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the_water_clockAuthor: Clio
Title: Keep Your Enemies Closer, Chapter 6: Pushers Must Advertise
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen; established Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Simon Cowell, manager of pop star hopefuls and owner of the hot downtown Club Idol, has been framed for a crime he didn't commit. Can new kid Kris Allen convince rival divas David Cook and Adam Lambert to work together to clear Simon's name? And what will happen when Simon asks Adam and Kris to "take care" of his boyfriend Ryan for him?
Chapter Length: 7000 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Keep Your Enemies Closer is an mystery AU set in the New York club scene of the mid-90s, when a rapidly gentrifying East Village contained chain stores and after hours clubs, hungry young artists and heroin dealers. As usual, there will be plenty of music to set the scene and bring you back to a time not long ago. This story is entirely written, but being posted in chapters once per week.
Thank you to![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ali_wildgoose, who as usual went well beyond the call of beta-duty on this one, dreamerren, who encouraged me to keep going when I'd hit an impasse, and honestys_easy, who helped me give it that final polish. This chapter from Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy L. Sayers.
The Unpleasantness at Club Idol | Whose Heroin? | Crowds of Witness | A Few Red Herrings | Have His Caretakers
pushers must advertise
This is how it happened:
Ryan Seacrest had moved to New York from Atlanta three years earlier for a radio job, and had managed to parlay that into entertainment reporter on the local 5 o'clock news and some stringer stuff at the New York Times, mostly because the only person at the Grey Lady who knew about anything going on below 14th street or above 125th was Pareles, and he was only one man. Then in '87 he got the MTV News gig, which was small but growing, and Loder seemed to like him.
He'd kept the Times stringer work, though, and because of it had wandered into a new club downtown. Word was the owner was staffing the place with hopefuls who were all vaguely competing to be managed by him. Simon Cowell was building it all off the success of a few pop stars he'd broken, some New Kids-like band from England, and now the pop and rock singers were beating a path to his door. The club was supposed to be pretty good, too.
Ryan decided to check out the club for himself one night, incognito, before trying to track anyone down to interview, especially Cowell. He knew by now how to get into the door of pretty much any club but was surprised at the crowd. It wasn't quite as hip and self-involved as most clubs; instead, it was actually sort of fun and even a little bit silly. The DJ sprinkled old songs in with the new ones, and there were even some people there who looked like they might venture above 14th street every once in a while. Above the dance floor was a window, apparently in Cowell's office, and Ryan saw him there at one point, staring down at the floor, smoking and looking smug. He'd seen pictures of the guy—handsome, though the hair was a bit odd and his t-shirts were too snug; Ryan mostly thought he could use a personal shopper.
He walked off the floor in search of something to drink when a girl walked up to him—pretty, with a snub nose and round cheeks. He was trying to decide how to play that out when she said, "Simon would like to see you in his office."
Ryan scowled, wondering if she meant Cowell, and then wondering why Cowell would want to see him or even know or care who he was. "Okay," Ryan said. "Can I get an Evian first?"
The girl leaned over the bar, and got a tray with a bottle of Red Stripe, then handed a bottle of Evian to Ryan. "This way," she said, and led him up the stairs behind the DJ booth, down a hall, and through a door with a bodyguard.
Sure enough, in the room was Simon Cowell, sitting behind a desk, a few other people draped across couches. He looked up. "Ah, Kelly, thank you, you can set that down on the desk. Everyone, if you could leave us alone for a moment?" he asked, smiling.
Ryan realized, suddenly and viscerally, that photographs didn't do Cowell justice. In person he exuded smug confidence and a kind of masculinity that Ryan could swear was pheromonal; it almost made him dizzy. He was small—didn't have more than an inch on Ryan himself—with dark piercing brown eyes. Ryan felt like he was being inspected, and almost stood up straighter, then stubbornly decided not to.
The crew—a girl with pink hair, a brunette, and a boy with wildly curly brown hair who snickered and patted Ryan's shoulder as he walked by—left with Kelly, who shut the door behind them. Simon walked in front of the desk and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette and offering Ryan one.
"No thank you," he replied.
"So," Cowell said, "what does the Times or MTV want with me?"
"How do you know who I am?" Ryan asked.
Simon shrugged. "I have people," he said.
"You're generating some talk, so I thought I'd check it out," he said.
Simon raised his eyebrows. "And?"
"And, it's a nice place," he said. "Good music, fun crowd, I'm sure you'll do well."
"And?" he asked.
"Well," Ryan said, "you've got a pop band doing well in Europe, and a few acts with modest success here. You haven't really proven you know how to break someone in America, but you do seem to have an eye for talent. If I were a singer, I could do a lot worse."
"Is that what you're planning to write?" he asked.
"Why?" Ryan asked. "Worried?"
"Not at all," Simon said, shaking his head. "From what I've seen of your work, you're thorough and fair. And frankly, I've failed in the past and I will fail again; I've succeeded in the past and I'll succeed again. Whatever you write will only hasten or slow down the inevitable, but it's not likely to change the outcome."
"Then you'll see what I write when I write it," Ryan replied.
"All right." Simon went to the window and closed the curtains. "And you?" he asked.
"And me what?"
"And what do you want with me?" he asked.
"I—I don't know that I want anything with you," Ryan said, confused. "I just met you."
"Sometimes that's all it takes," Simon said. "Sometimes it's more than enough."
"Is this how you usually pick up men?" Ryan asked.
"No, I've never done this before, actually," he replied.
Ryan cocked his head. "Aren't you married? To some broadway dancer?"
He smiled. "You've done your research," he said.
"You haven't, if you really think I go for married men who are so full of themselves they think I'll fall for them at first sight."
"Not as a class, no," Simon replied. "Just me."
"You?" Ryan asked, annoyed. "I do have standards, you know. Maybe if your clothes fit you better, or you went to the gym occasionally, or got a haircut that wasn't straight out of the 50s."
Simon looked at him. "And exactly how long did it take to achieve that, er, effect with your hair? Is it so stiff that it will actually break off in my fingers?"
"At least it is a style, instead of a total lack of style."
Simon grinned even broader. "You're not going to go down without a fight, are you?"
"No," Ryan admitted. "Would you?"
"Of course not," he said. "More fun that way."
"This is fun?" Ryan asked.
"Isn't it?" Simon replied.
Kris woke up on Monday morning, still in Ryan's bed. While he remembered that they'd passed out in some kind of crumpled heap, they'd migrated a bit since then. Adam was off on one side of the bed, Ryan in the middle, and he'd curled up into a ball on the other side. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
It wasn't what he had expected, that was for damn sure. But it was also true that while he'd had some sexual encounters with other people after the divorce, he hadn't shared a bed with anyone since Katy. Yet here he was, in his boxers, with two other men in their underwear as well; they'd gotten Ryan out of his pj's when Adam started ranting about skin-to-skin contact. It was a chillier evening than it had been the past few nights, so they'd buried under an enormous comforter with their legs entwined and watched the second half of 120 Minutes and whatever late night thing had come on after that, and made fun of each other when they got hard-ons from the touching, and teased Adam about having a cock the size of a country ham, until Ryan finally fell asleep around 3am.
And there was nothing about it that wasn't nice, even if it was a little unorthodox. Kris looked at the clock—10:30, Ryan would have to be up soon—and slipped out of the bed, wrapping himself in a sweater before brushing his teeth and then heading downstairs to make coffee. He'd leave breakfast to Adam—he wasn't as good at eggs as the others—and was wishing he'd thought to put on some socks when he heard steps on the stairs.
"Good morning," Adam said, yawning, his hair sticking up every which way. Kris resisted the urge to smooth it down, not that he could quite reach the top of Adam's head anyway. Adam reached across him to grab a mug, and leaned into his ear. "You look nice in my sweater," he said.
Kris smiled, and tried to be cool. "It was the first thing I grabbed," he replied.
Adam just chuckled. "Seriously, you're an angel for getting up and making coffee," he said.
Kris shrugged. "I kinda like mornings," he said. He hopped up onto the counter to get a little more even with Adam.
Adam leaned against the counter next to Kris, and they both watched the coffee dripping down into the pot. He seemed very close, though they weren't touching; it was like Kris had an additional sense that knew where Adam was all the time without even having to look at him. He took a deep breath. "So I've been thinking," he began.
"Yeah?" Adam asked.
"After this is over, you know, and we're not staying here anymore?" Kris turned to look at Adam. "I'd like to take you out to dinner."
Adam looked up at him, surprised, then down at his empty mug. "You mean, like a date?" he asked, and it would have seemed shy, except this was Adam, who was never shy.
"Yeah, a date," Kris said.
