A few scant hours later, Ellie rushed into the nearly deserted, dimly lit hotel coffee shop, where Roger, Bonnie, Spencer, Tiffy, Chantella and Wesley sat nurturing coffee and soft drinks. Everyone looked exhausted. She could certainly identify, but at least she had replaced the hanging-tongue t-shirt with a pair of black shorts and pink Full Court Press t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Roger patted a seat next to him and she sunk into it gratefully. “We’ve talked more about your plan. We really think it could work.”
“Sludge is just greedy enough, I’m sure,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. My inner alarm clock doesn’t usually fail me.”
“I ordered pancakes for you,” Bonnie said. “And coffee.”
Ellie thanked her.
“Where’s Russell?” Wesley asked. He and Chantella seemed even cuddlier than usual, but maybe that was because they were so tired. Or because you needed a reminder that no one is cuddling you.
Ellie bit her tongue to keep from swearing. Instead, she suggested they call Russell’s cell phone, but Bonnie said she’d already tried, numerous times.
Ellie looked at Tiffy. “Wasn’t he with you?”
Tiffy, who was playing with the napkin holder, looked up. “Oh, I didn’t make it back to my room last night.”
No explanation. No guilt. Sheesh. These young people today.
What’s the plan?” Tiffy asked.
“We’ll need a turkey baster, a pair of needle-nose pliers and a contortionist,” Spencer intoned somberly.
“Really? I’m pretty limber.”
Ellie smiled. “He’s kidding, Tiffy.” Well, maybe not about the contortionist.
Tiffy swatted Spencer playfully as the waitress distributed their meals, which ranged from pancakes to omelets to bacon, eggs and fruit. Several of them had ordered orange juice, and Wesley and Chantella ordered milk. One part of Ellie’s brain would never stop being surprised that the out-there couple enjoyed mundane things, including milk. She thought they should be drinking mimosas or rare, imported beer or something else exotic. If she had heard Spencer’s line about the weird supplies and the contortionist, the middle-aged waitress gave no indication. Just like every other time it had happened, it was probably nothing out of the ordinary for Las Vegas, Ellie surmised, amusing herself. Cheap thrills.
Bonnie waited for the waitress to leave, then addressed the group. “You’re right, Ellie. Sludge is greedy.” She turned to Tiffy. “As Ellie suggested, we’re going to make him think there’s a private buyer interested in the comic.”
“Oooh, good idea,” Tiffy said.
Roger poured way too much sugar into his coffee, and without even thinking, Bonnie’s hand shot out and stilled his hand from pouring any more. Without reacting, he said, “If he’s got it, the only thing bigger than his desire to screw us is his avarice.”
“And his head,” Tiffy said. “He’s got an awful big head.”
“What about the money?” Chantella wondered out loud. “That would be pretty hard to fake. Can we get that much together in time?”
“Uh, I can cover that,” Spencer said.
They all stared at him. The guy was dressed like a vagabond half the time.
“You have four hundred grand? Here?” It was Wesley who had the nerve to ask.
Spencer looked kind of proud. “France…”
“…has been very good to me,” Bonnie and Roger said in unison.
Spencer shrugged. “I was going to say très good to me. And actually, at one point I was thinking about buying it for real. That’s why I brought the cash.”
They all looked stunned. Finally, Tiffy said it. “Cash?” as if she didn’t know what it was. Spencer smiled. “I know it’s so last century, but I’m a cash, not plastic, kind of guy.”
“It’s not even in a bank here?” Wesley had to ask.
“It’s under my mattress.”
Tiffy gasped. “You mean I slept on four hundred thousand dollars?”
As everyone tried to pretend they hadn’t heard that, Spencer laughed out loud. “I guess you did, sweetheart.”
“Wow. No wonder it felt so good.”
Roger nearly spit out his coffee on that one, and Bonnie started patting his back.
