Jinxed (29 page)

“We have an idea for your benefit,” Rudy said, winking at his partner-in-crime and then leaning back in his chair.

She frowned. “You’re just trying to take my mind off of Jake and Joni.”

“Who is this Joni?” Jean-Pierre asked, stirring cream and sugar into his mug.

“Jake’s sister. She’s pregnant.”

He gave a disgusted snort.

Afia bristled. “You don’t like children?”

Rudy patted her hand. “He likes children. He’s just miffed because one of the dancers is pregnant and that entails some progressive alterations. The vice president asked the show’s producer to keep her on as long as possible.”

She perked up. “One of the dancers in the show is pregnant? Which one? Who’s the father?” Could this have anything with Rivelli devoting the weekend to Angela? Was it his baby? Was he going to break the news?

“Selena,” Jean-Pierre said with a sneer. “Her boyfriend lives in New York. I have never met him, but I do not like him.”

“Stop whining,” Rudy said. “So you have to get creative. Look at it as a challenge. I think it’s commendable that the casino’s going to keep her on.” He took another sip of coffee and then focused on Afia. “So about your benefit.”

Velma rubbed up against her leg and purred, quieting Afia’s nerves with her mere presence. She sighed, thinking fleetingly that cats must be psychic, and then placed her napkin in her lap and reached for the maple syrup. “All right. What’s your idea?” If Jake didn’t call her in the next half hour, she was calling the police.

“A drag show.”

“Excuse me?”

“The gay community will come out full force in support of the queens and the kids. Then there are the fag hags and stags, and that small circle of social elite who simply think it’s chic to support gay causes. Between ticket sales, a silent auction, and raffles, that playground equipment is as good as bought.”

All ears, Afia nodded while pouring syrup over her waffle. She’d been to several drag shows over the years. All of them well-attended. All of them wildly successful.

“Karl will probably let us use the club as the venue. I’ll talk to a few of the girls, but I know without even asking that we can count on Sucha Diva, Miss Trudy, Carmen Chameleon, and Sofonda Menn.”

“Think cabaret performance slash fashion show,” Jean-Pierre said. “I have some fabulous ideas for costuming.”

“Some fresh talent would be nice,” Rudy said. “Or a blast from the past. I wish we could get Iva Dream. She was hysterical and, honey, did she have some creative moves.” He nudged Afia. “You saw her perform once. The
Flashdance
parody. Remember?”

She smiled. “Flashpants … What a Feeling. I remember. Vaguely. Gosh, that was, what, six years ago?”

Jean-Pierre shoved his longish hair off of his face. “So contact her.”

Rudy shook his head. “Wouldn’t know where to find her. Haven’t seen or heard of her in years.”

“I love it,” Afia said, her mind spinning with ideas. The drag queens took their performances very seriously and would put heart, imagination, and passion into the show, making it unlike anything the SCC had organized in years. This project couldn’t lose. She dug into her waffle, energized and suddenly starving. “Let’s talk production costs.”

“This is your emergency?”

“Get rid of him, Jake. I can’t breathe. I can’t function with that horrid creature in my house.”

“It’s just a spider.”

“It’s a tarantula.” Pale and sweaty, Joni pressed deeper into the corner of her couch, staring wide-eyed at a king-sized arachnid sunning itself on her living room wall.

“They don’t have tarantulas in Jersey.” Hands on hips, he studied the garden spider that had paralyzed his tough-as-nails sister. “Although he is a hairy bugger.”

“Jake!”

Her terrified plea sent shivers up his spine. “Relax, honey. I’ll take care of it.” Thirty seconds later he’d released the spider into the woods, fetched a cool cloth, and now he sat beside Joni mopping her clammy brow. “I didn’t know you had arachnophobia.”

“Neither did I. Then again I’ve never seen a spider that big. I was afraid to move. What if I scared it, what if it ran … and hid? What if I opened a drawer or pulled back my bedspread and there it was!” She took the washcloth from him, pressed it to her cheeks and took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s hormones. This is so embarrassing. All I had to do was squash it with a shoe.”

Jake smiled and patted her leg. “Phobias don’t have to make any sense.” He thought about Giselle’s irrational fear of Friday the thirteenth. He thought about Afia. He’d called her on his cell while releasing the
horrid creature
into the wilds. She’d been ecstatic that he was safe and made him promise not to leave Joni until she’d calmed completely. Panic attacks, she’d said, are horrible. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Actually, I feel like an idiot. I’m sorry I called you over.”

“I’m not. I’m glad I could help. Do you expect Carson soon? I’d like to congratulate him on his new job.”

“He drove all the way to Hammonton to buy me a particular homemade pie that I’m fond of.” She grinned. “I had a craving.”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a good man.”

“Yes, he is.”

“You love each other rain or shine. You’re in this together, forever.”

Her smile faded. “What’s going on with you?”