Adam's lips turned up, just for a second. He pushed off the counter. "Would it be a nice dinner?"
"Nice enough," Kris replied, trying not to smile. "Not like, Teriyaki Boy. Maybe a movie after."
Adam turned, putting his mug on the counter, and leaning against it with his hands on either side of Kris's knees. "Well, I'll have to see if I'm available," he said.
"Of course," Kris said, nervously licking his lips.
Adam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, you would have to go and do that," he said, and leaned in to kiss Kris.
The first time Adam had kissed Kris, it was electric and amazing, but Kris had figured that was mostly because of the club and the makeup and Adam being a little drunk and feeling his power and Kris being new and all of that. But here they were, up against a kitchen counter on a winter Monday morning waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, and it was just as electric and amazing as before, if not more so. Kris's hands were on Adam's cheeks, and he wrapped his legs around Adam's waist, wanting to pull him closer. Adam obliged, bringing his hands up from the counter to embrace Kris.
After some amount of time—two seconds, two minutes, two years, who knew—they broke off, leaning their foreheads against each other and trying to catch their breath.
"Shit," Adam said, "I am so jacking off in the shower."
Kris sucked in his lips, trying not to laugh, but didn't succeed, and they were giggling like that when Ryan came into the room. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you two up to?" he asked.
"Nothing!" Adam said, innocently, though they were still embracing.
"Coffee?" Kris asked.
Ryan just rolled his eyes at them. He walked over to a little remote in the wall and turned on the stereo, and Alanis started singing I have no choice but to hear you.
"You've seriously wired this entire house for sound," Adam said.
Ryan shrugged. "We're music people," he said. He turned to Kris and Adam. "I hate to break this up, but either give me coffee or move out of the way."
Kris grinned, bigger than he had in a while, and held up a mug. Adam took the hint and grabbed the pot, pouring out a cup for Ryan, leaving a bit of room at the top.
Ryan took the mug. "At least!" he said, going to the fridge for milk. "So Hernandez called this morning, and I'm told we have you to thank, Adam, for the DA taking DioGuardi off the case."
"Really? That's great!" Adam said. He'd turned a little, still standing between Kris's legs, leaning one hand on the counter right next to Kris's behind and draping the other over Kris's knee. Kris kept one hand on his back, and he thought how strange it was to get the cozy morning after when they haven't had the sex yet, and realized this is what Ryan meant last night. This is what he missed.
"Yeah," Ryan said, taking a long drink of coffee and sighing loudly. "There was no hearing; he just called him up and explained the situation. There will be a hearing tomorrow, though—Hernandez is going to try to get bail again, and challenge the search."
"Wow," Kris said. "I didn't realize DioGuardi being off the case would change so much."
"Guess it does," Ryan replied. "So I'm gonna shower and head out to Riker's, and then to work. You guys are working tonight, right? Don't worry about me. I have a bunch of things to catch up on at the office."
Adam looked stern. "Well, I am going to pack you lunch and dinner," he said. "I'm sure there's a fridge and a microwave at MTV. And good snacks, too."
Ryan tried to look annoyed, but his eyes were sparkling too much. "Fine, Mom," he said, and went back upstairs.
Adam turned to Kris. "You know, the song you sang last night was really beautiful," he said, pouring coffee into a mug and handing it to Kris. "Thanks for playing it for us."
"Thanks," Kris said. "I'm glad you liked it."
Adam poured a mug for himself. "I could see what you meant, about it not being about Sylvia Plath. It was more, like, wanting someone to come change your life."
"Yeah," Kris said, pleased. "But you always have to do it yourself."
Adam nodded. "You, um, giving any lessons today or anything?" he asked
"Nope," Kris replied. "Why?"
"Well, I've been working on this song, right? And I think it's pretty much there, lyrics and melody, and I'm about ready to sing it in public—I'm sure Nick will let me sneak a song into the showcase on Wednsday. I hear it with just a guitar, but," he paused, running a hand through his hair, "but I can't write that, you know, by myself." He looked Kris in the eye. "Allison helps me sometimes, or Carly, but this song—if you could? I mean, if you have time, today. I know you're getting ready for the showcase."
"I definitely have time," Kris said, smiling. "What's it about?"
He smiled a little. "It's about wanting to be so tough that nothing can hurt you," he said. "But you can't do that, either."
"Did these come in handy last time?" Ryan asked.
"Yes, actually," Simon said, taking the boxes. "I traded them for phone calls."
"Like the one you made to Adam and Kris on Saturday?" he asked.
"Ah, so they told you," he said. "And?"
"And nothing," Ryan said. "Nothing happened, but we'll talk about that later."
"That sounds ominous," Simon said.
"It should," Ryan said, then sighed. "I'm not mad. Just don't do it again."
"Okay," Simon said, straightening in his chair a little.
"Jesus, I don't want to fight with you, you moron," Ryan said.
"We aren't fighting," Simon said.
"Okay then." Ryan rubbed his temples. "I hope I at least look better."
"You do. You look rested and properly fed."
"Well, thank you. For sending them."
"I know you never take care of yourself, Ryan," he said. "So as usual I had to take care of you."
Ryan had to smile at that. "Well, we're taking care of you, too," he said. "You should see those kids; they've found out a lot already."
"Yes, Hernandez told me," he replied.
"And there's the hearing tomorrow." Ryan put up his hand. "Before you even say it, of course I'll be there, and you can't tell me not to go."
"All right, I won't," he said, "but my protest is on record."
"Duly noted," Ryan said, smirking.
"So," Simon said, "how was the show on Sunday night?"
Ryan grinned—Simon would love hearing about Archie and Allie. "Simon, it's a small world."
David Cook felt like a proud papa. At last his little family was complete—awesome sexy boyfriend, hot wife, wife's fun new girlfriend, this kid singer who made him laugh every five seconds without even trying, and now, finally, his beloved band. After they dropped their stuff at Mike's hotel, he took them around the east village, all the places he loved, his own pad, and they spent most of the afternoon just generally raising hell. It was seriously awesome, and it was only going to get better.
After going to Paul's for milkshakes and burgers and onion rings, David's gang trouped over to Club Idol, where they were still setting up—it was only around eight, and Blake was playing the Superfly soundtrack—you know me, I'm your friend, your main boy thick and thin—which, given what had been going on lately seemed a little too on-the-nose to David. He introduced they guys around, and they had gotten into a conversation with Blake when Adam touched his arm.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Megan's here," Adam said. "I think—I was thinking about it today, and there's some stuff she said that doesn't make sense."
David nodded. "Well, let's talk to her."
They brought Megan into the store room—set up was pretty much done so there weren't too many people in and out of there. "Hey guys," she said nervously.
"Can we just go over a few things again?" Adam asked.
"Sure," Megan said. "Anything to help?"
"How are you and Alexis?" David asked.
She shrugged. "She wasn't happy, but I think more because I was keeping something from her. And I'm gonna quit, anyway."
Adam nodded. "You said that you were working last week, so you had to get the message from your sitter?"
"Yeah, and that was weird, because I never work on Wednesdays. But I was on the schedule to help with set up at AGT last week. Chris is usually so good about that. But then when I got there, they didn't need me anyway, so it was all for nothing."
Adam looked at David, then continued: "So you never work Wednesdays because you're working for Nigel?"
"No, actually," she said. "It's because our sitter isn't available; she has church group that day. If we need a sitter at night, we usually use the woman who runs the local daycare—better for the kids and all. So when I saw my name on that schedule I freaked out." She shook her head. "Thank god for Tatiana."
"Tatiana? So you're the ones she was babysitting for that night?"
"Yeah," she said. "I got the message from her."
"You weren't worried that she'd got the message wrong?" David asked.
"No, because everything sounded right," Megan said. "I went to the pick up location, and there were the people with the stuff, so I didn't worry about it."
"And when you got here, was the drawer empty?" David asked.
"Yeah," Megan said. "Totally empty, which was weird, because usually there are cigarettes in there for Simon. That's why I figured the drugs must be for him, because he'd emptied the drawer expecting them. I didn't start freaking out until I heard he'd been arrested." She looked up at them. "Is that it?"
"Yeah," Adam said. "Thanks."
After Megan left, Adam turned to David. "What was that you were trying to say, last night? When we were talking to Nick?"
"Oh, only that Megan couldn't have innocently taken the cigarettes out of the drawer, because they were removed on Tuesday and she didn't get the call until Wednesday."
"So if we figure out who could have taken them out—"
"Which isn't a lot of people since Idol is closed on Tuesdays," David said.
"—Then we know who framed Simon," Adam finished. "And it couldn't have been Megan even if it wasn't innocent, because she was at AGT practicing before the show—she wouldn't have had a chance to go to Idol after Ramiele put the cigarettes in the drawer but before Nick found them in the store room."
