Patti looked up from her mountain of crumpled tissues and wrinkled her nose. “That’s what you’re wearing to Neverland Island?”
I did a quick three-sixty in front of her closet door mirror, taking in my tight black pants and off-the-shoulder shirt. I kicked up my high-heeled sandals, pleased with the getup. “What’s wrong with it?” My hair still held its curls after an hour in hot rollers and half a can of Aqua Net.
Her lips twitched. “You look like Sandy from Grease. At the end, when she’s at the carnival.” Her cynical scowl appeared. She’d made that face so often growing up, my mother warned it would freeze that way. Mom had been right. Patti had two permanent creases in her forehead. “Are you trying to copy slutty Sandy because you’re going to an amusement park?”
My older sister had always been critical of my outfit choices. I balled up a fist and planted it on my hip. “What? No! Well, maybe. When Sandy showed up looking like this, she got everyone’s attention, and if you want me to find your scummy ex, I thought this would work.” I took another look in the mirror at my tight outfit. If I were going to a movie-themed costume party, I’d win a prize for this ensemble.
She rolled her eyes. “Are you also going to flick a cigarette on the ground and grind it with your shoe?”
“Tell me about it, stud,” I mumbled. Yeah, that might be too much. I made a mental note to leave the pack of menthols at home. I didn’t smoke anyway, and good thing. Those suckers were expensive.
Patti sniffed loudly. “Well, Devon likes women who are hot or rich. That’s what I heard him say on the phone. ‘Hot or rich. Either one will do.’” She snatched a tissue from the box, blowing her nose loudly. “I had the rich part down, you’ve got the hot part down for sure, Colleen. If you find him, he’ll fall for you like that.” Patti snapped her fingers, and then started crying again.
I sat on her bed and rubbed her back. “Patti, it’s not like I’m going to fall for him. I’m just trying to bust him, turn him in to the police. I’m sure you’re not the first woman he’s swindled. He needs to be stopped.”
She shredded a tissue, the pieces fluttered into her lap. “I know. And I really appreciate you doing this. The cops said there was nothing they could do because I willingly gave him the money and jewelry. You’re my only hope for revenge. I’m sorry I don’t have more for you to go on.”
I reached for the only snapshot she had of her lying, cheating scumbag ex, Devon. His hand obscured most of his face in the picture, but I could see one bright blue eye and a tumble of dark hair between two blurry fingers. I’d been suspicious when Patti had found a gorgeous, younger millionaire boyfriend. Hot young rich dudes don’t usually seek out forty-something women who prematurely wear support hose.
In the entire month they’d dated she talked about him every day, yet I never met him. Now guilt hounded me for not voicing my concerns earlier. It was just that Patti had seemed so happy with him—until he convinced her to invest in a new business he was starting, and then he disappeared with the cash and jewelry she’d given him.
“No tattoos or piercings?” I asked.
“No. And while he told me his name was Devon, I overheard him on the phone that day saying something like ‘Yo, you can count on me, I’m Rumple Stilt Skin.’ Or maybe it was ‘Rum and Spilled Sin?’”
I blinked at her. “You dated a guy who said, ‘Yo?’”
She ignored my comment. “Maybe he’s in a gang and that’s his nickname. ‘Rummy Steel Shin.’ It was an odd name.”
“Super helpful,” I said. “But you’re sure he said he was going to be running a gold operation at Neverland Island?”
Patti nodded. “None of it made sense to me at the time. I was going to talk to him about it, but he disappeared the next day. I don’t know what a gold operation is, but I’m sure it isn’t legit if he’s part of it.”
I pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick and slicked on another coat, as if I could layer on confidence. I paused. “Was Sandy wearing a scarf in that scene?”
Patti rolled her eyes. “You’re thinking of the chick at the car race.”
I snapped my fingers. “Right, right.”
“Are you sure you can do this? You’re not the best liar. When Claudia asked Mom if Santa was real, you had to run from the room and avoid her the rest of the day.”
“I didn’t want her to learn the truth from me.” My little sister had cried buckets when I filled her in on the tooth fairy. I wasn’t going to spoil Santa, too.
“And the time the cop gave you a ticket, you volunteered that you’d been talking on your cell phone right before he pulled you over for speeding. And then you told him my car had a busted tail light back home.”
I stood and gritted my teeth. “Well, this is my chance to become an expert liar. I’m up for the challenge. But how am I going to know for sure it’s him?”
“You’re going to have to get him to say his name. His gang name—Rumpy Stillman. Or whatever.”
“All right. I’m on it. And while I’m chasing bad guys, your assignment today is to get dressed for the first time this week.”
Patti burrowed under her lacy pink comforter, sending wadded-up tissues and candy bar wrappers spilling to the ground.
I took one last look in the mirror. “Neverland Island—where you’ll find your happy ending. Here I come.”
***
Heads turned as I walked through the amusement park at Neverland Island humming “Summer Lovin’” to myself. A guy selling kettle corn whistled at me, which was surprising, given his missing front tooth. Three teenaged boys followed me down the strip of vendors, giggling and pushing each other my way, as if I was a prize they’d win if only they could knock me over.
I stopped and looked at them. “Seriously?”
Their faces turned beet red, and they hurried off.
I paused to check out a guy standing outside a jewelry shop. His dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he looked shifty. But he wasn’t hot. Thunder rumbled overhead. I swore to myself and glanced around for a shop that might sell umbrellas.
