Lucky Me (11 page)

“‘Sup?” I asked him casually, bobbing my head back and forth in an attempt to seem tough and street.

He just looked at me blankly, before silently readjusting the forks and walking away. I turned back to look at Jack, who was immersed in the menu. Some bodyguard he was. I could have been kidnapped and transported to Yemen by now and he hadn't even glanced at me yet. I picked up two spoons and forks, made sure no one was watching me, and casually walked behind the cutlery bench
,
where there was a door that read “Staff Only” directly behind. A couple steps forward revealed a dimly lit hallway to the right, conveniently out of the patrons' sight.

I was guessing diners weren't meant to be back this far, which made it the perfect place for an evil genius to set up shop, and the perfect opportunity to bust out some
Homeland
worthy spy moves. I looked around carefully to make sure no one was watching me and I took a step toward the deserted hallway. To my surprise, my heel had barely made contact with the floor before the sound of
Soulja Boy
escaped from beside me somewhere. I immediately backtracked out into the main dining area, where people were beginning to stare at me with confused and judgemental looks. I threw my palms up as if to say
it's not me, I swear
but the vibrating in my skirt pocket told me otherwise.

Pulling out my phone, I did some big time death glaring at Jack, who was now in uncontrollable fits of laughter. Shoot. It was Dad calling. I blew out a sigh and turned my phone on silent, allowing it to continue buzzing. Slipping it back into my pocket, I stalked toward Jack, spoons and forks in hand.

“Don't,” I said, putting the cutlery down with more force than required. “Touch. My. Phone. Ever.”

Jack, who was having a hard time composing himself, said, “I'm sorry. It was just such an easy target!”

“I can't believe you bought that stupid song just to change my ringtone!” I exclaimed. “What are you, three years old?”

Jack responded with more laughter, as I crossed my arms over my chest and did some more glaring.

“Okay,” Jack finally said, his laughter dying down. “I promise. No more ringtone pranks.”

“Anyway, forget that right now!” I leaned down close to him, lowering my voice. “I need your help.”

Jack, still smiling, said, “With what?”

“There's a creepy hallway at the back of this restaurant with a room at the end of it. And I want to know what's in there.”

Jack looked at me incredulously, all traces of laughter instantly disappearing. “Are you insane?”

“Shhh!”

Jack lowered his voice, but his expression remained the same. “Gia, I'm not helping you sneak into some random room!”

“You promised me you'd help me investigate! That was the deal.”

“Yeah, and I drove you here, didn't I? That's helpful.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Oh come on! You were the one who told me to look around! Well I did, and I found something.”

“Yeah bu—”

“Do you want your great driving abilities to go to waste?” I added, pulling out my famous puppy dog eyes. “I'll be quick, I swear.”

Jack did some frustrated sighing and fiddled with his hat while he considered his options. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for the inevitable to occur.

“Fine!” he said finally, looking less than pleased. “What do I have to do?”

I turned to look over my shoulder, cocking my head toward the waiter that had been at the cutlery station. He was serving a table on the far side of the room, but kept glancing over at us.

“You see that guy over there?” I said, and Jack nodded. “Distract him so I can sneak into the room.”

“What if someone else sees you?” Jack asked. “I can't distract all the waiters in here!”

“Yeah, but he's the only one who keeps looking over here. No one else cares.”

“Maybe he keeps looking over here because we're dressed like idiots.”

I put my hands on my hips and said, “And whose fault is that?”

“Alright fine, whatever!” Jack exclaimed, sliding out of the booth. “But make it quick! I mean it.”

I smugly watched him walk toward the waiter, mumbling something as he repositioned his chains. The waiter was now near the kitchen, which unfortunately was located opposite the patron-restricted door, and of course, the secret hallway. Jack was going to have to do some major distracting if I was going to sneak past unnoticed.

As casually as I could, I weaved my way through the restaurant, smiling innocently at all the families who were enjoying their potentially poisonous meals. Practically tip-toeing toward the cutlery station, I watched Jack approach the waiter.

