“Hey,” Drake greeted her from his doorway. “I found a shirt for you. You’ll probably have to make it into a dress again. But you seem to have a knack for that.”
She smiled at him, deciding to let the past fifteen minutes go. What did she know about Amway protein drinks? They probably all looked like blood for all she knew.
She went into his room and quickly dressed using Zelda’s belt to cinch this shirt, a sort-of-retro paisley shirt in greens and blues.
“Wow,” Drake said, when she walked into the kitchen, which was now spotless. “I gotta say, I like this look even more than the pirate shirt.”
“I think the pirate shirt might be ruined,” she admitted. “I think pomegranate stains.”
“Thank God,” Drake said.
She laughed, knowing he truly hated that shirt, at least on himself. “I have to admit you look a lot better, too.” She admired the way his jeans clung to his narrow hips and his black shirt fit his broad shoulders.
“Are you saying plastic turquoise isn’t me?”
“You were actually sort of rocking them,” she said with a teasing smile.
He chuckled. She loved his husky, rich laugh.
“Ready to go find some Chers?”
She nodded and was pleased when he took her hand. Damn, this night had really gone far differently than she imagined it was going to.
“Where did Cort and Wyatt go?” she asked as they left the apartment.
“They went to meet up with Stella and Katie and to get that damn bird a drink before it pecked Cort’s eyes out.”
Of course, she thought wryly. What a night indeed.
“They are going to meet us at Queen Mary’s. I figured if we’re going to confront a gang of Chers, we better have the numbers going in.”
“Good call,” Josie Lynn agreed, and they shared a smile.
It was funny. She still needed to find out what happened to save her business reputation and to make sure that Zelda and Saxon didn’t somehow blame her for the bizarre outcome of their wedding, but she didn’t feel nearly so stressed about the whole thing. Maybe because she now knew Drake believed she wasn’t involved.
“Thank you,” she said to him as they walked down Toulouse toward Royal.
“For what?” He gave her a cutely puzzled look.
“For believing me.”
She didn’t need to explain any further. He squeezed her hand.
“And you can always trust me.”
And amazingly, she believed him.
“ARE YOU JUST going to pretend that nothing happened?” Dieter said.
Lizette carefully studied her magazine on the plane and didn’t look at her assistant, who had been studying her far too intently for the last several hours. “Yes.”
“That’s not emotionally healthy, you know.”
She paused on a Chanel ad, wishing beyond anything that Dieter would just drop it. “I wasn’t aware you are a therapist.”
“How about I am just your friend?”
That guilted her into looking up. She sighed. “I appreciate that, thank you. But the last few nights have been challenging for me. It’s very disturbing to wake up and not remember what you did or where you went. I never want that to happen again.”
Especially not now that she was flying over the Atlantic, panties on, suit nicely pressed, hair wound up in a tight bun, feet encased in a pair of pumps. Not her lost Louboutins, but classic, black, quality heels that made her feel in control.
“I can understand that. But that doesn’t mean you just sweep it under the rug and run away.”
That made her feel defensive. “I am not running away. I had to return to Paris, yes? It’s where I live.”
“You have some unfinished business with Johnny Malone.”
There was a definite pang in her heart that she chose to ignore. “The case will be reassigned, but I think it should be fairly open-and-shut. I do not believe he is lying about his identity.”
“I agree, but that’s not what I was talking about.” Dieter was a big guy, and he looked stuffed even in the seat in first class where they were sitting. If they were in coach, he would be eating his knees.
It was a seven-hour flight from New York to Charles de Gaulle in Paris, and Lizette envied the other passengers who were all snoring away on the nighttime flight. This was her day and she was spending it wide-awake with a magazine, replaying every minute of her single night with Johnny.
“I know. I am just choosing to feign ignorance.” When she was miserable, which she was, she didn’t want to discuss it.
“What does that accomplish, precisely?”
“It makes it easier to ignore my feelings entirely.” Because if she allowed herself to consider those, she might agree with Dieter that she had run away. That for all her frustration with Johnny’s behavior, she had not behaved with excessive amounts of maturity herself. In fact, she had been childish. She had run away.
And she had never disclosed why the VA and secrecy were so important to her to Johnny. She hadn’t told him the truth about Jean-Baptiste and his torture. She was so used to steering clear of those emotions that she hadn’t trusted Johnny with the truth when it probably would have gone a long way to helping him understand her dedication. Her paranoia. She sighed and slapped her magazine closed. “Dieter, have you ever met someone who shook your whole view of the world?”
“The woman who turned me into a vampire certainly changed my view of the world.” He smiled at her.
It occurred to Lizette that she didn’t even know how Dieter had died in his mortal life. “Good point. I suppose we all have that in common.” But it also made her realize that in keeping her life so secretive, in working so hard to ensure the secrecy of others, she may have denied herself deep, meaningful relationships.
And what was the point of being alive if she had no one to share her life with?
QUEEN MARY’S WAS nothing like Madame Renee’s, and Josie Lynn could see why Madame Renee was threatened. This burlesque club was lavishly decorated with lush overstuffed sofas in burgundies and golds. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the stage looked like something from the set of Moulin Rouge. It made Madame Renee’s look even more pathetic.
Even the clientele seemed more upscale; businessmen, women out for a fun ladies’ night, and tourists with money to spend seemed to be the crowd here.
As they approached the dark wood and gold-accented bar, Josie Lynn saw that Wyatt and Cort were already there. With the parrot. Josie Lynn made sure all the men were between her and the bird as she took a seat, although the icky winged creature seemed far more interested in his drink than anything else.
“So any sign of the Chers?” Drake asked.
“Not yet.” Wyatt said. “But a helluva Lady Gaga impersonator just finished.”
Cort leaned forward to look down the bar at them. “Did you happen to see the Dancing Vagrant?”
Drake shook his head. “Sorry. You’re stuck with the bird for a while longer.”
Cort sighed. “Well at least this time the damn thing didn’t rob anyone.”
No sooner had he said that than a Cher impersonator, this one dressed as Moonstruck Cher, approached them.
“There you are,” she said to Cort. “Do you know that damn bird of yours stole one of my earrings last night? And it was an exact replica of the ones Cher wore to the Oscars in 1988.”
“Of course he did,” Josie Lynn heard Cort mutter and reach for his wallet.
Josie Lynn studied the Cher, then leaned in to whisper to Drake. “He’s one of the five. He was dressed as Believe Cher last night.”
“Are you sure?”
Josie Lynn nodded.
Drake stood up and walked over to the Cher.