Fade to Blue by Bill Moody Read Free Book Online Page B

play?”
    I take my hands off the keyboard. “I can teach him to
look
like he’s playing.”
    Emillio smiles. “That I have to see.”
    We drive into Santa Monica in Ryan’s other car, the Mercedes. I sit in the back behind him, and watch Melanie flinch occasionally as he drives way too fast, changing lanes, swerving and zipping around other cars. He has a Keith Jarrett CD playing. I recognize it as
Live at the Blue Note.
    “What’s with all the moaning?” Ryan says as he turns up the California Incline to Ocean Avenue. He means the way Jarrett sings along with the notes he plays.
    “That’s just Keith’s way.”
    “I like it,” Melanie says, turning her head toward me. “It sounds so…so real.”
    Ryan glances at her. “Yeah, you like moaning, don’t you.”
    She colors slightly and shakes her head. “God, Ryan.”
    He grins at her and pats her leg. “Just kidding, baby.” She pulls away and gazes out the side window.
    Just off Ocean Avenue, we pull into the parking lot of a restaurant called The Bistro. At valet parking, three guys in black pants and white shirts stand ready to take charge of the car. A few feet away are a half-dozen photographers pacing around. How does this work, I wonder. Ryan Stiles makes a reservation. The restaurant tips off the photographers for a kickback?
    The valet guys open the doors for us and we all get out.
    “Hey, Ryan,” one of the photographers yells. “Over here.”
    Ryan turns, flashes the smile and waves. I hang back to watch the show. They close in, cameras clicking, jockeying for position and then focus on Melanie, who smiles big, but keeps an eye on Ryan. They all ignore me.
    “Thanks, guys,” he says and waves again, then heads into the restaurant. Melanie and I follow just behind him.
    “You ever get tired of this?” I ask her quietly. She looks stunning in a black miniskirt and white top, her blond hair flowing around her face.
    She nods. “Yes, but it’s all part of the game. Ryan loves it,” she says quieter.
    Inside, we’re seated quickly with little stir. Ryan must be a regular. The service and the food are excellent. Melanie picks at a seafood salad. Ryan and I go for steak sandwiches that are so tender they could be cut with a fork. Nobody talks much and Ryan seems restless, distracted, as if he’d expected someone who didn’t show. Maybe he and Melanie had an argument.
    We both look up as a man in a Hawaiian shirt stops at the table. “Mr. Stiles, I don’t mean to interrupt your lunch, but would you mind?” He holds out a pen and a piece of paper.
    I see the manager fast approaching the table but Ryan waves him off. “It’s okay.” He takes the pen from the man, and signs his name with a flourish. “There you go. Don’t go selling it on eBay.”
    The man nods and smiles. “Oh no, never,” he says. “I’m too big a fan for that.” He smiles at Melanie and backs away.
    Ryan signs the check and throws down two twenties for the tip and we go back outside to wait for valet to bring the car around. The photographers are still hovering for more pictures as the car arrives. Ryan waves again but as we start to get in the car, one of the photographers moves closer. He’s a big guy with longish hair and a beard. He kneels in front of the passenger door and points his camera at Melanie’s legs.
    “How about some thigh, Melanie?”
    Ryan is quickly around the car. “Back off,” he says, pulling off his sunglasses.
    “Hey, come on,” the photographer says. “It’s hot, we’ve been out here for over an hour.”
    “I said back off.” Melanie gets in and shuts the door as Ryan puts his hand on the photographer’s chest and pushes. The photographer lets go of his camera, letting it dangle around his neck. He backs up, plants his feet, and turns to his comrades.
    “You guys see that?” Ryan moves closer. I can see the veins in his neck pulse, his face darken.
    I start around the car but the photographer backs up. “Okay, okay.” He