Fearless in High Heels Part 1

FEARLESS IN HIGH HEELS.

by GEMMA HALLIDAY.

Chapter One.

I watched as the dark figure moved through the forest. Mist swirled at his feet, the glow of the full moon above casting shadows across his beautifully sculpted face, his black hair curling over his ears in the damp night air as he stalked his prey. She stood, unsuspecting, on the other side of the clearing. A dark-haired woman, her back to him, her slim, pale neck exposed to the chilling night.

He spotted her. Then he smiled, showing off a pair of sharp, white fangs against his full lips.

I sucked in a breath, pulling my feet up to my chest.

Then I watched in horror as, in an instant, he was hurtling through the darkness toward the woman.

I covered my eyes with both hands. "I can't look. He's gonna bite her, isn't he?"

Dana sighed next to me. "Yes. Again."

I pulled my Snuggie up over my head. "Tell me when it's over." I burrowed into the pillows on my sofa where my best friend, Dana, and I were indulging in chocolate covered popcorn and hot cocoa while watching Moonlight, last summer's biggest blockbuster movie. I'd read all the Moonlight books but had made myself wait to see the movie until I'd finished the last one in the series. Which, as of this morning, I had. And I had to admit, it was worth the wait. The actress playing Lila was totally convincing as the naive teenager who inadvertently falls in love with a local vampire.

Dana s.h.i.+fted beside me. "G.o.d, I hate this part, Maddie," she whined.

I peeked over the edge of my pink Snuggie at the screen. Lila was falling into the arms of her vampire would-be lover, Daniel, as his lips gently grazed her neck.

"Know what? I don't think he's biting her. I think it's just a kiss," I pointed out.

"Yeah, that's the problem." Dana crunched down hard on a piece of chocolate covered popcorn. Which was a sure sign she was upset. Dana never ate chocolate. Ever. Her body was a temple that ran on wheat gra.s.s, tofu, and ma.s.s amounts of exercise. She'd worked as an aerobics instructor, a Pilates instructor and a CrossFit trainer. Chocolate was to Dana was like garlic to Daniel and Lila.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Peachy. I love watching my boyfriend kiss other women," she said, heavy on the sarcasm.

"Sorry." I put a hand on her arm. "But you know it's just acting, right?"

Dana didn't answer, instead grabbing another handful of popcorn.

While I was caught up in the fantasy of the Moonlight world, Dana was stuck in the reality of it. Namely the fact that the s.e.xy vampire currently caressing Lila's neck was actually Ricky Montgomery, Dana's boyfriend of the last two and a half years. While Ricky was no stranger to Hollywood, having begun his career as the hunky gardener on TV's prime time soap, Magnolia Lane, "Daniel" was the biggest part he'd landed yet, the Moonlight phenomenon launching him from TV hottie to teen idol overnight. Something Dana was not overly thrilled with. Not only had reviewers commented numerous times on the undeniable chemistry between Daniel and Lila - who was actually played by Ava Martinez, the sultry new member of the young Hollywood elite - but the last time Dana had gone to Starbucks with Ricky, no less than three women had asked Ricky to sign their b.o.o.bs.

Not that Dana had anything to worry about, as far as I could tell. She was herself now an actress slash model slash Lover Girl cosmetics spokeswoman (her latest gig) who was blonde, stacked, and toned from head to toe. If Barbie ever needed a body double, Dana was your gal.

But I guess even Barbie might have issues with watching Ken smooch another girl.

"I don't get all this vampire fascination," Dana mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at the screen as Daniel sunk his teeth into Lila, giving her "the eternal kiss" of night.

"You're kidding, right?" I responded, looking away as I grabbed a handful of popcorn. "Are we watching the same movie? Vampires are s.e.xy."

"What's so s.e.xy about drinking blood?"

I paused. Okay, she had me there. "It's not the blood thing," I countered. "It's that they're mysterious. Dark. Forbidden. The ultimate bad boys. Besides," I said gesturing at the screen, "you have to admit that Ricky looks hot in pale make-up."

Dana sighed. "Yeah. I know. Too hot."

"You know, there are worse things in the world than dating the guy every woman in America is l.u.s.ting over," I teased her.

She threw a piece of popcorn at me, but smiled at least. "Well, with any luck, after he finishes shooting the sequel there won't be any more Moonlight movies."

"Aww," I whined before I could stop myself. "Why not?"

"Ricky's invested in this new club, and if it does well he said he'll be able to slow down a bit with the acting. Which," she clarified, "means more time with moi and less time with her."

"Tell me about the club," I said to cover my disappointment at losing my new favorite film series.

Dana perked up, crossing her legs under her on the sofa. "It's called Crush, and it's got this totally chic little spot on Sunset. Apparently Ricky's business manager suggested investing in it, so Ricky's now something like a one-sixteenth owner. I'm going to check it out tomorrow night. Oh! You should totally come with!"

