You Don't Know Jack by Adrianne Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

half heart is symbolic of something much deeper: my inability to give my whole heart to anyone. Stone wants my whole heart or nothing. Crazy nuts, huh?
    I want a man who doesn't make me crazy nuts.
    A man who's safe .
    Okay, so Lars wasn't safe.
    Okay, so Endré wasn't either.
    I blew out a shuddery breath. What if I do hold back a part of myself? Maybe I have to. Maybe I can't help it. Maybe losing the one man I loved unconditionally at age eight scarred me. Left me distrustful. Afraid of being abandoned. Or hurt. Or both. It's not a crime. Stone can't lock me up and force me to talk about it. Or to analyze it. Or to get over it. Though I suspect he'd like to do all of the above.
    "What's wrong?" Stone repeated, jerking me back from the edge of hysteria, back to the room where Apollo lay dead beneath a pile of feather boas and sequined evening gowns.
    Oh, God, I wanted to disappear — like Endré — go wherever the hell he'd gone. Anywhere would be better than here. I glanced down at the black patent heels poking from beneath the costume heap and amended the thought. Anywhere that wasn't deceased.
    "T-there," I said, pointing. "A-A-Apollo." My chest ached as though another piece of my heart was gone, snipped off with jagged shears.
    Stone swore. I wanted to run. He recognized the look. "Oh, no, you don't."
    He pushed into the room, forcing me to back up. He locked the door, locked us in with the corpse. Oh, God. I cringed against the wall. I couldn't watch him uncover that body, couldn't bear to see my BFF dead, couldn't hold myself upright. My knees buckled again. My eyes were blurry. Tears or dizziness. I was too numb to tell which. And some insane bitch was keening like a banshee. Why didn't Stone make her shut the hell up?
    He bent over the body for a moment, then came back to me, gently gripping my upper arms, leaning close, his eyes kind, his words kinder. "Sweetheart, it's not Apollo. Stop crying, okay?"
    He hated when I cried. Wait! Me? I was the banshee? Wait! Did he say it wasn't Apollo? I swear I heard an angelic voice whisper in my ear, " And the truth shall set you free ." The pain in my chest lifted. The flood of tears retreated. The sorrow sucking me under released its hold. I snuffled and held out the starburst tie. "B–B–But he was wearing this."
    "It's not Apollo," Stone repeated.
    "But... dead, right?"
    "Yes."
    "Murdered, right?"
    "That's my guess."
    "B–Black Boutonniere Killer?"
    "Don't know."
    I didn't believe him, but I wasn't going to argue. Murder was his day job. He might not look like a homicide cop tonight in the ebony beehive wig and ruby lip gloss, but I'd bet he was packing heat under that crimson, triple X sequined evening gown.
    Stone looked like he wanted to hold me, comfort me, but his fake boobs and my real ones nixed the idea. He reached a hand to my face instead, but inches from a gentle caress that I could really use right now, he pulled back — put off I imagined by the butterfly eyelashes dangling off my cheeks, by the mascara and blush running onto my chin.
    Note to self: Crying and cosmetics don't mix.
    "I have to call this in," Stone said. "You gonna be okay?"
    I nodded. As okay as anyone can be sharing a room with a dead body and a former lover turned World's Ugliest Drag Queen.
    I was a tad bit calmer by the time Stone hung up and asked, "What are you doing in this dressing room, and why are you dressed like that?"
    My brows lifted. Was he serious? Had he looked in a mirror? On second thought, his reflection might break glass. I gestured with an open palm. "Probably the same thing you're doing. Work. Right?"
    Instead of asking the obvious — Is performing at this club the latest of your odd jobs? — his gaze narrowed, and he asked, "What would you know about my work?"
    How did I answer that without getting myself in trouble? Yeah, like I wasn't already hip deep.
    Nothing.
    Something.
    Nothing I can tell you . I turned his question back on him. "Are you trying to tell me