Alex in Wonderland (The Wonderland Series Book 1) (8 page)

“What the hell am I going to do?”

“First of all you’ve got to decide where you want to go.”

Alex took a big gulp of vodka. “I guess
New York
is the most obvious choice.”

“Know anybody up there?”

“No,” Alex conceded.

“
San
Francisco
?”

“No.”

“You want some place that has a big gay population, don’t you?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I guess so.”

“Then let’s see,” Jolie said, splaying his fingers and counting off the
possibilities. “
Palm Springs
.
Provincetown
.
South
Beach
.
Key West
—”

The idea hit Alex like a thunderbolt.

“Chandler”

“What?”

“
Chandler
Wilde.
I told you about him. The guy I met when I
was having lunch with Camilla. Bitsy Covington’s cousin.”

“The hottie you banged at Chez Royale?”

“That’s the one.” Alex rattled his memory. “God, that seems like a
million years ago!”

Jolie chuckled. “Considering all that’s happened since then, it
should!”

“He’s a really nice guy. I told him a little about my father, and he
said to call if I ever needed a place to hide out or just wanted to talk.”

“And what’s his psychic hotline number, mon?” Jolie asked, using the
worst Jamaican accent Alex had ever heard.“His card’s here somewhere.” Alex dug
into his wallet, found the card and punched a number into his cell phone. He
redialed twice before snapping it shut. “The phone's dead!”

“Daddy Dearest strikes again?”

Alex shook his head sadly and reached for Jolie’s phone. “Better start
running a tab, my friend. I can’t even afford to pay for a damned phone call.”

Jolie’s response was to refill Alex’s glass.

“Hello,
Chandler
? It’s Alex Sumner from
New Orleans
. We met last Friday...yeah. Good to hear
your voice too. How are you?” He sipped the vodka and nodded thanks to Jolie.
“Me? Well, not so
good
. I’ve been wondering if your
offer’s still good to come down. The truth is I’m in a jam.”

“The understatement of the millennia,” Jolie muttered, wandering into
the garden to give Alex some privacy.

Alex quickly brought
Chandler
up to date and was relieved when the guy
assured him he was welcome. “How will you get here, Alex?”

“Don’t know yet,” Alex confessed. “Right now I feel like a condemned
prisoner with the noose tightening around my neck. All I know is I need to get
out of town fast. When they splatter my face all over the news again with a
reward attached, I won’t be able to go anywhere.”

“Just let me know what you decide,”
Chandler
soothed. “You’re welcome to stay as long as
you like.
And Alex?”

“Yes?”

“I meant what I said. No strings attached.”

“You’re an angel,
Chandler
. Thanks a million.”

"Any time,”
Chandler
said.
“Ciao.”

Alex followed Jolie into the garden and perched alongside him on the
rim of the lotus
pool. He touched a burned-out water lily candle and sent it bobbing
away. “Everything’s cool with
Chandler. Now I just have to figure out how to get to
Key West.” Jolie seemed off in his own little world,
softly humming as he stared at some leftover party lights twinkling in the
bamboo thicket. “What’s that tune?”

“An old Burt Bacharach song. ‘Trains and
Boats and Planes.’”

“Well, that’s appropriate enough, but it doesn’t solve my problem.” He
shook his head. “Man, I feel like a criminal about to go on the lam.”

Jolie let out a whoop. “Damn, Alex, that’s it! You’re brilliant!”

“Oh, yeah? You want to let me in on
the big effing secret?”

11

Showtime!

Jolie’s enthusiasm was electrifying. “Don’t
you see,
bébé
?! You know old movies inside and out. This
is just like Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in
Some Like It Hot
. After they
witnessed the St. Valentine’s Day massacre they had to go on the lam,
remember?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do with—?”

“Gangsters were looking all over
Chicago
for them, so they dressed in drag and hooked
up with an all-girl band on a train bound for
Miami
.”

Alex frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re going to suggest I do drag!”

“Just hear me out, and remember drastic predicaments call for drastic
resolutions. The way I see it you only have one option.”

“Go on.”

“The bus.”

Alex was horrified. “The
what?!”

“The bus. You know. Those big smoky things with lots of wheels and
wheezing brakes and anorexic dogs painted on the sides. To put it in terms you
understand, Marilyn Monroe rode one in
Bus Stop
.”

“I don’t do busses,” Alex announced flatly.

 
“Well, neither do I, darling,
but like I said, drastic predicaments—”

“You heard me, dammit! I’m not climbing aboard some filthy cattle car
packed to the gills with the Great Unwashed, and that’s the end of the
discussion!”

