“Are those supposed to mean something?” I asked.
Felix didn’t look up, intently watching the numbers grow. “Not yet. Give it time, love.”
Fifteen minutes later my eyes were starting to bug out from watching numbers fly. I rubbed at my neck, trying in vain to work out some of the stiffness. I rummaged in my purse for an aspirin, then remembered I’d given the last one to Dana.
“Hey, do you have an aspirin or something?”
Felix motioned down the hall. “Bathroom’s the first left. Check the medicine cabinet.” He looked up from the screen. “You all right?”
“Just dandy, ” I told him as I went in search of relief.
I followed the hallway and made the first left into a bathroom the size of my entire studio. A sunken Jacuzzi tub took up one side, while a marble-topped vanity spanned the other. To the right of it hung a beveled-glass medicine cabinet. I swung the door open and, to my relief, spied the aspirin right away. I downed two with water from the faucet, resisting the urge to snoop through Felix’s cupboards.
Okay,
With a quick over-the-shoulder, I opened the two beside the sink, disappointed to find only a stash of clean linens. I tried the next two, coming up with a Water Pik, a hair dryer (that, judging by the perpetually tousled state of Felix’s hair, had likely never been used), and a Costco three-pack of Listerine. Well, at least he valued dental hygiene. I opened the next cupboard and instantly blushed as I saw that mouthwash wasn’t the only thing Felix bought in bulk. A double pack of the biggest Trojan boxes I had ever seen. A bright red sticker on the front touted,
I quickly put the box back and scuttled back down the hall to the computer room, ducking my head to conceal my ruby cheeks.
I found Dana hovering over the monitor, her head bent toward Felix’s as they whispered about something.
“Ahem, ” I said, clearing my throat loudly.
Both Felix and Dana jumped at the sound of my voice. Dana got a sheepish look on her face and began guiltily twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, no doubt thinking what Therapist Max would have to say about her flirting with tabloid reporters.
Felix cleared his throat. “Say, this looks like it could take me a while. Why don’t I call you when I have something on this guy?”
“Works for me.” I grabbed my purse and, steering the reluctant Dana by the elbow, made for the front door.
“It was so nice to meet you, ” Dana called over her shoulder.
“Likewise, ” Felix replied, a few steps behind us.
“Like I said, give me a call if you ever want company in that hot tub.” She added a couple of eyelash bats for good measure as I shoved her out the door ahead of me.
Felix chuckled. “I think your friend likes me, ” he said as we watched Dana beep open the driver’s-side door.
I turned on him. “She’s in SA, you know. She’s celibate, and the last thing she needs is to get involved with another Mr. Wrong.” Even as I took an indignant pose, I couldn’t help my gaze straying down his khakis into “Magnum” region.
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Are you warning me away from her?”
I snapped my eyes up to meet his and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes.”
The other side lifted into a full-fledged smile. “Don’t bother. She’s honestly not my type.”
I snorted, keeping my eyes (with difficulty-I mean, who really buys extra-large Magnums?) on his. “Oh really? Tall, stacked, blonde aerobics instructors aren’t your type? What is then?”
He paused, his smile faltering as he stared at me, his eyes blinking back what I could swear was a sincere emotion bubbling just below the surface.
For half a second I was almost afraid of his answer.
But then the Tabloid Boy I’d come to know and dread resurfaced. “You know me, I live for the story. The only thing that gets me hot and bothered is a report of the Loch Ness Monster surfacing to chat with Bigfoot.”
“Very funny. Who’s the comedian now?”
He grinned, showing off twin dimples. “Listen, Dana told me about your fan in the Rover today. I know you’ve got wicked accuracy with the pepper spray, but I think you should consider something a little more serious.”
“What do you mean, ‘serious’?’
“I mean a real weapon.”
“The pepper spray is fine. It stopped you, didn’t it?”
He shot me a look.
“All the pepper spray did was piss me off. Were I really bent on harming you, I still could have.” Felix went to a low cabinet along the wall and opened a drawer. He pulled something out and slipped it into my hand. “Here.”
I looked down and blinked. “A gun?!”
“It’s a.thirty-eight pistol. Easy to use, all you have to do is pull the safety back like this”-he flipped a little metal switch-“then point and shoot. Simple.”
I shoved it back at him. “No, I don’t want a gun.”
“Maddie, someone out there is trying to harm you. You walked away from them today, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be back tomorrow. Please just take it.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn there was genuine concern in his voice.
Before I had a chance to respond, Felix shoved the.38 into my purse.
I suddenly felt as if my Kate Spade were carrying a ticking time bomb.
“Are we leaving or what?” Dana called from the drive.
“Coming, ” I shot over my shoulder. Then I turned to Felix. “You’ll call me the second something comes up on our PayMate search, right?”
He nodded and held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Satisfied, I jogged over to the car and got in as Dana revved up the engine. I could see Felix still shadowed in the doorway watching us as we pulled away, the weight of my purse eerily unnerving.
Half an hour later Dana dropped me off in front of my studio, hightailing it to a SA meeting in Van Nuys. (First heartthrob Ricky, then, as she’d put it, Brit-o-yummy Felix were more than her positive-sexual-sobriety self could take.)
The patrol car was still comfortingly parked across the street, and I gave the uniformed cop a little wave as I climbed my steps. No response. Figured. I didn’t have real good luck with cops lately.
Probably due to the police presence, my doorstep was luckily roadkill free as I let myself into my apartment and saw my message machine blinking like mad. I hit the play button, letting the mechanical voice tell me I had two new messages as I stripped off my clothes in favor of an oversize Aerosmith T-shirt.
“First new message, ” it informed me.
“Maddie, this is Mr. Shuman at Tot Trots.” I groaned, staring at my abandoned design table. “I just wanted to remind you that we’re expecting the Pretty Pretty Princess designs by Monday. Mrs. Larson’s threatening to reassign the My Little Pony flip-flops this summer if you’re late again.”
I made a mental note not to neglect my real job and to finish those sparklies and bows tomorrow. If I lost the My Little Pony account, there went rent. Not to mention those strappy Santana sandals I’d had my eye on.
The machine clicked over to the second message, and Dusty’s shaky voice filled my studio. “Hi, it’s Dusty. Um, listen, I…I kind of need to talk to you, Maddie. It’s important. Please call me back as soon as you get this message. I…It’s important.”
“End of messages, ” the machine informed me.
Something about the urgency in Dusty’s message had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I quickly grabbed the receiver and dialed her number. It rang three times. Then four. Five. Finally I gave up after the tenth ring and redialed. Still no answer.
