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  “No problem.” Chili tossed her hair, and I could only imagine the strength of her smile. “We’ll get you there.”

  “Thank you. Alex Keen is our celebrity chef, and he doesn’t like to be left waiting.”

  That was for sure. Keen had been known to walk off any number of events that didn’t live up to his top-chef expectations.

  I realized that Chili seemed frozen, her fingers gripping the wheel. Paige gave me a little smile. Alex Keen. Our talkative Gemini friend had just gone speechless. Still, she got us to the hotel in minutes. Without asking, she climbed out of the car, and motioned Paige to do the same.

  Stacy shot me a look, and I could see the doubt in that refined expression of hers.

  “I appreciate the ride,” she said to Chili in the tone and attitude she might address a limo driver she wasn’t going to tip.

  “Could they come with us?” I asked.

  “No offense,” she said, in a voice that carried nothing but. “I just don’t want to walk in there, late, with three high school girls in tow, okay? I mean, Alex would laugh me out of the place. Do you realize the pressure that’s on me? I’ve got to run a new magazine, plan this event, and still come up with a costume of my own for the launch party.”

  “Paige?” I asked, but her lips seemed stitched shut. “Can’t you help?”

  “What?” Stacy demanded.

  “Paige is really into fashion,” I said. “You need something original and creative for the event, right? High school or not, she’s the one who can help you design it.”

  “She can?” Stacy narrowed her eyes, and I could see the panic in Paige’s frozen face.

  “Most definitely,” Chili said. “She’s already taking college design classes, and I know she could do the perfect costume for you, if ...”

  “If you let us all go in with you,” I finished. Had I actually said that? Better yet, was Stacy actually considering it?

  “What type of costume would you suggest?”

  “Maybe Queen of Hearts,” Paige mumbled. “But you probably already thought of that.”

  “Hearts, as in CRUSH.” Stacy’s face lit up, and I felt chills. “How would you go about it?”

  “I’m not sure. You could go traditional with the high, lacy collar. Or you could take some chances, tart it up a little. Maybe a jeweled velvet choker and low neckline. Yes, the way I’d do it, Ms. Rogers, is ...”

  “Call me Stace,” she said.

  Paige called her Stace. We all did. And then we started strolling down the street toward the hotel like four best friends. Leave it to the shy Pisces to surprise us all by baiting my editor with the possibility of a Queen of Hearts costume. They walked ahead of Chili and me, Stacy’s dark head bent close to Paige’s blond one.

  “That red is perfect for you,” she told Stacy. “Before you write me off, at least give me a chance to show you what I can do.”

  Chili started to follow them inside the elevator. I touched her arm and shook my head.

  “We’ll meet you upstairs,” I said, and watched the elevator doors slide shut.

  “What are we going to do now?” Chili demanded.

  “Give them time together. Have you ever seen Paige that assertive?”

  “Never. But she knows what she’s talking about. Even that bitch could see it.”

  “Stacy isn’t a bitch,” I told her.

  “Well, she wasn’t exactly friendly in the car.”

  “She let you in here, didn’t she? Come on, the stairs can’t be that far away.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” She grinned. “You wouldn’t happen to know Alex Keen’s sign, would you?”

  “He’s a Sagittarius. Remember when the food channel celebrated his birthday last December?”

  “Only my mom watches that stuff.” She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “I see no stairs, Logan.”

  “We’ll find them. In the meantime, want to hear more about Sagittarius?”

  “All I want to hear is if he and I would be a good match.”

  “I don’t know about him personally, but Gemini and Sagittarius are opposites. So yes and maybe. Absolutely a better match than that Scorpio you just dumped.”

  “I am so over him. He never let me know what he was thinking.”

  “You wouldn’t have that problem with a Sadge.” I was about to say that she might have the opposite problem when someone called from behind us.

  “Girls, wait. Do you know where the service elevator is?”

  I turned to see Alex Keen heading toward us pushing a table on wheels. On top of it was some kind of rectangular device that looked like a miniature barbecue.

  “Logan.” Chili sounded as if she were choking.

  “Stay cool,” I whispered.

  Yes, it really was Alex Keen, looking even younger in person. Big brown eyes, a tumble of blond curls. That cute Canadian lilt to his voice that always sounded as if he were smiling. Which he was.

  “The service elevator,” he repeated, and stood beside me.

  “Down here,” I said, as if I knew where I was going. After all, we’d been over the entire building and hadn’t seen it. “Come on.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m late as hell, and I hate this city.”

  “You can’t hate San Francisco,” I told him, and desperately looked for anything resembling an elevator.

  “I don’t really, but this is my first time here, and I’ve been lost since the moment I got off the plane. Hey, what’s that door?”

  I almost ran right into the wrought-iron gate partially covering it.

  “Service elevator.” I pulled the gate open and rushed inside, where I found a Hold button and kept my finger on it.

  “Finally.” Alex gestured to Chili. “Can you help me get this smoker inside?”

  “Sure,” she said, and they guided it in. I pressed my back against the wall to make room. Alex and Chili did the same.

  “We can go up now. Thanks for helping me. Are you girls with the magazine?”

  “Yes,” I said, and it didn’t even feel like a lie. “I’m Logan McRae. This is Jessica Chiliderian.”

  “Chili.” She clutched the edge of the table. “I love your show,” she stammered. “I wish you’d do more with Armenian cooking, though. Our culture doesn’t receive the attention it deserves.”

  “Armenian?” He leaned back even farther against the elevator wall, and I couldn’t tell if he was taking in how cute she was or actually thinking about what she had just suggested. “Armenian might be fun.”

