Gone With the Nerd (Nerds, #4)(4)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

VERA

You were not. I could hear you breathing.

TONY

Not used to hearing a real man breathe, are you, babe?

VERA

I’m going to bed.

Vera walks toward her bedroom.

TONY

Since that didn’t sound much like an invitation—

VERA

It most certainly wasn’t!

TONY

Where am I supposed to sleep?

Tony hoists his duffel bag over his shoulder.

VERA

That’s not my problem.

Vera walks into her bedroom, cries out, and backs into the living room. Tony draws his gun and moves into a crouch.

TONY

What is it?

VERA

Someone’s … someone’s been in there. Vera glances at him in horror. You have a gun?

TONY

The better to shoot the bad guys, little girl. Now stand back and let me do my job.

Zoe closed the script with a smile. A flat-chested chemistry professor with an attitude. For the first time in years, Zoe was excited about a part. And her preparation would begin now.

Taking her carry-on from the seat beside her, she headed for the bathroom. She was Superman, ducking into a phone booth. But halfway through her quick-change act, stripped to her underwear, she wondered what she’d been thinking. The plan had sounded logical when she’d described it to Flynn. She’d pictured airplane bathrooms as being bigger.

Maybe they used to be bigger, before deregulation. After all, what about the Mile-High Club? That involved two people doing something very aerobic in here. She glanced around. No way. Two midgets, maybe, but if Flynn happened to be standing there, they’d never in a million years be able to—

Holy crap, where had that thought come from? The script must have started her thinking about sex, and of course Flynn would be reading the part of Tony, so that explained why a picture of Flynn in the airplane bathroom with her had surfaced. And thoughts weren’t deeds, or something to that effect.

Someone tapped on the bathroom door. "Ms. Tarleton? Are you okay?"

Cripes. Naturally they’d be worried about her. Movie stars were probably considered loose cannons, capable of all sorts of weirdness. The airlines might have banned smoking in the bathrooms, but that left snorting a few lines of coke or swallowing a handful of happy pills.

"I’m fine!" she called through the door. "Be out in a sec."

She was aware of the flight attendant standing right outside the door, listening. Because Zoe tried so hard to be quiet putting on the beige polyester pantsuit, she fell down. Well, not all the way down, which was impossible in the minuscule space, but she banged around a lot.

"Ms. Tarleton?" The flight attendant sounded very worried now.

"Ha. ha," Zoe said. "Dropped my bowling ball."

"Your bowling ball?’

Zoe unfastened the latch and stepped out, nearly colliding with the flight attendant, who seemed to have no sense of humor whatsoever. "That was a joke. I decided to change clothes and that was the only place to do it."

"Oh." The flight attendant gave her a once-over. "Nice . . . uh . . . outfit."

"Thanks." Holding her carry-on in one hand, Zoe straightened her jacket with the other. She’d bought the outfit at a resale shop and it was two sizes too big for her. She’d had to cinch up the waist of the pants with a safety pin. Instead of her cute little pointy-toed shoes, she now wore crepe-soled lace-ups, only they weren’t laced up. Some things could not be accomplished in an airplane bathroom.

Trailing her shoelaces, she made it back to her seat and managed to finish the job by turning sideways and propping her feet on the empty seat beside her. When she noticed the flight attendant still staring with her mouth open, she gave her a big smile. "Ah, now I can be comfortable again."

The attendant closed her mouth. "Right. It must be tough maintaining that image all the time." Then she bustled away.

No, it was this image that would be tough to maintain. Zoe hadn’t felt so frumpy since fourth grade when she’d been forced to wear her cousin’s hand-me-downs. Soon after that Zoe had started babysitting to earn money for her own clothes. She’d looked good ever since, if she did say so herself.

But this weekend wasn’t about looking good. She had to keep reminding herself of that, especially because she would be not looking good in front of a guy. That really chafed. Maybe she had no romantic designs on Flynn, but greeting him while wearing this pantsuit would not be easy on her ego.

Then she thought of something. What if Flynn liked her better in these nerdy clothes? After all he’d told her two days ago that clothes didn’t matter to him. That meant he wouldn’t care what she wore, might not even notice that this outfit bagged in all the wrong places. Considering that, she felt relieved.

