Late Night With Andres Page 6

  Again the TV intruded, the murmuring voice telling the world again of Gage’s recent decline, his inability to write songs.

  “I’ve written a few songs,” he said shyly.

  “Tell me about them.” She waited.

  He cleared his throat. “I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the experience or whatever, but it was like there was never enough paper in my recovery room. I wrote on the walls, my arms, the bed sheets. Everything.” He pulled up one of his sleeves to prove it, revealing ink scribbled across his forearm. She brushed her fingers on the marked skin. The word her kept reoccurring. She touched it.

  “Me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, surprised at her own brazenness.

  He blushed deeply. It was obvious even in the inconsistent lighting. “I forgot what this song was about.”

  He pulled his sleeve down again. They waited, the TV voice giving way to commercials, happy and demanding no matter what the tone of the program they interrupted. The hospital noises filtered in as well. Soft footsteps by Milla’s door caused them both a moment of panic. When they carried on, Gage took a deep breath.

  “I’ve really got to get going.” He made no effort to get up.

  “Will you stay hidden forever?” Milla tried to get up the courage to let go of his hand. She couldn’t.

  “I don’t think so. I can’t believe it’s gone on this long. I would’ve liked the break a bit more if…” He swallowed.

  She didn’t press him, letting him just be here. He was here, visiting her of all people.

  “Sorry I was mean to you sometimes in the room.” She decided it was time to be a little nice herself.

  “You weren’t mean. Thick-headed and stubborn, but you weren’t mean. I’ll tell you what…” He stopped and covered his mouth.

  “What?” She tried to encourage him with her eyes.

  “Nah, I shouldn’t.” He looked over his shoulder.

  “Listen, from one nine toe-er to another, you can. I promise I won’t bite.” Milla couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say.

  “I thought you were really brave. And totally bad ass.” He leaned in a little, like a guy about to kiss a girl.

  “Really? Because I was half out of my mind. I don’t know if I did anything right and then, when you died, I was convinced I did everything wrong and then I…” His lips were too close to continue talking, so Milla just concentrated on breathing.

  His voice was just a whisper. “Yeah, really.” He looked from her lips to her eyes and back.

  Milla tried to see her own lips and then gave up. He was so close, and sort of hovering there.

  He whispered, “I wrote songs about your kiss. I wrote, like, ten songs just about that.” His breath was hot, and his lips curved a bit. Milla gave up respecting his distance and leaned forward with her eyes open and her lips puckered. She kissed him just long enough that he could register she’d done it before pulling away and touching her own lips. He never opened his half-closed eyes, quickly moving her hand out of the way and finishing the kiss she started. Soon she was moaning. When they finally stopped kissing, they sat close, his forehead touching hers.

  “I could really use you in my life.” He looked at her, their eyes blurring with the closeness.

  “You come with a lot of baggage.” It was out before she could stop it, words that caused him to look like he was slapped.

  “You’re right about that.” He stood to leave and held his hand out for his wig. He still looked hurt.

  “No, let me finish.” Milla shook her head and reached under her to get a good grip on the wig.

  He braced his arms on either side of her. “Give it to me. I’m out.”

  Milla proceeded without his consent. “You have a lot of baggage, and I’m not afraid of that. But before this gets started, you have to know I don’t do shit half-assed. And you’re under attack, like, all the time. You heard me in that room—I’m not going to say the right thing all the time. I just don’t want to hurt you with my own stupidity.”

  He’d started reaching under her to get the wig, and she had had to fight him to deliver her impromptu speech. Now he stilled.

  “I think you say the right thing.” They were close again, and he looked at her like she was someone to be cherished.

  “What now?” Milla wanted more kissing.

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, and then her mouth. “I come back from the dead, and we go on a real date.”

  “How will I know you’ll see me again?” Milla wanted to be playful, but it was a real concern.

  “I’ve got a great idea.” He reached down and came back holding a very real-looking manly toe with a bit of hair on it. “May I?” He pointed to her foot.

