Page 31 of All You Want
“Is she okay?” Linx asks, patting her friend and checking for wounds.
“She doesn’t seem to be bleeding.” I rub the rust-red liquid between my fingers and sniff it. There’s a recognizable chemical odor.
I peer over my shoulder at the base of the staircase. A metal can lies on its side, dripping reddish-brown liquid. It’s only paint. What a relief.
She’s still hysterical, writhing and moaning in my arms, but at least for now, the danger is over—although who rigged the scaffold and set the paint can to fall on her?
* * *
~ Tami ~
“It’s paint?” I wipe the rusty-red smears of gooey liquid all over my clothes. “I feel so stupid.”
Not to mention my white lacey blouse and skirt combo with the slimming waistline are completely and utterly ruined.
“It’s the same color as blood,” Todd says, carrying me in his arms. “You’re allowed to be mistaken.”
Wow. He’s so strong, he acts like I’m as light as a potato chip, and no one could miss the concerned expression on his face when he first spotted me.
“You thought it was blood, too,” I remind him.
He gives me a sheepish smile and says, “You gave me a shock. I thought you were hurt badly.”
“By that axe murderer, Pickaxe Polly?” I tease him. “I swear, I thought I saw her hovering over me.”
Now I wonder if it’s a holographic projection Evan set up to scare visitors. Boy, do I feel stupid if it is. He’d told me he wasn’t done with everything and not to micromanage, wanting me to be as surprised as the guests.
“Now you’re filing a false police report,” Todd says. “You sure you’re not pulling a publicity prank?”
“Someone pulled a prank on me. That’s what happened. I had no idea they set up a booby trap, maybe to ward off intruders.”
Todd grimaces but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he boldly strides out onto the street with me safely ensconced in his big, bulging arms.
The entire Sixty Miners saloon across the street emptied out to gawk at me coming out of the hotel covered in what looked like blood. Many cell phone cameras are trained on me, and I’m sure I’m a gruesome, blood-streaked mess.
I might as well put on a little show.
It’s made for TV. Todd looks like a hero with the damsel in distress safely ensconced in his arms, and well, my heart is upbeat and doing jumping jacks at being rescued by him—even though it is only from a paint can.
“Tami was as shocked as me,” Linx comes to my defense. “She definitely didn’t expect it.”
“You think I wanted to ruin my clothes? My hair? My skin?” I pick at the drying paint all over me.
“I was only kidding about the publicity stunt.” Todd sets me down next to the police SUV and wipes a sticky, paint-stained strand of hair from my forehead. “I looked up, and there’s a scaffolding where they were touching up the crown moldings. The painters might have left a can of paint, and when you opened the door, it hit a corner of the scaffolding and knocked the paint down. It’s lucky the can didn’t land on your head.”
“Are you saying it was an accident?” Linx clarifies.
“I’m going to go with the accident theory, unless you ladies can come up with a better explanation.” Todd’s voice is no-nonsense and official. “Absent the axe murderess poised to attack you theory.”
“How am I going to get paint out of my hair?” I moan, belatedly realizing paint is harder to remove than blood. “It smelled like blood, even tasted like blood. Maybe there’s blood mixed into the paint.”
“Really?” Linx eyes me suspiciously. “You didn’t ask the painters to put blood in the paint, did you?”
“Not me.” I pick at the paint that’s already drying and caking on my face. “What if Evan thought it would be spookier to put a spell on my hotel?”
“Would he do something like this?” Todd asks. “What do you know about him?”
“He has a way of getting ghosts to show themselves,” I reply. “Highly recommended. He had his own reality show a few years back.”
