In Deep Shitake Part 37

"I thought Mo might like to see a draft of my new article."

"Do I have to?"

Ross's eyes met hers and dropped a brief kiss on her lips. "It'll be all right."

Milton held out a sheaf of pages. To Mo they looked like a scorpion ready to sting. She tentatively took them in hand and felt Ross's breath on her neck as he peered over her shoulder.

The headline on the first page proclaimed 'Superspy stud Ross Grant's gay affair' and featured a large photo of Ross dressed in a Phantom of the Opera cape and kissing an androgynous looking ninja Mo.

"Son of a peach."

"I have you to thank, Ms. Tuttle, for the story suggestion," Milton crowed.

"I didn't give you this story," Mo insisted. She was afraid to look at Ross. He must be furious.

Milton took a notebook from the breast pocket of his polyester suit and opened it. "You did say, and I quote, 'good suggestion'."

Did she? She couldn't remember. "If I did it was a sarcastic comment."

Scanning the article quickly, Mo saw that it only got worse: "The celeb is not satisfied to keep his gay attentions to just one paramour. The star of SpyMatrix also attempted to force a married father of two into an illicit relations.h.i.+p. DeWayne Stubbs of Ma.s.sacopa North Carolina found himself the victim of Grant's s.e.xual hara.s.sment at a local motel. 'He thought I was gay too. The super spy said he wanted to bang me. He called me a cutie but didn't want me to tell my wife,' said Mr. Stubbs. Stubbs' wife, Marvelene, said that after Mr. Stubbs refused Grant's attentions, the celeb repeatedly refused to give the couple an autographed poster. He seemed to want something in exchange. Mrs. Stubbs now realizes this was an attempt to extort s.e.xual favors from Mr. Stubbs.

"He came on to me too," said twenty-eight year old Calvin Hobin. "I was minding my own business in the men's room at the Magnificent Movies convention when this perv in a scary cape started eyeing me. I'm not sure what he was doing under that cape. Anyway, he made me very uncomfortable with his attentions." Hobin is consulting his attorney about filing a lawsuit to compensate him for his damages from the incident. "I didn't realize at the time that it was Stephen Dagger (Grant). Now I think I've been traumatized for life."

Ross's hand fell away from Mo's. She gulped but forced herself to read on.

"And the star's romp did not stop in the men's room. Grant was later ejected from the convention center by security after an episode of necking with an unidentified young man in a stall of the women's restroom. "I was shocked and appalled," said Mildred Evans, age fifty-seven, who witnessed some of the illicit groping. "I never would have expected Stephen Dagger (Grant) to act that way. I mean would you believe it? The young man that he was kissing wasn't even good looking." Mrs. Evans reports that the young man was dressed like a mime. "Who could find a mime attractive, except a real pervert?"

"You gotta be kidding me with this," Mo said, throwing the papers to the ground. "n.o.body would print this pack of lies."

Milton gathered the scattered pages and picked them up. He nudged at the heavy gla.s.ses on his nose. "Sure they would. I'm selling this story for big bucks to the National Star."

s.h.i.+take. Having seen the National Star a few times, Mo was pretty sure that they would print the article, true or not. Even if Ross sued the paper for libel, it would be too late. His film deal would likely be ruined before he could win the case.

Mo's hand fisted and Leo stepped between her and the rat-like reporter. Apparently, he thought she might strike the guy. She probably would have.

"There are some photos in Mo's office you might be interested in before you finalize your story," Leo said to the reporter.

"Leo, what the flaxseed oil are you doing?" Had her brother gone crazy?

"I'm going to leave you two to sort out this bloke," Ross said. "I need to call my agent and get a change of clothes."

His expression impa.s.sive, Ross dropped a kiss to her forehead. The forehead. What did that mean? Was he just trying to cover his rage because Milton was there?

"But Ross. What-"

Ross strode off into the direction of his hotel. "I'll see you later," he called back over his shoulder, just before he rounded the corner and Mo lost sight of him.

