Undercover in High Heels (19 page)

“How far?” I asked, leaning forward.

“I was the one who first discovered her.”

“Oh?”

Margo nodded. “She was doing this terrible Actor’s Playhouse production in North Hollywood. I was there with my second husband, Randolph Amsted, the director of
Dorm Demons
?” She paused, looking expectantly at me, as if I should know him.

I nodded, playing along.

“Anyway, the play was awful, but Mia…I could tell she had something. She was driven. She
made
the audience pay attention to her. I convinced Randolph to put her in his next picture. You know, just something
small, like a bit part. He did, and she used that as the springboard to television. Of course, ” Margo added, a bitter note to her voice, “
Magnolia Lane
has been her big breakout.”

“I heard that Mia was originally cast in the role of Nurse Nan, ” I said watching her reaction.

Her blue eyes whipped around to me. “Who told you that?”

“Uh…” I shrugged noncommitally. “Not sure. I guess I just heard it…around.”

Margo narrowed her eyes at me, and for a second I feared I was going to get thrown out of the B-movie museum. But finally she just leaned back on her sofa with a little plastic burp. “I was the one who suggested her to the producers in the first place. She was supposed to be
my
supporting actress. But, being Mia, of course, she went behind my back and convinced them that she would be a better fit to play opposite Ricky.” Margo barked out a sharp laugh. “Please. I’ve had lovers half his age.”

I refrained from commenting on Margo’s math. Ricky didn’t look a day over thirty, and if Margo had fifteen-year-old fans, I was a rocket scientist.

“So, Mia got the role of Ashley and you got the supporting role?” I prodded.

Margo lit her cigarette, blowing a fine stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “At least on the small screen.” She looked at me, her eyes twinkling. “Did you know that FOX picked up the film rights? There was going to be a
Magnolia Lane
movie, starring yours truly.”

My heart leaped into my throat and my internal TV junkie did a happy squeal. “Really? Ohmigod—too cool!”

Margo smiled smugly. “Oh, yeah. ‘Cool, ’ all right. Even cooler? I was the executive producer. The movie was not only going to be my return to film, but also my revenge on that little tramp.” She took another long drag. “I was writing Mia out of the film.”

“Writing her out?” I asked. “But isn’t she the star of the show?”

Uh-oh. The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Margo froze, cigarette halfway to her lips, and gave me a death look.

“There are other inhabitants of
Magnolia Lane
, you know, ” she barked out. “Tina Rey and the electrician were the hot item in the ratings last season. And my lines have doubled since Blake went into that coma.”

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” Though I personally couldn’t imagine a
Magnolia Lane
without Mia. I mean, Blake in a coma and Nurse Nan hovering over him a story did not make. Where was the drama in that?

“Anyway, ” she went on, “that was going to be my revenge on the backstabbing bitch.”

“
Was?
” I asked, honing in on the word. “Did something change?”

Margo stood up, slashed her cigarette in the air. “Mia found out about film and pitched a royal fit! Suddenly the whole project’s on hold. And now with the letters and these murders, backers are talking about pulling out altogether. All because of that overrated prima donna.”

I waited while Margo took a long drag of her cigarette, exhaling vigorously before she sank down into the love seat opposite me, the plastic casing crackling beneath her frame. “I swear to God, if that wacko writing the letters offs Mia next, I’ll die a happy woman.”

I watched Margo’s nostrils flare in and out—thanks to the aggressive face-lift, the only part of her face that held any expression. The bad blood between the two actresses ran deep; that much was clear. Deep enough for Margo to kill two innocent victims just to get to Mia? I wasn’t sure. But if the treasure trove of artifacts filling her home was any indication, Margo took her films seriously. Mia’s sabotaging her comeback to the big screen just might be enough to put Margo over the edge.

I was about to ask Margo how well she had known Veronika when the maid came into the room again.

“Excuse me, miss, ” she said softly, addressing me.

I turned. “Yes?”

“There’s a woman out front. She told me to say”—the maid blushed—“to get your ‘fanny’ outside. She’s on the night shift tonight and if you don’t hurry the”—she paused again—“ ‘heck’ up she’ll take off without you.”

Any other time, I would have sent a return message that Porn Star Barbie could go to “heck.” But unfortunately she was my only ride.

I rose, painfully peeling my exposed thighs off the plastic couch, and thanked Margo for seeing me.

“Anytime, honey, ” she said, blowing smoke out through her nostrils. “My door is always open for a bitch session about Mia.”

Jasmine drove through the evening traffic back toward West Hills, having composed herself enough by now that instead of her seeming freaked, the set of her bony jaw just made her look pissed off. She was silent, no doubt using all her brainpower to mentally add up
how much it was going to cost to have her baby fixed. I took the opportunity to check my voice mail. Just one message. I keyed in my PIN number and got an earful of Ramirez’s growl.