I bit my lip. "Me? At a nightclub?" Okay, a few months ago, I would have jumped at the chance to check out a hot new club from the cushy VIP section reserved for one-sixteenth owners. As a fas.h.i.+on designer, people-watching among Hollywood's nightlife was one of my favorite hobbies. Some of my best inspirations had come from the dance floors of L.A.'s most fas.h.i.+onable clubs.

But recently something had come along to change all that. Okay, I guess you could say two somethings.

Number one: My husband, Detective Jack Ramirez, L.A.P.D. homicide. He was tall, broad shouldered, and built with all solid muscle. His hair was dark and always a week past needing a cut, his skin was a warm honey color year round, and his eyes were a soft brown when they crinkled with laughter at the corners and a deep, rich chocolate when he was in the mood for something a little more naughty. When a girl had a guy like that at home, what did she want to go out for?

And clearly we'd been spending a lot of time "in" together as I now had a reason number two to stay home: The b.u.mp. In about twenty-two weeks I was told that said growth would actually become a living breathing human, but at the moment, it was just The b.u.mp, a basketball shaped growth under my favorite T-s.h.i.+rt. (Which, even though it was stretched to the max I refused to give up in favor of the tents that pa.s.sed as maternity clothes. Whoever said that maternity wear was "so much cuter" now than in the past clearly had a very loose interpretation of the word "cute".) My first reaction to the two little lines on the pee stick had been surprise, then elation, then horror at the idea I was soon to be responsible for an entire life. Horror had settled into a dull sense of panic that I could most of the time smother with chocolate covered popcorn and hot cocoa, but it was still bubbling just below the surface enough that a nightclub wasn't high on my list of to-do's lately.

Dana must have seen the hesitation in my eyes as she looked down at The b.u.mp too.

"Come on, it would be good for you to get out," she said.

"I don't know. It sounds like a normal person thing not a pregnant person thing."

Dana shot me a look. "You are a normal person."

"I'm a whale."

"You're not that big."

My turn to shoot the look. "I appreciate your dishonestly for my benefit, but I have mirrors. I know how big I am."

Dana waved me off. "No one will notice. It's dark in clubs."

"It's also loud. What if it's too loud for her?"

"Her?" Dana asked, jumping on the word. "Do we know The b.u.mp's a girl?"

I shrugged. "Well, not technically. It's too early to know for sure yet. But I saw this to-die-for pink tutu onesie the other day at Macy's, so I'm hopeful."

"Well, either way, I'm pretty sure that thing can't hear yet," Dana said, staring down at my belly.

"She might be able to. I read in What to Expect When You're Expecting that she has ears now."

"Even if she does, the layer of fat will insulate her."

"See, you are calling me fat!"

Dana swatted me on the arm. "Look, if Crush gets too loud or too crowded or too anything, we can leave. But please come with me. It will be no fun without you." Dana pouted and batted her eyelashes at me.

The effect was so comical that I couldn't help the spurt of laughter that escaped me. "Okay, fine. I'll drag my whale-sized self to a nightclub just for you."

"Yay!" Dana said, bouncing up and down on the sofa cus.h.i.+on. "Trust me, we'll have a blast. It'll be like our last little club night before The b.u.mp arrives."

"Hmm," I said, grabbing another handful of popcorn to cover the mild panic that always accompanied imagining my world post-b.u.mp.

"'K, so I just have one more teeny, tiny favor to ask," Dana said.

I rolled my eyes. "What now?"

She glanced at the screen where "Daniel" was tongue kissing the newly vampireized Lila. "Any chance we could watch something else? Anything else?"

Chapter Two.

The next night found me ditching my Snuggie for the first time in months and letting my sofa fend for itself as Dana drove me through the packed Hollywood streets in her brand new convertible Mustang. Cherry red. With the top down. I had to admit, I was digging this last hurrah already.

Crush was located on Sunset Boulevard between Highland and Vine, in a black, square building set between a posh Italian restaurant and a women's boutique that specialized in pumps in size 11 and up. A single blue neon sign above the door was the only indication anything interesting lay within. That is, if you didn't count the line of women in tiny skirts and guys in skinny jeans spanning the side of the building, hopefully eyeing the door. Guarding the una.s.suming entrance stood a guy who looked like a heavyweight champ, a pair of black sungla.s.s over his eyes despite the absence of sunlight.

Luckily, being that Dana and her plus one were on the list, we marched straight to the front of the line and were let in immediately. I thanked the G.o.ds for small favors. My shoes were already starting to bite into my feet as we entered the noisy room. In all honesty four-inch, pale pink, patent leather pumps probably weren't the most practical choice for when With b.u.mp, but, my like my fav T, they were on the list of things I was not willing to give up, pain or no pain. Especially this pair. They were part of my new spring collection I was calling "Heaven in Heels." The entire collection was done in soft, ethereal colors, and I was just three shoes away from completing it. With any luck, they would be walking the runways in New York in a matter weeks, and hitting exclusive boutiques everywhere in just a few short months.

