Chapter Six
Micky lunged to catch Gavin as he fell. “Lay him down, gently!” Mike ordered, taking Gavin’s other side. Micky obeyed and laid him down. Mike unzipped the dress and pulled it away from his neck. “Gavin, stay with us, man.” Gavin mumbled something incoherent.
Micky picked up the glass, running his finger along one of the larger shards. “Feels funny, Mike. Filmy.”
“Filmy? Drugged?”
Micky looked up, his glaring eyes containing all the answer Mike needed.
“Shit.” He lifted his double. “Hospital. Micky, bring those shards!”
“No hosp’tal,” Gavin mumbled, pushing against Mike. “Stay here . . . ”
“Gavin, you’ve been drugged,” Mike began.
Gavin shook his head. “Be fine . . . s’leep . . . ”
“Gavin—”
“We can’t force him against his will, Mike,” Peter said. “If this play is ruined he’ll be crushed.”
“But how—”
“Mike, if we take him to the hospital he’ll be there for at least a few days. The play will be over by then.”
Mike just looked at him for a long moment. “Fine,” he said softly, “but not here.”
“Where, then?”
“The Pad.”
“Good idea.” Mike turned to the crowd huddled on all sides. “That’s it for today, folks. We’ll take care of Gavin and he’ll be right as rain in no time.”
Susan, the wardrobe woman who had won the role of the faery of the locket, spoke up. “Can we help?”
“Make sure everything gets locked up tight? Make sure no one’s hangin’ around?”
She nodded. “You got it.”
Mike carefully eased his arm under Gavin, gesturing for Micky to take his legs. Micky obeyed, lifting him slowly. Gavin’s only reply was a disturbed grunt. “Peter, go on out and start the car up,” Mike said as he and Micky lifted Gavin up. Peter nodded and jogged off, disappearing. Davy moved slightly ahead of them and opened the doors.
Mike couldn’t help but notice the smug, almost pleased look on Richard’s face as they passed by; if Mike hadn’t been so intent on getting Gavin back to the Pad he’d have been inclined to ask about it. “Davy! You run out to the pay phone and call Mr. Bennett! Have him open up the house and turn the lights on! And ask if he has any medical knowledge!” The Tiger moved to obey, legs churning. “Okay, Micky, nice and easy. We’ll put him in the back seat.”
Peter was already behind the wheel, waiting. “Who’ll sit with him?” he asked.
“I will,” Mike said, moving backwards into the car, maneuvering Gavin’s torso over the front seats into the far back. Micky leaped over the seat to sit beside Peter, and Davy jogged up. “He’ll have it ready by the time we get there!”
“Have what ready?” Peter asked.
“The house open,” Davy said, settling in beside Mike and Gavin. “Lights on, that kind of stuff.”
“Oh.” Peter glanced in the rearview mirror. “Everybody in?”
“Go!” Micky ordered. Peter moved onto the accelerator, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the street. Gavin groaned as they hit a pothole. “Sorry!” Peter shouted.
The Pad was well-lit when they got in, the front door standing open. Mr. Bennett didn’t blink as they carried Gavin in and set him down on the couch. “What happened to him?”
“He was drugged,” Davy said as he handed over a cloth-wrapped shard of glass.
Bennett took it, holding it up and peering at the fine milky film. “It smells familiar,” Micky put in, “but I can’t place it.” Bennett rubbed his fingers together, then sniffed. “Ammonia. Also . . . chlorine. Maybe a touch of bleach.” He looked at Mike and Peter. “Cleaning products, I’m betting.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “He drank that stuff?”
“He did,” Mike said grimly. “No wonder he got so sick.” He turned to Mr. Bennett. “Will he be okay?”
“How much did he drink?” He waved his hand. “Well, that doesn’t matter. What’s important is how much was in the glass.” He sat on the edge of the couch and looked at Gavin, peering into his eyes, feeling his forehead, and checking his pulse. “I’m betting it was a small dose. Enough to make him sick but not enough to kill.”
Peter nodded. “And it doesn’t seem like they want to kill. Just scare.”
“We’re not gonna let them, right?” Micky said.
“Right,” Mike agreed, his eyes narrowing.
Mr. Bennett straightened. “Try and get some fluids in him, but don’t give him anything to eat. He should be awake and lucid soon, but he’ll be weak while his body fights it off.” All four nodded.