“Well, as long as you had fun,” Ellie said rather sarcastically, feeling oddly affronted on behalf of Russell, while still somehow being glad he hadn’t slept with Tiffy, last night at least. There’s a convoluted thought for you. Was it really only a couple of weeks ago that she had met Russell? In some ways, it seemed like a lifetime. And then a thought occurred to Head Voice. I guess Tiffy isn’t a princess if she couldn’t feel all that money, not to mention a pea, under the mattress. Ellie smiled. When all else failed, she almost always could amuse herself. And then another thought occurred to her. It should have kind of grossed her out that Spencer, who must be about 40 years older than Tiffy, had slept with her. Yet he didn’t seem 60, and she didn’t seem 21 anymore. They actually kind of seemed like they made a good couple. Go figure. Or are you just trying to palm her off on Spencer so Russell doesn’t have her anymore?
When he recovered, Roger looked at Spencer in shock. “What happened to ‘You can do whatever you want with Number One?’”
Spencer stabbed a slice of cantaloupe. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I decided to have less to worry about, I guess. And I knew you wouldn’t let me pay what it’s worth anyway.”
Bonnie laughed. “I would.”
Tiffy took a bite of her omelet and then looked at Spencer thoughtfully. “What if something goes wrong and you lose the comic and the money?”
Spencer shrugged. “Then I’ll create a Tiffy the Temptress series. They’d love you in France.”
Tiffy giggled.
Wesley stopped eating. “Wait a minute. Who’s going to be the buyer? Sludge has seen all of us.”
“I made a call before I came here,” Ellie explained. “I’ve got it all lined up.”
They discussed the plan in detail, including Tiffy’s key role.
When it was all settled, they all seemed to relax, the tension dissipating almost miraculously until Roger almost shouted, “Wait!”
Ellie felt a moment of utter panic, as if the whole plan were collapsing and life as they all knew it would end, and everyone else looked horrified as well.
“I need some tabasco sauce for these eggs,” Roger said.
* * *
Sunday at the convention center turned out to be even busier than Saturday, with the parking lot jam packed, the booths manned and people continuously streaming in. It was amazing to Ellie that so many people were into the underground comix scene. She felt somehow proud that their little hole-in-the-wall operation was part of a bigger, albeit sometimes weird, scene. If she hadn’t been so worried about Volume One and confused about her love life…okay, “love” was a stretch. You mean your theoretical, non-love life. But for those two glitches, she would be…dare she think it? Happy. Or maybe the word was content. Or hopeful. Oh, please. If you start thinking that way, you’ll get blindsided. You always do.
Bonnie, Roger and Spencer were sitting at the Full Court Press booth, drinking coffee and chatting, when Ellie arrived. She put her purse under the table and began straightening out the merchandise. “They get in at 12:50,” she said.
Bonnie looked up. “That late?”
“It’s the earliest flight they could get.”
“Does Tiffy know?” Roger asked.
“Yes. We practiced last night with the sofa.”
Bonnie waited on customers as Spencer and Roger talked and Ellie occupied herself with mindless rearranging. Then Russell, in costume, approached.
“Hey, earthlings, what’s up?”
“What do you care?” Spencer asked, clearly annoyed.
Russell stopped, surprised. “What’s got your knickers in a knot?”
Spencer tossed aside a comic book he’d been perusing. “Where were you this morning?”
“Oh. The meeting.” Now Russell appeared to understand. “I overslept. Sorry.”
Bonnie looked at him askance. “I called your room several times.”
Russell smoothed over his stomach fur. “Yeah, I’m a heavy sleeper.”
“Cut the crap.” Spencer again.
Once again Ellie felt protective of Russell. It was the darnedest thing, and she didn’t have time to analyze it, but she just couldn’t let everyone open a can of whoop-ass on him without speaking up. “We missed you, that’s all. It was a strategizing session, and we could have used your devious mind.”
“If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem,” Spencer said.
As if speaking in clichés will help this situation.
