Mayhem Takes a Dare: The Second Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 2) (10 page)

An unexpected weight crushed her heart. “And what about me? Are you friends with me now as some sort of penance? Or because you feel sorry for me?”

Alex shook his head. “I am friends with you because I like you.”

I am so going to regret this,
Marisa thought. “I’ll play racquetball with you, Brandon, and Sarah.”

Turning around in slow motion, as if afraid quick movements would make her change her mind, Alex faced her with cautious optimism. “Thank you, Marisa.”

“No problem, Alex. Hey, your soul searching seems to have changed you. I knew something was different about you last night.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I only felt like killing you twice.”

The door rattled under a pounding knock. “What the heck! I never get visitors on a Saturday morning! I bet it’s my nosy neighbor Verna.” Marisa threw the door open. She would have lost her own wager.

Relaxed in his faded green t-shirt and khaki shorts, Parvis Stidham deftly drove his Jeep through the streets. Although his hair had been ruthlessly buzzed when he’d been in disguise four months ago, it had since grown out. It was still short, yet it suited his handsome face and his sky blue eyes.

Parvis glanced into the rearview mirror at Alex in the backseat. “I can’t believe this. I am in town for the weekend, and I dropped in on Marisa to see if she is still mad at me. It might have been simpler if she’d held a grudge. Instead, she’s invited me to participate in a complicated plot.”

Marisa opened her mouth.

“No, wait. Let me see if I have it straight.” Parvis turned his head to Marisa and then back to the road. “Alex offered to chaperone Brandon, the trauma hospital receptionist we had walked in on that night, playing horse and rider with his lady friend. Brandon has traded his equine-loving friend for Sarah, a stripper at the club. I have to remember to call her Taylor, her
nom de racquetball
. She is masquerading as a high school drama teacher and cheerleading coach, thanks to the miracle of the internet. I am not sure how the five of us will play racquetball, since it’s generally a two-person or four-person sport, but hey, I’m game.

“Tara, who has homicidal tendencies and nearly killed someone a few months ago, is the cruise director of the online live group where Brandon and Sarah, I mean Taylor, met. Dreamus Camden, the hard-nosed police lieutenant, is posing as a teen in order to bust a porn ring and is in a great position to investigate the murder of the Knight of the Round Ladies. Laithe the Demon Cat has turned into an innocent, loving little kitty.”

“Why do you always have to pick on Laithe? He is
not
a demon cat. You just got off on the wrong foot with him.” Marisa checked her racquetball bag.

“That saber-toothed tiger tried to eat my leg!” Parvis steered the Jeep into the parking lot of the gym. “I still have the scars to prove it!”

“Laithe likes me,” Alex laughed from his seat in the back. “Maybe he’s a great judge of character, Parvis.”

Parvis swerved into a parking space as he winced. “I think I’ve served my sentence for deceiving you both. I was the one who spent a ton of time with Fred and other members of the addiction support group. And I didn’t write about it, even though I’m an investigative reporter.”

“You know whining is extremely unattractive. There’s Brandon’s car. Remember, he doesn’t know Sarah is a stripper.” Marisa slipped out of her seat and threw her bag over her shoulder.

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth?”

“Parvis. Sarah helped us when we were in a tight spot. I told her at the bar last night that I wasn’t going to give her away. I’m going to tell her today that she has to tell Brandon the truth. I really think he has feelings for her.”

Alex joined them. “Maybe she sees Brandon as a solution to the problem of her abusive boyfriend. You know, some women—men, too—have to be ‘rescued.’ For whatever reason, they can’t ‘save’ themselves.”

* * * * *

Marisa wondered if there would be a penalty attached if she strangled her racquetball opponent. In ice hockey, she mused, she’d get ten minutes in the penalty box. Racquetball... she wasn’t sure. She was close to accepting the penalty, regardless of the severity.

Sarah, dressed in a hot pink sports bra and form-molding black spandex shorts, giggled incessantly. One more high-pitched giggle could push Marisa to murder.

Before they entered the racquetball court, Brandon had manfully taken on the task of explaining the game to Sarah. As he had talked, Marisa decided he was obviously smitten with the busty blonde. His eyes never strayed from her face, and he seemed enchanted by her dimples and giggles as he explained the rules of the game of racquetball.

