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He leaned in, green eyes twinkling with mischief and…uh-oh. I knew that look. He winked. “I’m hoping for a belly dancer.”
My inner thighs tingled and racy thoughts undulated through my brain. “Time’s ticking,” I squeaked while grappling for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here,” he said, stealing a kiss before I stole away. “Thinking aboot what I’m going to do to you later. Naked.”
Zing. Zap.
I thought about the costumes in my closet and grinned. “How do you feel about French maids?”
CHAPTER FIVE
NIC HADN’T BEEN KIDDING when she said Fannie’s Flowers was in a snit. Just my luck, or Jayne’s luck, it was the boss herself.
A cashier showed me to a back room of the bustling store where Fannie labored over a gargantuan flower arrangement. Her work was lovely, her manner was not.
“Great,” she snapped. “A substitute.”
She paused and I fidgeted. She maneuvered random buds and I swallowed a lump of dread. She looked ticked and harried and I anticipated getting bounced from a job that wasn’t even mine.
She glanced at her watch, me. “What’d you say your name is?”
“Evie.”
“Listen, Evie, if you screw this up—”
“I won’t.”
“—Jayne’s fired.”
No pressure there.
“I’m thinking of letting her go anyway.”
“Please don’t.” I tucked my hair behind my ears, wet my lips. I told the truth. Sort of. “She’s been going through a rough time, but she’s coming around and—”
“Yeah, yeah. Life’s a bitch.”
I wondered if Fannie was always this brisk or if she was just having a bad day. I thought about my normally carefree, wacky friend and wondered if this job was worth saving. Except it did help pay the bills.
It also funded her Madame Helene habit.
One problem at a time, Evie.
Right.
Fannie jerked her head. “Follow me.”
Instead of showing me to the door, she led me deeper into the storage room. Mostly it was filled with flowers and vases and baskets—florist stuff. But beyond a case of ribbons and cards, I spied two racks of costumes—entertainer stuff.
“Ever done anything like this before?” Fannie asked.
“Lots of times.” Not a bald-face lie, just a spin on the truth. No, I’d never walked into a commercial office or a private home, singing birthday or anniversary greetings, dressed as a clown or some such stuff. But I’d appeared at plenty of parties or special events dressed as a clown or some such stuff. Sometimes I sang. Sometimes I danced. Sometimes I just roamed around in character making people laugh. I’m thinking that qualified me for this gig.
I was feeling jazzed and confident, but then Fannie produced my costume.
My mouth went dry. “You’re kidding.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is there a problem?”
It was my worst nightmare, literally, come to life. “No problem.”
I stared at the furry black costume, my mind reeling with the cosmic significance. For the past month I’d had sporadic dreams about gorillas. One involved wearing a gorilla suit, much like the one in Fannie’s arms, hawking used cars with a sign that said, You’ll Go APE For Our Prices. My ex-husband had been there with his arm wrapped around his new pregnant wife. He’d made an insensitive crack about my age. I took the dream literally, thinking it indicated the hairy demise of my career.
But Jayne had consulted one of her new age books, offering me a different account. “If you dream about apes then beware of a mischief-maker in your business or social circle. Unless the gorilla is docile. Then the dream is a forecasting of a new and unusual friend.”
I knew this was probably one of a hundred interpretations, but it did pique my interest. Since Arch and Beckett had entered my life at that time, it was hard to dismiss as hooey. Call me intrigued. Or obsessed. I still didn’t know if the ape dreams were warnings of trouble or forecasts of something good. I just knew I was still having them.
Fannie dumped the heavy suit in my arms then handed me my head, I mean the ape’s head. I didn’t even want to think about what it smelled like inside. Depended on who wore it last and if the shop had had it cleaned. I started itching and sweating and worrying about peripheral vision. But mostly I pondered the significance.
“You’ll want to put that thing on after you get there,” Fannie said, now searching through files. “Hard to drive wearing those big monkey feet.”
“I have a ride,” I said distractedly, flashing back on the time I’d arrived at an event via limo dressed as a bumblebee. Only this time Arch was my driver and I’m not sure I wanted him to see me as a gorilla. Dame Edna would have been sexier.
