By the time Nick, AJ and Agent Bryant booked a flight, packed, called Agent Focque, got to the airport, flew to London, collected their bags, and arrived at the London Grande Hilton penthouse suite, Paris had already been discharged from the hospital. Her leg was wrapped in a cast and she was given crutches to help her walk to the bathroom and all. When the three guys arrived, she was laying in bed in the violated penthouse, crying, surrounded by about thirty brute looking security guards who kept whispering to one another on little microphones and ear pieces. "It's ugly, it's so ugly," Paris cried, looking at her cast, "It's so ugly."
"It's a cast," Nick said, eyebrow raised, "It's not gonna be like, designer, or nothin'."
"Uhck," Paris groaned, "It's so ugly, though. Why can't they make cute ones?"
"I dunno," Nick answered, "But at least they fixed your leg," he pointed out, trying to be positive.
Paris looked at him. "They did not fix my leg. They gave me pills. They put this monstrosity on me. They made my knee cap itch then told me I can't scratch it. They ruined everything, they didn't FIX it. This is completely jacking up my summer wardrobe." She paused, "Nick, do you have any idea how hard it is to firm up your legs enough to wear a mini-dress? I worked all spring, and now... look at this! How can I wear mini-dresses with this... this.. this ugly THING on my leg?"
Nick sighed. "I don't know, Paris." He desperately wanted to add an 'and I don't really care either', but he opted for politeness. She had, after all, been through a lot in the last twelve hours...
Agent Bryant meanwhile was searching the scene, inspecting every square inch of the room. He ran his fingers over the door frame, inspecting the locks, then he studied the shattered glass of the windows, where the attacker had leaped through to flee down the fire escape. Bryant sighed as he at last approached the bed to talk to Paris. "Did you get the bullet?" he asked.
"Yeah," Paris answered, "They sent it to Scotland."
"Scotland Yard?" Bryant asked. Paris nodded. "Okay, good." He turned and moved back to the door, running his hand down the wall along side it, looking for signs of strain of the locks. "It's seamless..." he mused, "There's no evidence whatsoever... Incredible."
Nick perked, "How about finger prints on the fire escape?"
Bryant's face lit up, "I never thought of that..."
Paris shook her head, "No he had gloves on," she said, "Cheap polyester ones..." she shuddered, "It was like Michael Jackson shopped at Wall World!"
"Wall world?" Bryant looked confused.
"Walmart," Nick explained, "She doesn't shop there often, if you can't tell."
"Right."
Suddenly Agent Focque came rushing into the room, breathless from running. "Thank you for calling me," she gasped, "I got here as fast as I could." She looked over the room, "What happened?"
"The Masquerade Murderer struck again," Bryant said, "But he didn't kill the victim this time." He moved aside to reveal Paris laying on the bed.
Ivana's jaw dropped in shock, "Oh, Paris," she said, "Are you okay?"
"This cast is ugly," Paris replied.
Nick groaned, "Okay that's it. Do you got any markers in here?"
Paris looked surprised, "What? ...In the desk drawer." She pointed. Nick got up and grabbed the markers form the drawer before returning and sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. "Ew, you are not sitting on the bed with me."
"Fine then, keep your ugly cast," Nick said, "Cos I'm fine with leaving it the way it is." He stood up.
"No!" Paris gasped desperately, holding her hand up to stop him, "Please!"
"Then shut up," Nick said, sitting back down. He popped the caps off the markers and got to work.
AJ rolled his eyes and turned to Ivana. "As you can tell, Agent Focque," he said in a formal voice, "She is fine."
Ivana's eyes were unreadable as she looked at AJ. "Yes, I can tell," she replied evenly. She turned away quickly and began looking around the room, refusing to look AJ's direction again. She joined Bryant by the door. "Did they break in?" she asked, furrowing her brow.
"Paris doesn't know how they got in," Bryant answered, "But the door looks fine, just like the other one does."
Ivana nodded, "Seamless entry..." she looked at Paris. "Honey, did you let ANYONE in? Anyone at all?"
Paris shook her head, "No.. There wasn't anyone." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Oh.. well, there was the maid."
"The maid?" Bryant's ears perked and Nick looked up from his drawing.
"Yeah," Paris answered.
Agent Bryant and Agent Focque crossed the room to gather at Paris's bedside. "Did she leave before the shooting?" Agent Focque asked.
"No," Paris answered, "She was cleaning the kitchen when it happened. She came out into the living room when the gun went off."
Ivana rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm.."
Bryant shook his head, "Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see what's on the security tapes."
Ivana looked up at him. "What security tapes?" she asked.
"The penthouse suite security tapes," Agent Bryant replied.
Agent Focque shook her head, "There aren't any security tapes up here. They said there isn't any..."
"Actually," Paris spoke up, "They don't know about them. The tapes are mine and my father's. After what happened with that tape my ex took of us my daddy didn't want access to any private tapes available to anyone else, so they're closed circuit, digital cameras, and the videos are loaded and saved automatically on our computers."
Ivana smiled, "Awesome! Can we see the tapes?"
Paris nodded, "Yeah I'll email them to Nick later," she replied.
Nick capped the markers. "There."
Paris looked at her cast and her eyes widened, "Oh Nick... That's hott." On her cast Nick had drawn anime style caricatures of Paris and Tinkerbell with splashes of flowers and colors all around decorating the blank space around the picture. Considering how quickly he'd drawn the picture, he'd done very well. Paris was smiling while she looked at it, then looked up at Nick, and for maybe the first time ever in her entire life she felt bad for having treated someone like shit in the past. "Thanks," she drawled. She laughed, "It's like a designer cast now..."
"Still ugly?" Nick asked, laughing. He put the markers away.
"No, it's hott," Paris answered.
"Good."
Agent Bryant held out a hand to Paris, "We've got to get going, but thank you very much for all your help and we'll be looking for those tapes, okay?"
Paris nodded, "I'll send them tonight."
"Feel better, Paris," Ivana said, as Nick and AJ waved awkwardly and followed the two agents out the door.
"Bye," Paris called after them, "Don't forget to call about the rejuvenation!!"
AJ rolled his eyes, "Ren. o. va. tion," he whispered, too quietly for Paris to hear, "Ren. o. va. tion. Is that so goddamn hard?"
Saving the Day for Blondes 2: The Amazing Story of How Nick Apprehended The Infamous Masquerade Murderer Without ANY Caffeine In His Body! by Pengi