At Dana's suggestion, I had matched my Maddie originals with a pair of cropped, black stretch pants and a long sequined tank that used to be a dress, but with the basketball protruding from my mid-section, was now more of a long s.h.i.+rt. But the overall effect was sparkly and cute, and if you saw me from the back, you could hardly tell I'd put on fifteen pounds.

Dana, on the other hand, looked like she'd come right from the set of one of her Lover Girl cosmetics shoots. She was in a tight, red mini-dress and tall, spikey red heels, and she wore a pair of silver earrings that dangled all the way down to her shoulders. I sighed watching heads (both male and female) turn her way as we entered the club. Oh, to be slim, hot, and un-bloated again.

"Isn't this place great?" Dana yelled to me above the pounding ba.s.s.

I nodded. "Great," I agreed, meaning it.

The interior of the club more than made up for the lackl.u.s.ter exterior. Plush red velvet lined the walls, pairing with s.h.i.+ny chrome fixtures and pendant lights. One large gla.s.s bar sat in the center of the room, packed two and three deep as people jockeyed to get the attention of the dozen bartenders in tight black s.h.i.+rts behind it. A pair of staircases snaked along the two opposite walls, leading up to a second floor where a DJ was playing music at top volume, spinning remixes of pop songs while bright blue, red, and green lights flashed across a crowded dance floor.

I had to admit, it looked like Ricky's financial advisor was a good one. The place was packed. On the dance floor dozens of wanna-be starlets crushed up against each other as VIP's looked on from private booths lining the walls. I could only imagine how much Ricky was making off this place, even if he was only making it off one-sixteenth of it.

"Let's get a drink," Dana said, grabbing me by the hand and threading her way to the far side of the bar where there seemed to be a small gap in the crowd waiting for drinks. After a minimum of elbowing, we finally made it to the front.

"What can I get you ladies?" yelled a bartender that was pierced in about fifteen different places. That I could see.

"Pom-tini," Dana yelled back over the noise.

"And a cranberry juice," I reluctantly added, really thinking a Pom-tini fit the atmosphere perfectly.

He nodded, then grabbed a couple of gla.s.ses.

"Excuse me," I heard behind me.

I swiveled to find a girl with long dark hair wearing a lot of eye make-up and very little dress, scowling at me. Her feet were encased in black, satin pumps with heels that ended in deadly looking silver spikes, making her tower over my 5'1" frame. Behind her a redhead in an equally tiny dress, hers with a fas.h.i.+onable one-shoulder strap, and equally high heels did an equally ugly mirror image of the scowl thing.

"I'm trying to get a drink, here?" Dark-haired Girl said, her voice doing a bored-slash-annoyed thing.

"Sorry," I mumbled, trying to s.h.i.+mmy to the left a bit in the tight s.p.a.ce. "I'm just waiting for my cranberry juice."

The girl did an exaggerated sigh, throwing her long hair over one pale shoulder, and she and her friend tried to squeeze past me. Which was a losing battle. The bar was packed with bodies, and there was nowhere left for me to get out of the way.

"I'm sorry, it's just really busy here-" I started.

But the girl ignored me, turning to her friend. And even through the crowded club I could hear her pseudo whisper, "Freaking whale's blocking the whole bar."

I froze, feeling steam gather between my ears. "What did you just say?"

"What?" she asked, blinking at me in mock innocence.

"Did you just call me a whale?"

"Did I?" she asked, still playing dumb.

"Yes. You called me a whale."

She shrugged. "Well, you're taking up way too much room, and you're not even drinking," she said, waving a manicured finger at me. "That is, like, way not cool."

"Uh oh," I vaguely heard Dana say beside me. But my full being was focused on Skinny b.i.t.c.h Chick at the moment.

I clenched my teeth together. "For your information, I am drinking. A cranberry juice. So there."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Whatever, Shamu."

For a full second the world turned red, my face was filled with lava, and my tongue got stuck somewhere between my throat and my toes.

"What did you just call me," I hissed through my teeth, feeling all three tons of my weight clenching for a fight.

"Maddie," I heard Dana behind me. I felt her hand on my arm, tugging me in the opposite direction. "Honey, let's just go."

"I think this stick figure just called me a whale," I said. "I'm gonna kill her. I'm gonna sit on her. I'll suffocate her," I yelled even as I felt Dana drag me away from the bar. "How do you like that, Stick Figure? Ever been suffocated by a whale before?!"

Skinny b.i.t.c.h Chick just shrugged again, sent me a look that said I was clearly the pathetic one, and slipped her emaciated little self toward the bar.