Crepe. She was about to demand an explanation from Leo, but saw him dragging Milton up the stairs to the agency offices as the door to the building swung shut.

Mo quickly followed behind, running to catch up with them.

"Leo, what are you doing?"

"He deserves to see these photos, Mo." Leo stormed through the agency's door, past an astonished Harry and into Mo's tiny s.p.a.ce. Milton ran gleefully behind.

"Hi, boss," Mo said as she jogged through.

"Is that who I think it is?" Harry called.

"I'm afraid it is."

Mo joined Leo behind her desk. "Frosted flakes. What are these?"

Leo held up a photo. Obviously taken by the security camera network at the convention center, the picture contained a ma.s.s of figures. Mo didn't see the importance of the photo until Leo pointed to a portion of the glossy. Leo picked up two others and showed them to her. After the shots for a few moments, Mo understood their significance.

"See this photo?" Mo held out the first one to Milton.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"If you'll look in the background behind the wookie, that's you in the chipmunk outfit, right?"

"I'm not making any admissions." Milton pushed the gla.s.ses up his nose and then crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, look at this second photo in the series." Mo produced a glossy from her portfolio and thrust it toward Stewart. "Leo's blown up a section of the first photo to show this part. You're holding the 'head' of your costume. Looks like you're taking a break for refreshments." She pointed toward the center of the photo, which clearly showed Stewart pus.h.i.+ng food into his mouth.

"Yeah, what of it? So I was there with a chipmunk outfit on." Milton's tone was confident, but his s.h.i.+fting from one foot to the other indicated something different. "I was doing some undercover investigating. You know that. You saw me there. We talked."

"So you weren't partic.i.p.ating in any of the other- shall we say-activities?" Mo asked, not really trying to contain her gleeful tone.

"Certainly not!"

"Then I can't imagine why we have this last photo in the series." Mo withdrew another glossy and held it out.

Stewart avoided touching it as if it was tinged with ebola. In fact, it was just a photo of Stewart in his chipmunk outfit and a person in a poodle costume.

"Wow, Milton. It looks like you're getting along really well with that poodle. I wonder how Mrs. Milton will feel about this?" Leo commented dryly.

"Mo," Harry warned from the doorway.

Mo ignored her. "That's pretty interesting behavior wouldn't you say?"

"That dog was humping my leg. I had nothing to do with it. You can clearly see that here." Milton threw the photos on the desk. "So if that's all you got, I'll be leaving."

"Oh, did I say that was the last photo? Oops, there's one more photo after all." Mo took yet another from the desk top and looked at it. "I see that you're absolutely right. You weren't making out with that poodle. You swing another way completely."

She handed him the photo showing his chipmunk with a rabbit doing something Mr. Disney never envisioned.

"It looks like your interests go to wildlife, not to domesticated animals," Leo said with a laugh.

The air seemed to go out of Milton.

"What do you want?" the formerly puffed-up twerp asked.

"I want every picture you have of Ross Grant. All negatives, digi-cards, anything. And I want all your notes."

Milton nodded.

"By the end of today," Mo finished.

He gave a resigned little salute.

"And, Milton, if any article appears, with or without your byline, in the National Star, the Savannah Tribune or, any other media outlet- even the Podunk Shopper-about Ross Grant and any of this mess, I'll see that these interesting wildlife photos go directly to Mrs. Milton."

The reporter pivoted on one heel and marched out. As he pa.s.sed Harry, he gave her a hard glare.

When he was gone, Mo hugged Leo ferociously. "You are the best brother a girl could have. How did you know I would need those?"

"You told me to see if I could find something on the convention footage yesterday. Remember?"

"But you brilliantly ignored me when I said to forget it." Mo grinned and stepped back to gather the photos into a folder.

"What have you done, Mo?" Harry's expression was as harsh as her tone.

Mo glanced up, folder in hand. "I did what I had to do to protect Ross."

Harry opened her mouth, but Mo interrupted before she could speak.

"I know, boss. You told me not to mess with him."

