Unique

“While that would be good for your sanity, Dejon is, after all, one of the world’s leading spin masters. He’s up there with Tiësto and David Guetta. Fans are coming tonight just to see him, too, you know.”

  “What. The. Fudge. Ever.” She let out a painful sigh.

  “I can’t believe Taddy put him behind that wall.”

  “I can.”

  “Guess you’re right. She did threaten today to send me to Nebraska.”

  They both laughed so hard Kiki’s eyes teared up. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “I’m surprised you’re holding it together so well. If I were you, I’d still be in bed eating those funeral potatoes with Hedda. I don’t think I’d be caught dead in the Snuggie, though. Doesn’t do much for the figure.” He grinned at her. Duckie knew how to keep her spirits soaring.

  “About an hour ago, Taddy gave me a handful of vitamins and a chaser. I’m sorta flying high right now.”

  “Aha! I knew it.” He snapped his fingers together. “There’s no way you’re doing this breakup sober. Although, Miss Thang, I’ve never known you to take any meds before. You feel okay?”

  “Mormons usually don’t. But Mama called this morning and said that I had her permission to do whatever I needed to get over my failed wedding, even if that meant taking a Valium.” She hadn’t told her that she’d given up her V-card to Dejon. Lord knew her mother would be on the first plane to JFK to kick her ass all the way back to Utah.

  “Valium? That’s for children,” he joked.

  “Uhhh, no it’s not.”

  “Klonopin, Xanax, Valium—it’s all the same. Just prevents you from killing someone like Dejon Turay or from jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  “Well what would you have taken if you were in my shoes?” The only thing she’d ever used for pain before was Excedrin, and that was after she’d been thrown in jail a while back at the Cannes Film Festival over a mix-up where the police mistook her for a porn star. Talk about a major headache.

  “Probably Morphine immediate-release tablets.”

  She gaped at him. Duckie’s wild ways always blew her mind. “You can’t be serious. I mean really. That’s for people who are missing limbs or have had an organ removed.”

  “Honey. Your heart, which is your body’s fifth largest organ, just got smashed into a tiny million pieces, did it not?”

  “Don’t remind me.” Her face still felt a bit puffy from all the crying she’d done recently.

  He hugged her. “I’m just trying to make you laugh. You know I love you. I just want to see you happy.”

  Inhaling his citrus scent, she stepped back and held his hand. “Taddy says after the event is over, if we do a good job—and we will—that we can go to Secrete de Saint Barth in the Caribbean for a few days to get away.”

  “Really? Miss Brill is going to let me work on my tan and go on vacation with you? I thought I was on probation.” He looked around for Taddy, but she was busy dealing with the catering company.

  “I think that, considering my life is nearly over and I’m on the verge of killing myself, at least in Taddy’s eyes, she’ll let my gay bestie come on a rebound vacation with me. Plus, I’m sure we’ll be doing some promo work for Warner’s hotel while we’re down there.” She rubbed her neck. Her throat felt scratchy, probably the onset of a sore throat from the stress of everything.

  “We’ll be just like Carrie and Samantha in Sex and the City, the movie, when they jet off to Mexico after Carrie is left at the altar.” He forced a smile.

  “Never seen it.”

  “Girl. Really.” He rolled his eyes dramatically.

  “You know I don’t watch those kinda shows.” She ran her thumb over her naked ring finger, missing the engagement ring she’d removed an hour after Dejon had left.

  “Gurl, you should. Best mental medicine ever.”

  “Come on. We better do one more walkthrough with the lighting guy. I don’t like how that purple strobe is shining down over the dance floor. Do you?”

  “Nope. Resembles a blood clot.”

  “Exactly.” Trying to muster up enough energy to get through the night, she reached for the walkie-talkie on her belt. “Techy. You there?”

