CardsNeverLie (7 page)

If he liked it, she could go home to start work on the new
idea for real. Tommy Joe could stay and network. Maybe that wasn’t such a good
idea. And of course, Rob was here. A warm flush came over her, almost like the
hot flashes her mother had been complaining about recently. Her hormones were jumping
for sure but not in the same way.

Wasn’t it great that she’d met a man at one of these things
who actually lived in Seattle? Faced with Gerald’s infidelities, she had
considered flings with a couple of men she had met at conferences like these,
even allowed one to kiss her briefly on the lips as they had strolled the
French Quarter in New Orleans.

However, she had made vows, even if her ex-husband had had
no interest in keeping the ones he made to his innocent eighteen-year-old
bride. Melanie knew she had a jealous streak, but she had never quite given in
to its urges, though it hadn’t taken long to stop caring for Gerald. He’d done
so little after their marriage that would make her care. However, she really,
really hoped Rob didn’t have a girlfriend at home. She wondered if Brisa knew.

The conference lunch was the usual unappetizing and
fattening chicken and pasta so she ducked out and ran up to her room to check
her email. She had left Tommy Joe chatting away with a fellow yoga enthusiast.
Apparently Tommy Joe was a man of many exotic hobbies.

Melanie grabbed a diet Coke from her mini-fridge and a
protein bar from her bag on the luggage rack. There was a fax on her machine
and she grabbed it. The message was terse—“Call right away. Al Plowman”.

Melanie frowned and popped the top of her cola can. Maybe it
was an excited “call right away”. But the letters were narrow and tightly
placed together. It didn’t look good. She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Al Plowman.” Her boss’s voice sounded terse and rushed.

“It’s Melanie. I just got your fax.”

“How’s the conference going?”

Melanie relaxed. If he was making small talk, things
couldn’t be that bad. “It just started. The usual baloney. The fun is in the
trade show.”

“I got your fax this morning.” Al definitely didn’t sound
thrilled.

“Did you like it?” Melanie did her best to keep hope alive.
She still thought it was a great idea, though she firmly believed the path to
immediate success was fixing their main professional product line. “I thought
of it on the plane ride down because there is a sort of pornographic convention
here at the same hotel.”

“You’re sure you didn’t overhear the concept being discussed
along the way?”

“Huh?” Melanie temporized.

“Melanie, it’s one thing to get to market first with an
idea, but to steal the actual name of another company’s product isn’t good. Or
smart.” Al’s voice took on the lecturing tone he reserved for his newest direct
reports. Melanie hadn’t heard that tone for at least a month.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Melanie had the
same sense of
dejá vu
as she had during the previous night’s
conversation with Huntley. “I did see another massage product line at the other
conference, but the bottles were amber and Egyptian style and the scent was
entirely different. I don’t know what type of oil they used—I didn’t get a
chance to do more than sniff.”

“Wicked Oil announced their new line of Love Lotions in a
press release today. They are planning to launch nation-wide.”

Melanie felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

“I admit the fax doesn’t give many details,” her boss said.
“Other than they will be competing in our market, of course.” He sounded
snotty.

But Melanie found a ray of hope. “It’s an easy enough name
to think of. I’ll come up with something else.” She thought for a second of her
mind mapping the night before. “Midnight Oil. As in burning the midnight oil,
but with pleasure, not work. How about that?”

“Great,” Al said sarcastically. “You’re sure that their
mock-up and tagline isn’t going to look like yours too?”

“Of course not!” Melanie said. “If you think I’m a thief why
don’t you just fire me now?” Her therapist had told her that being direct would
free her. She felt better already.

Al lowered his voice. “I’m concerned. We have a lot riding
on you, Melanie. Don’t cheat. You’re supposed to be the idea girl.”

Melanie bit back a retort at the word “girl”. She tried to
keep her voice light. “I assure you my ideas and my designs are my own.”

“Good enough. Keep them coming. I’d have been pleased if I
hadn’t seen the press release. Maybe it’s a fluke after all. For all we know,
Wicked Oil’s people are at the conference too.”

“Tommy Joe said they weren’t. Why don’t I come back now and
get to work on a prototype? I really think this idea will fly.” And you won’t
be able to accuse me of stealing anyone else’s ideas safe at home in Seattle.

“Don’t be a chicken, Melanie. Stick it out. Come up with
some other ideas. The executive committee will still have to approve anything
you come up with.”

