Page 19 of The Body in the Backyard
“But hopefully he’ll make us look good first,” Riley said.
“Robeena, my dear nemesis. I’ve come to collect on that favor,” Alistair called.
“What the fuck is with the lion? We’re not stagingThe Lion Kinguntil next year,” rasped a very pale white woman with heavy eye makeup and a partially shaved head. The hair that hadn’t been shaved was swept to one side and dyed a silvery purple. She had a vape pen clamped between her teeth and glasses on a thin chain propped on top of her head. Burt sat at her feet, staring at her expectantly.
Nick ducked behind Riley. “She looks like that sea witch from that fucking mermaid movie.”
“Ursula fromThe Little Mermaid?” Riley asked.
She felt a full-body shudder roll through him. “Yeah. My niece made me watch that movie a thousand times, and Ursula scared the shit out of me every time. Shestolehervoice.”
Riley had a sudden vision of Nick cowering under a unicorn blanket next to his bespectacled niece, Esmeralda, who was absently patting his leg while Ursula belted out her musical number.
“It’s okay. Burt and I will protect you,” she promised.
This room was even more chaotic than the backstage area. There were more black block walls, more concrete floors. But here were worktables smothered in layers of fabrics and several rolling racks filled with half-finished costumes. A three-way mirror and pedestal were crammed in a corner between two hefty sewing machines and a couple of headless mannequins. There was a half-assed dressing room consisting of plywood walls and a droopy velvet curtain.
“That’s Burt. He probably thinks your head looks like a blueberry,” Alistair said to Ursula…er, Robeena.
“Bite me, you talentless, Scottish-play-naming imbecile.”
“We’re sorry to intrude,” Riley said, hooking her fingers under Burt’s collar and tugging the dog back. “But we’re in a bind.” Nick gripped her by the hips and kept her between him and the grumpy lady.
“Robeena, meet Nick and Riley. They need a tux, a gown, and two masks for a gala tonight,” Alistair announced, picking up a piece of pink tulle and grimacing. “Nick and Riley, meet Robeena, the evil wardrobe mistress of the theatre.”
Robeena crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “You came to the wrong place, Alistair. Did you forget that I hate you?”
“How could I forget with you sharpening fabric shears every time I enter a room? But you hating me doesn’t negate our deal. You owe me,” he said ominously.
“See, babe? Maybe they’ll murder each other and forget about us,” Riley whispered to Nick.
Robeena glared long and hard. Alistair stroked his mustache and smirked.
“Fine. But this means we’re even. No more holding it over my head. No more veiled threats. No more mentioning it ever again.”
“Agreed. And for the record, my threats are never veiled. They’re just clever,” Alistair said.
“Whatever.” Robeena hefted herself off the wheeled desk chair and stomped off into the dark with the fearless, tail-wagging Burt trailing her.
Nick loosened his grip on Riley and breathed a sigh of relief.
“If this is going to cause problems for you, we can find another solution,” Riley offered to Alistair.
He spun around, wearing a gold and ivory domino mask, and grinned. “Don’t mind Robeena. She’s just an understudy of a human being. Oh, this is shiny!” he noted, picking up a bolt of silver material.
“You know what? Why don’t we just get out of here and forget the whole gala thing?” Nick suggested to Riley.
“Griffin is in real danger,” she reminded him.
“We don’t know that. He could have shot out his own window,” he argued stubbornly.
“And dyed his own chest?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. That jackwagon would do anything for attention.”
Nick wasn’t wrong. Riley vividly recalled Griffin pushing her into a floral display so the photographer could “get a solo shot” of him in front of their cake on their wedding day.
Robeena and Burt reappeared, and Nick stifled a manly yelp.