Jolie was disgusted and disappointed by a side of Alex he hadn’t seen.
Clearly this was Randolph Sumner’s son talking, and the picture wasn’t pretty.
It was time for another reality check and some foul-tasting medicine as well.

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Born-With-A-Silver-Spoon-Up-Your-Ass!”

Alex was surprised by Jolie’s harsh tone. “Huh?”

“You heard me, Alex. Now is not the time to get pissy and strut your
uptown pedigree. Now is the time to get down and dirty and do everything you
can to beat your father at his own game. Otherwise you’re no better than he
is.”

Alex backed off. “I only meant—”
       

“I know damned well what you meant. That you’re only used to traveling
first class on Air
France
and in your shiny little Porsche, and that
it’s beneath your dignity to plop your fucking aristocratic ass on a public
bus.
Fine.
You come up with a better solution,
sweetheart, and I’ll be happy to discuss it.”

The unexpected outburst reminded Alex that Jolie had done nothing but
help since he sent his S.O.S. He’d just been taught another valuable lesson.

“Sorry, Jolie. I guess I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did. And there’s more where that came from if you don’t wise
up. Don’t you see that’s exactly the kind of response your father would have
and that’s exactly why this will work? He’d never expect you to ride a bus in a
million years. It’s perfect!”

Alex felt like an idiot when the truth dawned on him. “God, you’re
brilliant!”

“Of course I am, darling. Now get your ass to the phone and see what
kind of covered wagon Greyhound has heading for
Key West
.”

“Okay.”

“And bring me back a fresh drink, will you, please?”

“Sure.” Alex was only a few steps away when Jolie’s words stopped him
dead.

“And then we can talk about wigs.”

“Wigs?”

“Yes,
bébé
. Wigs! We just hatched an absolutely
fabulous escape plot, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it even more fabulous.
Now we need a disguise. I mean, how many men in this city have Harpo Marx hair
like yours? Believe me, once that business about the reward airs on TV, your
head will be a curly blonde beacon, and it won’t be just Daddy Dearest and his
cronies hunting you down.”

“Hold on, Jolie. The bus is bad enough, but the idea of riding it in
drag—”

“Is absolutely inspired!” Jolie finished. “Think about the movie!”

“No drag,” Alex said.

“I’m not suggesting you dress up all slinky like Marilyn, for God’
sake. Just something tasteless and mundane to throw the bloodhounds off the
scent.”

Alex ignored him “I’m gonna call Greyhound.” He winced. “Damn! That’s
something I never thought I’d say.”

Jolie gave up. “I’ll take that drink out outside.”

Alex took a deep breath, called information and asked for the
unthinkable. “The number for Greyhound please.” He groaned. “This is getting
more surreal by the moment!”

Alex wasn’t thrilled to learn the bus ride would take almost
twenty-eight hours and required changing busses in
Mobile
,
Jacksonville
and
Miami
. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the next one
left at
6:50
in the
morning. Still worse, since he couldn’t pay for it with a credit card, he had
to be there an hour early with cash.

“I’ll just bet the bus station is a real vision at that hour,” he
muttered. “Drunks and druggies and homeless people stinking up the joint.” Then
Alex remembered Jolie’s on-target comment about his condescending attitude and
stayed focused by conjuring images of his scowling father and the cloying Camilla.
Then he envisioned his mother’s sweet face, Jolie’s too, glowing with love and
encouragement. “A man does what a man’s gotta do,” he told himself. Then,
“Jesus! I sound like John Fucking Wayne!”

He freshened Jolie’s drink and took it outside along with the news
about the bus schedule. “Well, look at the bright side,” Jolie chirped. “It
takes those poor Cubans days to make
Key West
, and they have to deal with dehydration,
sunburn and sharks.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Alex sighed.

“No, darling, but you were thinking it. I know because I was thinking
the same thing. As the jet pelican flies,
Key West
is only a couple hours away. What a shame
Daddy’s watching the airport.”

“Don’t remind me,” Alex grumbled.

“Sorry.
How about something to pass the time until the
ten o’clock
news?”

“You want to show me that secret compartment?” Alex asked.

“No. I want to show you my private wig collection.”

“I told you I’m not doing drag! The idea disgusts me!” When Jolie
looked offended, Alex hurriedly apologized. “It’s different for you, Jolie.
You’ve got lots more to work with. I on the other hand would make one helluva
ugly broad.”

“But don’t you see? That definitely works in your favor. No one pays
attention to an ugly woman.”

“Not interested,” Alex said.