"Which finally, officially, clears Ryan," David said, "because he would have been at MTV. So we're left with who?"
"Well," Adam said, counting off on his fingers, "Simon, Chris Richardson, Ramiele if she's lying—she could have put them in for show and then taken them out, though I don't know why she would have bothered."
"Or Del Toro," David said. "Who has that big fat lease motive, but no connection to Nigel."
"Neither does Rich, to be honest, or Ramiele," Adam said. "But wait—Matt has keys and could have come in and out of there without anyone much noticing, and could have heard about how the whole thing works from Anoop, who seems to be telling everyone. And, he could easily have changed the schedule so that Megan would be working."
"Then Matt had better hope Anoop shows up," David said.
"Jesus," Adam said, "why didn't we think of Matt before?"
"We were looking at motive, mostly," he replied. "Matt had surely seen Ramiele or one of the other girls get into the drawer often enough. So has Rich."
"Kinda lets out Del Toro," Adam said.
"Pretty much," David agreed. "But Matt—I don't think he has anything against Simon."
"No," Adam said, "but he could have done it to freak out Anoop, maybe get him to stop dealing."
"Sloppy way to do it," David said. "Besides, then why would he have called the cops—he could have scared Anoop just by changing the drop. Simon would never have been arrested if someone hadn't tipped off the cops. He would have found the drugs and made a bitchy phone call to Nigel and that would have been the end of it."
"True."
"What I will do tonight," David said, "is check Megan's schedule with Rich. The posted schedules are all in pencil, so they're easy to change. But Rich keeps the master—if someone doesn't show up to shift that's what we check it against."
"Good call. At least then we'd know if it was Rich's doing, or someone actually changed it." Adam sighed. "I just wish we knew where Anoop was."
Adam was feeling pretty fucking good. Ryan was in a much better headspace and had seen his man today, so that was pretty well taken care of. David had stopped being such a bitch, mysteriously, which made the whole detective thing a lot easier. They were getting closer to working out who had framed Simon, which would make everyone happier. And best of all, way out ahead of the rest, Kris Allen had asked him out on a date.
A date. Like they were sixteen, or something. Though given that where Adam was at sixteen, he couldn't date cute boys, he didn't feel too badly about that.
Besides, the writing session was kind of amazing. They were very different as musicians—Adam couldn't imagine that they'd actually directly collaborate on anything—but they both had the ability to help someone else get to their goal. Kris had played him a few other songs he'd written, and Adam had been pleased that he could make a few suggestions here and there. And it was just—Adam had never felt both completely turned on by someone and completely comfortable with them at the same time, never thought that sexiness and coziness could coexist. It was downright strange.
"Well," he said, seeing some actual teenagers approaching him. "You two spend all day making out?" he asked.
Archie and Allie just giggled, but they were holding hands, and Adam was pretty sure Allie had a hickey on her neck.
"Fine, Archuleta," he said, "steal my girl. But if you're doing more than making out, I don't want to know, and I hope you're being smart about it."
"Jeez!" Archie said. "We're not—oh my heck, that's not what we're doing!"
Adam turned to Allie. "Seriously? That's the way you seriously used to talk?"
"Fuck you, Lambert," she said, giving him the finger.
"That's my girl," he said, smiling. "I was beginning to worry."
"Whatever," Allie said, rolling her eyes. "You gonna stamp us, Miss Thang?"
"Oh, you mean you want to get in for free?" he asked. "Gee, I don't know if I can do that. Do you have ID to show Mr. Sarver here?"
"Come on, Adam!" Allie said, and stamped one foot in protest.
"Oh my god, you are so adorable!" he said. "Okay, give me your hands." He stamped them, and they turned to walk inside. "Hello?" Adam asked. "Manners!"
Archie turned around. "Thanks Adam!" he said, but Allie just gave him the finger again, over her shoulder.
Yeah. Life was pretty fucking good.
And then, at about 1 am, the last piece of the puzzle finally, finally walked through the fucking door.
As usual, Anoop Desai was dressed like some strange blend of Tupac and Nas, and if he didn't get the whole east coast-west coast thing, Adam sure as hell wasn't going to explain it to him, but seriously, Adam would never let him into the damn club dressed like that if he didn't know him. He was a handsome guy, too, funny and friendly (though a lot of dealers were that), but the fashion sense, just: no. His dad was some kind of math prof down south—the usual first generation Indian thing—but there was also real money coming from somewhere, since everyone knew Anoop wasn't making all of the money he had off dealing a few thou in junk every week.
"Yo, my brotha," Anoop said, giving him one of those handshake hugs. " 'Sup?"
"We've been waiting for you," Adam said.
"Yeah, man," Anoop said. "Cause I'm the start of the par-tay!"
Adam had to grin at that, because there was no way that Anoop said this shit and was actually serious about it. "Come on," he said, walking over to the coat check where Cook was hanging out with Jasmine. "Honey?"
The girl looked up and god, she was so cute, not quite sure what she wanted to be singing yet, so Cowell had shoved her into the coat check to keep her relatively safe. "Yes, Adam?" she said, smiling.
Adam cocked his head, then went around to her side of the counter. He took off his frock coat and the royal blue brocade suit jacket he was wearing underneath it, and put the jacket on over her knee-length dress. He rolled up the sleeves just so, piled her hair up into his top hat (and carefully fluffed his own hair) and put his own scarf around her neck. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his eyeliner.
"You actually carry that around with you?" David asked.
Adam was carefully and quickly drawing thick Cleopatra lines across Jasmine's eyelids. "You never know," he said. "Where's your lipstick, sweetie?"
She poked around in her bag and pulled out a black tube.
Adam gasped. "Viva Glam? Good girl, you've been listening," he said, and Jasmine lit up. He reapplied it, much thicker than she'd been wearing it, and had her blot on one of the unused check tickets. Then he stood back to examine his work. "Great. Now go out there, you've watched me work the door for months now. Just let in anyone who looks like fun, keep the losers out, and I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
She grinned. "Okay Adam!" she said.
"Don't smile," he said as she walked away. "Look bored." She turned around to him and gave him her best bored look, and he shouted back, "Just like that!"
David took Anoop by the elbow and brought him into the coat check closet, while Adam closed the window. "What's going on?" Anoop asked.
"Why aren't you out hustling tonight, Anoop?" Adam asked.
Anoop looked back and forth between David and Adam, already showing nerves. "I can't sell here, you guys know that," he said. "Nigel would kill me. And I mean that; he'd have me shot."
"That's our question," David said, stepping slightly closer to Anoop. "Why are you here? Why aren't you out making money?"
"You guys want some?" he asked. "Because it's actually pretty much spoken for—"
"Or you didn't get it in the first place," Adam said.
Anoop's eyes widened. "How—how did you—"
David waved his hand. "Never mind that now. Where was the drop supposed to be?"
"Hey," Anoop said, pressing into the back wall of the checkroom. "You know I can't tell you that."
Adam put his hand flat on the wall next to Anoop's head and leaned in. "Where was the drop, Anoop? Where did she tell you to go?"
"You mean you know all that? How it works?" he asked.
"Of course we do," David said. "Now tell us where the fucking dead drop was."
Anoop bit his lip, then sighed. "Stingy Lulu's," he said, meaning a hip diner not far from the club. "One of the booths. But it wasn't there when I got there, and I've been driving myself nuts trying to think where it is."
"You mean you haven't figured out where it went yet?" Adam said. "Come on now, Anoop, you're a bright boy. You've even disappeared for a few days—which, by the way, completely freaked out your buddy Matt—so I think you know exactly what happened to it."
Adam looked from one to the other, then slid down the wall on his back until he was crouching. "Shit."
"How'd you manage to hide from Nigel all this time, Anoop?" David asked squatting down to look him in the eye.
"Not to mention Matt," Adam added, leaning back against the counter.
"I saw Matt on Thursday night, he came to my place right after you guys closed up," Anoop said. "After he left, I grabbed some shit and went straight to our beach house at Hilton Head. No one knew I was there. I just didn't answer the phone, tried to figure out what to do."
"And what did you come up with?" David asked. "I'm curious."
Anoop swallowed hard. "I need to talk to Matt."
"Yeah, well," Adam said, "I'm not sure how much he wants to talk to you right now since you ditched him."
"Well," Anoop said, looking off to the side, "I'm really sorry about that."
"And you're making him look pretty bad, actually," David said. "See, way we figure it, Matt could totally have set this whole thing up, since you can't keep your mouth shut about how Nigel's drugs get around the city."
