Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [62]
Unless he was so enthralled with coppery boobs and fake hair that he wouldn’t even recognize me. In which case I’d kick him in—
“Senator,” Laney said, and smiled.
Senator! My heart did a hard thump in my fish-skinned chest. The senator was here? The dark lieutenant hadn’t arrived to blow my cover and drag me off to the slammer? It was his political sire? I gave Laney a wild-eyed stare but she was busy beaming at the newcomer and studiously ignoring me.
“It’s good to see you again,” she said, and reached for his hand.
I turned, feeling hopeful and desperate and sick to my stomach all at once, but he was already kissing her knuckles and beyond noticing me.
“Your Majesty,” he said, and gave her his trademark slicker-than-snot smile. Miguel Rivera had charmed women from puberty to menopause with less. “You look as regal as ever.”
For a moment I considered slinking into the crowd before he could withdraw from Laneyland, but even as the thought flittered through my sizzling brain, Laney turned her spiteful gaze on me.
“Senator, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”
He straightened, and even as he shifted his attention toward me, I saw his eyes spark with Latino interest. It was then that my heart began pounding in my left ear.
“Senator Rivera … Fani,” Elaine said.
He caught my eyes with his. The world receded around us. For an instant I considered passing out before he demanded to know why I was playing dress-up, but then he spoke.
“Fani,” he repeated. His accent rolled over me like a tide washing me out to sea. “What an unusual name. You must be the queen’s lady-in-waiting.” Reaching for my hand, he bowed over it. “As lovely as Her Majesty herself.”
I gritted my teeth at Laney, then smoothed it into a smile as he straightened.
“And what is your family name, lovely Fani?”
Oh, my hell! What was Fani’s last name? I didn’t have a clue. Not an inkling. Not a flippin’—
“I’m afraid she’s not fluent in English, Senator,” Laney said.
“Oh, my apologies,” he said, and switched to Spanish.
I could literally feel the blood rush from my left ear to my cheeks, but I managed to shake my head.
He pulled back slightly as if surprised. “¿Hablas español?”
I shook my head harder.
Laney actually laughed. If she were any giddier she might very well burst into song. “I believe she is …” She thought for a moment, eyes glowing with glee as she tried to place my weird-ass accent. “French?”
“Ahhh …” said the senator, then, “Quel est votre nom de famille?”
For several moments I hoped the world would end. Or, if not that, perhaps a bomb could explode under my feet. Wasn’t L.A. supposed to be a dangerous city? What the hell were all the damned crazed bombers doing this time of night?
I realized suddenly that I was holding my breath.
“Fani?” he said.
Shitski, I thought, and opened my mouth.
“I must …” I paused, face burning and wondering frantically if there were still other people in the room. “… practice my anglais.”
“Ahh.” He was still holding my hand. “A laudable effort. When first I came to this country I, too, found the language problematic. But that was back …” He stopped and laughed. His gaze never left my face. “Listen to me, rambling on when you must be famished.” For a moment he flickered his attention to my overstuffed plate. “But you have no champagne.” He drew back as if shocked. “As a gentleman and a Latino I feel it my duty to rectify the situation.” He raised a hand without ever slipping his gaze from mine. A server appeared as if snatched out of the sky. Rivera retrieved two glasses from his tray. “Please, eat,” he said. “Seeing a woman indulge brings me great joy. There is something almost sexual about the act when you are truly hungry, is there not?”
I stared at him. Oh God, oh God, oh