  She nodded. Gage gently removed her sock and replaced her delicate prosthetic toe with his own. He took her girly hammertoe and tucked in into his boot. “Now we have to see each other again to get our right toes back.” He winked at her.

  “I love that idea. All of it.” Milla wrinkled her nose and refused to give him back the wig when he motioned for it. His grateful smile turned playful, and he tickled her. Her laugher and the commotion caught the attention of the night duty nurse. Milla slapped the wig on Gage’s head as the lights flipped on.

  “Everything all right?” The nurse looked surly. Gage looked at his feet and mumbled in a high-pitched voice, “Fine. Just getting her stats.”

  The nurse shook her head. “And what were they?”

  Milla covered her mouth and tried not to laugh. Gage did his best, but didn’t look up. “Her BP is four hundred over twenty.”

  The nurse did not laugh. “So being that she’s dead, you better call the morgue.” She addressed Milla. “Listen, young lady, if you’re well enough to sneak a man in here, you’re well enough to go home.”

  Gage bolted from the room while the nurse ignored him. She then proceeded to check Milla.

  “So that’s a nice surprise. He’s not dead after all. He’s horrible at disguises.” She felt for Milla’s pulse.

  “Yeah, it’s a great surprise. Best news I’ve had since…since ever.” She smiled at the empty door, wondering when she would get to see him again.

  Chapter 14

  The First Date

  SHE WAS ABOUT AS READY for the media attention as Bambi was for his new legs. After Milla got out of the hospital, she was followed like a superstar, and it was just infuriating. Her parents were in and out of her apartment with food and rented romantic comedies while she stayed put. Boyfriend spoiled her with lots of love, his butt always in her face. The paparazzi were a combination of fruit flies and cockroaches, except they could talk with their evil mouths. Milla kept waiting for the big reveal, waiting to hear the amazing news that Gage Daxson was still alive, but there was nothing.

  She couldn’t even wear his big, hairy man toe. It was too long for her winter shoes. For a while she slept with it like a teddy bear. Then she woke up at night and screamed when she saw it lying next to her mouth. Now, the toe stayed in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box. Her Internet column had been picked up by two dozen newspapers. Luckily she had a huge folder of past work to deal out, because she certainly didn’t feel like writing. She was too busy waiting and doing nothing.

  She did hear from Gage Daxson’s manager. That had made her heart leap, but he acted like he didn’t know Gage was alive. He interrupted Milla anytime she started to ask questions, loudly. The manager had offered to deal with the news outlets and talk show hosts wanting to score her for an interview. But Milla turned them all down. And the learned the reason she hadn’t witnessed any funeral coverage was because there hadn’t been one.

  Entertainment Tonight was the first to question the death. Next Donald Trump voiced his opinion, demanding Gage Daxson’s death certificate and autopsy results. Eventually as another week passed, the public decided it was not even a question: Gage Daxson wasn’t dead, and it was their job to find him. Milla selfishly just wanted her date. And then maybe the erectio
n he’d once promised her. But she felt a tinge of sympathy when every social network had Gage Photoshopped in a Where’s Waldo striped shirt on their page somewhere.

  One morning as Milla practiced the exercises the physical therapist had shown her, her answering machine picked up the phone she never answered. After her half-hearted greeting and a beep, a man’s voice filled the room.

  “Hello, Milla Kierce, I’m sure you recognize my voice. I’m Andres, and you were due to visit my show, Late Night with Andres, when we met up with a slight inconvenience in the dressing room. I’ll have you know that my legal troubles are over, and my show will be recommencing. I’ve spoken with the network’s attorneys, and it turns out the contract you signed is still valid, and we need you to reschedule your appearance or you will be in breach. Please call my secretary, Peter, here at this number.”

  Milla stood with her mouth hanging open as Andres hung up. “You pimply-assed, cock-dragging knuckle fart. How dare you? How dare you?” Milla threw things at the phone. In response, it rang again, and after her machine did its thing, Andres’ voice was again in the apartment.