"Hey man, look" Anoop said, throwing his hands up, "I never told Matt about any of that shit. People know he's my friend, and I didn't want anyone leaning on him. I wanted him to be able to say he didn't know anything."
"So you have a standing Friday night date with the guy, but you don't tell him anything. Right. And what do you do when you go out, anyway? You pick up girls in front of him?" Adam asked.
"No, man, it's not like that. Bros before hos, right? I just like spending money on my friends. What's wrong with that?"
"Bros before hos, sure, Anoop. So you don't tell your bro, but you told like, every girl you fucked?" David asked.
"Of course not! Just the ones that gave me shit about the phone calls."
Adam rolled his eyes. "Kristy Lee and who else, Anoop?"
Anoop cocked his head. "You know about that? How do you know about that?"
David grabbed his shoulder. "Okay, I'm seriously losing patience with you, man. Who else?"
"I—I can't tell you," he said. "I just—trust me, there's no way she's mixed up in this."
The door opened then, and Matt burst through. "Where the fuck have you been?" he shouted.
Anoop spring to his feet. "Hey, bro, I was just looking for you," he said, smiling nervously.
"Don't you bro me," Matt said, waving a finger. "What the fuck. Why didn't you tell me? You want me to sit around worrying after your ass?"
"No, of course not," Anoop said. "You're why I came back. I'm in so much trouble, man, I need your help."
"So you didn't come back for me," Matt said. "You just came back to get something from me, like always."
"Jesus," Anoop said. "It's not like that. Look, I'm sorry—I'm sorry I freaked out. I was trying to keep you away from it like always."
Matt stared at him, then shook his head. "You know what? I don't need this shit," he said, and stormed out of the room.
David pointed at the door. "You'd better go after him," he said. "And don't fucking leave town again, or it's gonna look real bad for your boy."
Anoop furrowed his brow, confused for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks guys. I'll be around." He ran out of the room.
Adam shook his head. "Man, you know, Matt can be kind of annoying? But he doesn't deserve that shit."
David shrugged. "If it's what he wants?"
"I guess I should have known the other day with all his talk about closet cases," Adam said. "Whatever. Oh, did you talk to Rich?"
"Yeah," David said. "Someone definitely changed the schedule. Megan wasn't supposed to be working that day."
"Weird," Adam said, though he was too tired after dealing with Anoop to think it through. "Look, you want to meet again tomorrow? After Simon's hearing?"
"When is it?" he asked.
"Manhattan Criminal Court, 9am. We can meet you outside if you want to come too. Kris and I are going with Ryan."
"Sounds like a plan, man," David said.
They walked out of the room to get Jasmine and sure enough, just around the corner, there were Anoop and Matt, making out like teenagers up against the wall.
"That was quick," David said.
"Get a room, Giraud!" Adam shouted as they walked by, and got the finger from both of them.
27 February 1996
Turned out that getting DioGuardi off the case was a big change—they allowed bail for Simon, and Ryan got him out soon after the morning hearing. The two took Kris, Adam and David around the corner from the courthouse to a diner for the celebratory breakfast, after which Simon invited them all back to the house. "Nice to have friends around," he said. I'm free now, I can get into Ryan's pants whenever I like."
"Oh, so now I'm easy," Ryan said.
"For me, anyway," Simon said, laughing.
Simon bolted for the shower as soon as they got back, and after some sitting around with another pot of coffee and some fat-free brownies that Adam had bought that didn't suck exactly, David said that maybe they should try to work out where they were with the case.
"Well," Ryan said, "there's a whiteboard in my office."
David, typically, took the pen; Adam, typically, rolled his eyes at this; Ryan, typically, just shook his head at the two of them, and Kris just shrugged at how quickly they'd all apparently learned their roles in this odd little foursome.
"Okay," David said, "where should we start?"
"How about with the very first thing the person had to do?" Adam asked. "Ugh, 'the person,' can't we give them a name?"
"Mary," David said.
Adam snickered. "Okay, Mary," he said.
Simon came in then, dressed. "Ooh, is this the case?" he asked. They nodded, and he went on, "Good work. Is Ryan still a suspect?"
"No, actually," David said.
"I'm not a good femme fatale, apparently," Ryan said.
"That's all right, darling," Simon said, kissing him on the forehead. "I like you anyway. Right, I'm going to go over to Idol; since it's dark tonight it's a good time to go over the books and catch up. I'll be back for dinner."
"Hey," Ryan said, "take your cell with you."
"Will do," Simon called out as he left.
"Okay," Adam said, "the first thing Mary had to do."
"Take the cigarettes out of Simon's office?" Ryan asked.
"No," Kris said. "Change the schedule so Megan had to work Wednesday set-up."
"Right, because the schedules are posted on Mondays," David said, writing that down. "What does that do? Gets Megan out of the house?"
"So she doesn't hear the message," Adam said. "Anyone could have called, and Tatiana wouldn't have known who they were, so they wouldn't have had to mimic the accent. They could have been any woman with a British accent."
"But how did they get rid of the real message," Kris said. "The one that would have sent Megan to Stingy Lulu's instead of Simon's office?"
"Well, that's a question," David said, writing it down. "Now, anyone could have changed that schedule who works at AGT, which is a lot of people."
"Yeah," Adam said. "Okay, next?"
"Next is the cigarettes," Kris said.
"Right, so taking the cigarettes out of the office and dumping them at AGT," David said. "And that's pretty narrow: C.Rich, Matt, technically Simon, Ramiele, or Mr. Del Toro. The first four more likely because they all knew how to open the drawer, and they all went over to AGT for Cherry Bomb's show that night."
"Put Kristy Lee and Tatiana in parenthesis," Adam said, "since they were at AGT, and they know how to open the drawer."
"Okay," David said. "Next?"
"Next is making the phone call," Ryan said. "Wednesday evening. Which anyone could have done, but they needed to know to do it, which means knowing Nigel's system."
Adam nodded. "So that's Anoop, Megan, Kristy Lee, and that mystery girlfriend Anoop isn't telling us about."
"Tatiana," Ryan said.
"What?" Adam asked.
"She mentioned it last night," Kris said. "I thought you knew, she's always yammering at you about something."
"I don't always listen?" Adam said.
"Well," Ryan said, "Tatiana dated Anoop. She said he didn't want anyone to know."
"Because he was ashamed of it, the asshole," Kris said.
Adam looked up at David. "That must be the girl he wouldn't tell us about," he said.
"Typical," David said, rolling his eyes. "He'd rather keep that quiet than tell the truth and help Matt, his so-called whateverthehell."
Adam looked up at the board. "Oh my god," he said.
"What?" David asked.
"Tatiana could have changed the schedule," Adam said.
"And she could have taken the cigarettes out of the drawer, using her father's keys to get into the office," David added.
"Which means she probably also knew about the lease," Kris said.
"And she didn't even need to make the phone call," Adam said, standing up, "or suppress the first one—"
"Because she was in Megan's house!" David said. "And she made sure she would be in Megan's house by being there when Megan saw the schedule."
"As Simon's assistant she would have known that Megan needed Wednesdays off," Adam said.
"And she would have known about the dead drop because of Anoop," David said.
"Wait, but how did she know it was Megan?" Ryan asked.
"She just had to hear another phone call," Adam said, "and wait at the drop to see who showed up."
"Taking a chance, wasn't she," Kris said, "that Megan would still be delivering to Anoop?"
"That was a lucky break," David said. "If some dealer had said something sooner, that trail would only have led back to Megan."
"Jesus," Ryan said suddenly. "Simon's at Idol, by himself. And she must know by now that he's out." He grabbed his cell and dialed quickly. "He's not answering."
They all stared at each other, then bolted out of the room. "God, can we even get a cab over here?" Ryan was saying.
"Why can't you people remember," Kris said, "that I have a car?"
It was snowing yet again, so Kris was glad he'd learned his way around the city—it was pretty quick to zip down ninth ave and then fly across town on 18th street before dropping down into the east village. He could tell that Ryan wanted to be there ten minutes ago, but maybe they were just panicking. After all, what could Tatiana really do? She knew Simon was out of jail, but he wasn't free of the charges. Her plan might yet go through.
Ryan was in the front seat, staring straight ahead, as Adam and David shouted from the back, maybe back seat driving, maybe arguing with each other, either way Kris was ignoring them. Thank god there was a space right in front of the Club; he pulled in and came to a screeching halt, skidding a little on the snow. "Y'all get out Ryan's side," he said, and reached for the Club which sat at Ryan's feet.
The others ran into Idol, and Kris wasn't far behind. The lights were on, and when Kris looked up into the office, his heart dropped.
Simon was standing, back to the window, his hands raised. In front of him was Tatiana, holding a gun.
