Death of a Bachelorette Page 7

  “Hope, will you accept this royal lei?”

  Hope jumped up and down like a kid who’d just got her first bicycle from Santa.

  Dallas, I could not help but notice, gritted her teeth in annoyance.

  “Oh, Spencer!” Hope gushed, as he placed the lei around her neck. “You’ve made me so very happy.”

  She stood there in a triumphant glow, when suddenly a look of disgust washed over her face.

  “Eeew!” she cried. “What’s this?”

  Reaching into one of the orchids, she plucked out a matted ball of slimy fur.

  I knew exactly what it was: A cat’s hairball.

  Could it be? Was it possible? Had Prozac escaped from Sauna Central again?

  Indeed she had.

  Because just then, before my horrified eyes, she came sauntering out from under the tablecloth and began rubbing herself shamelessly against Spencer’s ankles, writhing and twisting like a pole dancer on overtime.

  Gazing up at him languidly, she batted her big green eyes.

  Where’s my lei, big boy?

  “It’s that damn cat again!” cried Manny. “Get her out of here!”

  At which point I glanced over at Justin and caught him grinning slyly.

  Mumbling apologies, I grabbed Prozac and headed back to the mansion, wondering how on earth she could have broken out of Sauna Central, what with the door bolted and the screen latched. Remembering Justin’s sly grin, I wondered if he had somehow been involved. Had he gotten a copy of the key to my door and let her out?

  Had he orchestrated her escape to sabotage the production?

  Back in our room, I plopped Prozac down on the bed.

  “What’re you trying to do, Pro? Get me fired?”

  She shot me a reproachful look.

  I was just trying to make friends with His Royal Cuteness. A cat’s gotta have some fun on this crappy island.

  Soon she was sprawled out on the bed, snoring, no doubt dreaming of munching fish guts in the Cotswolds. I just prayed she would stay asleep for the next few hours. I simply could not afford another one of her cameo appearances.

  With much trepidation, I made my way back to the gazebo, where the Royal Lei scene was being reshot. I got there just as Spencer was giving the second lei to Hope.

  As Hope jumped up and down and donned her hairball-free lei and Brianna gulped back her disappointment at being dumped from the show, Justin called out a laconic final “Cut!” and the crew started back to the mansion to shoot a scene in Brianna’s room while she packed up her things to go home.

  Catching up with Justin, I pulled him aside.

  “There’s something I’ve got to ask you.”

  “Go ahead,” he said. I looked for signs of guilt in his eyes but saw none. Just curiosity.

  “Did you have anything to do with my cat showing up on the set today?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you’re angry with Manny, and I thought you might’ve used my cat to sabotage production on the show. Did Kirk give you a key to the bolt on my door?”

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I was happy it happened. I loved seeing the look of apoplexy on Manny’s face. But I have no idea how your cat escaped. Really. Not a clue.”

  And I believed him.

  Somehow my scheming furball had discovered another escape route, and I was determined to find it.

  Chapter 9

  I stood outside Brianna’s bedroom as the camera crew shot her packing to go home. Good heavens. Was that a real tear I saw streaming down her cheek? Somehow I didn’t think Brianna Barbie was the crying kind.

  Tossing her clothes into her suitcase, she talked about how she and Spencer came from opposite ends of the world, “me from a small town in Iowa and him from that big estate in England. I thought we’d made a connection. I thought our opposites had attracted.

  “Oh, well,” she said, throwing a leopard-print thong onto the pile in her suitcase. “I’m sorry he didn’t choose me, but I wish Spencer all the best.”

  The lone tear that had been coursing down her cheek now plopped onto her thong.

  For a minute I feared she might actually break out sobbing, but when Justin called “Cut!” she turned to him, all business, and asked, “How was I? Need more tears? I can cry if you need me to.”

  “No,” Justin said. “You were great, Brianna.”

  Hell, yes, she was great. I’d been practically ready to take her in my arms and offer her the Almond Joy I’d won in my latest round of Vending Machine Roulette.