“Sure.” At least if she stayed here, she might have another
encounter with Rob. Yeah. On the other hand, she might have another encounter
with Huntley.

Melanie wondered how Wicked Oil had come up with the Love
Lotions concept. She remembered joking about it with Tommy Joe on the plane. But
he had been feeling so airsick he hadn’t been paying attention. And anyway, he
seemed to like her. Giving her idea to his brother wouldn’t do anything for
him. It would only hurt his own employment, right?

Chapter Six

Melanie and Tommy Joe followed the purple arrows down the
corridor to their rooms after a long afternoon of sessions.

“Can you believe that?” Melanie said to Tommy Joe. “I can’t
use my idea.” They stopped in front of her door.

He pulled his eyebrows together until they formed a crease
between his eyes. “Did you come up with a new one?”

Melanie shrugged. She didn’t want to tell him anything more,
just in case Wicked Oil’s press release hadn’t been serendipity. Tommy Joe
patted her on the shoulder. She sighed, hating the distrust between them. She
couldn’t get Rob Black out of her mind, but really, Tommy Joe was much more
likely to be her soul mate.

“You know what?”

She shook her head, distracted by her thoughts. He seemed so
close to that maddening description of her devil-man.

“You look like a person who needs a hug.” To Melanie’s
surprise, he put his arms around her and held her snugly. He hugged well, with
just the right amount of solidity in his grip. The warmth emanating from his
body felt wonderful in the air-conditioned hallway and surprised her coming
from someone so thin. I can stay here just a second, she thought. It wouldn’t
do to be rude now. He wore great cologne. Melanie wondered if he had selected
it himself or if some woman had chosen it for him. Fresh and grassy, it held
none of the musky odor of Rob’s cologne. Tommy Joe’s scent didn’t invade her
senses the way Rob’s did. She didn’t feel any wild urges now. She gave Tommy
Joe a squeeze back and released him.

“Thanks, Tommy Joe. You’re a friend.”
To the extent I can
trust you, which is about as far from my shoe to the door.
She inserted her
key card into the door lock.

“Why don’t we have dinner tonight?” Tommy Joe asked. “We can
talk about something other than work.”

Melanie hesitated. Dinner with tall, dark and handsome from
Product Development, or spend some time trying to save her job during an
emergency. Saving her job won out. It always did. It had to.

“I need to get some work done, but thanks.”

“Maybe I could help?” Tommy Joe smiled boyishly, a lock of
dark hair falling over his forehead. “You could bounce ideas off me or maybe I
could come up with something.”

That was what worried Melanie. She didn’t want anyone
“coming up with something”. That was her job and she would keep it come what
may. It was far more important to her than any potential boyfriend. Only when
she had security could she afford to play.

“No thanks.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll stop by your room in
the morning to pick you up for breakfast.”

Tommy Joe hesitated. “You’re sure you don’t want a helper?”

Melanie nodded. “Thanks anyway.”

She closed the door behind her with relief, feeling she had
escaped, and crossed the room to her purple throne, kicking off her black pumps
on the way. Dumping her jacket on the bed, she unzipped her skirt and shimmied
out of her clinging nylons.

She collapsed onto the throne and spent an hour doodling.
But her mind was a blank except for a memory of the dream she was having before
that morning’s alarm went off. She labeled a sheet of stationery “commercial”
and started writing.

A woman stands before a man at the edge of a cliff. She is
in rags and bound to a stake. Her blonde hair stirs in the breeze. The man is
muscular, tan, glistening. He has a leather mask covering his face and wears
only a loincloth. He is holding a whip. He raises it to strike and the woman
turns her head away and squeezes her eyes shut.

The scene changes with a pulse of light and the audience
sees the man wasn’t hurting the woman, but cutting away her bonds. He takes her
hand and leads her to a couch in the middle of a meadow then pulls a champagne
bottle from a saddlebag on his horse nearby. The woman shakes her head. You can
see the man grin through his leather mask. He reaches into another saddlebag
and pulls out a smaller black champagne bottle. She nods enthusiastically and
reclines on the couch. The man kneels at her head and unstops the cork, then
pours a little liquid into his hands and begins massaging her neck. She moans
in ecstasy and they fade to black.

