Entwined by Lynda La Plante Read Free Book Online Page A

used wire clippers to uncover the first plinth. Standing back to view it, she swore loudly, then ripped off the second and third covers. The plinths were correct in measurement, and exceptionally well made, but she swore and cursed louder than any of the men as she pointed to the leather seat base. She had given the specific colors to be used: red, green, and blue. They were as she had instructed—but they were too bright, too primal, and the gold braid too yellow.
    Ruda had just completed unwrapping the last plinth—stacking them side by side, all the covers and wires removed—and was standing hands on hips in a fury, when Grimaldi made his appearance.
    He stood over six feet tall, and had thick black curly hair, very black since he dyed it regularly. His once exceptionally handsome face was bloated now from age and excessive drinking, his dark eyes red-rimmed, but he could still turn heads. He was wearing high black polished boots over cords, and a Russian-style shirt, belted at the waist. He reeked of eau de cologne; Ruda could smell him before she saw him.
    "We got a problem?"
    Ruda snapped that indeed they had, and it was all his fault.
    "All you had to do, Luis, was give the colors for the plinths and you fouled that up—look at them, they're far too bright, I'm gonna have to use the old ones when I link up the pyramid formation. Look at the fucking colors, too bright. I want our old ones."
    Grimaldi shrugged. "You can't have them. I sold them in Paris. These are okay, they'll get used to them. What's the panic? A few rehearsals, they'll get used to them."
    Ruda turned on him. "It's not you in the ring with them, Luis, it's me—and I'm telling you, those colors are too fucking bright!"
    Ruda's face was flushed with fury. Luis knew, probably better than anyone else, the danger new equipment always presented. Even a different-colored shirt worn in the show could disturb the cats; they hated change of any kind. Although they accepted Ruda's old rehearsal clothes, they seemed to know instinctively when she wore a different stage costume and they could act up. They had to be given time to accept the changes, and two days, Ruda knew, was not long enough.
    Ruda glared at her husband.
    "Get the old ones back, Luis, and get them by tonight!"
    His eyes became shifty; he hated to be spoken to in that way in front of the workers. "I said I sold them. Just work through the act, they'll get used to them. I can't get them back from Paris in time for the opening."
    Ruda kicked one of the plinths in fury. "Just do what I ask, Jesus Christ! It was the only thing you had to do and you fouled it up!"
    Luis began to pick his teeth with a matchstick. "I'll call around. What time do you rehearse?"
    Ruda was walking out of the tent. Over her shoulder she shouted for him to check the board. Luis noted they were not on until later that afternoon, so he joined a group of men going off to the canteen.
    Alone in the trailer, Ruda paced up and down. She opened the safe, counted the money kept for emergencies, and noted that Luis must have been dipping into it. She slammed the safe closed. There were about fifteen thousand dollars left. She then checked her own bank balance. In her private account she had fifty-two thousand dollars. She rubbed her scar until it pained her, then began to open drawers in her dressing table, feeling under her clothes for the small bundles of dollars she kept for minor emergencies. Like a squirrel she hid small stacks of notes in various currencies and denominations, but no matter how she searched and calculated, she did not have one hundred thousand. The more she mentally added up the amount, the more her fury built. This was hers, every single hard-earned cent was hers, and that little bastard felt he had a right to it.
    The cashiers said they could give Ruda an advance on her salary, but not until after lunch when they would go to the bank. Grimaldi would have to sign the release form, but if she came back at