Glitzy Night
Title: Keep Your Enemies Closer, Chapter 6: Pushers Must Advertise
Pairing: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen; established Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Simon Cowell, manager of pop star hopefuls and owner of the hot downtown Club Idol, has been framed for a crime he didn't commit. Can new kid Kris Allen convince rival divas David Cook and Adam Lambert to work together to clear Simon's name? And what will happen when Simon asks Adam and Kris to "take care" of his boyfriend Ryan for him?
Chapter Length: 7000 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: Keep Your Enemies Closer is an mystery AU set in the New York club scene of the mid-90s, when a rapidly gentrifying East Village contained chain stores and after hours clubs, hungry young artists and heroin dealers. As usual, there will be plenty of music to set the scene and bring you back to a time not long ago. This story is entirely written, but being posted in chapters once per week.
Thank you to
ali_wildgoose, who as usual went well beyond the call of beta-duty on this one, dreamerren, who encouraged me to keep going when I'd hit an impasse, and honestys_easy, who helped me give it that final polish. This chapter from Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy L. Sayers.The Unpleasantness at Club Idol | Whose Heroin? | Crowds of Witness | A Few Red Herrings | Have His Caretakers
pushers must advertise
This is how it happened:
Ryan Seacrest had moved to New York from Atlanta three years earlier for a radio job, and had managed to parlay that into entertainment reporter on the local 5 o'clock news and some stringer stuff at the New York Times, mostly because the only person at the Grey Lady who knew about anything going on below 14th street or above 125th was Pareles, and he was only one man. Then in '87 he got the MTV News gig, which was small but growing, and Loder seemed to like him.
He'd kept the Times stringer work, though, and because of it had wandered into a new club downtown. Word was the owner was staffing the place with hopefuls who were all vaguely competing to be managed by him. Simon Cowell was building it all off the success of a few pop stars he'd broken, some New Kids-like band from England, and now the pop and rock singers were beating a path to his door. The club was supposed to be pretty good, too.
Ryan decided to check out the club for himself one night, incognito, before trying to track anyone down to interview, especially Cowell. He knew by now how to get into the door of pretty much any club but was surprised at the crowd. It wasn't quite as hip and self-involved as most clubs; instead, it was actually sort of fun and even a little bit silly. The DJ sprinkled old songs in with the new ones, and there were even some people there who looked like they might venture above 14th street every once in a while. Above the dance floor was a window, apparently in Cowell's office, and Ryan saw him there at one point, staring down at the floor, smoking and looking smug. He'd seen pictures of the guy—handsome, though the hair was a bit odd and his t-shirts were too snug; Ryan mostly thought he could use a personal shopper.
He walked off the floor in search of something to drink when a girl walked up to him—pretty, with a snub nose and round cheeks. He was trying to decide how to play that out when she said, "Simon would like to see you in his office."
Ryan scowled, wondering if she meant Cowell, and then wondering why Cowell would want to see him or even know or care who he was. "Okay," Ryan said. "Can I get an Evian first?"
The girl leaned over the bar, and got a tray with a bottle of Red Stripe, then handed a bottle of Evian to Ryan. "This way," she said, and led him up the stairs behind the DJ booth, down a hall, and through a door with a bodyguard.
Sure enough, in the room was Simon Cowell, sitting behind a desk, a few other people draped across couches. He looked up. "Ah, Kelly, thank you, you can set that down on the desk. Everyone, if you could leave us alone for a moment?" he asked, smiling.
Ryan realized, suddenly and viscerally, that photographs didn't do Cowell justice. In person he exuded smug confidence and a kind of masculinity that Ryan could swear was pheromonal; it almost made him dizzy. He was small—didn't have more than an inch on Ryan himself—with dark piercing brown eyes. Ryan felt like he was being inspected, and almost stood up straighter, then stubbornly decided not to.
The crew—a girl with pink hair, a brunette, and a boy with wildly curly brown hair who snickered and patted Ryan's shoulder as he walked by—left with Kelly, who shut the door behind them. Simon walked in front of the desk and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette and offering Ryan one.
"No thank you," he replied.
"So," Cowell said, "what does the Times or MTV want with me?"
"How do you know who I am?" Ryan asked.
Simon shrugged. "I have people," he said.
"You're generating some talk, so I thought I'd check it out," he said.
Simon raised his eyebrows. "And?"
"And, it's a nice place," he said. "Good music, fun crowd, I'm sure you'll do well."
"And?" he asked.
"Well," Ryan said, "you've got a pop band doing well in Europe, and a few acts with modest success here. You haven't really proven you know how to break someone in America, but you do seem to have an eye for talent. If I were a singer, I could do a lot worse."
"Is that what you're planning to write?" he asked.
"Why?" Ryan asked. "Worried?"
"Not at all," Simon said, shaking his head. "From what I've seen of your work, you're thorough and fair. And frankly, I've failed in the past and I will fail again; I've succeeded in the past and I'll succeed again. Whatever you write will only hasten or slow down the inevitable, but it's not likely to change the outcome."
"Then you'll see what I write when I write it," Ryan replied.
"All right." Simon went to the window and closed the curtains. "And you?" he asked.
"And me what?"
"And what do you want with me?" he asked.
"I—I don't know that I want anything with you," Ryan said, confused. "I just met you."
"Sometimes that's all it takes," Simon said. "Sometimes it's more than enough."
"Is this how you usually pick up men?" Ryan asked.
"No, I've never done this before, actually," he replied.
Ryan cocked his head. "Aren't you married? To some broadway dancer?"
He smiled. "You've done your research," he said.
"You haven't, if you really think I go for married men who are so full of themselves they think I'll fall for them at first sight."
"Not as a class, no," Simon replied. "Just me."
"You?" Ryan asked, annoyed. "I do have standards, you know. Maybe if your clothes fit you better, or you went to the gym occasionally, or got a haircut that wasn't straight out of the 50s."
Simon looked at him. "And exactly how long did it take to achieve that, er, effect with your hair? Is it so stiff that it will actually break off in my fingers?"
"At least it is a style, instead of a total lack of style."
Simon grinned even broader. "You're not going to go down without a fight, are you?"
"No," Ryan admitted. "Would you?"
"Of course not," he said. "More fun that way."
"This is fun?" Ryan asked.
"Isn't it?" Simon replied.
Kris woke up on Monday morning, still in Ryan's bed. While he remembered that they'd passed out in some kind of crumpled heap, they'd migrated a bit since then. Adam was off on one side of the bed, Ryan in the middle, and he'd curled up into a ball on the other side. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
It wasn't what he had expected, that was for damn sure. But it was also true that while he'd had some sexual encounters with other people after the divorce, he hadn't shared a bed with anyone since Katy. Yet here he was, in his boxers, with two other men in their underwear as well; they'd gotten Ryan out of his pj's when Adam started ranting about skin-to-skin contact. It was a chillier evening than it had been the past few nights, so they'd buried under an enormous comforter with their legs entwined and watched the second half of 120 Minutes and whatever late night thing had come on after that, and made fun of each other when they got hard-ons from the touching, and teased Adam about having a cock the size of a country ham, until Ryan finally fell asleep around 3am.
And there was nothing about it that wasn't nice, even if it was a little unorthodox. Kris looked at the clock—10:30, Ryan would have to be up soon—and slipped out of the bed, wrapping himself in a sweater before brushing his teeth and then heading downstairs to make coffee. He'd leave breakfast to Adam—he wasn't as good at eggs as the others—and was wishing he'd thought to put on some socks when he heard steps on the stairs.
"Good morning," Adam said, yawning, his hair sticking up every which way. Kris resisted the urge to smooth it down, not that he could quite reach the top of Adam's head anyway. Adam reached across him to grab a mug, and leaned into his ear. "You look nice in my sweater," he said.
Kris smiled, and tried to be cool. "It was the first thing I grabbed," he replied.
Adam just chuckled. "Seriously, you're an angel for getting up and making coffee," he said.
Kris shrugged. "I kinda like mornings," he said. He hopped up onto the counter to get a little more even with Adam.
Adam leaned against the counter next to Kris, and they both watched the coffee dripping down into the pot. He seemed very close, though they weren't touching; it was like Kris had an additional sense that knew where Adam was all the time without even having to look at him. He took a deep breath. "So I've been thinking," he began.
"Yeah?" Adam asked.
"After this is over, you know, and we're not staying here anymore?" Kris turned to look at Adam. "I'd like to take you out to dinner."
Adam looked up at him, surprised, then down at his empty mug. "You mean, like a date?" he asked, and it would have seemed shy, except this was Adam, who was never shy.
"Yeah, a date," Kris said.
