Diva Las Vegas (15 page)

I was looking around the room and thinking about what had happened earlier that day—Debra Cushing, the Bronskys—when I saw someone I knew sitting in the very back of the room. I gasped. Next to me, Hannah Varga from
The Yearning Tide
asked me something. I was in such shock, it took a moment to understand her.

“Are you okay, Alex?”

I smiled weakly at her and nodded; then I looked again. Sure enough, it was definitely the Stalker. Shana’s stalker. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed him before. He stood out like a sore thumb. I didn’t know what his being here meant, but it couldn’t be good. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation without causing a commotion. I certainly wouldn’t want to scare all those people into a mass exodus where someone could get hurt. And I didn’t want to scare him away. Maybe he knew something. Or even worse, maybe he had killed Shana, and I was next.

I looked around for security. There was a guy at the very rear of the room. I tried to get his attention quietly. Not easy when you’re sitting in front of seven hundred people. I waved without lifting my arm, jerked my head, and contorted my body in weird ways. So weird that Hannah asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need a doctor?” I looked at her blankly. What was I going to do?

I did the only sensible thing a strong, independent woman does when in trouble. I called my boyfriend.

I was being discreet. Really, I was. I pulled my cell phone from my purse and I texted Jakes
Shana stalkr n blrm
and then
Wht shd i do.

“Alex, are we keeping you from doing more important things?” Brad was back in front of me, stupid microphone in hand, obviously being an asshole. I jerked my head up and, wide-eyed, stood up. I didn’t miss a beat.

“Are you a dad? I tend to think you’re not. When you’re a parent, you’re on call twenty-four/seven. Yes, Brad, even during times like this. My daughter needs to know when I’ll be back to see her. And I was just trying to let her know with a text.”

Awwwwwwww!
the fans said in one voice. I nodded to them. We all understood one another. God help me for using my daughter in a lie, but I was desperate.

“Of course, Alex. Parenthood is the most important thing of all.” And gratefully, that pain in the butt moved on to his next victim.

I, however, was stuck trying to figure out what to do. He was still there, staring straight at me with his squinty pirate eye. I got chills; he freaked me out so much. Maybe he was trying to figure out a way to get to me and slit my throat? Would he pull out a gun and shoot me? Was I over-the-top paranoid?

Beep, beep, beep
. I jumped in my seat and looked down at my cell
very
discreetly. It read,
Wher n rm?
I quickly texted back,
lst tabl by bk dr on lft
. I hoped it made sense. Thank God for cop boyfriends. Just then, two security guards opened up the rear door of the ballroom, looked to the right and the left and then, with great precision, walked up to the stalker, picked him up by both arms and hustled him to the doors. But he wasn’t going quietly.

“Genesis 1:27! Genesis 1:27!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Not that again.

Fans were getting up from their tables, everyone speaking in hushed tones. Kathy had a cell phone in one hand as she took the microphone from Brad.

“Everyone, take your seats, please. Take your seats,” she yelled out. “Everything is fine.”

People were shouting out questions: “Who was that?” “Is there a problem?”

“Everything’s under control. The man they took out of here was wanted for questioning by the Las Vegas police. Everything is fine.” She looked over at the actors murmuring among themselves.

“Why don’t we start the autograph signing? If the actors would please go sit at their individual signing tables, we can get started.” She was clearly a little nervous, but covering well.

My new best friend Theresa led me to a table with my name on a placard.

“What was that about, huh, Alex? Scary stuff! That guy was probably a stalker. It happens at these things, I’ve heard. Ha, ha, ha. I’ve never seen it myself, but I’ve heard.” Frankly, she seemed like she was one step away from being a stalker herself.

“Can you excuse me for a second, before we start? I need to make a quick phone call.” I stepped into a corner of the room and called Jakes. He picked up immediately.

“I’m here in the Hilton security room, Alex. We’re questioning that guy. Are you sure he’s the same one that was at the Playboy mansion?”

“He’s a little hard to forget. I’m positive. What’s he saying? What does he want?”

“We just started questioning him. Did he say anything at all before he was taken out? Before the guards got to him?” Jakes was talking in a hushed tone.

