CoverBoys & Curses (5 page)

Chapter Fourteen

A
Sticky Situation

THE
ALARM ON MY CELL sounded at five. Sleeping in the double King suite, Sterling
groaned in the bed next to me. I grabbed my phone to silence the shrill
ringtone. An early start would be the only way we could make a Sonoran desert
hike in August and survive.

 
“Let me get this straight, because it doesn’t
sound like the Lauren Visconti I’ve known since grade school,” Sterling whined,
“We’re supposed to start hiking somewhere in all this desert and assume we can
find something, but we don’t have a clue where to start or what we’re looking
for?”

Payton’s
last email to anyone was to me, and the words still made no sense to me.

Saguaro
National Forest. CAC Trail. 3 skeleton. Import

Carly
scrutinized the trail map. “Look here,” she said. “In her email to you Payton
wrote ‘CAC Trail’. It might not be the same, but here’s a trail named the
Cactus Canyon Trail.”

“It
clearly wasn’t a trail of paperwork from the Paris Bourse, so we have nothing.
That’s
something
. Let’s go hiking!”

We’d picked
up some cat food and made sure Teddy had plenty of water, then we hit the road.

We
missed the trailhead three times. When finally we parked our rental car and
laced up our boots, I had a single goal. If we were on to something, we were
looking for the next part of Payton’s email. Three skeletons.

“Do you
actually think we’re going to find three dead bodies up here?” Sterling moaned.

“Of
course not. For one thing, it’s been too long. Someone would have seen them.
But maybe it’s something like a skeleton. And maybe it’s not human,” I said.

“Still,”
Carly added, “I think we should look for lumps in the grounds.”

“You
mean like graves,” Sterling whimpered.

“Hell, I
don’t know what I mean,” Carly said. “But Lauren’s right. Payton was smart.
Damn smart. There are other definitions of the word skeleton.”

“Yeah,
right. Like what?” Sterling picked off cholla cacti that had already jumped
onto her legs.

Carly
stopped walking. “Supportive structures. Like frames. You know, bare bones
means the essential parts are left. There might be some old out-buildings up
here from early homesteaders.”

Sterling
resumed the hike, hollering back to us, “Now you’re talking. I prefer to think
we’re not up here looking for cadavers.”

We hiked
up a section of loose rocks, all of us with our eyes on the ground in order to
see unstable earth and rocks, icky desert critters, piercing stickers, and to
prevent falling on any three mounds of human remains.

“Skeleton
could me something very thin. Like, skeletal.”

“Are you
kidding me,” Carly said. “There’s a billion skinny looking cacti up here.”

“So we
look for a grouping of three,” I said, trying to keep the faith. Trying to make
sense of it all.

Carly
did a quick, “
Pffft
,” but lead the way. “Still,
there’s a billion Three Musketeers up here,” she said.

Three
and a half miles seemed manageable, but after the first mile the terrain grew
steeper. Luckily, we prepared for the harsh climate with plenty of water.

We stuck
to the trail, assuming Payton wouldn’t have ventured off it. Having lived in
the desert for so many years she knew about the dangers of reptiles and wild
cats more than any of us dared imagine. I only mentioned watching out for
rattlesnakes and Gila monsters once, when Sterling fell out from taking the
lead.

“I
didn’t even know Payton liked to hike,” Carly said.

Payton
had never mentioned hiking to me, either.

Carly
stopped to take a gulp of water and her vaporous eyes fixed on mine. “If we’re
even close to the
where
, just
what
are we looking for?”

“I don’t
know, but we all agree it must be important.”

“Yeah.
Maybe that’s what she meant when she typed the word import. Nothing she’s
importing, but it’s important,” Carly said.

Sterling
fiercely nodded her head in agreement, pulling out a clip to secure her long
blond hair off her neck.

Every
time we spotted an obvious cluster of three cacti or bushes, we hiked over to
them for a closer inspection. We’d root around at the base of them, look across
the horizon from where they stood in case something jumped out at us. Nothing
jumped out at us but for the cholla cacti.

Carly
cursed at the spines of the fuzzy cactus now piercing through her boot.

Using leather
gloves we’d picked up at the hardware store, we took turns trying to reach
inside some of the lower holes animals had carved into the giant saguaro. I
quickly deduced no one would hide anything that way unless they didn’t want it
to be discovered for a hundred years, when maybe the cacti would finally topple
over.

There
was nothing. No outbuildings. No mounds. No aha moment. No epiphany. No catharsis
to bring us hope. We left the national park grimy, sweaty, and emotionally stifled.

Exhausted,
we headed back to the hotel.

“What do
you make of the last word in Payton’s email to you, Lauren?” Carly asked.