Adam's lips turned up, just for a second. He pushed off the counter. "Would it be a nice dinner?"
"Nice enough," Kris replied, trying not to smile. "Not like, Teriyaki Boy. Maybe a movie after."
Adam turned, putting his mug on the counter, and leaning against it with his hands on either side of Kris's knees. "Well, I'll have to see if I'm available," he said.
"Of course," Kris said, nervously licking his lips.
Adam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, you would have to go and do that," he said, and leaned in to kiss Kris.
The first time Adam had kissed Kris, it was electric and amazing, but Kris had figured that was mostly because of the club and the makeup and Adam being a little drunk and feeling his power and Kris being new and all of that. But here they were, up against a kitchen counter on a winter Monday morning waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, and it was just as electric and amazing as before, if not more so. Kris's hands were on Adam's cheeks, and he wrapped his legs around Adam's waist, wanting to pull him closer. Adam obliged, bringing his hands up from the counter to embrace Kris.
After some amount of time—two seconds, two minutes, two years, who knew—they broke off, leaning their foreheads against each other and trying to catch their breath.
"Shit," Adam said, "I am so jacking off in the shower."
Kris sucked in his lips, trying not to laugh, but didn't succeed, and they were giggling like that when Ryan came into the room. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you two up to?" he asked.
"Nothing!" Adam said, innocently, though they were still embracing.
"Coffee?" Kris asked.
Ryan just rolled his eyes at them. He walked over to a little remote in the wall and turned on the stereo, and Alanis started singing I have no choice but to hear you.
"You've seriously wired this entire house for sound," Adam said.
Ryan shrugged. "We're music people," he said. He turned to Kris and Adam. "I hate to break this up, but either give me coffee or move out of the way."
Kris grinned, bigger than he had in a while, and held up a mug. Adam took the hint and grabbed the pot, pouring out a cup for Ryan, leaving a bit of room at the top.
Ryan took the mug. "At least!" he said, going to the fridge for milk. "So Hernandez called this morning, and I'm told we have you to thank, Adam, for the DA taking DioGuardi off the case."
"Really? That's great!" Adam said. He'd turned a little, still standing between Kris's legs, leaning one hand on the counter right next to Kris's behind and draping the other over Kris's knee. Kris kept one hand on his back, and he thought how strange it was to get the cozy morning after when they haven't had the sex yet, and realized this is what Ryan meant last night. This is what he missed.
"Yeah," Ryan said, taking a long drink of coffee and sighing loudly. "There was no hearing; he just called him up and explained the situation. There will be a hearing tomorrow, though—Hernandez is going to try to get bail again, and challenge the search."
"Wow," Kris said. "I didn't realize DioGuardi being off the case would change so much."
"Guess it does," Ryan replied. "So I'm gonna shower and head out to Riker's, and then to work. You guys are working tonight, right? Don't worry about me. I have a bunch of things to catch up on at the office."
Adam looked stern. "Well, I am going to pack you lunch and dinner," he said. "I'm sure there's a fridge and a microwave at MTV. And good snacks, too."
Ryan tried to look annoyed, but his eyes were sparkling too much. "Fine, Mom," he said, and went back upstairs.
Adam turned to Kris. "You know, the song you sang last night was really beautiful," he said, pouring coffee into a mug and handing it to Kris. "Thanks for playing it for us."
"Thanks," Kris said. "I'm glad you liked it."
Adam poured a mug for himself. "I could see what you meant, about it not being about Sylvia Plath. It was more, like, wanting someone to come change your life."
"Yeah," Kris said, pleased. "But you always have to do it yourself."
Adam nodded. "You, um, giving any lessons today or anything?" he asked
"Nope," Kris replied. "Why?"
"Well, I've been working on this song, right? And I think it's pretty much there, lyrics and melody, and I'm about ready to sing it in public—I'm sure Nick will let me sneak a song into the showcase on Wednsday. I hear it with just a guitar, but," he paused, running a hand through his hair, "but I can't write that, you know, by myself." He looked Kris in the eye. "Allison helps me sometimes, or Carly, but this song—if you could? I mean, if you have time, today. I know you're getting ready for the showcase."
"I definitely have time," Kris said, smiling. "What's it about?"
He smiled a little. "It's about wanting to be so tough that nothing can hurt you," he said. "But you can't do that, either."
"Did these come in handy last time?" Ryan asked.
"Yes, actually," Simon said, taking the boxes. "I traded them for phone calls."
"Like the one you made to Adam and Kris on Saturday?" he asked.
"Ah, so they told you," he said. "And?"
"And nothing," Ryan said. "Nothing happened, but we'll talk about that later."
"That sounds ominous," Simon said.
"It should," Ryan said, then sighed. "I'm not mad. Just don't do it again."
"Okay," Simon said, straightening in his chair a little.
"Jesus, I don't want to fight with you, you moron," Ryan said.
"We aren't fighting," Simon said.
"Okay then." Ryan rubbed his temples. "I hope I at least look better."
"You do. You look rested and properly fed."
"Well, thank you. For sending them."
"I know you never take care of yourself, Ryan," he said. "So as usual I had to take care of you."
Ryan had to smile at that. "Well, we're taking care of you, too," he said. "You should see those kids; they've found out a lot already."
"Yes, Hernandez told me," he replied.
"And there's the hearing tomorrow." Ryan put up his hand. "Before you even say it, of course I'll be there, and you can't tell me not to go."
"All right, I won't," he said, "but my protest is on record."
"Duly noted," Ryan said, smirking.
"So," Simon said, "how was the show on Sunday night?"
Ryan grinned—Simon would love hearing about Archie and Allie. "Simon, it's a small world."
David Cook felt like a proud papa. At last his little family was complete—awesome sexy boyfriend, hot wife, wife's fun new girlfriend, this kid singer who made him laugh every five seconds without even trying, and now, finally, his beloved band. After they dropped their stuff at Mike's hotel, he took them around the east village, all the places he loved, his own pad, and they spent most of the afternoon just generally raising hell. It was seriously awesome, and it was only going to get better.
After going to Paul's for milkshakes and burgers and onion rings, David's gang trouped over to Club Idol, where they were still setting up—it was only around eight, and Blake was playing the Superfly soundtrack—you know me, I'm your friend, your main boy thick and thin—which, given what had been going on lately seemed a little too on-the-nose to David. He introduced they guys around, and they had gotten into a conversation with Blake when Adam touched his arm.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Megan's here," Adam said. "I think—I was thinking about it today, and there's some stuff she said that doesn't make sense."
David nodded. "Well, let's talk to her."
They brought Megan into the store room—set up was pretty much done so there weren't too many people in and out of there. "Hey guys," she said nervously.
"Can we just go over a few things again?" Adam asked.
"Sure," Megan said. "Anything to help?"
"How are you and Alexis?" David asked.
She shrugged. "She wasn't happy, but I think more because I was keeping something from her. And I'm gonna quit, anyway."
Adam nodded. "You said that you were working last week, so you had to get the message from your sitter?"
"Yeah, and that was weird, because I never work on Wednesdays. But I was on the schedule to help with set up at AGT last week. Chris is usually so good about that. But then when I got there, they didn't need me anyway, so it was all for nothing."
Adam looked at David, then continued: "So you never work Wednesdays because you're working for Nigel?"
"No, actually," she said. "It's because our sitter isn't available; she has church group that day. If we need a sitter at night, we usually use the woman who runs the local daycare—better for the kids and all. So when I saw my name on that schedule I freaked out." She shook her head. "Thank god for Tatiana."
"Tatiana? So you're the ones she was babysitting for that night?"
"Yeah," she said. "I got the message from her."
"You weren't worried that she'd got the message wrong?" David asked.
"No, because everything sounded right," Megan said. "I went to the pick up location, and there were the people with the stuff, so I didn't worry about it."
"And when you got here, was the drawer empty?" David asked.
"Yeah," Megan said. "Totally empty, which was weird, because usually there are cigarettes in there for Simon. That's why I figured the drugs must be for him, because he'd emptied the drawer expecting them. I didn't start freaking out until I heard he'd been arrested." She looked up at them. "Is that it?"
"Yeah," Adam said. "Thanks."
After Megan left, Adam turned to David. "What was that you were trying to say, last night? When we were talking to Nick?"
"Oh, only that Megan couldn't have innocently taken the cigarettes out of the drawer, because they were removed on Tuesday and she didn't get the call until Wednesday."
"So if we figure out who could have taken them out—"
"Which isn't a lot of people since Idol is closed on Tuesdays," David said.
"—Then we know who framed Simon," Adam finished. "And it couldn't have been Megan even if it wasn't innocent, because she was at AGT practicing before the show—she wouldn't have had a chance to go to Idol after Ramiele put the cigarettes in the drawer but before Nick found them in the store room."