“Yes! The same thing he was yelling at Hef’s: Genesis 1:27. Over and over again. What do you think it means?”

“He’s probably just a loony tune, a religious nut, but I’ll have Cushing look up the verse and see if we find anything.”

I hesitated.

“She’s with you right now?” I couldn’t believe, with everything going on, I was bugged by that.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing. Just curious.” Riiight. “What should I do now?”

“Just stay the course. Do your thing. What time do you finish?”

“I’m done here at”—I looked at my watch and it read three forty-five—“five o’clock. I was going to go back to the hotel for a couple of hours and see Sarah and Mom before the cocktail party at seven, but if you need me . . .”

“No, you go ahead. Where will you be at nine? I’ll pick you up.”

“The Hilton. In the back, by the kitchen entrance. You’re sure you don’t want me to talk to this guy with you?”

“Yes, Alex, I’m sure. I’ll see you at nine. Oh, and wear dark colors tonight. Just in case.” And he hung up. Just in case of what? I was left wondering as I put my cell away and went back to my table. Besides developing a cramp in my right hand from signing autographs for an hour, the rest of the afternoon was uneventful. Thank God.

 

“Mom! We had so much fun at Circus Circus. Look what I won.” Sarah thrust a giant clown at me. I had a deep-seated distrust of clowns, but I didn’t tell her that.

“Wow. That’s awesome. How’d you do it?” I asked while trying to avoid getting too close to the stuffed toy.

“She played the ring toss about four hundred times. That clown cost fifty dollars. But it was worth it. Wasn’t it, Sarah?” my mom chimed in. She was looking a little frazzled and worse for the wear. I felt bad.

“Hey, Mom, why don’t you lie down for a while? Maybe get room service. I have an hour and a half before I’m needed again. I want to take Sarah out to dinner. We’ll be back around six thirty.”

“I
could
use a little rest.” She gave us both kisses and headed for her room, using the wall for support. Suddenly, she looked, dare I say, old. “Let’s go, Mommy. I’m really hungry. Can we eat by the pool?” Sarah, on the other hand, had all the energy in the world.

“Sure, sweetie pie. Go run and put your suit on and we’ll go.”

I put mine on and off we went. What was wrong with me? Had I been so busy I hadn’t even noticed how tired my mother was? Maybe I was expecting too much from her lately.

I have to say, it felt great relaxing in the Jacuzzi after the day I’d had. Sarah jumped in the pool and then the Jacuzzi as we waited for our chicken fingers and French fries to arrive.

After about fifteen minutes, a waitress set down two large plates on the table next to our chaises. We both toweled off before we snuggled up to eat. I learned a long time ago that kids’ menus always have the best comfort food. We were both enjoying our fried-food extravaganza when suddenly Sarah asked me something I wasn’t the least bit prepared for.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend, Mommy?” You never know what’s going to come out of their mouths!

“Why do you ask me that now, sweetheart? What’s going on?” Kids and their parents sat by the pool. Maybe that had gotten her thinking.

“I don’t know. I just think maybe you miss Daddy sometimes. ’Cuz I do.” Oh no. The dreaded
D
word.

I grabbed her and wrapped my arms around her. I couldn’t help but tear up. I just kept hugging her. Finally, I could speak.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sure you miss Dad. Sometimes adults do stupid things, ya know? And little kids get hurt by those stupid things.” I turned her to face me. “Are you feeling sad?”

“No, not sad. Well. Maybe. A little. I just really want you to have someone that you love. And maybe I could have a baby sister. We could share my room, and I’d share all my dolls and stuff. I promise.” Whoa. She’d really thought this out. “I know not Daddy or Paul, but maybe there’s someone else you could love.”

Oh, my God. She was worried about me. Kids are amazing. I looked her in the eyes and said, “I love you so, so much, little girl. And don’t you worry about me. I’m just fine. We both are.” Maybe I was trying to convince myself.

I guess it was time. Decisions would have to be made when we got back home, and I couldn’t pretend any longer. I needed to make some changes. Big changes. No matter how much it hurt. I couldn’t help but feel I was shortchanging the most important person in my life. And come to think of it, myself, too. I kissed her head and said, “Let’s get back to the room and order room service dessert for you and Gramma. Want to?”

