Priced to Move

Max’s eyes give off sparks. “I do not. I just know how to present myself to an audience. Better than you. You might want to learn.”

When I don’t dignify him with a response, Miss Mona says, “Andie?”

I don’t like her thoughtful expression, but I can’t refuse to respond. I’m not that rude. “Yes?”

“You might have a point,” she says, “but not the one you tried to make. Max may or may not think he’s the best thing that ever happened to American TV, but he is the best thing that’s happened to you, your show, and our network. When he baits you, he brings on the entertainment. Then you can bring the information. It’s brilliant. And it works.”

Max blushes—a true rarity.

Aunt Weeby nods. “You might just want to give this some thought, sugarplum.”

A sense of betrayal simmers up in my gut—my roiling gut, mind you—but before I can say anything, Miss Mona jumps in.

“Just don’t go overboard with all the peace and love. I need you two to keep on arguing on the show. It’s the formula that works.”

Feeling cornered, I back up toward the office door, my head throbbing. I rub my temples. “I’m confused. You want me to cooperate with Max, but you also want me to argue with him.”

Miss Mona claps and beams at me. “That’s exactly it!”

My head’s spinning, and I can’t think past the pounding in my temples. I look at Max, and the thoughtfulness on his face makes me even more jumpy. When I look at Aunt Weeby, I know for sure I’m in real trouble. There’s a whole lot of matchmaking going on.

I square my shoulders and press a hand to my woozy middle. “Maybe I ought to make Danni happy and just quit.”

“No!” Aunt Weeby yelps.

Max steps toward me, stops inches away. “Please, don’t.” “The network needs you!” Miss Mona wails.

I’ve just learned a new medical truth: being ganged up on makes a woman lightheaded. “This is too bogus.” I rub my forehead. “You guys don’t play fair. It’s three against one, three nuts against the only sane one.”

“It’s not a battle, Andie,” Max says. “We all want what’s best for the show. You just happen to take yourself too seriously.”

Eeuw! Who wants that? “Okay. Fine. Ya’ll think I’m the problem here. And maybe I do need to think about what you’ve said, but it’s so not fair. I can’t think while you’re all ganging up on me.”

“Go home,” Miss Mona says, her voice gentle. “Think about the shows you’ve done. Think about what we’ve said. Think about what you really want—for the show and yourself, and pray. Then come back and we can talk it all through.”

Do they think I can think about anything else? “You got it. It probably is for the best if I go. My head’s spinning and it’s all made me queasy—”

“Out!” a man calls from the hall. “Gas company here. There’s a leak in the building. I need everybody out. And don’t go crazy on me and panic now.”

I, of course, freeze.

Aunt Weeby clump-clumps past me. “C’mon, sugarplum. Let’s get to getting.”

Miss Mona hugs her small office safe to her chest, and hurries out.

Max says, “Move, Andie.”

But I can’t move. A gas leak. How can that be? Gas leaks don’t happen out of the blue.

Then big hands clasp my shoulders. “Andie?” Max says. “Are you okay? Did you hear we have to leave?”

I nod in slow motion, but still can’t make my feet work.

So Max takes action.

He scoops me up in his arms and heads out the door.

I let out a weak excuse for a shriek. Worse, I can’t bring myself to fight him. Instead, I give up to the dizziness, lean my head against his shoulder, and let his strength work for both of us.

You know I’m scared. More scared than even when bullets came flying at us in Myanmar. And let me tell you, that was scary.

Even when we get out into the fresh air, I can’t shake the certainty that this is no accident. This gas leak is part of something bigger, part of everything that’s gone really wrong.

It’s part of the murder.

And the rubies sit front and center of it all.

Not just any rubies either. It’s all about that missing parcel of multimillion-dollar Burmese rubies.

No one’s had to tell me.

It all adds up.

16⁰⁰