“I’m at your place, Maddie. I couldn’t help noticing that neither you nor my officer is here. Where the hell are you, Maddie?” he asked, his voice growing louder with each word. “I got a call about a woman shooting at a blonde in a McDonald’s parking lot. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Then the slam of his receiver hanging up echoed through my ears as the message clicked over.

Needless to say, I didn’t call him back.

I looked out the window. The sky was turning dusky pink and blue as the sun sank behind the hills. It was clear that I couldn’t go home tonight without risking a) a pissed-off cop with a pair of handcuffs, or b) a pissed-off crack head with a gun. Ditto Ramirez’s place. Despite his invitation this morning, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be all smiles and sunshine at seeing me right now.

I hit speed dial and called Dana’s number.

No answer on her cell, and Daisy Duke informed me that she hadn’t been home all day. Great.

I looked across the console at Jasmine. If I bribed her with a front-page mention, I could probably spend the night in her den of iniquity, but the idea of strangers touching their tab A while watching me sleep was creepier than a stuffed ferret.

Which left me with only one place to go.

I bit my lip.

“Hey, Jasmine, do you think you could drop me off someplace?”

She gave an exasperated sigh and looked at her dash clock. “If it’s on the way. Where?”

I took a deep breath, hoping the slime didn’t rub off as I gave Jasmine Felix’s address in the Hollywood Hills.

The sun was long gone by the time we climbed the last ridge to Felix’s monument to modern architecture, the sky a deep blue by now, almost dark enough to see stars if the ever-present sheen of city lights didn’t blind them out. The night air had chilled considerably, and Jasmine and I were doing a teeth-chattering duet as wind whipped through her nonexistent windows.

“I swear I’ll pay for these, ” I stammered, feeling my lips turn blue.

“Damn straight you will! Are we almost there?”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Jasmine was eager to get rid of me.

“A couple more turns, ” I responded.

Jasmine mumbled something under her breath (I caught the words
blonde
and
pain in the ass
) and cranked the wheel to the right as she wound farther upward. Finally the trees broke, and Felix’s glass structure came into view.

“Wow, ” Jasmine said. “Who is this guy? And more
important, what does he like to watch? I could retire on a perv this rich.”

I ignored her comment, as, at the moment, the important question on my mind was, would he put up a slightly snarky shoe designer on the run from the cops for a night?

“You can let me out here, ” I said as she pulled into the drive.

Jasmine shot me a look and, for a second I could see her desire to meet Mr. Megabucks warring with her desire to be Maddie-free. For a second. Personally, I think it was the shot-out windows that put her over the edge.

“Yeah, fine. And don’t think I won’t send you the bill for the car!” she reminded me as I grabbed my purse and got out. I scarcely had the passenger door shut again before she had the Miata in reverse, peeling out of the drive and back down the hill.

I climbed the steps to Felix’s front door, crossing my fingers he was home. I gave a sharp rap and waited two beats while footsteps approached from inside.

Felix opened the door and stared at me.

“Maddie?”

I gave him a one-finger wave. “Hi. So, um, I need another favor.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Lovely to see you, too. What, me? I’m just fine, thanks for asking, love.”

If I’d had any energy left in me, I might have felt bad. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I hate getting shot at.”

At the word
shot
Felix’s face immediately lost its mocking hint, his eyebrows drawing together in a tight line. “Again? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. She’s got terrible aim. Can I come in?”

Felix stepped back. “Of course. I was just making some cappuccino.” He gave me a quick (sort of) up-and-down. “You look like you could use one.”

He motioned for me to follow him as he led the way down a hallway and into a kitchen massive enough to make Rachael Ray jealous. He proceeded to flip on a cappuccino machine the size of a Buick and pull two coffee mugs down as I sat at the granite counter and relayed to him the entire events of the day, starting with his gun getting confiscated (to which he asked whether I knew how much that thing had cost him—cheapskate) and ending with the Mickey D’s shootout and my conversation with Margo. By the time I was finished, we were both downing steaming mugs of cappuccino, and Felix’s forehead was permanently etched in a frown. No doubt from trying to take mental notes on every detail for the
Informer
’s headline tomorrow:
Blonde Fugitive Spotted Eating Massive Amounts of Apple Pie While Getting Shot At. By Bigfoot.
(Hey, they were the
Informer
. They took a little artistic license with their facts.)

“You think Margo did it?”

I rested my chin in both hands. “Maybe. I don’t know. But with Mia getting another note today, it sounds like whoever it is isn’t satisfied yet. I mean, if Veronika was a mistake, and Dusty was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, maybe whoever is after Mia will try again.”

