Trisha shifted from one foot to the other, her dark eyes dancing. “I think Ben Barrett is here.”
Maggie slipped out of her jeans and changed into the denim skirt the waitresses were forced to wear. “Who?”
“Who? Who? I can’t believe you just asked me that.” Trisha began to speak in a patient voice reserved for small children and rabid dogs. “Heart of a Hero? McLeod’s Revenge? The Warrior?”
She blinked. “What, he writes romance novels or something?”
Trisha let out a shriek. “No, you idiot. Those are movies he’s starred in. You’re honestly telling me you don’t know who Ben Barrett is?”
Maggie shrugged, then pulled her T-shirt over her head and exchanged it for a V-neck black tank. Kicking off her sneakers, she strapped a pair of black heels on her feet and turned back to the enraged brunette.
“Trish, the last time I went to the movies, I was ten. My foster parents took all the kids to see a Disney movie.” She poked her tongue in her cheek. “Come to think of it, that’s the only time I’ve gone to the movies.”
“What about television?” Trisha asked with a frustrated tilt of her chin. “You’ve got to watch television.”
“Not really.” Maggie paused. “If I’m not too tired, I watch cooking shows with Summer. She’s been trying to learn about Jamaican cuisine so she can cook for Tygue. The first time she tried we all got food poisoning, so—”
“Forget it,” Trisha cut in, not looking amused. “All I’m going to say is I think a movie star is sitting in the booth near the pool table.”
Maggie didn’t really care, but she felt she owed it to her friend to ask, “What makes you think that?”
“Well, he came in about an hour ago, walked up to the bar and ordered a glass of sparkling water. He gave Matt a hundred-dollar bill and said he wanted to be left alone.”
“Gee, then it must be him.”
Trisha ignored her. “He’s wearing a baseball cap and hiding behind a newspaper, but he looks sooo familiar. I walked past him a few times and I swear it’s him. And there’s more.”
“I can’t wait to hear it.”
“I saw on the news earlier that the police found Ben Barrett’s car abandoned a few blocks from here.”
“Hmmm. Maybe he couldn’t find parking out front.”
“Then,” Trisha continued, still ignoring her, “the cops gave a statement saying that Ben Barrett is alive and well, just a victim of some NYC car vandalism. I think the whole thing was a scam, and that he ditched his car because he’s on the run.”
Maggie’s head began to spin. “Why do you think I’m interested in any of this, Trish?”
“Because I need you to find out if it’s him or not!” Trisha wailed.
“How would I know? I have no clue what the guy looks like, remember?”
“Well, I can’t do it. I’ve already walked by his booth too many times. If I do it again it’ll raise his suspicions and he’ll take off.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. She knew Trisha was bored shitless with her boyfriend, and that sometimes her predicament caused her to poke her nose into other people’s business.
But this was just ridiculous.
As the two women left the lounge, Trisha continued to push. “So will you find out if it’s him?”
“Nope. Ask Matt.”
“I did, he told me to leave the poor man alone.”
“I second that notion.” She stopped by the counter and reached over it to retrieve an apron. Then she grinned at the bartender. “So, Booth Five slipped you a hundred, huh?”
“Yep. And I suppose Trish told you she thinks he’s a big star in disguise?” Matthew shot the other waitress an annoyed look before growing serious. “Look, he said he doesn’t want to be bothered, which is why I’ve been keeping this one—” Matt hooked a thumb at Trisha, “—away from the poor guy.”
Trisha glowered at him. “If you’d just let me go over there, I promise not to bug him.”
“Yeah right,” he hooted.
Linda White, the evening manager, walked up with a frown on her face, and the good-natured bantering came to a halt. Linda wasn’t strict by any means, but her conservative nature and lack of humor turned off most of the staff.
No matter how grumpy she could be, Maggie still liked the older woman and greeted her with a smile. “Hey, Linda.”
The manager ignored the greeting. “Guys, I’ve been here for an hour and not once has someone gone over to Booth Five to refill the customer’s drink.”