  Shots Fired

  Taddy

  Head tilted back, flirting with the crowd, and wearing a couture gown created by Lex Easton at Easton Essentials, Taddy slinked her crimson-sequined body up against Warner’s beefy one that sported a black tuxedo. A Fendi clutch, which concealed her usual essentials—Baden Lipstick in Cunty Red, her semiautomatic handgun, sugarless chewing gum, and a pack of cigarettes—was in her hand. She’d taken up smoking again, her 1,493 attempts to quit having all ended in failure.

  Taddy never went anywhere without her gun. Ever since she, Lex, Vive, Blake, and Poppy White had nearly died in college while being held hostage by a lunatic Vive had dated, she took the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution very seriously.

  “I love watching you dance,” Warner complimented with authority. Looking her intently in the eyes, he then spun her around.

  They’d been getting along lately really well. Warner had dropped the talk about them getting hitched and having babies; they were content on just enjoying their lives as two Manhattanites who celebrated their passions for the jet-set lifestyle of success and the finer things in life. She knew he’d circle back someday soon and she’d eventually be forced give in or lose him forever, but she was just having so much fun and loving her life that she didn’t see the need to rush anything.

  “Everything tonight is going so well.” She beamed in an easygoing manner.

  “You need to give that Kiki girl a raise.”

  “Don’t worry. She received a huge promotion and after tonight’s event, I’m going to talk with Blake about making her a managing partner with our executive team.”

  “You’re going to give her stock options in your company?” He stepped closer, lowering his face to the nape of her neck.

  “Of course. I’ve groomed that girl to perfection. She’s the mini-me.” Gyrating her hips against his, she pressed her breasts against his chest.

  His baritone laugh caught her by surprise. “No. She’s nothing like you.”

  “She is, too.”

  “Taddy. Come on.”

  “I mean workwise. On a personal level, Kiki and I are what Beluga caviar is to Doritos. Perhaps that’s why we work together so well. Could you see me doing public relations with someone like Vive Farnworth?” Vive was the epitome of a ruthless Park Avenue diva who showered in Evian bottled water by way of France, and Taddy loved her for it.

  “No. You’d kill one another.”

  “Totally, darling.” She missed her bestie, Vive, but for the time being, the weekly visits to Hampton Horizons would just have to suffice. The doctors had mentioned the last time Taddy was there that Vive wasn’t ready yet to live in Manhattan and was being transferred from the detox center to a halfway house on a tomato farm. Could Vive, who’d founded one of the largest and most successful tabloid magazines in town, work for fruits and vegetables? Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, she’d do whatever it took to stay sober. And for that, Taddy was proud of her.

  Just as the music started to spin up—tempo racing, bass thumping, floor vibrating, and bodies touching—the lights went off.

  Sudden. Unexpected. Darkness surrounded them.

  Shit! “What’s happening?” She clung to Warner, whose back arched in response, causing him to stand tall and protective.

  “Probably a fuse blew.”

  “It’s pitch black in here. I can’t see squat,” Taddy griped in a low voice.

  “This place has to have a generator. Let’s wait a minute for it to kick in.”

  It didn’t.

  “Everyone try to remain calm,” she shouted to the celebrities and press agents who were starting to worry. Looking over at the exit doors and the emergency lights, usually red and white, she noticed they weren’t on, either.

  Odd! “If the electricity w
ent out, why is the music still playing?” Lips trembling, her hands suddenly felt clammy. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see what was going on. Something—she wasn’t quite sure what—wasn’t right.

  “My phone has a flashlight on it.” Warner pulled it out from his breast pocket and started to shine it about. The florescent white light cast out amongst the crowd and then over at the display case.

  That’s when Taddy noticed something hanging above the Great Nova. First she thought she was tripping—you know, too many hits of acid during her teen years at the Avon Porter Academy—so she blinked and then rubbed her eyes.

  “Stop!” she shouted after seeing a man reach into the display case; a rope tied from the ceiling held up the glass dome, giving him easy access to Paloma’s gem.

  “Help! The Great Nova! Someone’s stealing the diamond!”

  Surprised, the man turned to look at her.

  “Dejon?” In horror, she gaped at him.

  Unresponsive. The two bodyguards were on the floor. Passed out?