When he’d indicated the red-lined rectangle on the floor, he’d told Sarah to stand in the serving box. Her giggle had escalated to such a high pitch, Marisa thought it might shatter the clear, Plexiglas walls of the racquetball court.

Alex and Parvis had both looked mystified at her strange reaction to the serving box, but Marisa rolled her eyes. Sarah’s stage name was Sara Lee, with lots of references to sweet icing and licking it off fingers...and out of the box.

For the past twenty minutes, Sarah had postured and posed on her section of the court. While she was behaving like she was in a Playboy photo shoot, Brandon ran his tail off returning volleys. Each time Brandon, sweat running down his face and his eye goggles slightly fogged, was successful, she giggled and jumped up and down.

Her huge chest, obviously store bought and not homegrown, jumped up and down with her.

Marisa wondered how much longer Sarah could defy the laws of gravity, and keep her breasts safely penned inside the top. If the jiggles were any indication, Marisa was fairly certain those breasts had a mind of their own.

Parvis caught Marisa’s gaze, and then carefully sent the ball to the wall, bouncing it right onto Sarah’s racquet. She squealed like an excited pig as it bounced off the taut net. Her short blonde curls had escaped the hair tie, and bounced around her face.

Marisa turned her head to smile at Parvis, ranged behind her with Alex in their back court. Although he was taller and more muscular than Alex, Parvis wasn’t quite as fast as Alex in returning Brandon’s volleys.

Marisa looked at Brandon. His mouth appeared slightly pinched, and, as Sarah giggled again, he frowned. She thought he might not be quite as entranced with Sarah. He looked a teensy bit annoyed.

As the small, blue rubber ball hit the walls and floor of the rectangular racquetball court, Marisa’s mind wandered to her relationship with Parvis. She wasn’t even sure if it was a relationship. As an online investigative reporter, Parvis had to work odd hours and travel in order to get his job done. Right after the denouement four months ago, Parvis had to travel to Washington, D.C., to work on a political exposé. Consequently, her only communication with him had been sporadic phone calls and emails.

In trying to return a brilliant shot by Brandon, who must have hit his second wind, Marisa lost her balance and hit the floor with a painful jar. As she easily bounced back to her feet and rubbed her aching behind, Marisa wondered what Parvis’ intentions were toward her. He’d sent her a brief email, telling her he had finished his assignment, was returning to town, and suggesting he stop by her house to say hello. She shook her head to herself. Did he mean he wanted to ensure there were no lingering hard feelings over his deception four months ago, or was he setting the foundation to ask her out on a date? With Alex in the house and in the car, they hadn’t had an opportunity to speak in private.

Marisa watched Parvis serve. His arms and legs were extremely muscular, and whenever his t-shirt rode up with his swings, she could see his smoothly rippled belly. She liked the way he always brought up his racquet and carefully swung it, with power and concentration, and never in a hurry. With an unexpected spasm low in her stomach, Marisa wondered if his lovemaking would be the same as his racquetball play.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she missed an easy shot.

Sarah giggled with glee. “Hey, Marisa, your mind must be on something besides the game!”

Involuntarily, Marisa turned her head. Her gaze involuntarily honed in on Parvis, standing behind her in the back court. His eyes were blue and intense, and focused very directly on her.

She shivered.
I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

He smiled, slowly and seductively, his mouth tilted up on one end.

Oh, yeah, I bet he is thinking what I’m thinking.
The ball popped her in the back of the head. She yelped and staggered.

“Marisa, we want to win, but not if it means rushing you to the emergency room with a concussion!” Brandon grinned at her.

After their showers, Marisa cornered Sarah. It was her first opportunity to talk to the dancer without the men around. The locker room was deserted. “Sarah.” Marisa purposefully approached the girl at the sink, where she was carefully applying her makeup.

Sarah had changed into a flirty pink dress, extremely low-cut to show the huge breasts, and a very short hemline, exposing the trim thighs. “What?” Sarah’s eyes widened innocently, and then skittered away from Marisa’s eyes in the mirror.

“Brandon appears to have feelings for Taylor. He thinks she’s a high school teacher and cheerleading coach.”

Sarah perked up. “Do you think he likes me?”