“Uh, hey man,” I heard Jack say. He clapped his hand over the waiter's back and turned him in the direction of the kitchen, keeping me out of sight. “I was just wondering if you got a toilet, ya know what I'm sayin? ‘Cause them kidney stones ain't settling well, ya feel? A brotha can't handle it.”

What was I so worried about? The boy was a freaking natural. Jack turned his head ever so slightly and caught my eye. I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the laughter from escaping, and he widened his eyes at me in disbelief. He mouthed
go!

“Uh . . .” The waiter began, attempting to turn his head. But Jack was too quick, and directed his attention back toward the kitchen.

“Is it over there?” he asked, randomly pointing to nowhere in particularly.

Alright Gia, go time. Now even if the waiter turned around, he wouldn't be able to see me. Phew. I stared down at the hallway, biting on my lip. So it was just a creepy ass hallway with minimal lighting in a sketchy restaurant that may or may not have poisoned my boyfriend with a dumpling that was actually meant for me. No biggie.

I took a deep breath and told myself not to be such a wimp. I mean, it was possible to have incredible hair and still be badass. Just ask Charlie's Angels. I had made it about halfway down the hallway when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket once more.

“Oh for cryin' out loud!” I mumbled, pulling it out. It was my dad, calling again. “Hello?”

“Gia, where are you?”

“Oh, hey Dad! How's it hanging?”

“Where are you? And why are you whispering?”

“I'm, uh, picking up lunch for Brendan. He gets discharged today.” I said, cautiously taking another step forward. “I'm talking quietly because . . .” I trailed off, hoping he wouldn't notice.

He didn't. “Anya said you were in a play?”

“Oh, right!” I cried, smacking the heel of my palm against my forward in realization. “Yeah. I'm picking up lunch for Brendan
and
I'm in a play.”

I really need to step up my lying game. This was pathetic.

“Oh really?” Dad replied. “Which one?”

“Um . . .” Shit. Why couldn't I think of any plays! “Macbeth?”

“Macbeth.” Dad repeated, clearly not buying anything I was throwing his way. “Really? Who do you play?”

I rolled my eyes in frustration. The man was practically a trained interrogator. “Uh, I play Macbeth.”

“Macbeth. The male lead, Macbeth.”

“Dad,” I said, feigning a disappointed tone. “Our school doesn't discriminate based on gender. Frankly I'm offended by th—”

“Gia, come home. You're grounded remember? I was picking you up from the hospital just last night, and you're already off God knows where with God knows who!”

“I'll be home soon, jeez!”

Dad continued to drone on about how inappropriate my behavior was, but I was barely paying attention because I had finally reached the end of the long hallway and was standing in front of a small, dimly lit room.

“Gia, are you even listening to a word I'm saying?” Dad's voice rung in my ears.

“Of course I am.” I lied and peeked into the room.

“Good, because I really need you to be prepared. You know it's always chaotic with her.”

“Prepared?” I said quietly into the phone, scanning the room for anyone secretly hiding in the shadows. All clear.

“Yes, prepared! So, tomorrow at—”

“Dad, hang on a second.” I cut him off and covered my phone with my hand.

“Hello?” I called out softly into the room. No reply. I found a light switch next to me on the wall and I flicked it.

“Gia, tomorrow at one. Be ready.” Dad simply said as I put the phone back to my ear.

“Got it. Bye Dad,” I said, cutting the phone before he could say anything else.

The room was empty with barren walls, except for a small coffee table and three plastic chairs. It looked like some sort of room available to employees on their lunch breaks, but it was so empty I couldn't seem to find any plausible use for it.

I hurried over to the table, which had a half-empty glass in it, its contents resembling green tea. Next to the glass was a photograph and a nametag. The nametag read Ao Jie Kai, a name that I knew I would have trouble remembering when I recounted my findings to Jack. I put the nametag down and picked up the photograph, almost immediately dropping it back on the table in surprise.

