Page 168 of Triggered By Love
Avery chugged the champagne without toasting, and Jason took it that she wasn’t ready to talk about such big leaps of the heart.
“You two looking forward to the front row seats?” Jason asked. “You’ll be close enough to see the dancer’s sweat.”
Finn and Kerry glanced at each other and shrugged. Avery seemed suddenly interested in her compact and touching up her lipstick.
Before long, the limo pulled up to the limo line underneath the shining marquee above the theater. The bright lights and colors, the throngs of people and traffic noise added to the excitement and exhilaration that could only come from the magic of a Broadway performance.
“Times Square never sleeps,” Kerry said. “I’m always amazed at how much electricity it uses.”
“Nothing but the best for The City,” Avery said. “The show has such great reviews.”
“It’ll end with an explosion, like the1812 Overture,” Kerry said. “Hope you brought earplugs.”
Jason wasn’t sure why they’d need earplugs far away in the upper deck, but it was their turn to disembark. He quaffed the rest of the bubbly liquid and helped Avery from the car.
After tipping the driver, he and Avery were bombarded by photographers held back by the guards and the velvet rope barriers. Avery was a pro. She’d flipped down her veil and strode straight forward without being spooked.
She held on to the tickets, and when they parted from Finn and Kerry, he realized the ushers were directing them down to the orchestra section.
“I thought we gave your friends the front row seats,” he said.
“And put them in the danger? No way,” Avery replied. “Kerry says Finn hates sitting in the front of movie theaters. He gets dizzy being so close and looking up.”
A patchwork of prickles grazed Jason’s scalp, and an itch tingled between his shoulder blades. He’d figured that any attacker would have changed plans knowing Finn and Kerry were sitting up front. He patted his new Glock 26 which was holstered on his right flank, glad that he still carried his police ID. Even though he and Avery had practiced all week with the Glock, without his usual firearm, his accuracy wasn’t tip-top.
“See you after the Schitt character shoots up Fifth Avenue,” Kerry said, waving as she and Finn walked up the stairs to the balcony section.
“Why is she obsessed with the ending?” Jason had a bad feeling about this. He glanced after the departing couple, who were supposed to be Avery’s best friends.
What if he’d miscalculated?
While everyone else believed Avery had attempted suicide with the porcupine quill, Kerry and Finn knew the truth. Could they have passed the message to the killer?
How many pieces of silver would it take to sell out a friend? Avery told him Kerry’s mother was confined to an expensive nursing home, and she had been under pressure to pay back her former boyfriend who advanced the money.
Jason didn’t have a good feeling about the show, but Avery seemed pleased and excited, having heard the many good reviews and the fact that Ivanna had made some of the costumes.
“Since I’m going to partner with Ivanna, I might as well take the time to study the details up close,” she said. “There’s so much I can do with 3D printing and electronics.”
“How does the story go?” He flipped through the program. “It’s about a rich family with a crappy name.”
“Yes. It’s a billionaire West Side Story, Upper East versus Upper West. The Schitt family hate their name, but their ancestor required them to keep it to benefit from the trust fund and the banks they own. The Triumph family are nouveau riche and are viewed as gauche social climbers. One family wants the other family’s name, and the other wants their old-money status.”
“Sounds droll,” Jason noted. “There’s a shooting at the end?”
“Adam Schitt, the villain, actually never mind, I’m not going to tell you the plot,” Avery said gaily. “You’ll have to follow the show.”
“It’s all the singing and dancing we have to wade through. I’d rather have the concise plot points.” Especially if somebody was planning something.
“Are you telling me I have to educate you culturally?” She followed him to their seats which were in the front and to the right of the orchestra.
“Would you rather have come with Richie?” He could have slapped himself. “I’m sorry.”
“That was a low blow.” She shot him a glare. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You seem edgy and uncomfortable.”
He again patted his gun, knowing how stupid he was. If anyone was watching, he’d given away the side he’d pull his gun from.
Avery put her hand over his and sat down.
