Lucy pulled the limo over to the curb in front of William's building. She honked, then shut off the engine. William was always late. She got out and came around and leaned against the car to wait. A Lexus SUV snugged in behind her and a couple got out. The Lexus was packed to the gills with camping gear. The woman smiled at Lucy. "Are you waiting for William?" Safe bet that nobody else in this lovely loft building had lost their driver's license for 8 million DUI stops. "Yeah," Lucy said. "If I'm in your way--" "Oh, no!" said the woman. "You're fine." She held out her hand. "I'm Linda Chapman. And this is my husband, Mark." Mark looked up from the hatch, frowning, and ducked back in. Lucy shook her hand. This was a woman used to selling herself, but in some low key way... Not real estate, not insurance. Investments. Linda Chapman was sizing up Lucy's chauffeur's uniform. "William is so sweet. I used to watch that show he was on. Mark? Do you remember the name of the show that William was on?" " Good Times ," said the guy. He heaved a propane stove and a cooler out of the back and headed for the door. Linda shook her head. "No, it wasn't Good Times , that was the kid that said 'Dy-no-mite!'" To Lucy she said, "It's so sad he never really had a childhood." Mark dropped the cooler at the door and came back for a second load. "He's having one now." Linda smiled apologetically. "William does have a lot of parties." "That's some serious gear," Lucy said. For what these guys spent on camping, they should probably just buy a village full of Sherpas. Maybe throw in a yak or two. Squinting against the afternoon sunlight, William stumbled out of the building and smacked his shin on the Chapmans' cooler. Mark gave him the Yuppie Death Glare, but it glanced harmlessly off William's armor of Jose Cuervo fumes and ricocheted off through Beverly Hills. Another Drive-By Glaring: film at 11. To judge by the wrinkles and stains, William's current Banana Republic gear had been doubling as his pajamas for a couple of days. Lucy poured him into the backseat. "Where were you?" he asked. "Right here," she said. "Waiting for you." "No. Last Friday. Where were you Friday ? You were supposed to pick me up for a call. I needed you, it was for Celebrity Poker Survivor . You were going to teach me all this poker lingo." "Yeah, I was gonna do that, only I was in jail instead." "In jail?" he said. "Did you say 'in jail'?" "Yeah," she said. "About my uncle getting shot. The cops brought me in for concealing evidence." "Did you?" "If you want to get technical about it." "Oh, my God. Lucy." He looked shocked. She had expected some sympathy, but he seemed genuinely upset. He produces a flask from his pocket and took a drink to strengthen himself. "Were there any reporters there?" "Reporters?" "My career is at a crucial point," he said. "I mean, this celebrity poker thing could make all the difference. You getting arrested could look really bad for me." Lucy drove the car. "It could be like that business with Sean Combs and Jennifer Lopez," William said, agitated. "You know, when that guy in his crew got in trouble in the club." "'Crew?' Did you join the merchant marine?" Lucy said. "Nobody says 'crew' anymore." William blinked. "They don't?" "You should be grateful," Lucy said. "Maybe I'll put you on the cover of the Star. 'Shiner's Driver--Behind Bars in an All-Girl Prison Nightmare!!!' Your shocked face will be mooning over every Piggly-Wiggly check-out line in the country." "Maybe they'll do something on E!" he said, brightening. "What's that show called? Undercovers ?" Lucy sighed. "Let's go play a little poker, okay?"
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