Gavin’s eyes opened a half hour later. “Gavin?” Peter said, smiling as he sat on the edge of the couch. The Nesmith lookalike’s eyes rolled to Peter’s and he smiled a little.
Mike brought over a glass of pale orange fluid. “Here, can you drink this?”
Gavin nodded and, with help, sat up and drank. “What is that, Mike?” Peter asked.
“Diluted orange juice.”
Gavin smiled at him. “Thanks.”
“How you feeling?”
“Weak . . . tired.”
“You were poisoned,” Peter said gently. “With what we think are cleaning solutions.”
He nodded and closed his eyes again. Then he opened them. “Mike? . . . talk to you . . . alone?”
Mike opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Peter got up, patting Mike on the shoulder as he headed for the back door. Mike waited until he was gone before he sat down next to Gavin. Gavin studied him. “Play’s . . . gotta go on.”
“Yeah, but how? You’re sick, and we can’t do it without you.”
Gavin grabbed his forearm. “They won’t . . . have to know . . . it’s not me.”
Mike tilted his head back. “I’m not quite followin’ you.”
“We’re . . . doubles.”
“Yeah, and . . . ” Mike’s mouth slowly dropped open. “Oh, no. No, no way, uh uh!”
“Mike . . . ” Gavin licked his lips. “You have to. Please.”
“I am not puttin’ on that dress and I ain’t wearin’ makeup!”
“No one will know . . . it’s you. If I can get strong enough—I can do your part. It’s small.”
Mike sighed, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. “I knew this was gonna happen. I knew not having to put on that dress was too good to be true.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“So you . . . will?”
Mike sighed again. “I’m gonna regret this, but . . . yeah, I will.”
Gavin smiled. “Thank . . . ” His eyes drooped again. “Mike? Everything okay?” Peter asked, sticking his head back into the house.
Mike nodded. “He’s sleepin’.”
“What’d he tell you? Or . . . is that private?”
“Peter,” he sighed. “Don’t tell the hotheads.”
“Tell them what?” Peter slipped in, crossing the room to Mike’s side. “What is it?”
Mike leaned back in the chair again. “I gotta wear that damned dress.” Peter covered his mouth with both hands to stifle his laughter. “Yeah, yeah,” Mike sighed. “He says if he can get well enough, he can play my role—and no one’ll have to know it’s not him under that wig.”
Peter finally got his laughter under control. “So . . . you’re Gwen now?”
“Apparently.”
“You’ll have to learn her lines, you know. And somehow we’ll have to make sure no one else knows that Gwen’s you and not him.”
“I’ve got most of her lines—it’s ninety percent ad-lib. And what’s not, we’ve seen enough times I can fake it.”
Peter leaned on the railing, winding his arm through the bars. “Okay. Hopefully whoever it is won’t try to go after you.”
“I hope they do.” He smiled tightly as his eyes opened. “If they do, thinking I’m Gavin . . . ”
“Then they’ll probably walk away with hoofprints on their butts,” Peter grinned.
~~~~~
It was evening when Gavin finally awoke, his fever breaking with enough force to soak his clothing and the sheets they’d put under him. He lifted his head, trembling and pushing the damp hair out of his eyes.
The house was eclectic but clean, with a high ceiling and huge bay windows that gave a marvelous view of the ocean. The sky was purple and pink following the setting of the sun, and Gavin smiled slightly at the sight. Mike walked in from the verandah, altered by the groan. “You’re awake.”
“What . . . happened?”
“You got slipped a mickey.”
“Huh?” came from the hallway. Due to the universe’s twisted sense of humor, Micky had walked by right then.
“Nothin’,” Mike called. As he walked away, Mike smirked. “Wrong Micky.”
“I think I remember now,” Gavin said, shoving his way up into a sitting position.
“Good.” Mike sat at his feet, curling his own comfortably under him. “Tell me.”
“I went back to my room to get a drink of water. It tasted kind of funny, but I figured it was the tap water. When I got back out . . . it was like the room was closing in on me.”
Mike nodded and told him what they’d seen happen to him. “You were out of it. More out of it with every moment.”
Gavin sighed. “I should have known that stopping them that night would have driven them to do this. They want me out of the way. Why?”
Mike shook his head. “I have no idea.”
On to Chapter Seven
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