“Fuck
that. We don’t even know what she meant by the three skeletons,” Sterling
bitched from the back seat.

I
glanced in the rearview mirror at the glamorous Sterling, now reduced to sweat
and stringy hair. “I think maybe she was writing the word important. Then again
maybe imports, like we said. It just confirms to me that because we are trying
to figure it out—because we know there is something to figure out, we all agree
Payton didn’t kill herself.

“Remember
she always signed off on her emails with a big BFF. One click on her computer
to include a signature. She ran out of time. And that wouldn’t have happened if
she was holding the gun to her own head.”

Maybe we
were wrong. Misguided friends unable to admit they weren’t there for another in
time of need. In time of life, or death.

On the
way back toward Tucson Sterling cried out, “Stop!”

“What?”
Carly asked as I already slowed the car.

“It’s a
tattoo parlor.” Sterling reached both arms up toward the front seats and
pressed them firmly on our shoulders. “Remember our plan with Payton?”

We did,
and we stopped. An hour or so later, after enduring the pain of what felt like
a knife attached to a jackhammer, all three of us walked back to our rental car
with identical tattoos on our right ankles. The artist told us they were the
Chinese symbol for friendship.

We had
agreed, when there were four of us, that we would stain our skin in friendship
under the needle of a tattoo artist. Without Payton, I suppose the entire
idiotic act was of a permanent gesture. Like blood sisters. And for Payton.

We really
had no idea if the symbol was authentic. It could mean walking slut, for all we
knew.

With
stained skin, we returned to L.A. Lala Land. With Teddy onboard.

Chapter
Fifteen

Questionable
Motives

The
man behind the counter at the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX looked
at me, his face registered with surprise and maybe, suspicion. “This claim
check’s pretty old.”

“Well,
yes. My trip was extended. I forgot all about it.”

He
grumbled something and disappeared behind the doors. Moments later, which
seemed like an eternity and long enough for me to feel like a thief and a fool,
he returned with a long travel case.

“Golf
isn’t my game, but you’d think you would remember your clubs” he barked.

Golf
wasn’t my game, either.

CARLY
RETURNED HOME to the mayhem of packed and stacked boxes. It was time for her to
move. Her heart leaped with excitement, tempered with a strong dose of worry.
But who didn’t worry when making a big move?

STERLING
LEFT THE AIRPORT in a white stretch Hummer limousine. Something about a
football player.

HARLAN
COAL SAVORED ONE more evaluating look at himself in the mirror, donning his
sunglasses before walking out onto the grounds. His assistant, Armand, crossed
the play area to meet him.

“That’s
it,” Armand said. “I delivered the keys. That’s the last one.”

“Sold
them all in three weeks. I guess we should celebrate.”

“Baseball?”

“Absolutely.”

The two
men disappeared behind one of the only locked doors on the entire compound
where four lines of cocaine had already been cut out on the table.

GABRI
SENT OUT invitations to her dinner party. Following etiquette, the more formal
the invitation and the earlier it went out, the more elaborate the event. She
didn’t want to compete with the
CoverBoy
opening coming up in two weeks. Most of her dinner guests would likely be on
that guest list. She decided it would be a hoot to follow the
CoverBoy
event with an even more
memorable evening. She knew real estate and she knew how to schmooze. Hand in
hand.
 

Gabri
got off the phone with Sterling Falls after thanking her for the new referral
to handle Carly
Posh’s
house closing. Sterling seemed
surprised.
She didn’t know Carly was
moving?

Stabbing
at the Posh Possessions’ envelope with her silver letter opener, Gabri pulled
the papers out in front of her. She read the documents page by page.

“Sonuva
bitch,” she said aloud.

For the
first time in her life, Gabri Criscione questioned grabbing a quick commission.
 
 
  
  
 

Chapter Sixteen

The
Gala

GEOFF
RECEIVED a call from his mother. It wasn’t good news. His mother heard the
voice of her dead Jamaican Obeah mother, and the living all better be
listening. After ending the call, Geoff knew that Lauren was in danger. And
Lauren’s refusal to admit it would make it more evil. So he had been warned.
And the number six. The number six was satanic, and all around Lauren Visconti.
When and how could he tell her?

IT WASN’T SUICIDE. It wasn’t
suicide. It wasn’t suicide.
This
is what I knew. But what could I do? How was I to react but in numbness,
blinded after my futile attempts to get at any truth. I had a life to live. I
had to be and live amongst the living.

The
CoverBoy
gala was in good hands. With an
applauded caterer at the helm, I knew all I had to do was dress and show up.
And that might be asking a lot.

I
remember feeling thankful to be there, although I still knew my footing was
uncertain in Lala Land.