  As the crew started filing out of her room, I was surprised to see Brianna dump her packed clothing back into her dresser drawers.

  “Don’t you have to leave the island now?” I asked, stepping into the room.

  “I can’t leave, not until Manny’s plane is fixed. Yuck,” she said, checking herself out in the mirror, “I can’t wait to scrape off all this makeup and give myself a facial. Redheads like me have such sensitive skin. Want me to give you a facial, too, hon? Your pores sure could use a little tightening.”

  I saw nothing wrong with my pores, thank you very much.

  “You’ll love it,” she said. “It’s a tofu ginger soy mudpack.”

  Gaak, I wouldn’t eat that stuff, let alone put it on my face.

  “Um, thanks. That’s awfully sweet, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “Suit yourself, hon,” she said with a shrug.

  “So you don’t feel bad about being kicked off the show?” I asked as she wheeled her suitcase back into her closet.

  “Heck, no,” she replied. “I got lots of air time, and that’s what really counts. Not only that, I think I made a very good impression on Manny. I’m hoping he’ll use me again in one of his other shows.”

  Looked like Brianna Barbie was alive and well, after all.

  I left her sloshing goo on her face and made my way down the corridor, where I saw Dallas standing in Hope’s doorway, talking to Hope. The petite blonde was seated at her vanity, brushing her hair, no doubt doing her hundred strokes per day.

  Eager to eavesdrop, I lingered at the landing, pretending to tie my shoelace.

  Which would have been far more effective, I’m sure, if I hadn’t been wearing flip-flops.

  “Better start packing, hon,” I could hear Dallas saying to Hope. “You’ll be next.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Hope replied.

  “No? Did you see the way Spencer looked at me when he handed me my lei? That’s called love, sweetheart. We both love each other, something anybody but a narcissist like you would be able to see.”

  And I had to admit, Spencer had seemed rather gaga when he’d placed that lei around Dallas’s neck. Far more enthusiastic than he’d been with Hope.

  “I’ll be the future Countess of Swampshire. You can bet on it,” Dallas said as she traipsed back to her room.

  “Not if I can stop you, you won’t,” I heard Hope say.

  I got up from “tying my shoelaces” and caught a glimpse of Hope in her vanity mirror, methodically brushing her silky hair.

  But it wasn’t her hair that caught my attention.

  It was her eyes: Tough as steel and utterly impenetrable.

  Sort of like my Almond Joy from Manny’s vending machine.

  * * *

  Back in Sauna Central, I quickly forgot about the warring bachelorettes, my mind occupied with something far more important.

  Tonight, lest you forgot, was my dinner date with Tai, my handsome island prince, and I needed to get ready to meet the royal family.

  After a quick shower under a tepid trickle of water, I stood in front of my closet, wrapped in a towel, trying to decide what to wear. I definitely needed to dress to impress. But, alas, all I’d packed for my trip were a bunch of boring capris and tees. Why the heck hadn’t I listened to Lance and bought myself a flirty sundress?

  “Oh, Pro,” I sighed. “What am I going to do?”

  She gazed up at me from
where she was stretched out on the bed.

  I find a nice refreshing belly rub always helpful in times of crisis.

  And then, just when I’d given up all hope of looking cute, a miracle happened.

  Polly showed up.

  Apparently Akela, still mired in her cat phobia, had begged Polly to bring up Prozac’s dinner.

  When Pro had swan-dived into her fish guts, Polly turned to me, excited.

  “You all set for your date with Tai tonight? What’re you going to wear?”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled, dejected.

  “The naked approach, huh? That should get things off to a spicy start.”

  “Seriously, Polly. I haven’t got a thing to wear. All I brought are boring capris and tees.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Not unless you count my I ♥ MY CAT sleep shirt.”

  I plopped on the bed face down, burying my head in the pillow.

  “I may as well cancel.”

  “Don’t be silly!” Polly said, heading to my closet. “I’m sure we can find something in here that will work.”

  After a quick perusal of its contents, she shook her ponytail in dismay.