"Which finally, officially, clears Ryan," David said, "because he would have been at MTV. So we're left with who?"
"Well," Adam said, counting off on his fingers, "Simon, Chris Richardson, Ramiele if she's lying—she could have put them in for show and then taken them out, though I don't know why she would have bothered."
"Or Del Toro," David said. "Who has that big fat lease motive, but no connection to Nigel."
"Neither does Rich, to be honest, or Ramiele," Adam said. "But wait—Matt has keys and could have come in and out of there without anyone much noticing, and could have heard about how the whole thing works from Anoop, who seems to be telling everyone. And, he could easily have changed the schedule so that Megan would be working."
"Then Matt had better hope Anoop shows up," David said.
"Jesus," Adam said, "why didn't we think of Matt before?"
"We were looking at motive, mostly," he replied. "Matt had surely seen Ramiele or one of the other girls get into the drawer often enough. So has Rich."
"Kinda lets out Del Toro," Adam said.
"Pretty much," David agreed. "But Matt—I don't think he has anything against Simon."
"No," Adam said, "but he could have done it to freak out Anoop, maybe get him to stop dealing."
"Sloppy way to do it," David said. "Besides, then why would he have called the cops—he could have scared Anoop just by changing the drop. Simon would never have been arrested if someone hadn't tipped off the cops. He would have found the drugs and made a bitchy phone call to Nigel and that would have been the end of it."
"True."
"What I will do tonight," David said, "is check Megan's schedule with Rich. The posted schedules are all in pencil, so they're easy to change. But Rich keeps the master—if someone doesn't show up to shift that's what we check it against."
"Good call. At least then we'd know if it was Rich's doing, or someone actually changed it." Adam sighed. "I just wish we knew where Anoop was."
Adam was feeling pretty fucking good. Ryan was in a much better headspace and had seen his man today, so that was pretty well taken care of. David had stopped being such a bitch, mysteriously, which made the whole detective thing a lot easier. They were getting closer to working out who had framed Simon, which would make everyone happier. And best of all, way out ahead of the rest, Kris Allen had asked him out on a date.
A date. Like they were sixteen, or something. Though given that where Adam was at sixteen, he couldn't date cute boys, he didn't feel too badly about that.
Besides, the writing session was kind of amazing. They were very different as musicians—Adam couldn't imagine that they'd actually directly collaborate on anything—but they both had the ability to help someone else get to their goal. Kris had played him a few other songs he'd written, and Adam had been pleased that he could make a few suggestions here and there. And it was just—Adam had never felt both completely turned on by someone and completely comfortable with them at the same time, never thought that sexiness and coziness could coexist. It was downright strange.
"Well," he said, seeing some actual teenagers approaching him. "You two spend all day making out?" he asked.
Archie and Allie just giggled, but they were holding hands, and Adam was pretty sure Allie had a hickey on her neck.
"Fine, Archuleta," he said, "steal my girl. But if you're doing more than making out, I don't want to know, and I hope you're being smart about it."
"Jeez!" Archie said. "We're not—oh my heck, that's not what we're doing!"
Adam turned to Allie. "Seriously? That's the way you seriously used to talk?"
"Fuck you, Lambert," she said, giving him the finger.
"That's my girl," he said, smiling. "I was beginning to worry."
"Whatever," Allie said, rolling her eyes. "You gonna stamp us, Miss Thang?"
"Oh, you mean you want to get in for free?" he asked. "Gee, I don't know if I can do that. Do you have ID to show Mr. Sarver here?"
"Come on, Adam!" Allie said, and stamped one foot in protest.
"Oh my god, you are so adorable!" he said. "Okay, give me your hands." He stamped them, and they turned to walk inside. "Hello?" Adam asked. "Manners!"
Archie turned around. "Thanks Adam!" he said, but Allie just gave him the finger again, over her shoulder.
Yeah. Life was pretty fucking good.
And then, at about 1 am, the last piece of the puzzle finally, finally walked through the fucking door.
As usual, Anoop Desai was dressed like some strange blend of Tupac and Nas, and if he didn't get the whole east coast-west coast thing, Adam sure as hell wasn't going to explain it to him, but seriously, Adam would never let him into the damn club dressed like that if he didn't know him. He was a handsome guy, too, funny and friendly (though a lot of dealers were that), but the fashion sense, just: no. His dad was some kind of math prof down south—the usual first generation Indian thing—but there was also real money coming from somewhere, since everyone knew Anoop wasn't making all of the money he had off dealing a few thou in junk every week.
"Yo, my brotha," Anoop said, giving him one of those handshake hugs. " 'Sup?"
"We've been waiting for you," Adam said.
"Yeah, man," Anoop said. "Cause I'm the start of the par-tay!"
Adam had to grin at that, because there was no way that Anoop said this shit and was actually serious about it. "Come on," he said, walking over to the coat check where Cook was hanging out with Jasmine. "Honey?"
The girl looked up and god, she was so cute, not quite sure what she wanted to be singing yet, so Cowell had shoved her into the coat check to keep her relatively safe. "Yes, Adam?" she said, smiling.
Adam cocked his head, then went around to her side of the counter. He took off his frock coat and the royal blue brocade suit jacket he was wearing underneath it, and put the jacket on over her knee-length dress. He rolled up the sleeves just so, piled her hair up into his top hat (and carefully fluffed his own hair) and put his own scarf around her neck. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his eyeliner.
"You actually carry that around with you?" David asked.
Adam was carefully and quickly drawing thick Cleopatra lines across Jasmine's eyelids. "You never know," he said. "Where's your lipstick, sweetie?"
She poked around in her bag and pulled out a black tube.
Adam gasped. "Viva Glam? Good girl, you've been listening," he said, and Jasmine lit up. He reapplied it, much thicker than she'd been wearing it, and had her blot on one of the unused check tickets. Then he stood back to examine his work. "Great. Now go out there, you've watched me work the door for months now. Just let in anyone who looks like fun, keep the losers out, and I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
She grinned. "Okay Adam!" she said.
"Don't smile," he said as she walked away. "Look bored." She turned around to him and gave him her best bored look, and he shouted back, "Just like that!"
David took Anoop by the elbow and brought him into the coat check closet, while Adam closed the window. "What's going on?" Anoop asked.
"Why aren't you out hustling tonight, Anoop?" Adam asked.
Anoop looked back and forth between David and Adam, already showing nerves. "I can't sell here, you guys know that," he said. "Nigel would kill me. And I mean that; he'd have me shot."
"That's our question," David said, stepping slightly closer to Anoop. "Why are you here? Why aren't you out making money?"
"You guys want some?" he asked. "Because it's actually pretty much spoken for—"
"Or you didn't get it in the first place," Adam said.
Anoop's eyes widened. "How—how did you—"
David waved his hand. "Never mind that now. Where was the drop supposed to be?"
"Hey," Anoop said, pressing into the back wall of the checkroom. "You know I can't tell you that."
Adam put his hand flat on the wall next to Anoop's head and leaned in. "Where was the drop, Anoop? Where did she tell you to go?"
"You mean you know all that? How it works?" he asked.
"Of course we do," David said. "Now tell us where the fucking dead drop was."
Anoop bit his lip, then sighed. "Stingy Lulu's," he said, meaning a hip diner not far from the club. "One of the booths. But it wasn't there when I got there, and I've been driving myself nuts trying to think where it is."
"You mean you haven't figured out where it went yet?" Adam said. "Come on now, Anoop, you're a bright boy. You've even disappeared for a few days—which, by the way, completely freaked out your buddy Matt—so I think you know exactly what happened to it."
Adam looked from one to the other, then slid down the wall on his back until he was crouching. "Shit."
"How'd you manage to hide from Nigel all this time, Anoop?" David asked squatting down to look him in the eye.
"Not to mention Matt," Adam added, leaning back against the counter.
"I saw Matt on Thursday night, he came to my place right after you guys closed up," Anoop said. "After he left, I grabbed some shit and went straight to our beach house at Hilton Head. No one knew I was there. I just didn't answer the phone, tried to figure out what to do."
"And what did you come up with?" David asked. "I'm curious."
Anoop swallowed hard. "I need to talk to Matt."
"Yeah, well," Adam said, "I'm not sure how much he wants to talk to you right now since you ditched him."
"Well," Anoop said, looking off to the side, "I'm really sorry about that."
"And you're making him look pretty bad, actually," David said. "See, way we figure it, Matt could totally have set this whole thing up, since you can't keep your mouth shut about how Nigel's drugs get around the city."