"And didn't I say I'd have to-" Harry began.

"You don't have to fire me, I quit." As Mo said the words, it was as if a ton of potatoes had been lifted from her chest. Even though it meant her financial problems would get even worse, Mo knew it was for the best.

Her boss blinked at the statement. "I didn't mean I was actually firing you."

"That's okay, because I actually quit." Mo marveled at the lightness she felt. She'd wanted to win Harry's approval and get that bonus for so long. But now quitting felt great. "It's okay, Harry. No hard feelings."

"Mo-"

Not stopping to hear what she had to say, Mo strode to the door. "I gotta go see Ross."

The only black cloud hanging in the horizon of her mind was the reaction Ross had to Milton's planned article. She needed to get to him as soon as possible to tell him that the story was dead. His film financing was safe.

Just as he arrived at the hotel, his cell trilled.

"Aaron," Ross said. "I'm glad you called. I have some news. I'm not sure whether it's good or bad."

"Tell me later because I know I have good news." The agent's voice was gleeful.

Plopping down on the sofa, Ross propped his feet on the coffee table. "Good news?"

"You're performance in the parade is already the talk of Hollywood."

"That was no performance-" Ross began, but Aaron cut him off.

"Whatever it was, boyo, it's made you hot, hot, hot," the agent said breathlessly. "I just talked to the producer of the SpyMatrix sequel and they are totally behind you as the star. Multi-million dollar payday too."

"Really?" Ross asked. A thrill like a shot of adrenaline directly to the heart coursed through him. He'd been striving for this for the last ten years. He hadn't wanted to do a sequel but no one could deny the power it would give Ross in the industry. "No handing the torch off to someone younger?"

"Absolutely not," Aaron answered. "I gotta hand it to you. For somebody who didn't want to ride a parade float, you certainly did it with a genius touch."

In the end, Mo couldn't resist going home to shower and change before locating Ross. She had to feel s.e.xy and attractive for this conversation. She might need every bit of feminine wiles in her a.r.s.enal.

Mo wiped nervously sweaty palms on her black skirt as she approached Ross's hotel room door. Her bare legs were newly shaved. She'd topped the outfit with a silky cream-colored blouse with faux pearl b.u.t.tons. Her hair was loose and curly around her shoulders.

Reaching the door to the room, she inhaled deeply before knocking. This was it.

Ross opened it almost immediately. His cell phone was to his ear and when he saw her he smiled. "I'll call you back later, Aaron," Ross said. "We'll see about the sequel." He cut off the call, jammed the cell in his pocket before tugging Mo inside. "I was just about to call you."

"Really? What were you about to call me?" Mo asked wryly as the door shut behind her.

Ross laughed as he sat down on the sofa and pulled Mo into his lap.

"I have something to tell you," Mo said.

Ross kissed her, stopping her words. "You don't have to say anything."

Reluctantly, she pulled back. "Ross. This is serious. I need to tell you something important. It's about Milton."

"Milton doesn't matter. His story doesn't matter," he said, kissing her neck. His hand went to the b.u.t.tons of her blouse and began unfastening each pearly b.u.t.ton.

Mo couldn't resist. She had to take a sip of his lips. She tugged at his hair to bring his head back up so she could put her mouth on his. She felt the sides of her blouse open. His hand found the strap of her bra and slipped it down her shoulder. She was quickly losing conscious thought to the sensations of the moment.

No. She jerked her head back. "No, Ross, we need to talk first."

"It isn't necessary. I don't care about Milton," he said, his eyes glazed. "I released the story about what happened in the last few days to a guy at People magazine. I just got off the phone with him before my agent called. He's sending someone over for photos. The story will be national by next week. Let Milton put his version in the tabloids. It won't matter."

His head bent to take a nip at her breast and she tugged him back up. "What? I thought you'd feel humiliated."

"Doesn't matter. You matter," he said seriously.

"Yesterday you said even an accurate version of events could ruin your financing."

"If it does it does. There will be another film."