Taking a mirror from her purse, she did her best to check her outfit, although she could only see parts of herself, not the whole presentation. The clothes were okay, but she needed to do something different with her hair. A bun would be good, but she’d never accomplish that with all the layers. A ponytail might be possible.

Pushing the button located above her head, she summoned the still-wary flight attendant. "Do you have a rubber band anywhere? I’d like to put my hair in a ponytail." Philippe would kill her for subjecting his oh-so-artistic and expensive cut to the tortures of a rubber band, but tough times called for tough measures.

The flight attendant looked at Zoe as if she’d landed from Mars. "Uh, let me see what I can find." Soon she returned holding a handful of twist ties. "This was the best I could do."

"That’s great, thanks." Zoe took the twist ties, put two together, and managed to get most of her hair into the pony-tail. Twist ties might be even better, more geeky, as if she cared so little how she looked that she’d put her hair up with the same things she’d used to hold her sandwich bag closed.

As the plane touched down she tissued off most of her makeup and pulled her clear-lens glasses out of her purse. One last look in the mirror convinced her that she’d never looked this ridiculous, not even in fourth grade. Nobody would guess she was a world-famous movie star, and that was exactly what she was after.

She exited the plane, walked the length of the terminal, and even retrieved her luggage without a single person stopping her for an autograph. It felt strange. In one way being anonymous was liberating, but in another way she missed being recognized. Perhaps she was more addicted to fame than she cared to admit.

Margo had wanted to meet her in the terminal, but Zoe had thought getting picked up right outside Baggage Claim would be less obvious and allow her a quick getaway in case someone noticed who she was. Except no one did notice. She hadn’t realized how critical clothes, hair, and makeup were to her star image. That was humbling.

Pulling her rolling suitcase behind her, she stepped out of the terminal and looked for Margo’s green Taurus. Zoe had been thinking your ordinary factory green, but when a car arrived with a paint job no factory would ever offer, Zoe knew in her bones Margo was behind the wheel. Apparently Margo still loved the neons.

Zoe put on a big smile and waved as if she’d just spotted her limo arriving. Who cared if Margo had decided to paint her old car the color of a glow stick? Zoe was determined to concentrate on the friendship, not the trappings.

She wished they’d been closer in high school. If she’d known Margo better back then, she would never have accepted Rob’s invitation to the prom without checking with Margo first. But Rob had been on Zoe’s dream list all through high school, and how was she to know he was a liar when he swore Margo had dumped him! The jerk.

When the fifteenth high school reunion notice had arrived at the studio, Zoe had seen Margo’s name as committee chair. The guilt pangs had been as sharp as if the prom had happened yesterday. Zoe hadn’t meant to steal Margo’s boyfriend, but she’d been the reason Margo had missed her senior prom. Zoe wasn’t about to attend the reunion, but she’d gotten in touch with Margo anyway. And Margo, forgiving person that she was, didn’t hold a grudge about Rob and the prom. She’d moved on and was engaged to a great guy. Zoe looked forward to meeting him.

Reminiscing with Margo for the past several months had been fun. Zoe hadn’t kept track of any of her high school friends, and once she’d moved her folks to LA, no one had an easy way to contact her. Margo was a blast from the past, a chance to feel seventeen again.

Margo tooted the horn and swerved over against the curb. Leaping from the car, she pranced around to the sidewalk in pink UGG boots. Although Margo’s makeup was perfect as always, Zoe worked to hide her shock at what fifteen years and at least fifty extra pounds had done to the Margo she remembered.

Her former classmate sported an eighties perm, a pink vinyl mini, a tight silver blouse, and a rainbow of plastic bangle bracelets. She would have made Abba proud. "Zoe!" She hugged her fiercely. "Are those your nerd clothes? Awesome!"

Zoe hugged back. So what if Margo had put on some weight? Zoe understood the battle of the bulge after a girl turned thirty. If not for her personal trainer and a cook who could do wonders with a low-carb menu, she’d be a balloon in no time herself.

No doubt working in a diner put Margo constantly in the path of greasy, fattening food. Zoe was lucky enough to be in a different place. Besides, appearance was unimportant between friends. Margo had a big heart and loved reliving old times. Zoe cherished that.

"Let me get your suitcase." Margo grabbed Zoe’s rolling bag. opened the back door of the car, and heaved the suitcase onto the seat.