“Yayyyy!” We grabbed our stuff and headed up.

 

I threw on a little black dress (I know—a cliché, but I did), grabbed some black sweats for my “caper,” kissed Mom and Sarah and ran down to meet Larry the limo driver.

I spent the next two hours mingling with fans and sharing small talk with the other actors. A lot of talk was about the stalker. Who was he? Why was he at the hotel? In Vegas?

“Hey, Al. Did you know that dude they pulled out of the signing? Hannah said you were acting strangely right before security came in.” Brad had sidled up to me.

“No, not one of mine.” I tried to change the subject. I just didn’t want to go into it with Brad. “Hey. You did a good job today. And an even better job harassing me, too.”

“Sorry about that. You were a pretty easy target.” He stopped a waitress who was walking by. “Could you get me a shot of Patrón, Gold if you have it? What do you want, Alex?”

“Just a mineral water. Thanks.” Off she walked toward the bar.

“Mineral water? You don’t need something stronger at these things?”

I laughed when suddenly a drunken woman from—I looked at her name tag—Missouri grabbed Brad and put him in what seemed to be a headlock. He looked at me with
Please rescue me!
eyes. I just smiled weakly and waved good-bye as he was dragged across the room.

Things were getting crazy in there. Booze, fans and drunken actors. Uh-oh. I looked around and happened to notice that Priscilla was doing an impromptu solo dance number in the middle of the room. She had completely outdone herself in the dress department. She was sporting a full-length, skintight white gown. It appeared to be a little see-through if she stood in the right light. And she had on a tiara. What was she thinking? I had no time to be judgmental, though, because my cell beeped. A text from Jakes.

Cn u cm now? Im outside.
It was almost nine o’clock—well, eight thirty. Close enough. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Nobody had me in a headlock, so they’d never notice if I left a little early, right? I deftly made my way to the back wall of the room, opened the farthest door, where the least amount of people were, and was just squeezing out into the kitchen hallway when someone called my name.

“Hi, Alexis. Where you goin’? If you’re looking for the ladies’, like, it’s on the other side of the ballroom. Do you need something? I just wanted to say how much fun I’m having. I love these events.” It was my pal Theresa.

“Hi, Theresa. Actually, uhhh . . . I’m feeling a little under the weather. I thought I’d go back to my hotel and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh. You can’t go. Wait! I never got a picture of you today.” She pulled out a small digital camera.

“Okay. Go ahead.” Theresa took a couple of photos.

“Just a couple more. Like right inside here.” She was trying to pull me back into the ballroom. She really was annoying.

“I’m just going to sneak on out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow at the breakfast, okay?” I kept trying to close the door behind me, but Theresa wasn’t letting me go. Finally, I had to physically push her away—and right then, the flash on her camera went off. Great. She had a not-so-flattering photo of me brutalizing her. I hoped she wasn’t on Facebook. If she was, I was doomed.

Jakes picked me up in back of the hotel in a rented, dark, three-year-old Pontiac.

“Nice wheels,” I said, getting in.

“It was the most discreet-looking thing I could find. Hey, look at you. Black works,” he said, taking in my black sweats. Despite what my friend Theresa had said about the ladies’ room, I’d managed to find one between me and the back door and had made a quick change. I tossed the bag with my dress in the backseat.

“What? Isn’t this what stylish lady burglars are wearing these days?”

“Yeah,” he said, “if you’re Catherine Zeta-Jones . . . or Alexis Peterson.”

I didn’t mind the comparison.

“Let’s go,” I said. “The caper awaits.”

He laughed, started the car moving and said, “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Is that bad? Truthfully, I am a little scared.”

“I can take you back and do this myself,” he said, calling my bluff.

“No, that’s okay,” I said. “You need a lookout.” And I didn’t want to take any chances it would end up being Detective Cushing.

“So, what happened with the stalker?”

“We had nothing to hold him on, Alex, so we had to let him go. But I think he’s harmless.”