  “I forgot to add, Ms. Kierce, that you have two days to make these arrangements. The month is almost up, and that’s the deadline—”

  Milla picked up the phone. “I’m not coming back to your show for anything. I almost died there. You want a lawsuit? How about the one I’m going to file against you for letting a crazy-ass man in your building with a gun and a bomb?”

  “Ms. Kierce, before you get indignant, you should know that I know Gage Daxson is alive and well. I know where he is, and I can set the whole world abuzz with his slanderous, deceiving ways. Actually, I have the somber broadcast outlined right in front of me. Here’s an excerpt: ‘Gage Daxson faked his own death to get away from rumors that he was working with the gunman to attack poor Ms. Kierce.’”

  “That’s not true.” Milla spoke through her teeth.

  “Which part? Coordinating with the gunman? The fact that he’s alive? If I decide to say that he’s embezzled money from thousands of charities, I can do that.” Andres’ voice never changed its lilting tone. “Anything I want to be true is, in fact, true, Ms. Kierce. But if you come on my show, I’ll focus on reliving your harrowing experience and leave Mr. Daxson to his hiding spot.”

  Milla said nothing as she looked toward the ceiling. She hadn’t heard from Gage in weeks. It occurred to her that he could easily throw away her toe and order himself another. It didn’t seem likely, but she’d expected something from him. Anything from him. And he might be hiding for a reason. Maybe he needed more of a break from the media.

  As if Andres could smell her indecision, he continued. “Lawsuits are expensive, Ms. Kierce. All those pending book contracts and newspaper deals? The minute you have lawsuits against you, those things dry up. So then I would have to tell my lawyers to go for your personal wealth and maybe that of your parents. My records say they’re paying off your college loans. So sweet of them. They have a cute little balance in their retirement fund. I’ll have that too. Think of all the things you could avoid by just appearing on the show. You were so excited before. Let’s harken back to that emotion.”

  “I’ll be there for tomorrow’s show.” She hung up the phone and seethed.

  When Milla went back into the studio for Late Night with Andres, she wasn’t alone. Officer Rocco Brun insisted on personally escorting her and waiting for the duration of her interview. Security led her to yet another dressing room, with an identical swag basket as her first visit. Fuckers. She felt like a big baby, but inside her pocket she had Gage’s little toe, and she held Rocco’s hand so tight it must have hurt. He didn’t complain.

  “You look nice.” He winked at her.

  “I want to throw up. Luckily I haven’t been able to eat.” Milla jumped as a nearby door slammed shut.

  He shook his head and sighed. “I have no clue why you would agree to come back to this place.”

  “It’s complicated. I wonder if they’re taping us right now?” Milla looked at the ceiling.

  “I’m pretty sure you can count on it. Let’s gesture with our middle fingers a lot.” Rocco pointed all around with his. “You want a muffin? They look good.”

  Milla tucked her hands between her knees to try to stop the shaking. “Uh, no.”

  She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a zipped-up leather jacket. She also had on three pairs of underwear and two bras. If someone tried to strip her again, it would at least take them a while. A wave of nausea floated her stomach close to the back of her throat. They waited in silence. Neither wanted to give Andres any extra footage. Milla had already heard Rocco’s opinion about the justice system, and it wasn’t favorable. He was under the strong impression that Andres owned more than a few judges. All charges against him had been quickly dismissed. The clock’s tick was so loud it was freaking Milla’s already frazzled system. Finally a man entered. Rocco drew his gun.

  “Whoa, whoa. Just the assistant. Ms. Kierce needs to be wired for her mic before she goes on. I’m Peter, just here to help.”

  He held out the electronic equipment in his hands to prove his words. He took a step toward her. Milla shook her head. Rocco didn’t put away his gun.

  “I have to?” Peter was confused. “How will they hear you?”

  Milla shrugged and practiced giving him the middle finger.

  Rocco snorted. Then he asked, “How about you get her a handheld? She doesn’t want to be pawed at by your crazy ass.”

  Milla almost smiled at Rocco, thankful the guy was here.

  Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine, but she’d better keep the mic where we can pick up the audio.”