  “Looks like you packed for an L. L. Bean convention.”

  “Tell me about it,” I groaned.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, holding out a pair of white stretch capris. “These don’t look too baggy. And I think I’ve got a top that’ll look great with it. I’ll go get it.”

  “But, Polly. You’re a size four and I’m a size . . . well, not a four. How am I ever going to fit into one of your tops?”

  “It’s oversized on me. I’m sure it’ll fit you just fine.”

  And before I knew it, she was whizzing out the door.

  Sixteen tension-filled minutes later (I was counting every second), she was back swinging a tote bag.

  “Voilà!” she said, reaching into the tote and pulling out a gorgeous silk turquoise top. It was a boxy, boatneck affair, with three-quarter sleeves, cut very generously.

  I tried it on, and Polly was right: It fit me just fine.

  “I brought these to go with it,” she said, holding out a pair of fabulous dangly silver earrings.

  “And these!”

  Flip-flops with bright turquoise flowers at the toe thong.

  I tried on everything with my white stretch capris, and I’m happy to report I looked good. More than good. I looked pretty darn terrific.

  “Wait, I’m not done!”

  With that, Polly whipped out a pair of scissors from the tote and began trimming my hair, still damp from my shower. When she was through, she took out a tube of some miracle styling product she’d borrowed from the makeup department and began shaping my mop until it was a nimbus of sexy, shiny curls.

  My gosh, I felt like Cinderella getting ready for the ball with Polly as my ponytailed fairy godmother! Any minute now I expected her to turn Prozac into a Prada clutch.

  “Polly, you’re an angel!” I cried. “How can I ever thank you?”

  “Just have a good time with Tai tonight.”

  Brimming with confidence in my fab new outfit, I intended to do just that.

  Chapter 10

  After Polly left, I slapped on some lipstick and mascara, then whirled in front of Pro for her approval.

  “So? What do you think?”

  She gazed up at me through slitted eyes.

  I think I’d still like that belly rub.

  Fat chance. I was busy admiring myself in my closet mirror, striking poses and turning pirouettes, when suddenly my little lovefest was disrupted by the sound of a car horn honking.

  Hurrying to the window, I saw Tai parked in front of the mansion in his Jeep.

  Even from three stories up, he was a stunner.

  After my heart stopped fibrillating, I blew Pro a kiss good-bye and sailed out the door, making sure to bolt the outside lock. Then I scurried down the stairs, Polly’s flip-flops slapping against my heels.

  Out on the verandah, I sighed in delight.

  What a beautiful night. The sky was lit up with a gazillion stars. And balmy breezes wafted in the air, bearing the heady scent of gardenias.

  But the most beautiful sight of all was Tai behind the wheel of his Jeep, looking particularly yummy in cutoffs and a tank top, the moonlight glistening off his sculpted bod.

  “Hey, Jaine,” he said, gracing me with a dazzling smile.

  Was it my imagination, or was he looking at me with unabashed approval?

  “You look terrific!” he beamed.

  “Thanks,” I said, sending silent blessings to my fairy godmother, Polly.

  “Hop in,” Tai said, and I climbed on board the Jeep, ever so grateful Tai couldn’t see my tush as I hoisted it up to the passenger seat.

  “For you,” he said, handing me a gorgeous gardenia.

  So that’s where the delicious scent had been coming from.

  “How beautiful!”

  “Let me put it in your hair.”

  As he put the flower in my hair, his fingers grazed my neck, and I repressed a shiver of excitement.

  “I just know my dad’s going to love you,” he said, staring deeply into my eyes.

  Omigosh, did this mean what I thought it meant? Was he going to ask his father’s approval to marry me? Wow, even me and my overactive imagination hadn’t planned on things going this fast.

  Tearing his eyes away from me, Tai put the Jeep in gear, and we set off for his tribal village.

  “I can’t wait for you and Dad to meet,” he was saying.

  I nodded absently, wondering if after we were married we could have a little pied-à-terre in the States. Maybe even in Manhattan. I’d always wanted to live in the Big Apple.