"Hey, I could have done that."

"Absolutely not." Margo slammed the door and grinned at her. "You’re the star!"

Zoe put her finger to her lips. "Shhh."

"Oh, right. Sorry about that. But I doubt that anybody heard me. I’m just so excited to see you again that I forgot for a minute that you’re trying to stay anonymous."

"No problem." Zoe smiled back at her. "I’m probably being paranoid."

"We’ll vamoose outta here, and then it won’t matter." Margo yanked open the passenger door, which creaked on its hinges. "Climb into my chariot. I just got her painted last week, in your honor. She’s showing her age, but what with saving for the wedding, I can’t afford a new car."

"Good grief, Margo, you didn’t have to get your car painted just for me,"

"You coming was a good excuse. Don’t you love the color?"

"It really pops." Zoe sat on the lavender terry-cloth scat covers and reminded herself that this car would add to her disguise. "Speaking of the wedding, how is Bob?"

"Oh, the same sweetie as always. He’s so excited to meet you, but he’s on shift work this weekend, so we’ll have to see how it goes."

"I’m excited to meet him, too." Seeing Margo happy with her fiancée would go a long way toward making Zoe feel better about that ugly business with Rob.

"You hungry?" Margo asked as she got behind the wheel, closed her door, and turned the key. The engine coughed, wheezed, and finally caught. "We can swing into a drive-through before we head out."

"No, I’m good." Zoe wanted to make sure they got to the cabin ahead of Flynn, who would be landing any minute.

"All righty, then." Margo checked her makeup in the rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb. "Long Shaft, here we come. I stocked in some groceries, like you asked me to, so you can fix something once you get there. I’d love to treat you to a meal at the Sasquatch Diner, but you might not want to take a chance on eating in public."

"Sasquatch Diner. Cute name."

"It’s sort of a town theme. You’ll see. But I don’t think you should eat there first thing. See if your disguise works. Love the twist ties in your hair. Nice touch."

"My disguise worked great in the airport. Nobody had a clue who I was." Zoe wasn’t as thrilled about that as she’d anticipated.

"Nobody’s gonna hear it from me, that’s for sure. And I’m the only one besides you and your lawyer who knows you’re here."

"Well, that’s not quite true. Flynn, that’s my lawyer, thought he should tell his girlfriend."

"Uh-oh. You didn’t say he had a girlfriend."

"I didn’t know until I asked him to come here for the weekend. He insisted Kristen had to know about it. She lives in Massachusetts, but right now she’s at a convention in Chicago, and I’m worried that she’ll mention it to someone and word will leak out."

"I think you have reason to be worried," Margo said. "You don’t even know this person. Is he telling her exactly where you’re staying and everything?"

"Yep. All of it. He was afraid if the paparazzi showed up and got a picture of us together, then she’d freak if she saw it in the tabloids."

"Yeah, she probably would. I mean, any woman would get nervous knowing that her boyfriend’s spending the weekend with you. It’s only natural."

Guilt from the past whispered in Zoe’s ear. She might be forgiven for Rob, but she doubted Margo had forgotten it. "This weekend is totally platonic," she said. "Flynn is the last guy I’d ever want to be involved with, so Kristen has nothing to worry about."

"She’ll worry anyway."

"I suppose so. Well, she’ll have e-mail and phone contact with Flynn all weekend, so that should help."

"I just hope she doesn’t shoot off her mouth and ruin your plan."

"I hope not, either, but Flynn refused to come unless he could tell her, so there’s nothing I can do at this point."

"Guess not." Margo drummed on the steering wheel. "I guess he’s crucial to the plan."

"He really is." Zoe was still assimilating the new version of Margo. Although she’d packed on some extra pounds, she obviously paid attention to her grooming. Not a single one of her silver-toned nails was chipped, and her brows were perfectly shaped. She wore a medium-sized diamond solitaire on her left hand.

"Have you set a date for the wedding?"

"I’m thinking the first Saturday in June, if that’s not too much of a cliché." Margo sounded worried. "Do you think that’s too obvious, a June wedding?"

Zoe was touched that Margo wanted her advice. "I’m no expert on weddings, but it’s a beautiful month, especially in Northern California." She wondered if there was any way she could go without making the wedding all about her instead of Margo. Maybe not.