Melanie strained to see the man as she did in her dream.
Rats. She still couldn’t figure out what color his hair was! And besides, no
one was going to give her money for a commercial, but maybe she could distill
her dream into a print ad campaign.

Frustrated, she sighed and craned her neck to see the cheap
clock radio on the bedside table. Nearly seven thirty p.m. and she was
starving. She had largely forgotten about Huntley during the day but wondered
if it was safe to wander the hotel. If not, there was always room service.

No, she wouldn’t let him win. Other than wearing more
sensible shoes so she could escape quickly if necessary, she was going to go
downstairs and mix with the world and eat. Maybe she’d even drop a few quarters
in the slots. Who knew? It could be her lucky day. Despite her job worries, she
needed to take a wild break. Her therapist had told her she needed to take
breaks from stress. She did her best to take the advice but wasn’t sure her
therapist had really understood how all-consuming stress was when you didn’t
have any security in your life.

She put on a light blue tank dress and laced gold sandals up
her calves. They had a one-inch chunky heel that wouldn’t slow her down if she
saw Huntley or Harvey Long in the crowd. She hoped they’d still be on their
side of the convention floor so she wouldn’t run into them.

Back down the corridor, she caught the elevator to the
mezzanine level where many of the restaurants were. She thought about going to
the King’s Buffet again, but remembering her mishap the previous night and
seeing that Grub and Gauntlet was less crowded than before, she went in.

Fitting in with the restaurant theme, the greeter wore a
breastplate with huge gauntlets over his hands. She wondered how he picked up
the grease pen to mark off tables on his chart.

“Table for one?”

Melanie nodded and the greeter motioned over a waitress to
take her to a free table. The waitress wore the obligatory low-cut white blouse
of this kind of restaurant and, typical of Las Vegas, a skirt nearly as brief.

As they walked toward the back of the restaurant, past rows
of tables inlaid with heraldic designs in bright blue, Melanie heard a woman’s
voice calling her name.

“Yoo hoo, over here!”

Melanie craned her neck to the left but didn’t see anyone
familiar. Then she saw a slim arm with a gold watchband waving.

“Anita, is that you?” Anita Press was Al’s ex-girlfriend,
the stripper with a heart of gold. Of course she would bump into Anita at an
adult conference. Melanie was grateful to see another ally.

Anita stood up then rushed over to Melanie and threw her
arms around her. Melanie grinned. The ebullient Anita. Melanie remembered her
getting drunk at the company Christmas party the year before and taking over
the karaoke stage with a rendition of a classic Seventies’ hit that really
rocked. She was a talented vocalist and turned a dull party into a great time.
But Al had been humiliated and Melanie had heard the relationship hadn’t
survived much past New Year’s Eve. It was his loss.

“You look divine, girlfriend,” Anita cooed, patting her
curly red hair. “No wonder those silly kids think Honey Luscious is back in the
house. It is you they’re chasing, isn’t it?”

Melanie nodded and touched her on the shoulder. “I’m so glad
someone knows who I am. I could have used you around last night. Maybe you can
knock some sense into those losers.”

Anita laughed. “It isn’t all wining and dining?”

Melanie grimaced. “I haven’t been wined and dined yet!
Harassed and bruised, yes.”

Anita frowned. “By who?”

“Drew Huntley.”

Anita drew in a big breath, expanding her double D chest to
frightening proportions. “Oh yes, I remember now.” She gestured to Melanie.
“C’mon, I’ll wine and dine you. We just sat down.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, sweet thang. She’s eating with me,” Anita said
to the waitress and linked her arm with Melanie’s.

Another woman, bronze-skinned with beautifully made-up
almond eyes, sat at the table. “Villani, this is Melanie Vanderpool. She’s
going to eat with us. Melanie, this is Villani. She owns Villani Cosmetics.”

Melanie smiled at Villani and held out her hand. “Nice to
meet you. I know Anita because she used to date my manager at Professional
Massage.”

Anita squealed. “Al is your boss now?”

“Yes, I was promoted to Product Design manager two months
ago.”

“No kidding. That’s great, except the Al part. What a little
wienie.”

Melanie grinned. “Can I quote you?”

Villani took a sip of her wine. “Is this the Al who dumped
you on New Year’s Day right before you were supposed to leave for a football
party?”

“You bet. It’s a small world.”