“Hey, you work down at that X-rated candy shop?” a guy asked me. “I was wondering if they had lollipops shaped like—”
“Sorry, I don’t work there!” I walked faster, thinking maybe I should’ve gone for the sweet Sandy look instead. But that probably wouldn’t have attracted the attention of Devon—or Runkled Spillman.
Maneuvering in my high heels on the dusty, uneven pavement was hard enough. Trying to outrun the rain was impossible. When the first drops hit, I headed for an ice cream stand with an awning. But then the sky opened, and rain fell like cold bullets. I swore out loud this time, and someone reached out and pulled me into a doorway.
“You can wait in here until the storm passes by,” said the good-looking guy whose fingers were now clamped around my elbow.
“Thanks.” I looked up at him, and goose bumps appeared faster than the rain had. Bright blue eyes smiled at me, and his face was framed by dark, curly hair. Judging by the way my insides instantly said, “Yes, oh, yes, I will do you right here and now, several times if you’re up for it,” I thought there was a very good chance this could be Patti’s guy—either that, or I was channeling Slutty Sandy.
I felt a little wobbly. He must’ve noticed, because he pulled out a folding chair from behind the booth where stuffed bears and fuzzy dice hung from pegs.
I sat down. “Thanks.”
“Can’t imagine it’s easy walking around in shoes like that, especially here. But I like it. I like all of it.” He crossed his arms and smiled.
Oh, this sounded like Patti’s guy. My clothes were stuck to me, and my hair was slicked across my cheeks and forehead. I waited for a joke that had something to do with being wet, but to his credit, he didn’t go there. “I’m, uh…Sandy,” I said, mentally kicking myself for not having coming up with a better pseudonym before.
He smirked. “Yeah? And I’m Danny. Danny Zuko.”
Guess he’d seen the movie a few times, too. “Ha, ha. No, really, what’s your name?” I asked.
He stared at me for a moment. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Junior.”
“Junior what? Nobody is actually named Junior.”
He shrugged. “That’s what everyone calls me. So, I’d say that’s my name.”
Not at all like Rump and Shell Fin, but he probably wouldn’t give it up that easy. I felt annoyed, but then I remembered I needed to seduce this guy, get him to try and swindle me, and reveal his name. Probably wasn’t going to happen in a day. I ran my fingers through my hair, sweeping my damp tresses over one shoulder. I tried to make my voice sound breathy. “So, Junior, what do you do here?”
He watched me, amused. “I’m running the guess-your-age-and-weight booth.”
I looked out the window of his little shack and saw the giant scale. “You better not guess either one for me.”
He laughed, and I was dismayed that it was a wonderful sound that left me tingling. I’d have to ask Patti if her nether regions buzzed when Devon had laughed.
His phone rang. Snapping his gaze away, he reached for it and answered, “Yo.”
My heart thumped at that one little word.
Scratching his head, he turned his back to me and lowered his voice, but I could hear him say, “Twenty-four karat?”
I struggled to swallow, unsure what to do. This was the guy. No doubt. I hadn’t expected to find him so quickly. But I still had to get him to try scamming me. I took a deep breath, reassuring myself I could do this. I’d taken on persistent telemarketers and I’d scared off door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesmen, so netting a criminal should be no sweat, right?
Finished with his call, he slid the phone back in his pocket and looked out the window. “Storm’s passed, and while I’ve got many more questions for you, I’ve got to be somewhere. You going to be around?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll be here for quite a while. There’s a Grease celebration going on today. I guess the fried food stands are sponsoring it. That’s why I’m dressed like this.” The lies were rolling like a freight train. Patti would be proud.
“Cruise on by if you get the chance.” He looked me up and down. “One-fifteen.”
I narrowed my eyebrows then felt myself blush. He was ten pounds off. Well, more like thirteen. Or fourteen.
“Am I right?” he asked.
I tipped up my chin. “Yes,” I said, lying again. “You guessed it right on the nose. You win.”
He plucked a little teddy bear from a peg and tossed it to me. “Take this anyway.” He walked out the door, waited for me to follow, then locked it behind me. He pulled down the metal cage in front the prizes.
He winked. “See you later, Sandy.” He walked away whistling “Hopelessly Devoted.” You’d think a guy like him would be whistling “Greased Lightning.”
Shaking my head, I watched him go. One-fifteen my butt. He knew how to charm a woman, all right. So why the hell was my heart beating so fast?
Clutching my little bear, I strolled around the park, peeking at the different vendors, wondering where and how this gold operation might be going down. I sampled food at a few stands. A lot of stands, actually. Junior probably would need to add five pounds to his guess next time he saw me.
How was I going to get him to scam me? This was about more than making him think I was hot. I needed to make him think I had money. I stopped inside a store that sold jewelry and makeup and all sorts of glittery things that made women go, ‘Ohh.’
I picked out a few flashy rings and a thick chain of fake gold. While I cashed out, I noticed more jewelry beneath the glass counter.
The girl ringing me out snapped her gum. “That’s the real stuff under there. We buy and sell gold and silver. Good prices.”
A curtain hung in a doorway behind her, and I could hear voices in the room beyond.
“Do you have things for sale back there?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” she said, tapping at the register. “Twenty-two eighty.”
I paid her and left the store with my new items, planning to wear them the next day. Had Junior been in that back room? Had he seen me? And what scam could he possibly be running here at the park?
I walked by his booth. He wasn’t there, so I watched the mermaid show at the amphitheater to kill time. Then I returned to the row of vendors and games where Junior’s booth was located and found him trying to guess the age of a little kid.
