entered the dark room, groping for the light switch. “David?”
Instead of an answer, the door slammed behind me. I rushed back and tried the door again. This time it was locked. I rattled the handle and pounded on the door with my fists. “David, this isn’t funny,” I said into the darkness. “Not funny at all.”
We had synchronized our watches before our event started, pledging to keep things on time, and so far we had. While the JumboTron on the far wall showed clips from the original flick with Fay Wray and King Kong, we served our virgin daiquiris and myriad treats like my personal favorite, our creamy banana split cake. So far the food was a hit. Plus, Judge Isabelle was having such a good time, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d somehow managed to spike her own drink. But then, who wouldn’t have a good time at a party that included our guest celebrities? I especially enjoyed meeting Eric Roberts. He even winked and lifted his banana drink into the air to toast me. “Here’s to Team Potluck taking the whole banana.”
“Thanks,” I said as I looked over my shoulder to see if the camera guy, who had been dogging me all evening, had gotten Eric’s comment on tape.
While I continued to greet and serve our guests, I felt anxious for the entertainment to start, entertainment we couldn’t have purchased even if we’d had a budget of fifty thousand.
But as it turned out, Cher and Dolly had been happy to help our cause. The other guest entertainers had also offered their work pro bono, bless their hearts.
“This will open so many doors for us,” choreographer Vince Giordano had told me. “Troupe Dance Delight will be happy to help.”
When the hour hit eight, Nelson dimmed the house lights, and a revolving disco ball sent a spray of rainbows throughout the ballroom. At the same moment, a recording of the song “The Theme from the Monkees” blasted through the house speakers. On cue, our dancing gorillas and Fay Wrays from Troupe Dance Delight bolted out of the crowd to leap onto the stage. The costumed gorillas swung from our Empire State Building and grabbed their Fay Wrays before twirling them high over their heads.
The crowd laughed and applauded until the music ground to a sudden halt midsong.
I ran to where Nelson was working the sound system. “What happened?” I cried.
Nelson, minus his gorilla head, was crawling on his hands and knees beneath the table. He held up a disconnected cord before plugging it back in. “Looks like someone pulled our plug.”