“Do you know the song ‘Born in the U.S.A.’?” she asked while pulling out a folder.
I knew every Bruce Springsteen song ever written. Well, the biggest hits anyway. My ex-husband had been a Springsteen fan since the singer’s Asbury Park days. As an entertainment agent, one of Michael’s favorite stories was the time he almost signed The Boss as a client. That story had always made me a little sad, because I could hear the wistfulness in his voice. Like me, Michael had had bigger dreams than Atlantic City. I’m beginning to think it’s the only thing we ever had in common.
“I know the song,” I said, feeling more anxious by the moment.
“Lucky for Jayne.” Fannie handed me two tickets and one long-stemmed rose. “You’re going to sing that song with a twist on the title—‘Born in the U.S. APE.’”
“Clever.” Not.
“Then you present the guy with the rose and tickets. They’re a gift from his wife.”
Front row seats to an upcoming Springsteen concert. Lucky man. Generous wife. I shuddered to think what she’d paid. “What’s the occasion?”
She looked at the file. “Second anniversary of their first date. Sappy. But sappy is good for business. They’re having lunch at a gourmet restaurant.” She handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s the exact location, the guy’s name, and his description.”
My breath seized when I read the info. I’m pretty sure the blood drained from my face.
Fannie cleared her throat. “Is there a problem?”
I thought about Jayne. “No problem,” I croaked.
I wondered what I’d done to deserve this? Or maybe it was some sort of cosmic test. If I could survive this, I could survive anything.
I pulled an elastic band from my hip pocket and tamed my hair into a ponytail. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll slip into costume now.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” said Fannie. “Just make it quick. You’re due in twenty minutes.”
“BRILLIANT.” ARCH CHUCKLED as I stuffed my bulky gorilla self—sans head—into the passenger seat of his car.
I slid him a disgusted look.
“You wanted goofy, love. I’d say this qualifies.”
I didn’t bother stating my issue with gorillas. I just passed on the pertinent information.
“Shite.”
“You can say that again.” I placed the ape head on the floor between my big furry feet then tried to fasten my seat belt and failed.
Arch reached over, made some adjustments and slid the buckle home. He stayed close, his face hovering near mine, his gorgeous gray-green eyes shining with concern. “You dinnae have to do this.”
“Jayne will lose her job if I don’t.”
He gave me the once-over. “This monkey suit looks a bit big, Sunshine. Bet it’ll fit me.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “You’d do that for me?”
“Cannae think of much I wouldnae do for you, lass.”
I kissed him. Hard. My heart pounded with affection as I cupped his gorgeous face with my furry paws and ravished his mouth. He matched my fervor, holding my head captive while conquering my tongue. Possessive. Seductive. The kind of kiss I would have dragged out forever if I weren’t under the gun.
I broke off with a groan. “We have to go.”
“My loss.”
“Sweet talk like this is going to pay off big-time when I get you back to my place,” I said with a little smile.
Grinning, he pulled back into the one-way traffic. “Never shagged a gorilla before.”
I snorted. “Good to know.”
He turned the corner and headed toward the boardwalk. “Didnae know Stone and Sasha were back from their honeymoon.”
“Neither did I.” Over a week ago, Michael had called me from Paris, drunk and lamenting a fight he’d had with his blushing bride over me. Given the nature of this gig, I guess they made up. Whoop-te-do. “They’re celebrating the second anniversary of their first date,” I said, folding my furry arms over my gnarled stomach. “Michael and I weren’t even separated then.”
He reached over and smoothed the backs of his fingers over my cheek.
Sizzle.
That tender gesture was even hotter than that five-alarm kiss. I was definitely besotted. “To top things off,” I said, squirming in my seat, “the casino they’re dining in is the last casino I auditioned at. I’m not even sure I’m allowed on property after the stunt I pulled.”
“All the more reason for me to take this on.”
“Can you sing ‘Born in the U.S. APE’?”
He slid me a look.
