Lady Be Good (22 page)

“Yes, I am. How do you do?”

The woman ignored Grace’s outstretched hand and pulled herself up tall and straight. “I’m Pamela Waldrop-Hicks. I find shaking hands with women in social situations to be abhorrent.”

Grace decided not to take offense. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, Mrs. Waldrop-Hicks. Are you quite all right now?”

“I’m healthy as a horse!”

“I’m glad to hear it. This is my friend, Luke Lazurnovich.”

“Hey,” Luke said.

Pamela Waldrop-Hicks rolled her eyes. “Hey? What kind of greeting is that, young man?” Then she blinked. “My gracious, you’re tall.”

“You’re tall yourself, good-lookin’.” Luke gave her his most engaging smile. “You want to come have a drink with us? I hear they mix a pretty good gimlet around here.”

The older woman narrowed her eyes and almost smiled. “How did you know gimlets are my favorite drink?”

“Just a guess,” Luke said. “Classy lady like you….”

Pamela Waldrop-Hicks ducked her head like a shy debutante. “Are you flirting with me, young man?”

“Is it working?” he asked.

“Well, you’re the first man here tonight with enough courage to speak to me like a human being. Everybody else acts as if I’m going to bite their heads off. I like a bold man, you know. One who looks me dead in the eye.”

“You wanna dance?” Luke asked.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said, lifting her cane apologetically. “But as you can see, I’m not as spry as some of these younger girls.”

“Too bad.”

Pamela Waldrop-Hicks turned back to Grace. “I must admit this party has turned out better than I expected, Miss Vanderbine. Your mother rounded up a good crowd and made the ballet some extra money. Brought in fresh faces. This affair mixes the old with the new, and I suppose I shouldn’t stand in the way of progress.” She put out her hand to shake. “You did a good job with your mother’s book, too. I apologize if my written remarks came off too high-handed. In the morning, I’ll send a letter to the editor to make a few revisions. Shall we shake hands now?”

Grace shook the older woman’s hand as graciously as she could manage. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Run along, now, you two. Have a gimlet with me in mind.”

Luke winked at her. “See you around, Pam.” To Grace, he said, “C’mon, we have unfinished business.”

13.

They kissed in the elevator. “I am so glad to see you,” Grace whispered to Luke.

“This has been a hell of a long week,” he said. “And I’m not just talking about the time I spent with your mother.”

They retrieved Grace’s luggage from her Mama’s room and kissed all the way down to the lobby. Out on the street the hotel doorman whistled them a cab.

Then, in the midst of glowing happiness, it happened all over again.

As Luke was handing Grace into the back seat, a firecracker went off. In the same instant, something snapped against the side of the cab.

“What the hell?” Luke said, turning from Grace.

The doorman shouted, “Gun!”

Someone screamed, and Luke slammed against Grace just as another bang sounded. This time, it was Grace who cried out. Luke jammed her against the cab, shielding her.

A man had stepped out from behind a hedge of potted trees. Around Luke’s shoulder, Grace had only a second to register that he was of medium height, heavy build, pointing a gun at Luke. Or her.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. One second, the gunman was pointing his weapon. In the same second, Luke’s friends appeared in the doorway of the hotel. Jaydonna yelled something. Darrell shoved her back against the revolving door. Leon and Blood pushed out from behind her. The gunman wheeled toward them, gun extended.

Luke shouted—by that time he had one arm around Grace’s head as he forced her down onto the curb, so the noise was muffled—and the whole team of football players scattered in different directions.

Grace thought they were all trying to escape gunfire. But as if executing a perfectly choreographed play, in the next second they all seemed to plunge toward the gunman—converging on him from four angles.

He hadn’t a prayer of escaping—he was too small and slow footed--and he must have known it. He threw the gun toward the hedge. He turned toward the street. He ran past the hood of the cab.

Luke’s friends moved incredibly fast on him. In another instant, they would have tackled him on the pavement.

But another car appeared from the street. It swung in close to the hotel, and the thug had no chance to escape it. Grace heard the impact, heard him scream, heard the screech of brakes too late.

Luke cursed and said to her, “Stay where you are.”

And he went after his friends.

