Lucky Me (25 page)

After about thirty seconds I heard footsteps walk away, the bathroom door squeak open, and finally close quietly. It opened almost immediately after, more fiercely this time.

“Gia?” I heard Jack ask the empty room.

“Oh my gosh,” I sighed, swinging the stall door open and walking toward the sinks. “This just keeps getting better!”

Jack grinned and put a hand in the pocket of his suit. “I hear that a lot from women.”

“Could you not be a pig for like one second and listen to me, please?”

“Jeez, I'm listening. What?”

“Claudia's story! It's going to help us right?” I asked, leaning my back against the sinks.

Jack shrugged and said, “It's definitely more than we had before tonight. At least now we know this AJ guy is definitely involved. Oh and by the way you are a
terrible
spy. You kept talking right into your bra. It looked so obvious!”

“Shut up! I was doing my best. You try having a microphone in the middle of your chest. Whatever, what do we do now?”

“I say we go home. I don't think we can ask her any more questions without looking suspicious. I'm surprised she even went into that much detail.” Jack looked around the bathroom thoughtfully, as if distracted. “I've had some good memories in these places.”

I rolled my eyes. Great. Now I'd forever have the image of Jack and some twig-like super model pressed up against the inside of the stall door, doing God knows what in God knows where.

“What's that on your hand?” I asked, noticing black ink scribbled across Jack's right hand.

“This?” Jack replied, glancing at his hand. “A phone number.”

I glared at the messy numbers. “Whose is it?” I said casually, flipping my blonde hair behind my shoulder.

Jack's lips curved into a smile as he turned to face me. “Laura's.” I raised my eyebrows at him and Jack's smile grew wider. “A charming young lady I met on the couches outside. She's on vacation from Australia with her friends from college. Couldn't you hear all of that?”

“No! I was too busy doing what we came here to do instead of hitting on desperate girls at a bar.”

“She wasn't desperate! She was cute, so we talked.”

“Yeah, I'll bet you two really hit it off over your love of riding the waves.”

I turned to face the mirrors with a confident look on my face. Too bad it didn't look confident; it just looked defensive. I could feel Jack's eyes burning into me, that famous half-smile still plastered on his face no doubt.

“You're jealo—”

“I'm
not
jealous!”

“You're
so
jealous.”

I whipped my head around to face Jack. I was
not
jealous. If Jack was going to be a player then that was his decision and it had nothing to do with me. He could press anyone he wanted up against the stall door for all I cared. He could freaking break the door. What did it matter to me? I was practically in an almost relationship with the hottest police officer ever. I just needed Milo to call me, but when he did, we'd be together for a very long time. And Jack's life would be a meaningless vacuum of super models.

“I don't have time for this!” I exclaimed, pushing past Jack roughly and swinging the bathroom door open.

I stalked over to the bar and faked a smile as I approached Claudia, who was pouring a drink for another customer.

“Hey, I'm going to head off now. Do I pay here?” I asked, glancing at my untouched Cosmo that remained on the bar top.

“Hey,” she replied, placing the margarita mix down. “Some guy settled that for you.”

“What?”

“He also told me to give you this,” she answered, holding out a napkin with writing on it. “He was kind of old, but I guess it could be worse. He could have been hot back in the day.”

I practically snatched it off her, almost ripping the napkin in the process. In the center of the napkin there was a thick black line with a type of box on top of it, and another antenna-like line protruding from the box. In the bottom right corner there was a small “D,” as if it were a signature. I had no clue what the black lines meant, but it seemed to resemble some kind of Chinese character.

“Who gave this to you?” I asked her more urgently.

She looked around the room for a few seconds before finally pointing to the main entrance. “That guy. The one who's just about to walk out.”

My gaze followed her outstretched hand to the door. A tall man with a brown leather jacket was leaving the club. I couldn't see his face, but I had a feeling I knew who he was.

“Jack!” I cried, twirling around and finding him standing right behind me.

Jack looked at me, the front door, and then back at me. He suddenly took off in a light jog, and I followed in my outrageously high heels. I gripped the napkin in one hand and my bag in the other, trying not to trip over my own feet. Poor Claudia looked at us with alarm, clearly lost as to my sudden change of behavior and association with the “grey suit guy.”

Jack pushed the door of the Coco Club open and stopped right outside the entrance. I slammed into his side and grabbed onto his arm to steady myself.

