She sneered at me. “No thanks.”
I looked across the stage to the front-row seat directly opposite me. It was empty. I pointed out to the blonde that she might be confused about the row number.
She looked across the aisle, saw the empty seat, then her face flushed with embarrassment. She walked off without saying another word.
It was too bad. I would have liked to see if there was something a little more friendly under that annoyed exterior.
The crowd settled, and the lights dimmed. The music pumped, and the parade of beauties hit the stage, strutting their stuff on the catwalk in frilly lingerie that barely covered anything.
This was quite possibly heaven.
But it didn't take long for the devil to show up.
8
The show was a hit.
How could it not be?
The crowd erupted with applause, and Giovanni took a bow, surrounded by a bevy of beauties.
Now it was time for the after-party at Bloom.
The models slipped backstage to get changed, and the crowd drifted toward the exits.
We waited for Cinnamon and Ginger. They looked as good in their slinky black cocktail dresses as they did in lingerie. We escorted them outside, and we were met by a mob of screaming fans and flashing paparazzi.
A sea of limousines lined up to collect models, celebrities, and billionaires. A few uniformed deputies were on duty, and all the models had private security.
Ava Lang emerged with Sebastian. The cameras and crowdswarmed them. A barrage of camera flashes erupted. Reporters shouted questions.
“How do you feel about the show?”
“Do you think this promotes unrealistic beauty standards?”
“When are you two getting married?”
Their security staff hustled them through the crowd and down the red carpet toward a waiting white stretch limousine.
From beyond the velvet rope, a figure squeezed through the bodies, hurdled the barrier, and tossed a cup full of liquid into Ava’s face.
She screeched in agony, clutching her money maker, doubling over.
Was it hot coffee, scalding water, or something worse?
The assailant had already ducked back into the crowd before Ava’s bodyguards could react.
I took off, chasing after the guy as he barreled through the crowd.
Dressed in all black with skinny jeans and sneakers, he wore a baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and a black N95 mask.
“Coconut County!” I shouted, holding my badge high as I plowed through the crowd.
My chest pumped, and my legs drove me forward. Adrenaline surged.
People looked on, stunned, not sure what had happened.
Cameras closed in around Ava to film the tragedy. When she pulled her hands away from her face, her skin was already sizzling. She screamed, "I can't see!"