"Hey man, look" Anoop said, throwing his hands up, "I never told Matt about any of that shit. People know he's my friend, and I didn't want anyone leaning on him. I wanted him to be able to say he didn't know anything."
"So you have a standing Friday night date with the guy, but you don't tell him anything. Right. And what do you do when you go out, anyway? You pick up girls in front of him?" Adam asked.
"No, man, it's not like that. Bros before hos, right? I just like spending money on my friends. What's wrong with that?"
"Bros before hos, sure, Anoop. So you don't tell your bro, but you told like, every girl you fucked?" David asked.
"Of course not! Just the ones that gave me shit about the phone calls."
Adam rolled his eyes. "Kristy Lee and who else, Anoop?"
Anoop cocked his head. "You know about that? How do you know about that?"
David grabbed his shoulder. "Okay, I'm seriously losing patience with you, man. Who else?"
"I—I can't tell you," he said. "I just—trust me, there's no way she's mixed up in this."
The door opened then, and Matt burst through. "Where the fuck have you been?" he shouted.
Anoop spring to his feet. "Hey, bro, I was just looking for you," he said, smiling nervously.
"Don't you bro me," Matt said, waving a finger. "What the fuck. Why didn't you tell me? You want me to sit around worrying after your ass?"
"No, of course not," Anoop said. "You're why I came back. I'm in so much trouble, man, I need your help."
"So you didn't come back for me," Matt said. "You just came back to get something from me, like always."
"Jesus," Anoop said. "It's not like that. Look, I'm sorry—I'm sorry I freaked out. I was trying to keep you away from it like always."
Matt stared at him, then shook his head. "You know what? I don't need this shit," he said, and stormed out of the room.
David pointed at the door. "You'd better go after him," he said. "And don't fucking leave town again, or it's gonna look real bad for your boy."
Anoop furrowed his brow, confused for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks guys. I'll be around." He ran out of the room.
Adam shook his head. "Man, you know, Matt can be kind of annoying? But he doesn't deserve that shit."
David shrugged. "If it's what he wants?"
"I guess I should have known the other day with all his talk about closet cases," Adam said. "Whatever. Oh, did you talk to Rich?"
"Yeah," David said. "Someone definitely changed the schedule. Megan wasn't supposed to be working that day."
"Weird," Adam said, though he was too tired after dealing with Anoop to think it through. "Look, you want to meet again tomorrow? After Simon's hearing?"
"When is it?" he asked.
"Manhattan Criminal Court, 9am. We can meet you outside if you want to come too. Kris and I are going with Ryan."
"Sounds like a plan, man," David said.
They walked out of the room to get Jasmine and sure enough, just around the corner, there were Anoop and Matt, making out like teenagers up against the wall.
"That was quick," David said.
"Get a room, Giraud!" Adam shouted as they walked by, and got the finger from both of them.
27 February 1996
Turned out that getting DioGuardi off the case was a big change—they allowed bail for Simon, and Ryan got him out soon after the morning hearing. The two took Kris, Adam and David around the corner from the courthouse to a diner for the celebratory breakfast, after which Simon invited them all back to the house. "Nice to have friends around," he said. I'm free now, I can get into Ryan's pants whenever I like."
"Oh, so now I'm easy," Ryan said.
"For me, anyway," Simon said, laughing.
Simon bolted for the shower as soon as they got back, and after some sitting around with another pot of coffee and some fat-free brownies that Adam had bought that didn't suck exactly, David said that maybe they should try to work out where they were with the case.
"Well," Ryan said, "there's a whiteboard in my office."
David, typically, took the pen; Adam, typically, rolled his eyes at this; Ryan, typically, just shook his head at the two of them, and Kris just shrugged at how quickly they'd all apparently learned their roles in this odd little foursome.
"Okay," David said, "where should we start?"
"How about with the very first thing the person had to do?" Adam asked. "Ugh, 'the person,' can't we give them a name?"
"Mary," David said.
Adam snickered. "Okay, Mary," he said.
Simon came in then, dressed. "Ooh, is this the case?" he asked. They nodded, and he went on, "Good work. Is Ryan still a suspect?"
"No, actually," David said.
"I'm not a good femme fatale, apparently," Ryan said.
"That's all right, darling," Simon said, kissing him on the forehead. "I like you anyway. Right, I'm going to go over to Idol; since it's dark tonight it's a good time to go over the books and catch up. I'll be back for dinner."
"Hey," Ryan said, "take your cell with you."
"Will do," Simon called out as he left.
"Okay," Adam said, "the first thing Mary had to do."
"Take the cigarettes out of Simon's office?" Ryan asked.
"No," Kris said. "Change the schedule so Megan had to work Wednesday set-up."
"Right, because the schedules are posted on Mondays," David said, writing that down. "What does that do? Gets Megan out of the house?"
"So she doesn't hear the message," Adam said. "Anyone could have called, and Tatiana wouldn't have known who they were, so they wouldn't have had to mimic the accent. They could have been any woman with a British accent."
"But how did they get rid of the real message," Kris said. "The one that would have sent Megan to Stingy Lulu's instead of Simon's office?"
"Well, that's a question," David said, writing it down. "Now, anyone could have changed that schedule who works at AGT, which is a lot of people."
"Yeah," Adam said. "Okay, next?"
"Next is the cigarettes," Kris said.
"Right, so taking the cigarettes out of the office and dumping them at AGT," David said. "And that's pretty narrow: C.Rich, Matt, technically Simon, Ramiele, or Mr. Del Toro. The first four more likely because they all knew how to open the drawer, and they all went over to AGT for Cherry Bomb's show that night."
"Put Kristy Lee and Tatiana in parenthesis," Adam said, "since they were at AGT, and they know how to open the drawer."
"Okay," David said. "Next?"
"Next is making the phone call," Ryan said. "Wednesday evening. Which anyone could have done, but they needed to know to do it, which means knowing Nigel's system."
Adam nodded. "So that's Anoop, Megan, Kristy Lee, and that mystery girlfriend Anoop isn't telling us about."
"Tatiana," Ryan said.
"What?" Adam asked.
"She mentioned it last night," Kris said. "I thought you knew, she's always yammering at you about something."
"I don't always listen?" Adam said.
"Well," Ryan said, "Tatiana dated Anoop. She said he didn't want anyone to know."
"Because he was ashamed of it, the asshole," Kris said.
Adam looked up at David. "That must be the girl he wouldn't tell us about," he said.
"Typical," David said, rolling his eyes. "He'd rather keep that quiet than tell the truth and help Matt, his so-called whateverthehell."
Adam looked up at the board. "Oh my god," he said.
"What?" David asked.
"Tatiana could have changed the schedule," Adam said.
"And she could have taken the cigarettes out of the drawer, using her father's keys to get into the office," David added.
"Which means she probably also knew about the lease," Kris said.
"And she didn't even need to make the phone call," Adam said, standing up, "or suppress the first one—"
"Because she was in Megan's house!" David said. "And she made sure she would be in Megan's house by being there when Megan saw the schedule."
"As Simon's assistant she would have known that Megan needed Wednesdays off," Adam said.
"And she would have known about the dead drop because of Anoop," David said.
"Wait, but how did she know it was Megan?" Ryan asked.
"She just had to hear another phone call," Adam said, "and wait at the drop to see who showed up."
"Taking a chance, wasn't she," Kris said, "that Megan would still be delivering to Anoop?"
"That was a lucky break," David said. "If some dealer had said something sooner, that trail would only have led back to Megan."
"Jesus," Ryan said suddenly. "Simon's at Idol, by himself. And she must know by now that he's out." He grabbed his cell and dialed quickly. "He's not answering."
They all stared at each other, then bolted out of the room. "God, can we even get a cab over here?" Ryan was saying.
"Why can't you people remember," Kris said, "that I have a car?"
It was snowing yet again, so Kris was glad he'd learned his way around the city—it was pretty quick to zip down ninth ave and then fly across town on 18th street before dropping down into the east village. He could tell that Ryan wanted to be there ten minutes ago, but maybe they were just panicking. After all, what could Tatiana really do? She knew Simon was out of jail, but he wasn't free of the charges. Her plan might yet go through.
Ryan was in the front seat, staring straight ahead, as Adam and David shouted from the back, maybe back seat driving, maybe arguing with each other, either way Kris was ignoring them. Thank god there was a space right in front of the Club; he pulled in and came to a screeching halt, skidding a little on the snow. "Y'all get out Ryan's side," he said, and reached for the Club which sat at Ryan's feet.
The others ran into Idol, and Kris wasn't far behind. The lights were on, and when Kris looked up into the office, his heart dropped.
Simon was standing, back to the window, his hands raised. In front of him was Tatiana, holding a gun.
Glitzy Night