  “Do something, Warner!”

  Like lightning, he bolted over to Dejon. They struggled.

  She pulled the handgun from her purse, cocked it, and stepped forward. “Give me the diamond, Dejon.”

  “I’m not Dejon.” The man withdrew his own gun, waving it at the two of them to step aside.

  “What’s going on?” Kiki came out of nowhere with a flashlight, which fortunately seemed to impair the vision of the thief.

  “Fuck this!” Aiming for his shoulder, Taddy fired the first shot, hitting Dejon in the arm. Body jerking, he let out a cry, causing his gun to go off in return…

  Hitting Warner in the chest. Kiki jumped and fell, hitting her head against the display case and landing off the side.

  Taddy screamed so loud that her vocal cords felt as if they’d fly out of her mouth.

  Everything went blurry for Taddy. She held her boyfriend in her arms as he lay bleeding to death. “Warner! Wake up!”

  The shooter put the diamond in a backpack, then picked up Kiki, who appeared unconscious, threw her over his shoulder, and dashed off into the dark as swarms of people ran for cover, smacking into one another.

  Within a few minutes the lights came on, the screams turned to sobs, and the paramedics, who were quickly on the scene, tried to save Warner Truman. The man she loved. The lover who’d proposed marriage to her time and time again. The best friend she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with.

  The soul mate she thought she’d have all the time in the world to wed was gone.

  Everything Comes Full Circle

  Lower East Side

  Dejon

  Present Day

  Dejon untied Kiki from the chair, swept her up into his arms, and carried her over the bed. Moments before, they’d cleaned her up as she was starting to come to.

  Kicking and screaming, she wasn’t having any of it.

  “I don’t believe this. There are two of you.”

  His brother stood next to them, his arms crossed, worry etched deeply into his forehead.

  “Kiki. Try to calm down. We didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  “You are the one who screwed me in the conference room.” She pointed at Dash. “The relief society back home in Utah is never going to believe me when I tell them this one. I knew I shouldn’t have moved to New York City. Mama said working for a devil like Taddy Brill would make me evil and cause bad things to happen. And sure enough it has.” Streams of tears streaked her face as she slammed the back of her head onto the pillow.

  “Please, calm down,” Dash instructed.

  “I’m not talking to you. Dejon, who is this freak? Your body double?”

  “My twin.”

  “Bloody hell. I told you when we met I was his twin,” Dash reminded her.

  “You did?” Dejon asked.

  “Oh, so you’re going to throw that back in my face. This is insane. Get me the phone. I’m calling the police. I want out of here. Help! Someone help me. I’m being held against my will.” She tried to stand, but Dejon put his hands on hers and tried to calm her.

  “You’re not calling the police.” Dejon explained to Kiki the story of his father and why they started doing the diamond heists to begin with. Dash showed her photos of the little girl, Helen, and talked about how rebels had taken her entire family.

  “You have to turn yourself in. They’ll understand. You were trying to do good. I get that. We can talk to them.” Just as Dejon thought she was starting to see it their way, she rubbed her temples. “Wait. What happened to Warner? You killed him. That beautiful man is dead because of you.”

  “He’s not dead.”

  “How would you know?”

  “He’s in intensive care. We’ve been following the case on the news. Look.” Dash turned on the TV in the bedroom so she could see for herself.

  “If Warner lives, we’ll turn ourselves in,” Dejon admitted as the monitor aired a commercial for a new baked potato chip infused with parsley and onion.

  “We will do no such thing,” Dash corrected, and flipped the station.

  “Please, let me call Taddy. I need to talk to her. I need to know if she’s okay.”

  “She’s fine,” Dash said. “See here? Miss Brill has been all over the news giving statements about what happened.”

  “Her face is covered in blood.” Kiki gasped. “My boss. My friend. I can’t believe this is happening. Dejon, you know how much Taddy means to me. How much I love all of my Manhattanites.” Her voice broke and her breath shortened as she reached for her chest. “I can’t breathe. I need air. Please open a window.”