Grace clambered up onto the curb, frightened and furious. Jaydonna appeared beside her, equally shaken. They wrapped their arms around each other. Blood’s pregnant wife appeared, weeping, and Leon’s date arrived, barely holding back hysterics.

Jaydonna said, “Who was that? What happened? There was a gun!”

Together, the three of them tottered out from behind the cab in time to see the gunman underneath the cab. He was alive—writhing in agony, his legs pinned beneath the front tire.

“We gotta lift the car,” Darrell said.

Together, the men grabbed the cab and—impossibly--lifted it off the gunman.

He fainted. At least, Grace hoped he fainted. With Jaydonna, she stumbled back behind the first cab and hid her face in her hands. The street spun in a kaleidoscope of color and noise. Jaydonna began to pray.

After that, things happened in a whirl of confusion. Hotel employees rushed past them, and the police arrived with flashing lights. A fire truck appeared, too, with an ambulance in its wake. Hotel guests spilled outside, adding to the chaos.

Luke and Darrell came back. Luke cradled Grace in his arms, touched her face. “Are you okay? Not hurt?”

She managed a nod. “I’m all right. But you--?”

“I’m fine,” he said, brusque.

For once, Darrell didn’t look calm and collected. “Close call, dude. I thought the guy shot you.”

“Shut up,” Jaydonna said fiercely. “I don’t want you getting questioned by the police, Darrell. Just keep quiet, you hear me?”

“Go home,” Luke said to them. “You have nothing to do with this. Get out of here before the news trucks show up.”

Darrell nodded shortly. “Thanks, man. We’ll talk later.”

He curled his arm around Jaydonna, and they left in a hurry.

Leon and Blood came over to Luke and shook his hand. As witnesses, they agreed to stick around to talk to the police. An officer strode up to the group, looking stern, then immediately recognized Blood as a local Eagles player.

In an explanation laced with obscenities, Blood told the officer they had been coming out of the hotel when a gun went off. They chased the gunman, he said, and he ran into the street, into the path of an oncoming car.

“Is the guy alive?” Blood asked, holding his wife.

The cop nodded. “Yeah, he’s alive. He’s a local punk—I recognize him. A gun for hire, stupid on drugs. They’re putting him into the ambulance now.”

“Do you need us?” Leon asked. “As soon as somebody figures out who we are, we’re screwed.”

“Yeah,” the cop said. “You guys better clear out before reporters show up. The hotel cameras probably caught everything.” He gestured up at the canopy where two small cameras kept watch on the entrance. “Let me get your names and phone numbers, though. Maybe we’ll want to talk to you later.”

“You really know the guy?” Luke asked.

“Oh, sure. This kid thinks he’s a wise guy, got himself mixed up with a bunch of mutts. He’s been flirting with serious jail time for a couple of years.”

Luke pulled out his wallet and handed over a business card. Leon and Blood did the same. Grace fumbled in her handbag and found one of her own cards.

The officer collected the information, glancing only briefly at each card. “Any idea who he was shooting at?”

“No clue,” Blood replied.

“Me neither,” Leon said.

Grace slipped her hand under Luke’s arm and squeezed. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him that Emma Blackbird wanted their silence.

Luke said, “Good thing he didn’t hit anybody.”

“Yeah,” said the cop. “Lucky. Of course, he’s not much of a criminal yet. Given a few more years on the street, maybe he’d be a better shot. Let’s hope some broken bones and jail time slow him down. You folks should head home. We have to lock down the area now and start piecing things together.”

Handshakes all around and only one request for an autograph—the cop wanted a signature from Blood.

Luke and Grace located her suitcase and got into another cab. They exchanged solemn glances, but said nothing during the ride across town. Grace found Luke’s hand and held it. Hers was trembling. As the realization set in of how close they’d come to something terrible, she had a hard time hanging on to her composure. Luke must have recognized that. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

In the elevator, Luke said, “I changed rooms this week. The other suite was booked.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Grace said quietly.

The room was smaller—one bedroom—and looked out over the Delaware River, not the city view.

When they were alone at last, Grace felt her knees give out, and she sat on the edge of the bed while Luke put her suitcase on a luggage rack. He took off his tuxedo jacket and slung it over a chair, then went into the bathroom and came back with a glass of water.