“Where'd he go?” Jack asked, his eyes scanning the few people on the sidewalk.

The man in the leather jacket had completely disappeared. It was hardly a mob outside, so it's not like we had lost him amongst a crowd. But even still, we had no clue where he had gone. The bouncers were looking at us with raised eyebrows and I asked them if they had seen a man with a brown leather jacket on. Both bouncers said they hadn't. There was still a line of people waiting to get inside the Coco Club, so it was easy for him to have slipped past without anyone noticing. Jack ran halfway down the street, scanning the surrounding area with no luck.

My phone buzzed as I walked toward him with a defeated look on my face. It was from Mike.

Dad's on his way home and you isn't home soldier. P.S. buy me chocolate kthanksbye cuz.

Oh great. As if the night needed to get any worse than it already was, yet another obstacle had been placed in our way. We just come agonisingly close to coming into contact with Dr. D and now I'd never live to see him because Dad was going to kill me if he made it home before we did.

“Shit!” Jack exclaimed, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “We came so close!”

He dropped his gaze to the ground, shaking his head. I knew exactly how he felt. The disappointment was practically consuming me whole.

“So now what do we do?” I asked Jack.

For the first time since I had met him, Jack had nothing to say.

Chapter Seventeen

To explain the events that took place at the Coco Club would involve telling Dad that I had used a fake ID to get into a club and that I'd left my little brother at home with his bong pipe. Just a few months away from my senior year exams. So Jack and I decided it was probably a better idea to keep that little adventure on the down low.

We had only just managed to run through the doors before Dad and Kenny arrived home. I managed to squeeze in a second to rip the wig off my hair, wincing as the pins dug into my scalp. But I was still all dressed up in my dress and heels, and Jack was in a suit, which raised some questions when Dad walked in. My brilliant excuse had been a complex game of charades, to which Jack, Chris, and Mike all agreed profusely with. Luckily for us, Dad was too tired from complaining about great movie opportunities to delve too deep into the matter.

That night I slept with the napkin Dr. D had left for me under my pillow, as if I would wake up in the morning and the tooth fairy would have left me a ten dollar bill in its place. A clue as to who Dr. D was and what he wanted would have been more helpful, but seeing as I got neither the ten dollars nor the information I needed, I took the napkin with me to Miss Golden Globe rehearsals at the start of the week.

It was just over two weeks to go ‘til the big day, and Carol was driving me insane. I just couldn't please the woman. The way I walked was “all wrong,” I always missed my cues and I always had a “nervous look on my face. Kind of like a beaver.” There was zero appreciation for the effort I was making, including strutting around the house daily, and practicing my award-winning smile. Jack was just about ready to throw me through a window from all my tedious practice of handing pepper mills to him, pretending it was a trophy and he was Ben Affleck. But nothing seemed good enough for Carol. She just kept sighing deeply and rubbing her temples every time she saw me.

As if all of this wasn't bad enough, Milo
still
hadn't called. What, was he in a coma or something? Because other than that, there is NO good excuse for giving a girl a life-changing kiss, offering to buy her frozen yogurt, and then disappearing! Even being abducted by aliens wouldn't cut it; they have lots of communication devices in their little spaceships. I had tried to move onto a new strategy of coping, which mostly involved playing “Independent Woman” really loud while I was getting ready in the morning. As it turns out that was not a great idea, because grooving to Destiny's Child is actually very dangerous in a slippery shower. The fierce finger snapping alone almost cost me my life.

When Carol announced that we should take a ten-minute break before we had our practice with Billy Crystal, I was just about ready to run away with my maxi dress and four-inch heels on and never look back. I mean, what were the chances I'd actually come into contact with George Clooney anyway? If my dad hadn't gotten me that opportunity yet, I doubted Carol Beaufort would.

“Take me home,” I groaned as I sunk into the chair next to Jack.

“You're not
nearly
done with rehearsals yet,” Jack reminded me, eyes glued to his phone as usual. “Carol's forehead vein still looks like it's a decent size. You haven't infuriated her enough.”

I frowned and picked up my English essay that was lying on Jack's lap. I had asked him to make himself useful and proofread my homework while I was getting yelled at, so I'd have one less thing to worry about when I got home.

“What did you think?” I asked him, hopeful that I had managed to get at least one thing right in my life.

Jack turned to me with a less than reassuring look on his face. “It's not . . . bad.”