He spent a minute looking at the boy, even getting out a tape measure to see how tall he was while the kid giggled. Junior wrote down his guess on a piece of paper. “All right. I’ve got my guess. How old are you?”
“Seven.”
Junior slapped his forehead and groaned, showing the little guy his paper. “I said ten. You win. Pick out a prize.”
The kid ran over to the prizes and spent at least five minutes hemming and hawing over which stuffed goody to pick.
I walked over to Junior and whispered, “You’re not a very good guesser. You must’ve gotten lucky with me.”
He winked at me. “I’d love to get lucky with you.”
Words escaped me for a moment, and he playfully punched my arm. “Doesn’t matter if I guess wrong. The prizes are so cheap we make money even if the customer wins.”
I wondered who he meant by we, but I just smiled, hoping my verbal malfunctioning would end soon.
When the kid’s sister saw the cute stuffed dog her brother picked out, she started crying that she wanted to play, too.
“I’m out of money, guys,” their mother said, not looking up from her phone.
I was about to reach for a few bucks so the girl could play when Junior smacked his forehead. “I totally forgot, it’s buy-one-get-one-play-free day. In honor of Grease day.” He looked at me.
“Grease day?” the woman asked.
“The movie,” he explained, jerking his head toward me.
She looked me over and raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t see anything about that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think they publicized it very well.”
“Okay, mister, guess my age,” the little girl said. Clearly, she was three or four, and if Junior guessed within two years, she didn’t get a prize.
“Hmm,” he said, walking around the girl and doing his measuring tape trick again. After a few minutes, he said, “Seven?”
The little girl jumped up and down. “You lose! I’m four.” She held up four fingers. “You’re a loser! Now get me my stuffed doggy.”
Junior held back a laugh. “You got me,” he said, retrieving the prize.
I couldn’t help but smile watching the way Junior enjoyed himself with the kids.
After the family moved on, he leaned against his stand and smiled. “So, how’s the Grease festival?”
“Oh, fun. Didn’t see too many other people dressed up for it, though. Like I said, someone must be slacking in the marketing department.”
He smiled at me long enough to make me squirm. “Hope you didn’t take the day off from work for this,” he said. “What do you do?”
Telling him the truth—that I’m an underpaid special Ed teacher who was off for the summer—probably wouldn’t set off his scammer’s radar. I needed a lie, and a good one to get this guy’s interest. I sighed and tried to take on a somber tone. “I haven’t worked since my husband died.”
His eyes widened, causing his eyebrows to disappear under his mop of hair. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened?” He touched my shoulder.
I cocked my head, confused.
He squeezed my arm. “I mean, how did he die?”
I hadn’t thought about that one. I looked away, trying to decide how my fake husband should die. No diseases. That might lead to too many specific questions. A fire? A murder?
A kid walked by with an ice cream cone, and I wished to God I had one so I could take a big lick to buy me time while I thought about what to say. Where was an ice cream truck when you needed one? “He was hit by a truck. An ice cream truck.”
“Wow,” Junior said, shaking his head. “That’s almost hard to believe. I mean, that inane music they play, you’d think he’d hear that.”
I nodded. “Well, he was deaf.”
“Oh. Huh.”
“Lucky for me, he had a pretty big life insurance policy, which means now I don’t have to work.” I looked around. “I suppose he’s the reason I came here for the Grease festival. That was our favorite movie. And this was our favorite place. Neverland Island.” The lies were just rolling out of me. I hadn’t been here since I was a kid. I really was getting good at this.
Junior nodded. “Doesn’t seem like it’s been the best day for you, though.”
I swallowed hard and summoned my courage. “But, I did meet you.”
His beautiful blue eyes locked on mine. “You’re just saying that because of the teddy bear.”
“No. I like you, Junior. And I’m going to stop back tomorrow.” I walked away and looked back over my shoulder. He was watching my every move. Probably spending my money in his head, too. And to my dismay, I realized I was whistling, “You’re the One That I Want.” Damn it. That man had something magical going on, because part of me did want him. And I didn’t know why.
***
Patti was still in pajamas when I went back to her place, but at least she had moved from the bed to the couch. “How’d it go?”
“I think I found him.”
“Already?”
“Hot guy with blue eyes and dark hair. Calls himself Junior this time. He’s working at the guess-your-age-guess-your-weight game, and while I was there, he got a call and locked up in a real hurry right in the middle of the day. Then he came back. Oh, and he said, ‘Yo.’” I nodded, as if saying “yo” was proof enough.
“Junior?” Patti asked.
I kicked off my heels. “He’s not going to call himself Devon again. I’m sure he changes his name for each woman.”
She winced. “So, what are you going to do next?”
I plopped onto the couch next to her. “I’m going back to his booth tomorrow, dripping in jewels. I told him my husband died and left me a bundle.”
“Do you think he bought it?”
“We’ll find out.”
“Get a picture of him, and I’ll tell you if he’s the guy.”
“Oh sure, I’ll snap a picture all nice and subtle.”
“Find a way, Colleen. We have to be sure.”
***
The next morning, I put on the jewelry I’d bought the day before. This time I wore a sundress and much lower sandals, because my feet were killing me. And because I didn’t want to continue with the movie theme. What would be next? The Wizard of Oz? I didn’t have any ruby slippers. Since the rain had revealed I didn’t have naturally curly hair, I pulled it back in a twist. I hurried to his booth, where a line of little kids waited for him to guess their age.