“Personally, I’d say it sounds like she deserves it. Is there anyone she hasn’t screwed?”

I shrugged. “Beats me.”

“So, what’s our next move, Miss Marple?”

“Who?”

He shot me a lopsided grin. “Never mind.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but my next move is sleep. Which reminds me…” I trailed off, biting my lip. “I was kind of hoping that maybe I could stay here tonight?”

Felix raised one eloquent eyebrow at me.

But I didn’t give him a chance to say no, jumping right into the speech I’d mentally practiced on the way here. “See, my place isn’t safe, what with Isabel running around, and it’s still kind of trashed, and I can’t go to Ramirez’s because, even forgetting the fact that I don’t have a key, he left a really pissed-off message about escaping the babysitter, and he probably wouldn’t open the door for me anyway, and Dana’s not home, probably at SA, and Jasmine has cameras all over the ceiling, and, well, you were my last hope.”

“It’s always lovely to know I’m at the bottom of your list, Maddie.”

I ignored his sarcasm. “Please?” I pleaded, doing my best pathetic voice. Which, considering the day I’d had, wasn’t too hard to fake.

He paused, his face unreadable. Then finally he said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Come on. I’m sorry about the whole Deveroux-is-gay story. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Please, please, pretty please?”

Felix looked at me over his mug. He bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his blue eyes. I could see emotions at war, but I wouldn’t venture to guess what they were.

Finally he relented. “All right, you win. Guest room’s upstairs. First door on the left.”

I was so relieved I actually jumped off my stool and hugged him.

For half a second he went completely rigid. Then his arms circled around my waist. Lightly. As if he were almost afraid to touch me. Odd as it may sound, it actually felt kind of nice. His rough cheek pressed against mine, and I felt myself inhaling deeply the scents of spicy cologne and warm cappuccino.

“Thanks.” I lifted my face to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

And that was when it happened. Somehow his head turned. And instead of my lips coming up against stubbled cheek, they were suddenly on his lips. Soft lips. Lips that tasted like imported coffee. And they were moving, slowly, brushing over mine, warm breath whispering as they skimmed my bottom lip.

I think I made a little sighing noise.

And just like that they were gone.

I realized I had my eyes closed and opened them to find him two steps away, his chest rising and falling heavily, his eyes locked onto my mouth.

I blinked. What had just happened?

“Felix, I—” I started.

But he cut me off, his voice husky and thick with an emotion I didn’t
want
to guess at, as he turned his back to me and quickly grabbed both of our mugs, taking them to the stainless sink. “Guest room’s the first door on the left. Good night.”

I stood there watching his back for a full two seconds before I managed a feeble, “Good night, ” and followed the stairs to the first door on the right.

Which turned out to be a bathroom, because, of course, Felix had said “left, ” not “right.” So sue me if I wasn’t totally paying attention at that point. I’d just been kissed by Tabloid Boy.

And worse yet, I’d liked it.

I was on a beach. A white, sandy beach filled with palm trees and tropical breezes. The sound of the ocean roared behind me, the scent of salt water filling my nostrils as warm sun soaked into my skin. I was probably going to get a sunburn, but I didn’t care. It all felt too good.

I was wearing the itty-bitty blue bikini I saw on sale at Nordstrom’s last week, and lying on a soft lounge chair. I looked over to the side and saw another chair beside me. I was just wondering whose chair it was when he walked up. Shirtless. I think I drooled a little as Ramirez stood over me, his bronzed chest glistening in the afternoon sun, pecs rippling as he sank down beside me.

“Hi, beautiful, ” he said, his voice low and deep and accented with that unmistakable undertone of pure sex. He trained his dark eyes on me and slowly leaned in.

I closed my eyes as his lips brushed mine, letting myself melt beneath his touch. It was a slow kiss, long and sensual, as lazy as the sounds of the ocean crashing around us. I never wanted it to end. By the time our lips finally did part I was panting, my entire body burning for more. I slowly opened my eyes.

And saw Felix’s face hovering above mine.

I screamed, sitting straight up in bed. I took deep breaths (In…out. In…out.) My gaze whipped around the room. I was in a low, sleek bed. Blond wood, piled high with a white goose-down comforter and fat pillows. The walls were painted a stark white, splashed with abstract paintings in deep burgundies and greens. Plush white rugs dotted the hardwood
floors, and the windows were covered in light, flowing curtains, gently swaying in the breeze.

It took a few minutes before I a) stopped panting and b) remembered where I was. Felix’s house.

I groaned and fell back on the pillows, covering my face with my hands. Had that really happened last night? What was wrong with me? Felix, of all people. He was dirt, slime, scum. There was nothing redeemable about Felix.