“I’m surprised, though, that you know my last name. We
barely met.” Melanie vaguely remembered joining Anita on stage at the New
Year’s party for a performance of a pop duet sometime after midnight, but she
had just filed for divorce three days earlier and had done her best to forget
every moment of the previous year’s holidays since.

Anita shrugged, the motion making her Rita Hayworth curls
bounce. “Some things stick in your mind, I guess. What brings you to Vegas?”

“A conference.” At Anita’s sly grin she rushed to say, “But
not the adult one.”

Another waitress on the verge of falling out of her dress
appeared to take their order. The women all ordered salads then looked at each
other, laughing, and changed their order to burgers and cheesecake. Melanie
ordered a rum and Coke too.

“All right, let’s get this party started!” Villani said,
raising her glass.

“If I could bring the mood down just a minute,” Melanie said
after her drink appeared, “you seem to know something about the Huntley
situation?”

Villani raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t mixed up with him, I
hope.”

“Honey Luscious was,” Anita said with a bittersweet smile.

“You knew her?” Melanie asked, hoping she had heard Anita
right in the loud restaurant. The next table over was celebrating a wedding in
the drunkest way possible.

“Sure, we did our first movie together. It was her only
movie, in fact. I went on to have quite a career.” She rolled her eyes and took
a big sip of her daiquiri.

“But that’s over now,” Villani said, giving Anita’s hand a
squeeze.

“Do you think twenty-seven is too late to start a career as
a model?” Anita asked Melanie.

“Not at all. Especially when twenty-seven looks like you.”
Melanie leaned forward. “I’ve seen three guys check you out since I’ve sat
down.”

Anita clapped hands. “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

She drank some water and took a bite of an egg roll
appetizer. “Honey Luscious was a nice girl, but very confused. At the time she
seemed mature at the advanced age of nineteen, but I was only seventeen. She
didn’t know how to manage money but I guess she knew how to take care of
herself. She got out.”

“Do you still know her?” Melanie asked.

“I suppose I could track her down if I needed to.” Melanie
got the feeling Anita was being evasive. And perhaps for the best, considering
how awful Huntley had been. Honey Luscious needed all the protection she could
get.

“Could you find out if she really owes Huntley money?”
Regardless of Rob Black’s immature behavior toward her cousin, she wouldn’t
wish Huntley on anyone. It truly had been kind of him to help. Or paternalistic,
but he had gotten her out of a real jam. Rob Black, Protector of Women.

Villani snorted. “No one who was able to escape porn would
be that dumb.”

“There was something about a contract,” Melanie said,
dragging her mind away from the image of Rob’s chest, emblazoned with a large
hot pink P.

“He has selective memory,” Anita said. “She didn’t sign a
contract. Huntley treated us like we were a dime a dozen and maybe we were. But
the movie became a cult classic. Honey was out of it by then though.”

“Details? How come? She smartened up?”

“She got herself knocked up. After she started showing, that
was it.”

Melanie found herself leaning toward Anita, worried about
what had happened to the mysterious woman. “But it ended up okay?”

“Yes,” Anita said with a hint of pride. “She’s doing great
for herself. And she stays away from men.”

“Amen to that,” Villani said and raised her glass. Anita
raised hers and they touched. After they glared pointedly at Melanie, she
reluctantly raised her glass, though she had no particular desire to stay away
from men herself.

“If only I could stay away from them too,” Anita sighed.
“But I do love to love.”

“You just need to get yourself some better taste.” Melanie
grimaced. “I mean, Al Plowman? What were you thinking?”

“Speaking of men,” Villani said, “I hear the Whipmaster is
around. I’ve never met him, but his reputation proceeds him.”

Melanie’s heart did a double thump. Why did it thrill her so
just to hear Rob’s nickname?

Anita laughed. “He is a cutie, unlike that pig Al. It’s too
bad the old man is so out of control.”

Melanie’s ears perked up. “The old man?”

“His grandfather. The original Whipmaster. He’s
eighty-something now and a little screwy around the edges. I modeled for
LeatherWorks, their company, a while back and—” Anita paused as their burgers
were served. “The old guy pinched me, I swear to God. I’m used to it, but you’d
think his equipment would have died a long time ago.”

Villani made a slashing motion with her arm. “It doesn’t end
until what’s between their ears is dead too.”

“Does the grandson get his kicks that way too?” Melanie
asked, taking a bite of her burger.