“My cousin told me this guy always gets it wrong,” one little boy said to another.
“Good. I want the fuzzy dice,” the other kid said. “I heard girls like fuzzy dice. I’ll put them on my bike.”
Once all the boys received their prizes and scurried off, I sauntered over to him. “How’s it going today, Junior?”
“It’s going, just not fast enough.” He grinned. He certainly had the nicest teeth of anyone working there.
I narrowed my eyes. “I bet you have a really embarrassing name, and that’s why you go by Junior.”
“Maybe so.”
“What is it? I won’t laugh.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know you well enough…Sandy.”
I blushed. “Yeah, I was really playing up the role yesterday. If I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?”
“Depends on how embarrassing yours is.”
I blinked a few times. “Gertrude. It’s Gertrude. Gertrude Edith, in fact. Now tell me yours.”
He cocked his head and studied me. “Really?”
“Horrible, I know.”
“Nah, not at all. It’s not so embarrassing. Real old-fashioned. Gertie. It’s nice.”
I stifled a groan. This guy was a pro all right, he was unbreakable. “Well, how about a nickname? You got a nickname besides Junior?”
He ignored me and gestured to the thick necklace I was wearing. “Nice.”
I ran my fingers over it. “My husband bought me lots of nice things.”
“Looks just like the stuff they got right here at the jewelry store. I hate to break it to you, but that diamond isn’t real.” He gestured to my hand. “The gold probably isn’t either. Doesn’t have the right shine to it.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
I twisted the ring on my finger. “Well, of course it’s not real. I wouldn’t wear my real stuff here. But he did buy me many, many nice things.” I summoned my courage. “I’m thinking about selling a lot of it.”
He paused. “Talk to me if you do. There are a lot of scammers out there. I’ll tell you what to watch out for.”
You’d know, wouldn’t you buddy?
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a break. Want to go grab something to eat, see a few of the sideshows? What’s your favorite?”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Your favorite act. You must have one, since you come here so often.”
Lying required much more planning than I’d initially thought. “Hmm. The one with the people…who…juggle?”
He snapped his fingers. “The fire jugglers. Let’s do it.” He held out his arm. I snaked mine through his, and we walked toward the midway.
“I’ve been craving fried dough,” he said.
“Sounds good. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite. How many people won a prize from you today?”
“Everyone won a prize.”
I smiled, wondering how he could be so sweet with children, yet so cruel to lonely women. We strolled along, slower than everyone else around us. “Why don’t you actually try to guess someone’s age or weight correctly?”
He made a face. “I made a little kid cry once. I didn’t like it.”
My heart fluttered.
He stopped and pointed. “Fried butter? Come on!” He grabbed my hand, and we ran over to the fried food stand. As we stood in line, he continued to hold my hand.
And I liked it.
Of course I like it. I cursed myself. He’s a gigolo. Or a Lothario. Something ‘o.’ He knows how to seduce women.
“You want a fried stick of butter?” he asked.
My stomach churned—I wasn’t sure if it was from his suggestion or the realization that I liked this guy. “Uh, no.”
“Right. You probably had some yesterday during the Grease festival.” His grin was devious.
“Yeah. And I try to keep to one stick of butter a week, thank you.”
He purchased his stick of butter and chocolate sauce to dip it in, grinning like an idiot. Which gave me an idea.
I reached for my phone. “Let me take your picture eating that thing.” Before he could say no, I aimed it and clicked.
But he was too quick, and he held up his hand, blocking the shot. He laughed nervously. “I hate having my picture taken.”
So I’ve heard.
Once he finished his stick of butter, he reached for my hand again, and we walked through the park. I made a mental note to speed up my investigation, because the man could drop dead from a heart attack with all the fat coursing through his veins.
“Only one more week left in the season,” he said. “The farewell parade’s coming soon. Hard to believe.”
“Farewell parade?”
“On Labor Day. The park stays open on weekends through the middle of October, but the summer season is officially over on Labor Day.”
“Will you have given away your quota of prizes?” I teased.
“There’s no quota.”
“Don’t you have a boss who cares how much money you bring in?”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shrugged instead. “It’s not about the money, you know?”
No, I didn’t know. I thought it was all about the money. But we walked on, and I let him put his arm around me. We shared a candy apple and played a few games before watching the fire jugglers.
When the show was over, we stood to leave. He looked at me and cupped his hand under my jaw. I stopped breathing for a moment. This was all happening so fast. I never imagined I could get him to fall for me so quickly. I gulped and felt my throat tighten.
As he grazed his thumb toward my lips, I closed my eyes and moved in so he could kiss me. I’d known it might come to this, but I had to do it for Patti.
Then he rubbed the corner of my mouth with his finger. “You had some red sticky stuff there from the candy apple.”
I jerked back and almost fell into the seat. “Thank you.” My fingers went to the place he had touched.
He smiled. “But since you looked like you were expecting a kiss…” He took a step toward me, and his hand was back on my cheek while his other hand snaked up my back. Then he pulled me in for a kiss that drew a few whistles from the people around us. It also got us a, “Get a room.”
I had a hard time swallowing. Hell, I had a hard time thinking.
Junior held back a laugh, grabbed my hand, and led me out of the crowd. I said very little as we walked on, not quite believing I was seducing a seducer. Heck, I didn’t need to spend time watching the fire jugglers, I was juggling my own fire. “Don’t you have to get back to work at some point?”