“Here,” he said. “We can order something stronger if you need it.”

Grace shook her head and sipped gratefully from the glass. The cold water seemed to loosen the tight lump in her throat. She said, “I was afraid you were—that you--”

“I’m fine.” He touched her hair lightly. “I’m angry. We both know that guy with the gun came from the Abruzzo family. But you didn’t want me to say so in front of the cop.” He tilted her face up so he could meet her gaze. His own was harder than before. “What’s going on, Grace?”

Grace took another sip of water. “I talked to Emma Blackbird. She asked that we—that I not say anything to the police about Jake’s death. She’s afraid for her sisters and their safety. She’s afraid the Abruzzo family will go after them.”

Luke walked to the window and looked down at the river for a while. The moonlight shone starkly on his white shirt. “I don’t feel right about that.”

“You think I do?”

“It’s wrong.” Luke kept his back to her. “We should go to the police. Tell them everything.”

“And risk Nora’s safety?” Grace set the water glass on the bedside table. She was trembling so hard she feared she might drop it. “Their other sister has children. You saw how close we came to something terrible tonight. What if it had happened to children who couldn’t get away?”

Luke turned around, but stayed where he was. “This isn’t the way things are supposed to work.”

“I know that. I’m not asking you to lie.”

“Good. Because I can’t.”

Grace waited, feeling suddenly afraid that he was making a choice—a choice about her, not only about the shooting.

She said, “I’m not going to lie to the police either. If they ask, I will speak. But I don’t think I should go to them and reveal rumors I’ve heard—not facts. Not if Emma asked me not to. For now, Emma’s the one who has to make the decision. She’s the one who must go to the police.”

“I get that,” Luke said. “I just don’t feel good about letting the bad guys win.”

“This story is far from over,” Grace said.

“But it’s not our story.”

“No,” Grace agreed. “It’s Emma’s.”

Luke glanced out the window again, perhaps contemplating the city, perhaps thinking of his home far away. Maybe he was already making plans to leave, to get away, to get back to his own life.

Staying where she was, Grace tried to sort out what she was feeling. Her head was a jumble of emotions and not terribly well-considered thoughts, but there was something important he had to know before he left.

Quietly, she said, “This has been a strange week for me, Luke. Although I was working—working harder than ever--I’ve thought a lot about you. About what kind of person you are. How much I enjoy being with you, even though we’re different. I thought seriously about myself, too, and where I’m going.”

Luke was quiet, listening.

She said, “I’m not the person I was a year ago when I quit my magazine job. Not even the person I was two weeks ago when I started trying to be Dear Miss Vanderbine. I know I’m changing, becoming someone new. You’ve been part of that—a good part. Last week, I thought I was falling in love with you. But tonight, I feel differently.”

“Me, too, Grace,” Luke said from the window.

Short of breath, she got up from the bed and crossed the carpet to him. She touched his shoulder, and he turned, gathered her up, held her close. Maybe to say good-bye.

He said, “I thought I was falling in love with you, too, but I was wrong. I’m already there.”

Grace felt the sting of tears—relief or love or a painful combination of both. “I feel the same way. It’s too fast, but I knew it tonight—before you got my parents together, before you sweet-talked Pamela Waldrop-Hicks, before you probably saved my life. I knew it tonight when I walked into that ballroom and saw you. I love you.”

He smiled, smoothing a lock of her hair back from her cheek. “I love you, too.”

He kissed her forehead. “But Princess, no matter how many training sessions I have with your mother, I’m never going to be the kind of guy you can take to a tea party.”

She laughed a little. “I don’t want you for tea parties, Luke.”

He kissed her mouth, warm with love, then turning into something hotter. With her hand on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat escalate. Her own felt just as fast, just as strong, just as eager.

“We’re different, all right,” he murmured. “Can you stand it?”

“I think that I can learn to thrive on it.”

She drew him to the bed and kicked off her shoes. She began tugging at the studs in his shirt. He loosened her hair.

After another long, passionate kiss, Luke murmured, “I want to prove how much I’m in love with you, and I plan on spending the whole night doing it. But there’s just one problem.”