  Dejon eyes glistened with tears. “I’m so sorry this happened, Kiki. I didn’t mean for any of it.” After he opened the window and got Kiki a glass of water, he explained to her why he’d broken up with her and called off the wedding.

  “You’re damn straight I wouldn’t have married you had I known what you two were up to. Dejon, you could go to jail for the rest of your life. Heck, they might even give you the electric chair.” She spoke firmly as her eyes widened like saucers, perhaps realizing the consequences they’d face.

  “No one has been executed in New York since the 1960s.” Dash sat on the edge of the bed, but Kiki kicked him to get off.

  “How do you know that?”

  “About an hour ago, I googled what our possible punishments might be. Trust me. If Warner dies, we won’t go to Sing Sing and be fried like Eddie Lee Mays was all those years ago.” Dash spoke with as reasonable voice as Dejon figured he could manage.

  “What do they do now to murderers?” she asked, softening her tone.

  “Lock ‘em up in Dannemora. It’s a jail near far from there. They call it New York's Little Siberia.”

  “Bloody hell. Stop talking like that. We’re not going to jail,” Dash hollered.

  “Oh no? What then? Blimey. Are we going to kill ourselves?”

  “Stop it, both of you!” Kiki shouted. “Taddy is on TV and I want to listen. Turn it up.”

  Last Rights

  Manhattan General Hospital

  Taddy

  Glancing out at the cameras, Taddy took a deep breath and started to speak into the microphone, which was anchored to the podium. They were in a back parking lot of the hospital, mostly used to stash the ambulances.

  “My fiancé, Warner Truman, is in surgery. The doctors are doing everything they can to save him. NYPD has released a photo of the shooter. His name is Dejon Turay. He has kidnapped Kiki Izatt. We’re asking if anyone knows anything to call the authorities. I’ve personally issued a ten-thousand-dollar reward for clues that might lead us to any answers in finding Kiki.” In the twenty years that Taddy Brill had been doing public relations, holding press conferences around the world for the most frivolous of things—fashion shows, celebrity events, movie premieres, etc.—never in her darkest of nightmares did she think she’d be talking to reporters about such a horrific crime, especially one that involved the love
of her life and a girl she’d mentored.

  “Was Kiki involved in the robbery?” a reporter shouted in Taddy’s direction.

  “No.” The question made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up with anger. “Kiki is a good person. She has worked with me for a while now, and I don’t see how it’s possible she would’ve known. If anything, she’s just as much a victim here as I am.”

  “Do police think this robbery is tied to the others that happened in Europe?”

  “Yes. New records show that Dejon Turay was the disc jockey at both events where the diamonds were stolen. Thank you for your time. I really must head back inside and attend to Warner.” She waved the reporters off and reached for her father’s hand as he helped her back inside.

  Her estranged father, whom she hadn’t seen since she was a teenager, came to the hospital earlier in the day to sit with her. He’d heard about the accident on the radio and put their twenty-year argument aside.

  As she walked back into the waiting room, a doctor came up to her.

  “Miss Brill? Warner is out of surgery. No major damage, and we stopped the bleeding. The bullet went in one side and out the other.”

  A sense of relief washed over Taddy, causing her tense facial muscles to relax and soften. “Will you please do me the favor of calling a priest?”

  “Miss Brill, there’s no need for last rights. Mr. Truman is going to be just fine.” The doctor put his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s not for that. I want to marry Warner today. Right now. Please.”

  The doctor smiled. “Give me a few minutes.”

  She turned and faced her father as the doctor left them to talk.

  “Oh baby. You sure?” He hugged her.

  “I’ve never been so sure of marrying Warner in my entire life. Looking back on all the times I said no to him, it was because you were missing from my life. I can’t tell you what it’s like to go on with a major event like getting married and you don’t have your father there to give you away.”

  “I’m so sorry, Taddy. I thought you didn’t want to see me. Your mother said—”

  “Never mind what Mom said. I don’t want us to dwell on the past. We both were angry over that paternity test and Mom’s affair.”