Page 24 of The Oscar Escape
He stared at the tissue. “Who are you talking about?”
“Ms. Bonbon.” She fished a glop of chocolate from the napkin folds, then pitched forward.
He caught her, cradling her skin-and-bones body in his arms, then felt her forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be ready for the meet and greet. I’ve got to talk with the influencers. Ms. Bonbon will help me get through it.” She stared out into the crowd. “Where’s Dom? I need him to check my numbers,” she continued, leaning into him. “Maybe I should lie down for a second first. I’ll be ready by the time we get to the event.”
She could barely stand. There was no way in hell she could attend an event.
“Delivery dude! I told you I’d come for you,” the big man called.
“We don’t have a second to rest, Aria. We’re leaving now.” Before she could protest, he plucked her notebook from under her arm, stuffed it inside his hoodie, then pocketed Ms. Bonbon. He gave her the once-over and cringed. “Don’t hate me for this.”
She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”
He hoisted her off her feet and draped her body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down,” she demanded, catching a second wind as she beat her tiny fists against his back.
“You’ll thank me for this one day.”
“Not a chance, Mr. Second-Grade-Switcheroo.”
Come on, universe. Help him help her.
He scanned the VIP area and felt a modicum of relief when he looked past the turntables and noticed the outline of a door obscured by a curtain. Was this a viable escape route? Hell if he knew. His options were limited—to say the least.
With the bouncer closing in, Oscar took off. But they’d need something to distract the throng of people who continued to film their every move. Channeling a toddler in the grip of a tantrum, he banged on the turntable console, striking buttons and dials.And bingo!The child-inspired bash-and-bang method had worked. A thumping techno beat blared, and the club’s lighting went into visual overdrive, blasting the dance floor with bursts of blinding white light. He squinted, swung open the door, and booked it down a dimly lit corridor.
The slap of his feet meeting the tiled floor echoed through the space. This had to be an exit route. He nearly breathed a sigh of relief when another set of footsteps joined the mix.
“I’ve called the cops,” the bouncer bellowed.
Oscar kicked up his pace. But speed alone wouldn’t save them.
He had to get Aria out of there—at any cost. If the cops were coming, he had to figure out how to thwart the police. Through heavy breaths, he searched the corridor. And there it was.
Like an answer to his prayers, he located the life-saving device in all its scarlet-square glory. Silently, he apologized to the city’s first responders. His only choice was to cause a full-on fake emergency. He pulled the T-bar on the red fire alarm box and kept running. Shrieking pings tore through the air, along with a monotone warning. “Fire, fire, fire!”
“You asshole!” the bouncer called.
“Yeah, you asshole,” Aria slurred. “Put me down.”
“I get it. I’m an asshole,” he replied, his lungs burning. “But I can’t put you down. Not yet.” He rounded the corner and spied salvation—a door with the wordEXITilluminated in glowing lights. “We made it.” He reached for the knob, then startled when it swung open.
Oh shit!
He stared at a stone-faced police officer blocking the escape route.
Oscar didn’t move. He needed Lady Luck on his side. He silently begged Aria’s muscle relaxers to zero in on her mouth. If there was ever a time to numb her sharp tongue, this was it.
The police officer stepped back and held the door open. “Hurry! We need to get everybody out. Does that woman need medical attention?”
Think, think, think.
Oscar stared at her glittery high heels. “No, she’s fine. She can’t run in these shoes.”
The officer nodded. “All right, keep moving.”