I gave him a knowing look. “That doesn't mean it's good.”

“Yeah, it's not good.”

“Jack!”

“Gia,” Jack's voice softened, as if he was about to deliver me the news that my cat had died. “It didn't make any sense. You were supposed to be writing about the themes in the
Lord of the Flies.
But it was all over the place.”

“It was not!
”
I cried defensively.

“You spent way too much time on the characters.”

“The characters are the important part!”

“Yeah, but the essay is about the themes.”

I pouted with disappointment, crossing my arms across my chest like a stubborn five year old. I had woken up early just to write that stupid thing before we left for rehearsals, all for Jack to say it sucked. What a waste of my sleeping time. Now I was going to have dark circles under my eyes and it was going to be all his fault.

“I hate that stupid book. It's so boring!” I exclaimed, watching Dylan talk to a man with a headset on. “And I hate being Miss Golden Globe! Dylan gets everything right, and I'm the massive screw up.”

“Boys have it easier,” Jack said sympathetically. “They don't have to wear heels.”

“Exactly! I'm going crazy here. My mom messages me a photo of a new gown every five minutes. And every time I tell her I like one, she declares that she hates it! Plus, we still haven't figured out what the napkin says, Milo
still
hasn't called me to declare his love, and I'm going to fail English because apparently the characters don't count as a theme!”

Jack watched me silently as I did some heavy breathing and mentally forced myself not to cry. We hadn't informed the police about the Coco Club yet, mainly because we had broken a few laws getting in. But I had no idea if I even wanted to tell the police anymore. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe they were wasting our time and we could figure it all out ourselves.

“Have you calmed down yet?” Jack said, turning so that he was facing me.

“I think so.”

“Good.”

I blew out another sigh and tipped my head back to look up at the ceiling. “I'm dying under all this pressure! My life is so unfair.”

“Seriously?” Jack asked incredulously. “Michael Bublé wrote a song for you on your seventeenth birthday, and you're complaining that your life is unfair?”

I blinked up at the ceiling, nodding sadly. “I tried to get John Mayer, but he was busy. Wait.” I cocked my head up and look at Jack quizzically. “How do you know about my birthday song?”

“I Googled you.”

“You what?”

“I had to do some research before the job! Make sure you weren't completely nuts.”

“And?”

“And you're completely nuts.”

I whacked him on the arm, which of course, was a waste of energy because he barely felt it. I groaned and said, “Yeah, well now all I have is tons of stress and a paranoid father.”

“Oh come on,” Jack said. “Give the guy a break! He's just trying to look out for you.”

“He's suffocating me with all his rules.”

“Gia,” Jack said seriously. “If my dad cared about me half as much as your dad does, I'd never complain.”

I watched him silently as he picked up my essay again and began scanning through it. Jack didn't talk about his life much. Or ever, really. Sure, he mentioned New York a lot, and Scarlett was always coming up in conversations. But I had never once heard about his parents.

“You don't get along with your dad?” I asked casually.

“Nope,” Jack replied simply, never taking his eyes off the paper.

I considered asking the next question, thought against it, then finally gave in. “Well, why not?”

Jack looked up at me, expressionless. For a moment I thought he was going to get mad, or just walk away. But then his jaw relaxed a little and he shrugged. “We have different ideas about how to run my life. That's all.”

I nodded at him, wanting to ask more, but deciding that I had gone far enough for one sitting. Besides, it wasn't like Jack was going to disappear in the next five minutes. There was plenty of time to grill him with personal questions later.

“Miss Winters.” I heard a familiar voice call from behind me, and Jack and I turned to look at the entrance of the grand hall.

Jack and I rose to our feet as Detective Reynolds and Milo walked toward us, past the chairs and tables that would be occupied by celebrities' perfectly toned butts in a matter of weeks. I kept reminding myself to act snooty and flippant. Who the hell did Milo think he was? I mean, you can't just kiss the heck out of someone and then pretend it never happened. That's just bad social etiquette. But my heart didn't share those thoughts. It was doing its break dancing thing that's usually followed by a British accent. Milo and his stupid uniform never failed to floor me, even when I was standing next to someone who looked like Jack.

“Miss Winters, Jack.” Detective Reynolds greeted us simply, extending his arm so that we could shake his hand. “We stopped by your house but your dad informed us you'd be here. We thought we'd fill you in on the latest developments in person.”

