Ink Flamingos

Chapter 22

I pushed the keyboard away from me and shoved back in my chair. This was getting way too creepy.

Whoever had set up the blog had a new post. I scanned it, even though I wanted to get up and walk away.

The post was all about Daisy’s flamingo tattoo, how it had only been black but “I” had felt it needed a touch of color and Daisy had agreed, even though she was known for her black tattoos. There was no mention of the fact that she had an allergy.

Curious.

Where was the actual Flamingos site? Pushing aside my discomfort, I clicked back through the tribute page and to Google. Ah, there it was. Just underneath the link I’d hit.

Relief washed through me as the site loaded, the strains of the Flamingos’ latest hit, “Bad Blood,” in the background. I clicked on the PERFORMANCES link and found a listing of the band’s upcoming gigs.

They were supposed to be here in Vegas, at the MGM, tonight. I remembered how someone had said that the band was on the East Coast. But they had played their final concert there in New Jersey at the Meadowlands last night. No indication that any concerts were canceled. No indication on the Web site at all that Daisy was no longer with the band, no longer alive.

I wondered why Sherman Potter had been here in Vegas when the band was in New Jersey last night. That didn’t make much sense. Unless he had to come out here because of Daisy. How had the other girls been able to perform without their lead singer? Knowing she was dead?

I clicked on NEWS and found the latest from the local TV station: The Flamingos were due to arrive in Vegas this afternoon at two. I glanced at my watch. In about twenty minutes.

I picked up the phone and dialed information to get the MGM. When I finally got through, I asked if I could leave a message for Melanie Black. While I didn’t know the other girls in the band, Melanie had come to the shop with Daisy one time and Ace had done a small tattoo on her ankle. She would recognize my name.

Reciting my name and number and asking that she call as soon as she got in, I then thanked the hotel operator and set the phone back in its cradle.

That was the most I could do. Now I had to keep myself busy, which wasn’t going to be hard because Bitsy stuck her head in the door to tell me my next client was here.

Melanie hadn’t called me back two hours later, and after being here every day for the last month, Harry still hadn’t showed. Tim didn’t call to update me.

“You’re pacing,” Bitsy said from her perch at the front desk, where she was arranging everyone’s schedules for the next day.

“I’ve got a little bit of nervous energy,” I admitted. “I’d love to go out for a walk and get rid of it, but I’m afraid someone’s going to start taking pictures again, and it’ll freak me out even more.”

Bitsy made a face at me. “You know, the only person you need to worry about is Colin Bixby. No one else cares.”

Nice. But she was right. And I hadn’t heard from Colin since those pictures went up on the blog. Granted, he had long hours in the emergency room and probably didn’t even know about them. Which meant I needed to run reconnaissance before someone pointed out that his girlfriend had been sucking face with an unemployed cabana boy. And even though this was Vegas and the desert, we were not wanting for cabana boys.

“I better call him.”

“No need.” Bitsy indicated a tall, lanky figure coming toward the shop.

My heart skipped a little beat as he pushed the door in. His dark hair was tousled just-so with a little bit of product; the black T-shirt showed off the stethoscope I’d tattooed on his arm; his jeans showed off a nice backside. You’d never know he was a doctor when he was off duty and a little punk and a lot bad boy.

From the expression on his face, though, I could tell that maybe he hadn’t been quite as isolated the last twenty-four hours as I’d hoped.

“Can we go somewhere?” he asked, without bothering to give me a kiss hello.

Uh-oh. Definitely not isolated.

Bitsy gave me a sympathetic look as I led Colin to my room. She was no stranger to boyfriend troubles. I shut the door on her questioning gaze and turned toward Colin.

“I can explain,” I said.

He held his hands up. “You can always explain. But when you go into your e-mail to see pictures of your girlfriend making out with another guy, well, there’s really no need for explanation, is there?”

He was breaking up with me. I didn’t blame him. Even telling him about the absinthe wouldn’t help-it would probably hurt. He knew I didn’t drink hard stuff, and he would wonder why I did last night with Harry. Or maybe he wouldn’t wonder.

“I guess that’s it, then?” I asked, leaving the question open and hoping he’d disagree.

“I came by because I felt this had to be done in person,” he said, his eyes soft and full of regret. I’d hurt him before, had promised him I wouldn’t again, and here we were.

I hung my head and sighed. “I’m sorry. There were extenuating circumstances, but I understand.”

“Extenuating circumstances? There are always extenuating circumstances with you.” He started toward the door, but then turned back. “The only real surprise was that it wasn’t Jeff Coleman. Just some stranger.”

And he walked out.

Past said stranger, who had, unfortunately, arrived and was leaning against the front desk whispering with Bitsy.

For a second, I thought Harry was safe.

Until Colin realized who he was and slugged him.