He looked at his watch. “In a little while. Let’s take a spin on the Ferris wheel first.”
Little did I know that was gigolo speak for, “Make out the entire time, and include a little second base action.”
Oh, Patti owed me. She owed me big.
“Want to go around a second time?” he asked when the ride stopped.
I could only nod. I thought it was important that I seem into it.
While the wheel spun along with my heart, he received a phone call. He broke away from our kiss to turn form me and take the call.“Yo.”
I cringed, forcing myself to remember who this charming guy really was—and that he was very good at what he did. I ran my fingers across my tingling lips. Actually, he was more than very good.
He shut off his phone. “I’ve got to go.”
“Back to the guessing booth?”
He pressed his lips together. “I’ve got other things to attend to.”
I was going to say something sassy like, “Hey, hope it’s a golden opportunity.” Or something about leprechauns, but I wasn’t sure he’d get the gold reference. And it probably wasn’t a good idea to tip my cards so soon.
We climbed out of the Ferris wheel, and he took my hand. “I’ll walk you to the entrance.”
He doesn’t want to risk me seeing what he’s up to. “No need,” I said.
“Hey, it’s getting dark and there are a lot of weirdoes here. Plus, I want to spend every moment I can with you.”
My heart soared, even though I knew this was an act. “Okay.” The sky was getting dusky, and vendors were walking around selling different light-up toys and flashing goodies.
Junior stopped at a small booth to buy a fake rose. He handed it to me. “It’s not exactly a dozen long stems, but those are hard to come by around here.”
I took the rose from him. It blinked through a rainbow of colors, turning blue, green, purple, then white before going through the cycle again.
We stopped at the gates, and he kissed me. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
I’m coming back sooner than that, I thought. But I said, “Yes.”
After a long kiss goodbye, I sauntered casually down the boardwalk, and then turned and hustled back to the entrance. I waited thirty seconds and ran into the park, hoping he wouldn’t see me. I prepared excuses in case he did. Like, I needed another kiss. Or, I wanted a stick of fried butter after all.
He didn’t look back, but I could still see him thirty feet ahead of me. Good thing he was tall. A gorgeous bundle of six-foot-three man isn’t hard to spot.
But I didn’t want him seeing me. So I bought a tall, fuzzy, mad hatter hat from a passing vendor and a pair of sunglasses. I put them on and followed Junior until he got to the jewelry shop. The shop where they buy and sell gold and conduct some sort of sneaky business in a back room.
My heart sank. While I wanted to bust Patti’s ex, deep down I didn’t want it to be Junior. I really liked him, and it seemed as if the feeling was mutual. But I had to face facts, either he was setting the stage to rip me off, too, or I was going end up with a criminal for a boyfriend. I couldn’t picture myself baking a cake with a file in it. My cakes always ended up too crispy.
I turned and ran out of the park. What more did I need to see? Now I needed to step up the operation a notch so that he could finally scam me and I could end this nonsense.
***
The next morning, I showed up early with a cup of coffee for him. Maybe I should be bringing him gifts. Make him think I’m a sugar mama.
“What’s this?” he asked when I handed him the Styrofoam cup.
“Coffee. In case you were up late last night. With your business.”
He stood behind his booth, setting up for the day. “Nah, I tied things up pretty early. But thanks.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a huge bouquet of long-stemmed roses. “That plastic rose was a little embarrassing. I wanted to get it right today.”
I took them from him with shaky hands. They were the most exquisite flowers I’d ever seen. “Thank you,” I said, trying to sound as if I received roses from suitors every few weeks and not just twice before in my life—with one of those times being from my dad on my sixteenth birthday. “They’re gorgeous.”
“So are you.”
We stared at each other for a moment, and I wondered how this feeling could be so strong even after everything I knew about him.
“What do you say about dinner tonight? Not here at the park. A date. At a real restaurant.”
“Can’t manage another stick of butter?” I teased.
“No, and I do enjoy sitting down while I eat every once in a while.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. Do you want me to pick you up?”
I couldn’t let him see that I lived in a tiny apartment. Wealthy widows don’t live in tiny apartments. Unless he picked me up where a wealthy widow would live. “Yes. I live in Grimm Towers. I’ll meet you in the lobby at six.” I was getting pretty good at this.
“Grimm Towers?” One of his eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “I know the place. I’ll see you there at six.”
I held up the flowers. “I should get these home, put them in water.”
After I left him, I raced over to Patti’s place and tossed the flowers on her counter. “Guess things are going well. We’ve moved on to the roses stage.”
Patti sat up on the couch. “I never got roses.”
“Really? Huh. Well, he must be changing tactics a bit. Because it’s him, Patti. We were on the Ferris wheel…” I didn’t mention the kissing. “…and he got a call and had to leave. Walked me to the exit, then went back in. I followed him to the jewelry shop that buys and sells gold. So something is up. I just can’t figure out what this gold operation is. I suppose it doesn’t matter, long as I can get him to swindle me.”
Patti nodded.
“We’re going out to dinner tonight, so things are underway.”
“Bring your credit card. He’ll stick you with the bill. He always did that to me.”
***
None of my dresses screamed wealthy widow, so I went shopping and opted for a deep-blue silk dress that was sexy but not too slinky. I took a cab over to Grimm towers at 5:45 and told the doorman I was meeting one of the residents in the lobby for dinner.
“Very well,” he said, opening the door for me. I sat on a cream silk couch in the lobby, trying to slow my breathing.