He jammed a hand through his hair. His timing wasn’t the best, although, knowing how Joni felt about Afia’s track record with men, hell would freeze over before there would be a good time. He didn’t need his sister’s approval but, damn, a little support would be nice. Whereas he was a novice, she’d spent two years navigating the unpredictable waters of a serious relationship. “Are you sure you’re feeling better? I don’t want to upset you.”

She crossed her arms over her plump breasts. “Spill.”

He cleared his throat. “You know your concern regarding my getting romantically involved with Afia?”

Her face crumpled. “I knew it. You’re dating her.”

“I asked her to move in with me.”

“You’re insane!” She blinked at him, cocked her head and groaned. “It’s worse. You’re in love.” She threw up her hands. “Oh, Jake, of all people. Aside from the obvious, there are all kinds of possible complications. Have you thought this through? Of course you have. The great puzzle solver. You think you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Rain or shine,” he said, giving her knee a reassuring squeeze. “Right?”

She sighed, placed her hand over his and nodded. “Rain or shine.”

She was on fire. Rudy and Jean-Pierre’s suggestion had sparked an inferno of ideas regarding the benefit. After an hour of brainstorming, they’d said their goodbyes. She’d made a few business calls, washed the dishes, and then she’d sprinted upstairs to unpack her toiletries and some essential clothing, hoping to spruce up before Jake got home. She wanted to look her best when she confessed her feelings. She sang the hook of an old Donna Summer hit as she slipped her feet into a pair of pink brocade slippers. “
I … love to love you, baby! I … love to love you, baby!
”

Shimmying into a pink-silk camisole and a matching Prada skirt, she hustled out of the guest room and into the main bathroom to apply a touch of makeup. Spying a small radio on the corner of the vanity, she flipped it on and dialed up a classic disco channel. Abba’s
Dancing Queen
blared from the tiny speakers causing her to smile as she lined her eyes with a muted brown shadow. Images of a strutting Miss Trudy wearing her lime green beehive, gold spandex pants and a glittering tube top floated through her head as Afia tapped her slippered feet in time with the music. Then the song ended and another began.
Flashdance
. Geesh. Talk about coincidence. She rooted through her makeup bag while envisioning Iva Dream and all her practiced moves. Those legs, those feet. So precise. Sequined legwarmers, black fishnets and an off-the-shoulder stretch velvet shirt …

She slicked pink gloss across her lips as a more recent memory intruded.

Oh, my God
.

Gasping, she dropped the lip-gloss into the makeup bag, scrambled out of the bathroom and down the stairs, nearly plowing over Jake as he breezed in through the front door.

“Whoa,” he said, nabbing her by the shoulders. “Where’s the fire?”

“Rivelli’s apartment.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. The proof you need, I’m betting it’s in his apartment. Can you get us in?”

He pushed his aviator sunglasses up on top of his head. “You want me to break into Rivelli’s apartment?”

“Can you do it?”

He raised an eyebrow as if to say “how can you doubt me?” and then said, “Just out of curiosity why would I want to take the risk?”

“I think I know who the other woman is.”

“Who?”

“Iva Dream.”

Getting burned for B&E wasn’t Jake’s idea of fun, so he’d convinced Afia to change out of her sexy little dress and into a subtle disguise. They stepped out of the high-rise’s elevator wearing black jeans, black baseball caps and forest green T-shirts reading “Fresh As A Daisy Cleaning Service.” He’d pulled this ruse more than once. Toting buckets of cleaning supplies, he and Afia had breezed through the apartment building’s lobby without raising an eyebrow.

Next step: getting inside Rivelli’s condominium.

Piece of cake.

Especially when he had a key.

He nudged Afia inside, closed the door behind him, punched the access code into the security keypad and set his bucket on the floor.

Afia blinked at him. “Where did you get that key? How did you know his code?”

“Angela overnighted a package. It came this morning while you were upstairs. With all that happened today, I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

She set her bucket beside his. “You could have told me on the ride over here.”

“I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.” She’d spent the entire twenty minutes explaining the difference between transvestites, transsexuals, cross-dressers, and drag artists. Even though he knew the basics, he’d let her ramble on because her overall theory, though a stretch, was damned intriguing. His mouth twitched into a smile. “You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Thought I was going to pick the lock.”

She tugged at the brim of her cap and shrugged. “It’s so exciting in the movies.”

“It’s not as easy as they make it look.”

“Could you have done it?”

“Sure. It’s a standard pin tumbler lock. The security system, however, would have posed a problem.”

She grinned. “I bet you would have figured out something.”

“Maybe.” He chuckled. “That turns you on doesn’t it? You’ve got a streak of daredevil in you, baby.”

She blushed. “I guess I take after my dad. He was a thrill seeker.”

And look what it got him, Jake thought. A rhino horn through the back. If they searched Rivelli’s apartment without getting burned, at least it would help to put her jinxed stigma to rest. He pulled two pairs of latex gloves out of the bucket and handed her a pair. “Put these on. If you move anything, be sure to put it back where you found it. Understand?”

She nodded. “Why did Angela send you the means to break in?”