No. There was no way. It couldn't be. Yet there it was. There was no doubting who was in the picture, but
why
it was in the room was still a question.

Why was there a photo of
me
at The Dumpling Hospital?

Chapter Seven

“Are you sure that's even me?”

“No, Gia. There's just someone else who's pretending to be you in your exact clothes, standing next to your parents at one of your dad's movie premieres. Alert the feds! You have an imposter!”

“Is the sarcasm really necessary at this moment?”

“Oh come on, Gia. Denial isn't going to get us anywhere.”

Speak for yourself, denial seemed like a pretty fantastic idea at that point. Jack and I were sitting on my bed, attempting to make sense of the photograph and the nametag I had managed to steal from the Dumpling Hospital. We hadn't stuck around to eat our kidney stones; I had been too freaked out. And it was probably for the best anyway. I didn't need a creepy stalker
and
violent urges to throw up. I hadn't told my dad yet, and I assumed Jack hadn't told Chris or Kenny. This was the perfect opportunity for Dad to lecture me about my “irresponsible behavior” for the millionth time that week, and I just wasn't in the mood.

“So are we going to tell my dad?” I asked Jack, looking up from the photo to him nervously.

“Well, yeah I guess so.” He replied with a shrug. “I mean, legally I have to tell him.”

I groaned and said, “Do you have to? Like, can't you just wait for a couple of days, or something? Just until we find out some more? He's going to put me on lock-down mode if he finds out!”

Jack frowned. “Technically, I work for your dad, so I answer to him.”

“But you're
my
bodyguard,” I told him, pushing the photo away from me in frustration. “Which means you should be protecting
my
body. And I need protecting against my father.”

“It doesn't work like that, Gia.”

“Please?” I begged. “Just for like, a day? You can tell him everything after we go to the police tomorrow.”

Jack's eyes widened. “Are you insane? You want to go to the police first and
then
tell your dad? He's going to kill you! Hell, he's going to kill me! Where's my bodyguard, huh?”

“Look, I'll deal with Dad when the time comes. Tomorrow we go to the police, tell them everything and then we can tell my father. That way, I have some more time to search for possible stalkers online, and Dad can't go crazy on me because I was responsible and went to the police for help.”

Jack blinked at me, expressionless, and I narrowed my eyes as if to say
what?
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if reasoning with himself not to completely lose it.

“You're a lunatic!” Jack cried. “Like a full-fledged, certified crazy person! You can't just Google possible stalkers! There's not some kind of website or blog called
Stalkers R Us
, where everyone shares stories from their boundary challenged adventures!”

“Jack,” I said calmly. “This is the Internet we're talking about. You'd be surprised at what you can find.”

“And secondly,” Jack continued, ignoring me. “You have school tomorrow. Where exactly does your perfect police plan fit in there, huh?”

I shrugged and said, “So we skip school. It's not like I've never done it before.”

Jack put his head in his hands shook it lightly, as if he couldn't believe he was actually having this conversation with me.

“Oh my God, you're going to get me fired,” came his muffled voice from within his hands.

“Oh please!” I scoffed, and he looked up at me with another sigh. “You'll be fine! Tomorrow we'll tell Dad that we went to the Dumpling Hospital during school with the cast from the play. Like an excursion! See? Problem solved.”

“No.” Jack said incredulously. “Problem not solved! What play?”

“The play that Dad thinks we're in at school!” I replied impatiently. “Never mind, you weren't there for that part. So basically we say we went on a little trip with the cast, totally legit, and I just happened upon the picture and nametag so we went to the police. I mean, half of it is true.”

Jack rose from the bed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can't have this conversation anymore. I can actually feel parts of my brain shutting down.”

“You're such a drama queen.”

Jack had one hand on the bedroom door as he swung around to face me with an exasperated expression on his face. “I don't understand why we have to go to the police first!” he exclaimed. “What's the point?”

“Because,” I said impatiently, placing the nametag and photo safely in my bedside table drawer. “Then it makes me seem responsible to my dad.”