At five to six, Junior walked in wearing a dark blue suit and tie. “Wow.” The words slipped from my lips.
He laughed. “I was just going to say the same thing about you.” He held out his hand and pulled me into a kiss. “Ready?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
***
When I looked over the menu, I was busy calculating how close my credit card balance was to my limit.
“What do you say to a bottle of champagne to celebrate our first date?” he asked.
“I thought the fried food stand was the first date?”
“Well, tonight feels like a night to celebrate.”
Wealthy widows wouldn’t think twice about a bottle of bubbly. “Sure,” I said.
After placing our orders, he smiled at me. “It seems like fate that I met you, at Neverland Island of all places.”
“Yep, fate. Because it’s not like I was there looking for you.” I laughed nervously. “Thank goodness for the Grease fest.”
The waiter came and poured our champagne. I closed my eyes and took a long drink, hoping it would fill me with courage. “I also went to the park because I’d heard about some place that buys and sells gold.”
Junior set down his glass. “Lots of places do that. Why would you need to find a place at Neverland Island? And why do you want to sell your gold, anyway? I thought you were very comfortable as a result of your husband’s death. Comfortable people usually aren’t looking to unload their jewelry for a quick buck.”
My insides twisted at the very legitimate questions. “Because I think it’s stolen,” I said quickly.
“What?”
Taking another drink, I nodded. “I have a suspicion my late husband bought me stolen jewelry and I want to unload it and forget about it.” Huh, not half bad. “Do you know of a place like that at the park?”
“There are a lot of dangerous people out there, Gertie. You need to be careful.”
I finished my glass of champagne, then another. I was waiting for him to take the bait, to ask more about my assets, but he asked me about my childhood instead. So we chatted about our school years and favorite birthday presents and games we used to play.
After dessert and several cups of coffee, the waiter returned with the black leather book containing what had to be a very high bill.
“Thank you,” Junior said, reaching for it. He pulled out his credit card, stuck it inside the book, and left it at the edge of the table.
Maybe he’s being more cautious this time. Maybe Patti spooked him, and he doesn’t want to rush things with me.
As we left the restaurant, I realized I didn’t want the night to end.
“Come home with me,” I said, my head spinning as we stepped outside into the sultry night air.
“To your place?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I’d never propositioned a man like that before. It was almost as if Slutty Sandy had taken hold of me.
Junior hailed a cab. “Grimm Towers,” he told the driver as we climbed in the car.
“Wait, no. No, let’s go to your place,” I said, panicked.
He frowned. “My place might scare you off until it undergoes a thorough cleaning.” He shrugged. “A hotel?”
“Yes, that would be perfect.” Why wasn’t I backing out of this? I’m sure Patti didn’t expect me to go this far. She’d be angry for weeks if she knew I was doing this.
Junior held my hand as we drove to the hotel. While he went to the desk to see about a room, I hid in the lobby behind a big vase of fresh exotic flowers. I let the alcohol keep my rational thoughts at bay. If it weren’t for the champagne, I’d be running out the door instead of peering from behind stargazer lilies.
Junior took my hand, and we rode the elevator up to the ninth floor. He opened the door and flicked on the light, revealing a beautiful room. I didn’t have time to check it out. We were kissing on the bed in moments. Once I managed to pull away from his remarkable lips, my common sense found its way to the surface. I gasped for air. “I don’t even know your name. Not your real name.”
He propped himself on one elbow. “Because I know yours, right, Gertie?”
I sighed and flopped back on the bed. “It’s Colleen. I was being cautious.”
He grinned. “You look like a Colleen. And everyone calls me Junior. But my mother named me Frank.”
Frank. What was that name? “Franken Stein Skin? Frankel Spiel Spawn?” I mused.
“What?” he asked.
“What?” I said. Oh my gosh. Had I said those names out loud?
“What did you call me? Franken Spill Spoon? Are you making fun of my name?” He poked me in the rib. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No!” I did what any smart woman does when a change of subject is in order. I pulled him down on top of me and kissed him.
His hand trailed along my back, taking the zipper down with it. I panicked for a moment, then remembered I was doing this for Patti. Because even if I couldn’t turn him in to the police, at the very least, I could try to break his heart.
If mine didn’t get broken first.
***
We spent the next few days together, and I kept dodging Patti’s calls. How could I explain what I was doing? “I’m getting closer,” I texted her a few times. The season was ending, and I had to try to catch him at his game before the operation was over. Our time together was almost up.
We were sharing a lemon ice outside his booth when I brought up the issue of the gold again. “Remember you said you could help me sell my gold? I’m ready to do that now.”
He set down the cup of ice. “Are you sure?”
“Why not?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “No reason. And the timing is right. The guy I know is wrapping things up now that the season is over. Why don’t you bring what you want to sell with you tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
***
I didn’t have much gold. I had a few pieces of jewelry my grandmother gave me before she died, and the rings and pendants my mother unloaded over the years, explaining how she didn’t wear them anymore. I called Patti. “I’m going to bust him tomorrow.”
“Go girl. You can do it. Bust him good.”
Already been doing that, I thought.
I logged onto my computer and spent a few hours searching the Internet for different gold scams, because I had no idea what he would try to do the next day. My heart sagged as I realized I would be exposing Junior for who he really was: Rankled Sneel Spin, the con artist.
***
Junior greeted me with a kiss the next morning. For a guy who was about to rip me off in some way, he didn’t act differently at all. “Did you bring your jewelry?”