Jolie tried another tack. “Fine. We’ll think of something later. For
now, I’ll order dinner from Verti Mart and we’ll watch
Some Like It Hot.
I
have the
DVD
somewhere.”

Alex brightened. “Great. It’s one of my all-time faves.”

They were aching from laughter as Jack, Marilyn, Tony and Joe E. Brown
boated off into the sunset when Jolie noticed the time. “It’s witching hour,
bébé
.” He switched the
DVD
player to television just in time to catch Marvin Robertson’s opening line on
the
ten
o’clock
news.

“In an effort to find his missing son, Randolph Sumner called a press
conference this afternoon and made a surprising announcement.”

Co-Anchor Jolinda Bulessi picked up the thread. “The CEO of Sumner
Petroleum is offering $25,000 to anyone with information on his son’s
whereabouts.”

The phone rang. “Ignore it,” Jolie said, riveted to the television.
Once again he was amazed by the audacity of Alex’s father.

Alex couldn’t help hurrying into the kitchen on the off-chance that it
might be his mother again. Instead he heard the Mad Hatter leaving a message.

“Hi, Jolie. Ken Calhoun here. Did you see the news about Alex Sumner
disappearing? His old man’s offering twenty five thousand bucks for information
so I’m wondering if I tell him I saw Alex last night and—”

“Shit!” Alex grabbed the phone. “Hey, Ken. It’s Alex.”

Ken sounded totally befuddled. “Oh, hey, man! What’s up with your old
man?”

“It’s a publicity stunt,” Alex said, thinking fast. “His company’s in
trouble and he’s trying to win the sympathy of the stockholders.”

“Huh?” Ken sounded skeptical.

“I know it sounds off-the-wall, but that’s the kind of shit my old man
pulls. That’s why I’m holing up at Jolie’s house for a few days.”

“That’s fucking twisted!” Ken grunted.

“Yeah, well, welcome to the wild and wacky world of corporate
America
. Whoops!
Got another
call!”
Alex hung up and listened to the next message. He smiled when he
heard
Duncan
’s husky tones.

“Hi, Jolie.
Just saw the news and was wondering what the
hell’s going on with Alex and his father.”

Alex quickly picked up.
“Hey,
Duncan
.
I’m fine. It’s just Daddy’s master plan to
get me back home.”

“So what’re you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Alex said, deciding not to tell anyone except his mother
about
Key
West
.
“Just lay low and see how much Daddy will up the ante.”

“It sounds like a bad version of ‘Survivor’.”

“Yeah. This whole thing gets crazier by the minute.”

“Well, I say hang in there and don’t worry about me blowing any
whistles. Believe me I know the importance of keeping secrets.”

“It never crossed my mind,” Alex said, thinking how good
Duncan
’s voice sounded and how much he’d like to be
snuggling with the guy. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too.
G’night, babe.”

“Good night.” Alex had barely cradled the receiver when it rang again.
“Damn!”

This time it was Rex Locarno, the perennially late and sloshed White
Rabbit. He was so drunk Alex could barely understand him.

“Reward...Alex...gonna call that number on the—”

Alex intercepted and used the same tale he’d used on Ken. He needn’t
have bothered because Rex passed out and dropped the phone, leaving only
drunken snores.

“At least that will tie up the phone for a while,” Alex muttered. He’d
barely said the words when Jolie’s cell phone rang. “Holy shit!”

For the next twenty minutes, Jolie fielded phone calls from half the
people at the party.
 
Most were genuinely
concerned for Alex’s safety, but a couple of guys were actually after the
reward. Adding to the nightmare, Rex finally hung up so the other phone started
ringing off the wall. Alex and Jolie listened with alarm. Some were people
Jolie knew, some he only vaguely remembered, still others he didn’t know at
all.

 
“Damn, Alex! Everybody in
New Orleans
is looking for you. Talk about
tell-a-fairy!”

“Shit,” Alex groaned. He paced the kitchen like a caged animal, but
just as abruptly he stopped. “I’d better grab a quick shave.”

Jolie threw his hands up. “You haven’t got time for that! For all we
know, someone’s already called about the reward and the cops are on their way
here. Maybe your father too!”

Alex tossed down the last of the vodka and rubbed his chin. “If I’m
going to travel as Alexandra Yusuppov,” he sniffed, “I have no intention of
showing any blonde stubble, much less my Harpo Marx curls.”

“Who the hell is Alexandra—?” Jolie beamed when he saw the twinkle in
Alex’s eye.

“Wig and all?”

“Wig and all.”

Jolie beamed. “You go, girl!”