“Never mind. I can do this. I need to do this. For Jayne. For me. Call me crazy, but it feels like some kind of test.” I plucked the gorilla head from the floor and fluffed the fur. “Just let me out at the main entrance. Park up there along the side. I’ll be in and out in ten minutes. Fifteen tops.”
He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. A phone chimed—his.
I fiddled with the tickets and the flower while he took the call.
“Yeah?” He listened and frowned. “Bloody hell. No, I didnae know. Do some digging. See what you can find oot. I’ll be there within the half hour.”
“Who was that?” I asked as he pocketed the cell and pulled into the valet entrance.
“The Kid.”
“Bad news?”
“Unexpected.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
He reached over and squeezed my hairy thigh. “Let’s get through the gig for Jayne, yeah?”
“Then you’ll tell me?”
“Aye.”
“Okay.” I forced a smile and lassoed my imagination. One problem at a time.
By the time Arch rounded the car and opened the door I had the head on, tickets and rose in paw—full gorilla regalia. Just like that I was on. Suddenly, it was just like any one of the hundreds of goofy gigs I’d done in the past. I was even on home turf. A casino I knew inside and out. All I had to do was stroll in and act as if I belonged. It helped that I was incognito. No one, not even the man I’d been married to for fifteen years, was going to recognize me in this monkey suit.
I gave Arch a cocky salute and waltzed toward the doors, enjoying the chuckles I heard as a doorman ushered me inside. I liked making people laugh. Bringing joy had always been a thrill and the top perk of being an entertainer.
I crossed the main concourse and headed for a bank of elevators, waving to customers as I passed by. Good thing I knew where I was going. My vision was compromised. The ape eyes were a creation of fabric and grill work. I could see, but not clearly, and only the things directly in front of me. Luckily, it didn’t smell too bad in here. In fact, it smelled as if it had just been sprayed with some sort of cleaner. Pine scent. Not a personal favorite, but anything was better than stinky sweat.
I bolstered my nerve as I neared the gourmet Italian restaurant. It’s not like I loved Michael anymore, but I had to admit, it was going to be rough seeing him with Sasha for the first time as man and wife. And worse, seeing her pregnant. Sadly, he hadn’t been interested in having children with me. So, yeah, I was a little bitter about the kid thing. But they lived in this town and I lived in this town so it’s not as if I could avoid them forever. In a weird way, getting my first look at them without them seeing me was a bonus. I could scowl or cry or roll my eyes and all they’d see is the stony pug-faced expression of a stuffed gorilla.
The hostess didn’t stop me so obviously she was in on the joke. I saw Michael and Sasha right off—the handsome, sharp-suited agent and the much-too-young for him lingerie model. They were seated directly in front of me, at a table with an ocean view. Only they weren’t alone. I recognized the casino’s entertainment coordinator and the VP of marketing. Two of the execs who’d been present during my disastrous audition.
Pile it on, cosmos.
I wasn’t anxious or intimidated. I was hopped up on indignation. I was going to be the best damned singing gorilla they’d ever seen. Put that in your banana and smoke it!
I marched up to the table and launched into song. The lyrics of the first verse actually matched my mind-set a few bitter months back. I sang them with a Southern accent and a gritty quality so Michael wouldn’t recognize my voice. Although I suppose it was muffled anyway. I sang with gusto, gyrated my hips, and wiggled my big monkey butt. By the time I made it to the chorus, the surrounding customers were clapping in time.
“Born in the U.S. APE. I was born in the U.S. APE…”
After a double chorus, I ended with a bow and extended the long-stemmed rose and concert tickets to Michael. He looked half bewildered, half amused. Then he focused on those front row and center tickets and broke out in a face-splitting smile. The comments from the surrounding tables blurred into white noise. I only had eyes and ears for Michael and his new wife, whose belly was concealed by the table. I watched them kiss and hug, listened to their sappy endearments of love…and survived.
I felt nothing aside from the rush of a job well done. The surrounding patrons were still applauding and the fact that the casino execs looked impressed was a bonus. Ah, the sweet smell of rubbing their noses in my multi-talents—talents they’d rejected based on my age. Yes! I pumped my ape fist in the air and performed a victory dance before spinning off and making a hasty exit.