“I did.”
“Let me close up here, and we’ll head over to the shop.” He shut the metal gate and locked the door.
We walked over to the jewelry shop. I set my pouch of gold on the counter, hoping no one saw how badly my hands shook.
“We’re here to see Ronnie,” Junior said.
“Just a sec.” The girl behind the counter set aside her magazine and disappeared behind the curtain.
I tried to slow my breathing, to remain calm, but I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to bust Junior. Grab my jewelry and run once I figured out what he was up to? I’d have to be ready to call his bluff.
A short guy with a cheesy grin came out to the counter. “How you guys doing?” He looked familiar, and I realized he was the guy with the ponytail I’d spotted the first day.
Junior shook his hand. “We’re good, Ronnie. This is my friend, Gertie. She’s got jewelry to sell.”
“Why don’t you come on back?” Ronnie held the curtain aside, and we pushed through a swinging wooden door to join him behind the counter.
Ronnie sat at a desk, while Junior and I plopped into cheap plastic chairs in front of him.
“So, what do you got for me?” Ronnie asked.
I looked at Junior and he nodded, so I handed over the bag. “Some old jewelry I want to sell.” My throat tightened as I thought about the trinkets my mother had left me. I could very well lose them.
Ronnie examined them and weighed them, then put them carefully back into the bag. He folded his hands in front of him and smiled. “You’ve got about four thousand dollars worth here just in scrap metal. But some of that jewelry might be more valuable on the resale market. Some nice old pieces. Unfortunately, I’m short on cash at the moment. But…” He held up a finger. “I just got in some gold bullion. I could offer that as payment instead.”
My heart kicked into gear. This was the scam. I’d read about this. The bullion wasn’t real gold. In fact, it was worthless. I snatched my bag off the desk and turned to Junior, glaring at him. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
Junior’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“You may have scammed my sister, but you’re not scamming me…” What the hell was his name? “Rumple Stilt Skin.”
Ronnie popped up from his seat and looked around nervously. “Who told you?”
“About him?” I pointed to Junior. “My sister, Patti. You stole her heart then her money for an investment you never intended to make. And now I’m calling the police because you’re trying to pass fake gold on to me.” I fumbled for my phone.
Junior stood, too, and pulled a gun from his pocket.
I dropped my phone and held my hands in the air.
But he wasn’t looking at me. The gun was aimed at Ronnie. “Hold it right there, Rumpy.”
What the hell? I pointed to Ronnie. “He’s Rumpled Skills Bin?”
“Rumple Stilt Skin. Stupid nickname, by the way. And I was about to bust him for passing off fake bullion for the real thing. I’ve been watching him all summer, waiting for a break like this. I didn’t want to involve you, but you were my last hope for a bust.”
Ronnie’s eyes darted between me, Junior, and the door.
“So, you’re a cop,” I said to Junior.
“Yup.”
“And not a con-artist.”
“Nope.”
“But Patti told me the guy who scammed her was really hot.” I jabbed a thumb at Ronnie. “He’s not hot.” Ronnie did have dark hair and blue eyes, but they were kind of squinty. I wasn’t even sure he had cheekbones. And he was short.
“Hey,” Ronnie said, sounding hurt.
Junior grinned, still holding the gun on Ronnie. “You think I’m hot? Cause I usually get ‘cute.’” He made a face. “I hate cute.”
“Uh, yeah, you are definitely hot.”
Ronnie took advantage of the distraction to run out the back door, and Junior took off after him.
I swore, realizing how truly and thoroughly I had screwed everything up. I ran out the back door, too, and saw Junior go after Ronnie toward the midway where a wall of people had lined up for the farewell parade. Pumping my arms, I chased after them. Ronnie turned left, running in the same direction as the parade goers. Junior followed, pushing his way through the crowd.
But then Ronnie turned and began to run the other way, shielded by a pair of beautiful white horses. Junior didn’t see him change direction and kept running the wrong way.
“Junior!” I shouted, but he didn’t hear me over the parade music and the cheering crowd. So I ran after Ronnie.
He became tangled up in a pack of clowns, so I caught up to him quickly. He tried to pull a woman who had incredibly long hair off a horse, but all he ended up with was her wig. For a moment I thought she was naked, but she was wearing a nude-colored bikini.
Finally, I was closing in on the despicable scammer. I took a running leap and plowed into him. He knocked down a few innocent victims before crashing into a vending cart. A jar of pickles fell on his head, and it cracked open, spilling onto his face.
He howled as the brine poured into his eyes. His flailing arms became entangled in the wig’s long tresses.
“What did you do with my sister’s money?” I demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, trying to free himself from the hair.
I grabbed another pickle jar from the cart and held it over his head. “Think harder.”
Holding up his hands he whimpered, “I’ve got it. I’ve got the money. I can get it.”
Junior ran up behind me and aimed his gun at Ronnie. “Don’t move.”
The parade had come to a stop, and hundreds of people stared at our scene. The pungent odor of spilled vinegar filled the air. A few cops rushed up with their guns and pointed them at Ronnie. The older man and woman standing behind the vending cart were frozen to the spot, mouths agape.
A tall, redheaded guy ran up to them, a beautiful redhead on his heels. You don’t see two redheads together very often, I realized. “What’s going on here officer? I’m Eric Prince, manager of the park. This is my assistant, Elle.”