The
nagging did not cease. It wasn’t a suicide. The anonymous note? I didn’t take
it as a threat, or even a warning. It only confirmed what I knew in my heart.
Suicide did not become my friend’s nature. She was too damn feisty to not go
down without a devil of a fight. Any fight.

I was in
the middle of big changes in my life. What do they say causes the most stress?
I’m pretty sure death, moving, and a new job all make the top of the list. Add
that my new job was my own company, and I now had over thirty persons relying
on me for their livelihood.

Baby
steps were huge for me. I was wearing the gown I had bought for my wedding
rehearsal dinner. A few more steps and I’d walk out of my private office into
the main lobby for the opening gala for
CoverBoy.
A party. No rehearsal needed. I glanced in the mirror to make sure my dress
hadn’t turned to paper.

“Lauren,
you look scrumptious,” Brock called out from the crowd ahead of me.

I hadn’t
seen Brock since the night of my arrival in L.A. He understood I was busy; I
understood he was a dickhead for going to bed with my good friend within 24
hours of screwing me.

“Glad
you could make it,” I uttered.

“Are you
kidding? I wouldn’t miss it!”

“Excuse
me,” I said. “I need to greet some other guests.”

Sterling
found herself already surrounded by an entourage of men. I guess I was glad
Brock wasn’t one of them.

“You
aren’t ignoring me, are you?” Sterling asked.

“Of course
not.” I always grew a little jealous around Sterling. She was breathtaking, as
usual. Her blond hair, thickly braided and pinned on top of her head, allowed
my eyes to follow down her neckline to the diamond necklace dangling in chunks
more dazzling than all the ice sculptures in the room.

“C’mon.
You’ve been here for a couple months and we haven’t had one drink together. You
didn’t even ask me to borrow a
bibelot
or two to wear tonight.”

I
reached up to touch the small necklace around my neck. A gold circle with my
engagement diamond mounted in the center. “Look around. I’ve been a little
busy,” I defended myself.

Carly
interrupted, making an appearance in a vamp Eddie Bauer look only she could
pull off. After Hollywood kisses, she said, “I have to run, but just wanted to
say hi.”

“You
just got here,” Sterling protested.

I knew
differently. Carly had been on-site since the early morning setting up the last
minute furnishings and handling a hammered woodworker who was getting a little
too creative with his tools.

“Does Carly
ever come with a date?” Sterling asked.

“Not her
thing,” I said as casually as I could. “You know that.”

“You’re
telling me she’s gay?”

“No.
More like A.”

“A?”

“Come
on, Sterling. How long have we all been friends? Carly isn’t interested. For now,
at least, I think she’s Asexual.”

Sterling
choked back her drink. “Sounds like she needs serious therapy.”

“She’s
in therapy. But I don’t think it’s about her preference for abstinence.” I was
surprised I knew more about Carly than Sterling. Although we were all supposed
to be best friends I instantly regretted saying anything, afraid I’d betrayed a
confidence.

Sterling’s
eyeballs rolled toward the ceiling. She burst out in a hearty roar of laughter
that even took the nearby goggling men by surprise. Diamonds bounced and
toppled as she hunched over the table. I could tell she was now immersed in a
new subject as I watched her zero in on her night’s prey. He was a tall,
athletic looking blond and as yet unaware that Sterling would win him for the
night. Daddy’s virgin little daughter would score with a stranger, again.

Yes. It
caused me to glance back at Brock. He circled the
rumaki
bar. Good.

I moved
across the room to check on Geoff and Sukie. Geoff had forgone his stardom as a
model and was showing off his new website design to a round of potential
advertisers.

Sukie peeked
at me with a smile that dissipated into a grimace. “What’s wrong, Laurs? You
like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Who are
those guys over there standing in the corner?” I pointed to two men with
cameras slung around their shoulders. No question about it. They were the same
two men I saw outside my hotel bungalow window. One had too much hair and the
other, too little.

Sukie
shrugged, “The press is supposed to just shoot cameos as guests arrive.
Otherwise, I thought I was in charge of all the photography for tonight .”

“Do me a
favor. Go check them out,” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Sukie came
back a moment later. “Sure enough. Press,” she said.

“From
where?”

“I
didn’t ask. They both flashed me ID cards. I figured all press was good press.
They said they wouldn’t use their cameras inside the doors.”

I turned
to scan the corner of the room again. They were gone. Occupying the same space,
a handsome man with impeccable dress and even more perfect dark hair, cast a
smile my way.

Sukie
whispered, “Ah, and their eyes meet across the crowded room.”

“There are
no eyes to meet,” I insisted. “He’s wearing shades. Even in L.A., I find that
indifferent.”

“Maybe
he’s a rock star.”

I looked
back, and again the corner of the room stood empty.