  Rocco tucked his gun back in its holster. “Pretty sure she doesn’t give a shit about your production quality.”

  “So no hair and makeup? The camera’s not going to like that at all.”

  Milla turned her back on the assistant and hugged her middle. Peter left, tsking the whole way. She really didn’t intend on saying much. She didn’t trust Andres at all. The show was running live tonight, so it wasn’t like he could pause taping to redo anything. Milla thought this would work in her favor.

  Peter returned and gave her a fake smile. “Well, time to get you stage left, Ms. Kierce.”

  Rocco followed on her other side, holding her elbow. She took some deep breaths, accompanied by loud exhales. She now regretted her layers of clothes, as she was melting and lightheaded already. While she waited for her introduction, she slipped Gage’s toe into her jeans pocket and handed Rocco her leather jacket. She knew her two bras made her boobs look huge.

  Andres’ voice was piped though speakers, and she could see him on the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. “Okay, thank you all for showing up tonight!” The crowd went wild. “As promised, I have the interview no one else could get. She captured the nation’s attention when she was held hostage in a dressing room before a taping of a talk show. My talk show. I’m sure you all recall my brave, devoted newscasting. Truly, it was groundbreaking.” The crowd applauded. “So, it’s my pleasure to meet, with you, the curvaceous young woman that fought for her life that evening. Please welcome Milla Kierce.”

  Andres stood and stepped toward stage left, holding his hand out with flourish. Milla’s feet wouldn’t move. Peter almost touched her with his urgent, “That’s you! Go, go, go!” But his hand was intercepted by Rocco, who growled.

  Milla stepped forward. Andres smiled and opened his arms for a hug. She cringed at the instant applause and shouting the second she was in view of the audience. She forced herself to keep walking. She went right past Andres and sat down in the armchair next to his desk. He turned to the crowd. Milla could see him in the monitors. He tossed up his hands and bellowed over the applause, “By all means, have a seat!”

  After the crowd gave a nervous chuckle, everyone sat. Andres made his way back to his desk and tucked in. He pulled out a microphone and switched it on. Milla jumped as loud feedback squealed. She leaned away
from Andres as he attempted to hand her the equipment.

  “I’m sorry, did you not want this? I was told you requested it?”

  Milla covered her mouth with a shaking hand. The audience was quiet as she regarded the microphone without touching it.

  “You scared her, you asshole!” a man from the crowd heckled.

  Milla squinted through the bright lights, but she could only make out silhouettes. She mouthed, Thank you. She took the microphone and held it like it might shock her.

  Andres scowled at the audience. “This is a live show. Please, no profanity.” Milla watched as his old jaw tensed. “Now, may I call you Milla? Tell us about the moment this happened.” Andres waved his hand behind them both. The room dimmed and what had previously been a nighttime cityscape became her worst night. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as she and Gage prepared for the gunman to enter. She turned away and shook her head, the movement freeing her tears.

  “Yeah, you can knock that the fuck off.” The heckler was even louder now, and he rushed the stage. Security was too slow, but Rocco wasn’t. He had the man neatly tackled with a gun to his head in no time. Milla dropped her microphone and the resulting end-over-end fall sounded like gunshots. People in the audience screamed. The lights in the studio came up. The security men flanked Andres. Milla just stayed sitting.

  “Hey, Milla. It’s me. Again. Scaring the shit out of you. Sorry. Again.” Gage Daxson was trying to act normal, and Rocco’s muscles flexed with the effort of keeping him down.

  Andres smiled so wide his dentures almost fell out. “Gage Daxson? You’re alive? On my show?” The man nearly did a jig. “You brute, let him up, let him up. Let him complete his resurrection.” Andres scurried around his desk and pushed at Rocco.

  Rocco looked at Milla who nodded, eyes wide. This new information rippled through the crowd. Some clapped, some booed, some sobbed. Gage stood, clean shaven and dressed in his signature sloppy chic. He ignored them all and knelt in front of Milla. She smiled a little, still shaken from the turn of events.