Junior was out of breath. “This guy’s been running a gold-buying scam at the jewelry shop. He’s been pulling off cons around town for years.”
The redheaded assistant, Elle, was helping the people who’d been knocked over in the scuffle.
One of the men was on his feet now, examining a woman rubbing her head. I bit my lip, hoping no one had gotten hurt because of me.
“Give us some space,” he said. “This woman needs medical attention.” He held up four fingers. “Aurora, how many fingers am I holding up?”
She slapped his hand away. “Thirteen,” she said sarcastically. “J.D., I’m fine.”
“You were in a coma a month ago. You have to be careful.” The guy’s eyes were wide with concern.
“Should I call a doctor?” the manager asked.
“I am a doctor.”
The woman named Aurora stood up. “You’re the park manager? We need to talk. We want to have our wedding here next year.”
Elle sucked in a breath. “Aurora! You know my sister, Ariel.” The two women hugged. “Destination weddings. I never thought about having something like that here. Come on, let’s talk.”
The women walked off together, and the doctor turned to examine Ronnie’s head.
As officers cuffed Ronnie, Junior walked over to me and crossed his arms. “I knew you were up to something. I just couldn’t figure out what. I never imagined you had me pegged for a criminal.”
I studied the ground. “It was hard for me to believe you were. But you fit the description. You said, ‘Yo,’ and you disappeared all the time. And I tailed you to the jewelry shop. My sister knew her ex was running some sort of gold scam here. Plus, you wouldn’t let me take your picture.
“I’m an undercover cop. Natural reaction,” he explained.
“At the time it all added up to you doing illegal activity.” My lower lip wobbled, a good sign tears were on their way. I bit my cheek to hold them back. “I’m sorry.”
“I am, too. I liked you from the moment you walked up to me.”
I was too choked up to say anything.
The manager came over to us. “So, is this guy dangerous?” he asked, pointing to Ronnie.
Junior laughed. “Rumpy? No way. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t be scared of this guy.”
Ronnie continued to sit on the ground while the doctor looked him over. “Oh, yeah?” Ronnie grumbled. “Ever heard of The Woodsman? Down in Goose Valley? That was me, and I scared plenty of people.” He narrowed his eyes and tipped up his chin.
“You’re the woodsman?” The old woman cleaning up broken pickle jars balled her fists. She grabbed another jar and hurled it at him. Lucky for Ronnie, she either had bad eyesight or lousy aim. “You started the fire that killed my husband and son.”
Ronnie held up his shackled hands. “That wasn’t me, honest! Wasn’t that an accident? That’s what I always heard. I never did anything to hurt anyone. I was just a dumb teenager, playing pranks. Vandalized stuff, stole a few things. I wanted to scare people with that stupid cape I wore. I was just a kid.”
Another jar went crashing next to Ronnie, this time from a young woman. The big blond guy stuck a fist in Ronnie’s face. “Hans, I’ll handle this,” the woman said. She turned back to Ronnie. “Do you know how many nightmares you caused me? And all the kids in Goose Valley?”
“I’m sorry!” Ronnie howled.
The big, blond guy put his arm around the girl. “Greta, he’s not worth it. Let’s help your mom clean up this mess.” He stooped down and started picking up glass and pickles.
The doctor pushed Ronnie back to the ground. “Hey!” Ronnie cried. “Wanna take it easy, doc?”
“We’re from Goose Valley, too. We were scared to death of The Woodsman when we were kids.”
Junior was doing his best not to laugh. “Don’t worry, we’ll be in contact with police there. He’ll pay for what he’s done.” He looked at me. “And we’ll get your sister’s money back.”
Another jar went flying toward Ronnie. “What the hell?” he hollered.
The woman who’d been riding the horse snatched her tangled wig from his arms. “Give me back my wig. I can’t be Lady Godiva without the hair.”
***
It took a while for Junior to take down statements from everyone, but finally he loaded Ronnie into the cop car waiting outside the entrance to Neverland Island.
After the detectives drove off with Ronnie, Junior turned to me. “So none of this was real?” he asked. “Our time together?”
“Even though I fought it, my feelings for you were real, but I will admit, I told you a few big lies. There was no Grease festival.”
“I already figured that one out,” he said.
“And I’m not a widow.”
He nodded. “I think I would’ve remembered hearing about a fatal ice cream truck accident.”
“And I’m not wealthy. I’m a teacher, and I was trying to help my sister because police said they couldn’t do anything.”
He placed his hands on his hips and stared at me. “It all worked out in the end.”
“No, it didn’t. I met a guy I really liked, and now I’ve ruined everything.” A fresh round of tears wet my cheeks.
Junior took me into his arms. “Just dress up like Sandy for me again, and we’ll start over. Or like Princess Leia in the gold bikini. Could you do that?”
I wiped my eyes. “You don’t hate me?”
“You mistook me for a criminal because you think I’m hot? Huge ego booster. Wait ‘till I tell the guys down at the precinct. Besides, I know what I feel for you is real.”
“Me too.”
“So what’s your name, really?”
“It really is Colleen.”
He snapped his fingers. “Dang. I liked Gertie.”
“Call me whatever you want,” I said. “Are you really Frank?”
“I am.” He led me toward the amusement park.
“What are you doing?”
“How about one more time on the Ferris wheel?”
I blushed, remembering our last spin on the Ferris wheel. “Sure.”
As we walked on, we both started humming, “Summer Lovin’,” laughing and holding hands as we strolled through Neverland Island, where you really can find your happy ending.