Russell stared him down for a few moments, and Ellie feared another fistfight was imminent.
“If I had anything to do with the theft, would I be dumb enough to miss your strategy meeting?”
“Er, we don’t know how dumb you can be,” Roger said.
Ellie was shocked at Roger joining in on the verbal attack, and now Russell was really affronted.
“What is this, Dis Muskman Day?”
As the conversation escalated, people started to take notice. Ellie felt so pent up with frustration and misplaced adrenaline, she thought if another fight broke out, this time she just might join in. She didn’t actually want to punch anybody, but it might be satisfying to jump on someone’s back. Or pull somebody’s hair ‘til he screamed. Okay, maybe she did want to punch someone. You are really sinking to new lows. But Russell looked so hurt she wanted to bawl. And brawl.
Spencer looked at Russell, shaking his head. “Where were you when I was going at it with Sludge?”
“On his back, as you might recall.”
Ellie immediately jumped in. Truth be told, she wanted to hug Russell—or was this some perverse Muskman fantasy—and tell him everything would be all right. “That’s right. He was.”
At this point, Roger spoke up. “Er…the whole time?”
Ellie shifted uncomfortably. “Well…um…practically.”
“Don’t help me,” Russell said, his voice vibrating angrily.
The gathering crowd seemed to lean in, and Ellie was starting to feel claustrophobic. Stay safe; careful, Ellie. What had she gotten herself into? What, would you rather be sitting in a café with Gawayne? Whew! That put things into a better perspective.
Then Bonnie chimed in. “Russell, you really showed up out of nowhere.”
Now Russell was definitely getting pissed. “You were the ones who were looking for someone to be Muskman. You don’t know me,” he huffed, “and you don’t read your own comics either, do you?”
“You’re not Muskman, numbnuts.” Spencer’s two-cents worth.
Of course he wasn’t Muskman. But to Ellie, he seemed like Muskman. He seemed like he had Muskman’s honor and ideals. Oh, please. Reality check. The man’s a dog.
Russell reached behind his back, unzipped the costume and started stripping out of it as several onlookers began clapping and cheering. Ellie gently grabbed his arm. “Russell…”
He yanked it away and kept undressing. Desperately, tears in her eyes, Ellie turned to her boss. “Roger…”
He shook his head. “I have to be able to trust the people who work for me.”
Russell stepped out of the costume and threw it at Roger. “I don’t work for you.”
He stomped off.
As Ellie watched Russell tromping off in his white t-shirt and green and white Gumby boxers, she would have laughed if she wasn’t about to cry. This was all Sludge’s fault. Damn his little black heart. She knew in her own heart of hearts that he was behind the theft, not Russell. She felt positively awful for Russell, out of all proportion to the situation awful, but she didn’t know why. Don’t you? “Oh, for God sakes, shut up.”
Her co-workers all turned to stare at her and she thought she saw Chantella share a knowing look with Wesley as she looked up, hitting her head several times with both hands. Then she strode off after Russell, who seemed oblivious to the stares he was drawing as he marched through the exhibition hall in his colorful undies. Ellie finally reached him and struggled to keep up.
“Russell, wait…please…”
He stopped so suddenly, she ran into him. He was surprisingly rock solid. And it felt frighteningly good when that was the last thing she should be thinking of. When he looked at her and she saw the hurt and disappointment and anger in his face, she nearly gasped.
“You know what? I’m done waiting.”
He started walking again, and she ran to catch up to him. “But…”
Although he didn’t stop walking, he looked at her accusingly. “And while you’re mooning over your ex-boyfriend or boyfriend or whatever the hell he is, you might ask him where he was when the comic disappeared.”
Before she could even answer, two security guards approached Russell. One leaned over and said something to him that she couldn’t hear, and they started leading him away. “Sure, Chantella can walk around in her underwear and everybody loves it, but I show a little Gumby and I’m a criminal.”