“As opposed to telling him straight away which is completely careless?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

I put my hands on my hips, refusing to give up. Okay fine, he had a point. And let's face it, I was no Veronica Mars. Finding answers on the Internet was far too hopeful, but admitting that to Jack was more painful than an appointment with the dentist.

“Fine!” I said, giving a defeated sigh. “Have it your way! Let's go tell Dad.”

Jack followed me down the stairs and into the living room where Dad was pouring himself a glass of wine, an old edition of GQ magazine lying next to him.

“Hey daddy! Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch next to him. I smiled brightly as Jack stood next to me, hands in his jeans pockets. “Your hair looks fab by the way. Did you do something new?”

Dad put the wine bottle down on the coffee table and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do now?”

“Excuse me?” I asked with a deeply offended look. “What makes you think I did something wrong?”

Dad looked at Jack and said, “What did she do now?”

“In this case, nothing actually,” Jack replied, as Dad took a big sip of his wine. “Well. Sort of.”

“‘Sort of' is not reassuring,” Dad replied.

“Gia and I did some . . .” Jack paused and glanced at me. “Research, and found ourselves at the Dumpling Hospital this afternoon.”

“The Dumpling Hospital?” Dad repeated. “That creepy little restaurant in China Town? That place is a dump! What were you guys doing there?”

I looked at Jack, who gave me a tiny nod of encouragement. “Well,” I began, fiddling with my iPhone nervously. “I had a suspicion that the poisoned dumpling that Brendan ate was meant for me.”

“Why would you th—”

“So then,” I intervened, cutting him off before he started to grill me on specific facts. “I asked Jack to do some research and we found out that Brendan had ordered catering from the Dumpling Hospital. So after school today, Jack and I went to the restaurant just to check it out, and I was looking for the toilet when I came across this break room type of thing. So I went in there and found a picture of me, lying on the table in the room.”

I took a deep breath and leaned back expectantly. About ninety-seven percent of that had been true, which was a lot more than I thought I would blurt out. Dad gently placed his wine glass down and I glanced at Jack uncertainly. He opened his mouth to say something, probably in a yelling voice, but luckily the chime of the doorbell cut him off. Saved by the bell.

“I'll get it!” I cried, jumping up and practically sprinting out of the room.

“Gia!” Dad called from behind me.

Stella was already near the door when I got there, but I told her I would get it and that she could continue going about her business, whatever that was.

“Mom?” I said, swinging the door completely open. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, kiddo!”

If there's one thing you should know about my mother, it's this: she
always
looks amazing. To the point where you want to curl up under your blankets with a giant tub of Ben and Jerry's ice-cream and
Sex and the City
reruns so that you can soothe your self-esteem back to a healthy level. Needless to say, she was never allowed to come to a parent-teacher meeting. Not that she would have been into that anyway.

“Well, are you just going to stand here gaping at me or are you going to invite me in?” she asked, already pushing past me.

She spun on her velvet Prada pumps to face me, her blonde locks sliding gracefully over her shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated, closing the door behind me.

“I know, I know. I was supposed to get in tomorrow afternoon, but those morons canceled my meeting so I thought, why not take an early flight?” she said casually, handing me her handbag like I was a bellboy.

I took the bag from her and held it against my chest like it was a baby. “You were supposed to get in tomorrow?”

“Your father didn't tell you I was coming? Typical. That man has the memory of a goldfish.” She paused, inspecting my face. “What happened to your hair?”

I put my free hand to the ends of my hair, lifting it up consciously. It looked normal to me. “Nothing. Why?”

Mom gave me a look that was almost sympathetic and said, “It looks a little dead at the tips. I'd put something in it, sweetie.”

Dad entered the main hall just as I did some frustrated eye rolling, and looked at my mother in surprise, wine glass in hand.

“Evelyn! I thought you were coming to stay with us tomorrow?” Dad asked, walking over and giving my mom a hug.