Marisa rolled her eyes in frustration. “He likes a woman who doesn’t exist, Sarah. If you really want a relationship with Brandon, you need to tell him the truth.”

“I can’t tell him the truth—”

“And don’t forget the little detail of your boyfriend. Are you still living with that guy?”

“I know I need to get away from Jake. I know he’s bad for me, and he doesn’t treat me right. I just need some time to get my sh— I mean, my act together. Then I’ll leave him.”

“Sarah. Don’t use Brandon to get away from Jake. If you don’t want to be with Jake, then leave him. Live on your own. If you want to see Brandon, then fine. But is it fair to lie to Brandon about who you are and use him to cheat on your boyfriend?”

“It’s not like that! Brandon thinks I’m smart and funny. He thinks I’m pretty, too, but that’s not the most important thing to him. He looks in my eyes when he talks to me, not at my tits. But if he finds out I’m a high school dropout and I strip for a living, he’s going to run away from me so fast he’ll leave skid marks on the floor.”

“You managed to capture his interest with your postings in Tara’s live forum and your emails, so you obviously—”

Sarah was shaking her head. “Um, not exactly.”

“What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”

“I mean, it wasn’t exactly me writing in the forum or the emails. Diana didn’t tell you she wrote that stuff for me?” Sarah was suddenly very busy with her lipstick.

Marisa thought of Diana, with her long fall of dark hair and her body fit from rigorous exercise and weight lifting. Diana was a smart, beautiful, and talented dancer at the club. Formerly, she’d been Diana the Huntress. She’d pranced around the stage in her abbreviated folds of white silk, brandishing her silver bow and arrow. However, when the patrons had changed the H in Huntress to a C, she’d dropped the persona. Now, she played the game of “throw the balled up bills into the g-string” with her customers.

“No, Diana didn’t tell me that.”

Sarah’s head jerked up in surprise, and her lipstick smeared. “Damn.” She dabbed at it with a tissue. “I thought you and she were close, even though you’re not hanging out at the club these days.”

When she had been leading her double life, Marisa had spent her nights at the strip club, drinking, watching the dancers, and cavorting with them. Over time, she’d become friends with Diana. In her forties, the dancer was realistic enough to realize she was nearing the end of her dancing days. Diana went to college during the day, and was working on her degree in social work. She was also working on her real estate license in her spare time.

After Marisa had gone through rehab for her alcoholism, she’d realized she couldn’t hang out at the club any longer. However, she and Diana had remained friends. Another factor cementing their friendship was Diana’s addiction issues. The exotic dancer had been addicted to painkillers, and managed to stay clean.

“Let me get this straight, Sarah.” Marisa leaned her hip against the counter. “You didn’t write the emails. You didn’t write the postings. You told Brandon you’re a high school teacher and a cheerleading coach. Even today, you’re not having a conversation. Every time he talks to you, you giggle. That incessant giggling is not attractive, by the way. What exactly is the basis of your relationship with Brandon?”

Sarah turned away from the mirror. “Brandon has a good job, he has a nice car, he’s getting an education, and he owns his own patio home.” Her eyes were as hard as blue marbles, and her face was pinched. “I know he’s younger than I am and his mother is an interfering old busybody, but he can take care of me, I can get away from Jake, and I won’t have to strip anymore.”

“What about Brandon’s feelings—”

Sarah threw up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Marisa. It’s easy for you to think you’re so superior. I certainly don’t see you taking your clothes off at the club every weekend.” She hoisted her gym bag on her shoulder and headed toward the locker room door.

“If you don’t tell him the truth, Sarah, I will.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Sarah slammed out of the locker room.

Marisa looked at her own angry reflection in the mirror. “I told you I was so going to regret this.”

In the lobby, Parvis and Alex looked from Marisa’s face, which she was sure was furious, to Sarah’s face, which was openly defiant.

Brandon was saying, “That was some great exercise. Let’s grab a drink at the bar.”

“I don’t think—” Marisa started.

“I have to get—” Sarah’s face was flushed and her hands were clenched on her bag.

Brandon was already leading the way. “Come on, everyone.”

After they’d settled on stools at the juice bar, the tanned and toned barista asked them what they wanted. Sarah jumped in first. “How about a bourbon and branch?”