Never mind the fact that just yesterday I’d been waking up in a different guy’s bed. A guy who was supposed to be my boyfriend. Oh God, had I cheated on my boyfriend? Was a kiss cheating? Was I a cheater? What would Ramirez say? I had a vision of him punching that clown.

And groaned again.

It had been the gunshots. The peril. The long day. The endless fights with Ramirez. Mercury in retrograde! That was all, right? I mean, it wasn’t as if I
wanted
to kiss Felix. Besides, it was just a kiss. And an accidental one at that! He turned his head. I hadn’t even meant to kiss him. I hadn’t even enjoyed it!

Much.

I popped out of bed, still in the spandex monster, and grabbed my pumps in one hand, purse in the other. I made a feeble attempt at smoothing my bed-head as I gingerly stuck my head out the door, peeking into the hallway. No sign of life. Good.

I slowly padded barefoot down the stairs, hoping to slip out before Felix woke.

No such luck. As I rounded the corner I spied him in the kitchen, in much the same place I’d left him last night.

He was standing at the counter, this morning’s copy of the
Informer
spread out in front of him. Khaki Dockers hugged his frame, and, despite the fact that I’d almost convinced myself The Kiss hadn’t happened, I felt myself blush as my gaze strayed to his Magnum territory.

I cleared my throat.

Felix glanced up briefly. “Morning. Coffee’s in the machine. Cups in the cupboard above.” Then he returned to his paper.

I set my purse and pumps on a stool. “Thanks. Uh, about last night…”

Felix looked up and gave me a blank look. “Yes?”

“Um, I mean, I just wanted you to know that…I mean, accidents happen and…you know, Mercury in retrograde makes people do strange things and…well, it’s not like I…”

I searched his blue eyes, but nothing stared back at me. No trace of emotion or the awkwardness that had me verbally tap dancing all over his hardwood floor.

“Did you have something to say, Maddie?”

I bit my lip again. “No.”

“Hmm.” He grabbed his coffee cup and took a long sip. “You know, you’ve got a serious case of bed-head.”

See? Scum.

I stuck my tongue out at his back as I poured myself a cup of coffee from the stainless machine in the corner. I was just taking my first heavenly sip when my cell rang from my purse.

I crossed the kitchen to flip it open just before voice mail picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Maddie, ” came Dana’s voice. “I got your mes
sages last night. You okay?” I heard her stifle a yawn as she asked.

“Yeah. Fine. Sorta.” I sat down and filled her in on the previous day’s events as I sipped my way through my steaming cup. “By the way, ” I asked as I finished, “where were you last night? Your roommate said you were out all day.”

Dana stifled another yawn. “Oh, you know, just kinda busy.” I heard her stretching.

“SA?”

There was a pause. “Um…yeah. Sure. SA. So, where did you end up spending the night?”

“Uh…” I looked across the kitchen. “My mom’s.” I cringed. Dana was my best friend. The last time I’d actually lied to her had been when I’d seen her tenth-grade boyfriend, Eddie Van Houton, kissing a cheerleader beneath the bleachers after fifth period. As much as I’d known the truth would hurt worse, I’d hated lying to her then. So I had no idea what made me do it now.

“Yep, me and Mom, all night long.”

Felix looked up and gave me the raised-eyebrow thing. I blushed, ducking my head down.

“Oh. Okay, ” Dana replied. “Oh, hey, listen. The reason I was calling is I just got some totally good news from my agent this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, only too glad to change the subject. “Do tell.”

“Okay, drumroll please. Ta-daaaaa, ” she said, drawing out the suspense. “Guess who is the one and only Mia Carletto’s new stand-in on
Magnolia Lane
?”

I froze. “No.”

“Yes! Can you believe it? How lucky am I?”

“Lucky? You do realize that the last person to hold this job is dead, right?”

Dana waved me off with a
pft
sound between her teeth. “Oh, come on, Maddie, what are the chances of that happening twice?”

I refrained from pointing out that it already had—with Dusty.

“I’m going to be a permanent member of the cast of
Magnolia Lane
. Like, how totally cool is that?”

Considering that the last person to fill this role had wound up strangled with a pair of support hose,
cool
wasn’t exactly the word I’d choose.

“Dana, please don’t do it.”

“What? Why not?”

I bit my lip. “What about the letter Mia got yesterday? This guy isn’t giving up. And if Mia really is the target, and he tries again…well, I just don’t want you in the way.”

“Don’t worry, Maddie, there’s, like, tons of security there now.”

Right. Which hadn’t helped Dusty at all. “Dana, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“The AD said I might even be able to speak a line now and then. A line, Maddie! You know how much SAG base pay for one line on
Magnolia Lane
is?”