Even under these dire conditions, Ellie had to smile. “Do you want me to come with you?” she shouted.
Russell looked back at her. “No. Go find your boyfriend. And how to do we know the comic ever existed?”
His voice was starting to fade as he got farther away, but she just caught the tail end of his comment. “This whole thing could be an insurance scam.”
Isn’t that what the detectives suspected? Or at least what Roger and Bonnie thought they suspected? Or was that just Roger’s paranoia? As she slowly walked back to the Full Court Press booth, her heart thudding, she went through each of the characters in this little drama in her mind. Could Roger and/or Bonnie be perpetrating insurance fraud to fund their trip to France? She thought of everything she knew about Roger, and it just didn’t fit. No way. He was scrupulously honest with customers, not into material things and just an all-around good guy. Roger? No, no way.
What about Bonnie? She was so obviously still madly in love with Roger. She would never do anything to put him under suspicion or in jeopardy. She was a ball-buster, but in a righteous way, like a mother bear protecting her cubs. It wasn’t Bonnie.
Wesley? Absolutely not. If she could think of one word to describe him, it would probably be “sweet,” but he wasn’t wimpy at all. He was a gallant knight. Wesley was a slightly scary-looking, smart, sexy marshmallow, creative and generous. He was also very loyal. It couldn’t have been Wesley.
And Chantella? She truly walked to the beat of her own drum and would have the nerve to pull off the theft or do just about anything she put her mind to, but she bled integrity from every pore. She would chew off her arm before she would betray Roger and Bonnie. She crossed Chantella off her mental list.
That left Spencer, whom she didn’t know very well. But he was such good friends with the Neffs that he wouldn’t have needed to steal the comic. She believed with all her heart that they would have given it to him, even if it ruined their plans to move to France. That’s the kind of friends they were, and Spencer seemed just as loyal. He was a pretty sexy man himself, in an old-guy kind of way, which he would no doubt take exception to if he knew her opinion. So it wasn’t Spencer.
And Tiffy? Oddly enough, Ellie found herself admiring Tiffy in spite of herself and couldn’t see her pulling off the theft even if she had people to help her. The girl probably was performing as Tiffy and had more depth and intelligence than any of them realized. She appeared to like the Full Court Press family and just didn’t seem like the type of person to betray others. What about betraying Russell? She did sleep with Spencer. It’s not like Tiffy and Russell were engaged, though. Oh, she hated that thought.
And then there was Russell. Dear obnoxious Russell. Who you wanted to just eat up in those Gumby boxers. It was still hard to believe she had only known him for so short a period of time. In fact, she had a hard time remembering what her life was like before she met him. More peaceful, no doubt. More boring, too. He could be incredibly irritating and nosy, but he was so funny and fun and charming and disarming. And talented. And sexy in his own way. And idealistic. He was the kind of guy that made you hope. Unless he has really snowed you. No, if she had misjudged him, there was no hope for her. It would be time to jump off that cliff for real. Or she would give up men forever. Or both. It just could not have been Russell. She would bet her life on it.
But what about Brian? He was definitely more into material things than her hippie-dippy co-workers, but in a classy, not obnoxious or seemingly greedy way. He was hardworking, ambitious, sophisticated and also charming. As well as handsome and sexy as all get-out. Could he be in financial trouble and looking for an easy way out? She hadn’t seen him in several years, and people did change, but that much? For a nanosecond she thought it was possible. No, she really couldn’t see it. Was that wearing blinders, though? Careful, your head might explode. Her gut told her, though, that it wasn’t Brian.
No, all her money was on Sludge. Icky, yucky smirking Sludge. He was a slimeball and he held a big grudge. It wasn’t a stretch to think he would do anything he could to exact revenge on or hurt Bonnie, Roger and Spencer. He was an instigator, a troublemaker and looked guilty. But was that too easy, too obvious?
Such a monumental theft made everybody suspicious, didn’t it, particularly the cops? What a muddle.