“Is everything okay?” Jack asked.

“It's going as well as it can, considering you have a stalker.” Detective Reynolds told us, and I stared at the ground so my eyes wouldn't accidently linger on Milo. “We visited Mr. Kai's girlfriend this morning, following up on a lead.”

My head snapped up from the ground and turned to face Jack. He gave me a look that told me to be cool, but I always did have a hard time with being subtle.

“What did you find?” Jack said, glancing at me.

I was concentrating so hard on avoiding Milo's gaze, I was practically glaring at Detective Reynolds with squinty eyes as if I was plotting his murder.

“Well,” Detective Reynolds began. “She told us that they had recently separated because she suspected he'd been involved in some illegal activity. She informed us that Ao Jie Kai's employer might have had something to do with large amounts of money he was suddenly receiving.”

“Drugs?” I asked, throwing my hair over my shoulder with my best
I have no prior knowledge about this topic
look on my face. I could practically feel Milo's eyes burning into my skin, but I kept my eyes away from him.

“It could be anything, really. It needs further investigation.”

“Ah,” I said unintelligently, with a fierce nod. “Well, thanks for stopping by, we really appreciate it! Okay, see you then.”

I spun on my heel, grabbing onto Jack's elbow in an attempt to lead him away before I started blabbing about
our
own encounter with Claudia.

“Uh, just a second, Miss Winters,” Detective Reynolds said, and I sucked in some air.

I considered running, or falling to the floor and faking a broken ankle. But I didn't have the acting abilities or speed for either one of those, so facing the police officers was really the only option I had.

I whirled around slowly, forcing a smile. “Yes?” I asked, hoping I looked innocent.

“Miss Finch did mention to us that there were two people who came into the bar yesterday. She said a young blonde woman asked her about her boyfriend and shortly after disappeared to the bathroom, re-emerging with a blonde man whom at first she portrayed as a stranger.”

“Really?” Jack asked pensively. “That's interesting.”

Detective Reynolds' gaze moved from Jack's blonde hair to my brunette waves. He nodded to himself slightly before continuing. “She said a tall man came up to her while the blonde woman was in the bathroom and paid for her drink. He also left her a napkin to pass onto the blonde woman.”

“Did she say what the man looked like?” I asked, flicking my eyes to Milo, who was staring at Jack with a tightened jaw.

“Brown leather jacket, green eyes, salt and pepper hair.” Detective Reynolds replied. “Looked to be in his late forties, fairly handsome.”

I racked my brains, struggling to place someone with that description. At this rate, Dr. D could have been any forty-year-old average Joe walking down the street. I also recalled Claudia saying, “could have been hot back in the day.” I doubted she had used the word
handsome.

“So where do we go from here?” Jack asked, maintaining his composure while I tried not to give myself a panic attack.

“We've requested that the bar hand over their security footage from last night. Hopefully the cameras caught him, and the two mysterious patrons poking around for information. We're also going to pay Ao Jie Kai a visit today, maybe tomorrow. We're hoping to get a lot of answers from him.”

I looked at Jack from the corners of my eyes, gripping onto my maxi dress with such intensity that I was scared my nails would rip through the fabric. If the police got their hands on that footage, they would easily be able to recognize Jack. Considering I barely recognized myself, I doubted anyone would be able to suspect me in that blonde wig. As convenient as that was, it didn't help the case Milo was probably mentally building against Jack, who would be unable to explain his presence at the Coco Club without looking like he was working with an accomplice for Dr. D.

“Well, that's just fantastic!” Carol's voice came from behind me. She marched down the stairs of the stage, eyes narrowed, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Carol, thi—” I began to explain, but she ignored me.

“Officer,” she said, approaching Detective Reynolds. “If you're going to arrest Gia for whatever she seems to have done, please do it after two weeks. I'm desperate here, and Gia was already our last choice.”

“Hey!” I cried, giving her an offended look. “Why would you automatically assume I did something wrong?”

“Let me guess,” she said, shaking her head with an unimpressed look on her face. “Parking tickets?”

“Miss, I assure you Gia is in no trouble. We were just updating her on her . . .” Detective Reynolds looked at me and I shrugged. “Parking tickets. We're just leaving, actually.”

Carol's eyes squinted as if she couldn't believe for one second that I hadn't done something wrong, before finally blowing out a sigh.