  Tai kept telling me how pretty I looked, while I mentally chose silverware for our bridal registry. Something in a bamboo pattern would be perfect for island life.

  “I’m so happy I got to pick you up at the airport the other day,” Tai said, his hand perilously close to my knee. “What a lucky break that was.”

  “Absolutely,” I gushed, barely restraining myself from running my fingers through his fabulous curls.

  “Well, here we are!”

  Snapping out of my reverie, I realized we had arrived at Tai’s village—a barren stretch of land with primitive thatched huts built in a circle around what looked like a large fire pit.

  Oh, dear. It was a lot less glam than I’d expected.

  Where were all the lanais and swaying palms and waves lapping against the shore?

  Tai parked the Jeep and led me past the thatched huts.

  In vain I looked for a hammock swinging between two palms, but all I saw was underwear drying on clotheslines.

  As we walked through the village, I noticed that one hut was larger than the others, with a verandah and an ancient TV antenna perched on the thatched roof.

  “This is my dad’s house,” Tai said with pride as we approached it.

  Whoa. I realized this wasn’t Versailles, but wasn’t a king supposed to live in a palace? Or at least a really nice house? With guards out front? And maybe a flag?

  But all that graced the king’s lawn was a pink plastic flamingo.

  And a grunting pig.

  “That’s Ava Gardner,” Tai said, pointing to the mud-spattered animal. “My dad’s pet pig.”

  Tai led me past the pig up the front steps to the verandah, where a spectacularly lovely young native gal was standing, clad in a slinky sarong, her lush mane of wavy black hair flowing all the way down to her tush.

  And before I knew what was happening, she was throwing her arms around Tai and planting a wet smacker on his lips.

  Wait a minute! Who was this hussy, and why was she sucking face with my future husband?

  Unwrapping himself from her clutches, Tai turned to me and said, “Jaine, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Leilani.”

  What the what? If Tai had a girlfriend, then what on earth was I doing here?

  I was about
to find out.

  Leaving Leilani out on the verandah, Tai opened a tattered screen door and ushered me into the “palace” living room.

  There I saw a squat sixtysomething dude leaning back in a cracked vinyl recliner watching a rerun of I Love Lucy.

  “Hi, Dad!” Tai called out. “Jaine’s here. The girl I was telling you about.”

  The old guy muted the TV and heaved himself up from the recliner.

  He was a short, potbellied geezer with approximately three strands of hair clinging desperately to his scalp. Sporting a sarong type skirt which I prayed would not flap open, he was naked from the waist up, affording me an up close and personal view of his pot belly.

  “Jaine Austen, I’d like you to meet my father, King Konga of Paratito.”

  “Er . . . hello,” I managed to choke out.

  “Welcome, my dearest Jaine,” the geezer said, gracing me with the royal smile.

  Which happened to be pretty much devoid of royal teeth.

  As far as I could tell, he had about six remaining stumps. Which beat out the number of hairs on his head but still made for a fairly appalling first impression.

  “I was just watching an episode of the venerated American TV show I Love Lucy.” He stared in awe at the screen as Ethel traded zingers with Fred.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” he said, staring lovestruck at Lucy’s sidekick.

  Wait. He thought Ethel was the pretty one?

  “So what do you think, Dad?” Tai asked. “Isn’t Jaine great?”

  The old man looked me up and down, a naughty glint in his eye.

  “Just what I’ve been looking for, son!”

  “Then I guess I’ll leave you two alone,” Tai said.

  And with that, the little rat scooted out the door.

  “I suppose Tai’s told you I’m looking to get married,” Konga said when we were alone.

  “No, as a matter of fact, he neglected to point that out to me.”

  I only wish Tai had been there to hear the frost in my voice.

  “Indeed. I’m looking for another wife.”

  “Another wife?”

  “I’ve already got eleven lovely spouses, and now I want to make it an even dozen. Polygamy is legal here in Paratito. For the king, anyway. Tai told me he thought you’d be perfect for me, and he’s absolutely right! You’re magnificent!”