So that's why I had to be prepared! Mom explained once more that her meeting with some director got canceled right as Jack walked in, and I immediately began to panic. If Mom hit on Jack, which she most likely would, I was pretty certain I would die. And if it wasn't bad enough that my hot, forty-something mother was going to make a move on my hot, twenty-something bodyguard, she actually had a chance!

“Hi!” Mom greeted Jack with a bright smile. The smile of a lion right after he's spotted his prey.

“Ev, this is Jack, he's Gia's bodyguard.” Dad introduced, and I looked at him in alarm.

“Dad!” I said sharply, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought we weren't supposed to tell anyone about our bodyguards!”

“Yes, well I'm not just anyone, kiddo. I'm your mother,” Mom replied for him, eyes still on Jack.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Winters,” Jack said politely. “I'm a big fan of your movies.”

I dropped Mom's bag to the floor. Of her movies? Yeah right. Mom was a former Playboy bunny. He was a fan of something else, for sure.

“Nice to meet you, Jack. I'm Evelyn, but you can call me Eve.”

I cringed, mentally praying that she wouldn't crack some type of Adam and Eve sexual innuendo. Luckily, Mom decided to play it cool and took Dad's wine glass from his hand, taking a sip as we all walked back into the living room. She stopped me just as we re-entered the room, pulling me to one side.

“What's the deal with Jack?” she whispered. “Is he your boyfriend? I wouldn't mind a piece of that.”

I resisted the urge to throw up and said, “Mom! I'm still dating Brendan, remember?”

“Still?” Mom asked, with a look of disappointment on her face. “Really? I mean he's sweet and all. Great body too, but the boy is dumber than a box of hair.”

“Mom!”

“I'm just saying!”

“Well now that you're here,” I said, looking hopeful. “Do you think we could have that mother-daughter spa session we never got around to last time?”

“Sweetheart I have so much on my plate this trip,” she said, and I pouted. “And I'm only here for a few days! But I promise I'll try and squeeze you in.”

Well gee, just what every daughter wants to here. What an honor to be “squeezed” in to see your own mother. Mike suddenly appeared out of nowhere and Mom's attention immediately diverted to him. She thrust the wine glass in my hand and ran right over to Mike, enveloping him in a big hug and ranting about how tall he was getting. All I got was a smile and a job as her personal bag-holder. I handed the glass back to Dad and sunk onto the sofa with a sigh. After a few seconds, Jack took a seat next to me.

“What are you all pouty about?” Jack asked, watching my parents talk.

“Just look at her! She's perfect. She makes everyone look like dog food,” I said bitterly. “It's so unfair.”

“Oh come on. You're not too bad yourself.”

I cocked up an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” I said, turning to Jack.

OH MY LORD, BE STILL MY POOR HEART.

“Sure,” he replied, giving no indication that he was joking. “I know Chris is always going on about how hot you are.”

“Chris?” I exclaimed, giving him an incredulous look. “You mean Mike's bodyguard, Chris? You mean Mr. Silence?”

Jack gave a light shrug. “Yeah. He was talking about it the other day. He asked me what I thought about you.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what did you say?”

Actually, I wasn't sure I was really ready to hear the answer to that. Jack's grin formed slowly, but he didn't say anything to add to it.

“Gia!” Dad said suddenly, and I snapped my attention back to my parents. “I think it's time to resume our little conversation, don't you think?”

“Ooo!” Mom said, looking almost excited. She lowered herself onto one of the throne chairs. “Your dad has his strict parent voice on. What did you do wrong?”

“Is Gia getting in trouble?” Mike asked, looking up from his phone.

“No,” I said, glaring at him.

“Yes,” Dad said at the same time, and I sighed.

“I didn't even
do
anything wrong! If anything, I helped us. Now we have more clues about this Dr. D person.”

“Wait, somebody fill me in,” Mom said, wide eyed as though she were watching her favorite soap opera.

“Your daughter received a text message last week from somebody named Dr. D. It said he was ‘always watching
,'
” Dad told her.

“What?” Mom cried, turning to me with a look of disbelief.