  Just then, the elevator stopped with a sudden jolt.

  Chili screamed.

  “What’s going on?” Alex demanded, as if I had answers. “Where the hell are we?”

  I pushed the Open button. Nothing. I pushed the Lobby button. Again, nothing.

  “Not sure,” I said. “I think we’re stuck.”

  “Oh, Logan.” Chili hated small spaces, and I knew that she was terrified. “What are we going to do?”

  “Just stay calm.” I was nowhere close to that myself. “Look, there’s a phone right here.”

  I took it out and dialed the operator. Not even a dial tone.

  “It’s dead,” I told them. “I can’t reach anyone.”

  “No wonder.” Alex lifted the cord. It dangled free in his hand. “Looks like it’s been cut. This is clearly vandalism. Or worse.”

  I shivered. Or worse? “Who knew you’d be here today?” I asked.

  “The magazine, my people, and the hotel chef. I told him I was bringing this smoker and couldn’t use the regular elevator. I’m already late. If he has any sense, maybe he’ll check and find out where we are.”

  “How would he know?”

  “Well, sooner or later someone’s going to realize that the elevator isn’t moving.” He pointed on the glowing numeral on the silver panel. “We’re stuck at the eleventh floor.”

  “At least we’re at a floor.” I hit the Open button, and received no response. “Maybe there’s been a power fa
ilure,” I said.

  “That still doesn’t explain this.” He lifted the cord again. “It has to be vandalism.”

  “Maybe. But why? Who would benefit from stopping us at the wrong floor?”

  Just then the elevator took a tiny lurch. Chili gasped, and Alex’s face seemed to go even more pale.

  “If it’s broken,” he said, “it just won’t hang here forever, will it? I mean, if someone doesn’t come and figure how to get us the rest of the way up, we could drop back down, couldn’t we?”

  “From the weight,” Chili whispered. “Oh, Logan, your cell.”

  Right. My wonderful cell, finally back in my possession.

  “It probably won’t work in here,” I said, “but I can try.”

  I clicked on Stacy’s number and heard a blur of conversation.

  “Stacy, we need help,” I said, trying not to panic.

  “Where are you?” Her voice broke up as she spoke.

  “The service elevator. We’re stuck between floors.” And then, because I wanted to impress upon her how urgent this was, I added, “Alex Keen is with us.”

  “Alex Keen? Oh, no. What are you doing in the service elevator? Don’t worry. Tell him I’m handling it. I’ll call maintenance at once.”

  The phone went dead, and I put it back in my bag. “Stacy’s working on it,” I said.

  “It’s so creepy.” Chili huddled next to Alex. “How long do you think before they get us out of here, Logan?”

  “Any second now,” I told her, trying to sound confident. But I wasn’t liking the way it felt either. The close, still air was stifling, and the table and the contraption on top of it took up most of the space.

  “See what I mean?” Alex said. “I hate this city.”

  “Me too.” Chili gave me a guilty look. “At least right now.”

  “We’re going to be okay.” I tried to smile but was too scared.

  Then the elevator bumped again. Shuddered and groaned.

  Alex and Chili grabbed onto each other.

  Slowly we began moving up. I let out my breath.

  The doors slid open, and we rushed out. Paige waited outside.

  “I’m so glad you’re all right.” She put her arm around me and hugged Chili.

  Stacy hurried down the hall toward us. “There was no power,” she said. “Whoever turned it off for maintenance must have forgotten to turn it back on again. The custodian just flipped a switch, and everything was fine.”

  “Why would they turn it off for maintenance when the elevator was between floors?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m just glad you’re okay.” She smiled at Alex and put out her hand. “Hi, Alex, I’m Stacy Rogers. It’s so good to finally meet you. Do you need some help setting up?”

  “Chili’s assisting me,” he replied, in that charming accent.

  Stacy and I exchanged looks, but all she said was, “Fine.”

  “I brought my new smoker. It’s my own design.” He pulled it out of the elevator as Chili held the door. “The head chef made it clear I owed him one for using his kitchen.”

  Alex and Chili rolled the smoker into the kitchen, a large open area adjoining the banquet room.

  “This place is enormous.” Paige gestured at the dazzling view of the city. Then she looked at me, and her expression grew serious. “Logan, are you okay?”

  “Someone cut the phone line in the service elevator,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” Stacy asked.

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “I’ll call the custodian at once. Regardless of the cause, they need to fix it. You guys could have been stuck there for a long time.”

  She left, and I wandered through the banquet room. The hotel staff, dressed in uniforms of burgundy and gray, went about their jobs in efficient silence. In the kitchen, I could hear Chili chatting up Alex about exotic dishes, Armenian recipes, celebrity chefs, and food styling—subjects I had never before known were of interest to her.

  Stacy returned and said that maintenance was checking out the elevator. She gave the hotel staff the impression that Paige and I were her assistants. We made our checklist for the catering manager, and Paige and Stacy continued to discuss the Queen of Hearts costume. As they spoke the language of tulle and hoop petticoats, I tried to look busy and thought about what almost happened on that elevator. Could it have anything to do with the danger the ephemeris had warned of?

  A few minutes after we arrived, a rail-thin older guy joined us.

  “I’m Francis,” he told Stacy, “the executive chef here.”

  “Francis, hi.” Alex walked into the banquet area, Chili behind him. “Here’s my menu for the event. I hope you like the smoker.” He handed the menu to him, and they stood apart like two matadors confronting each other.

  “I appreciate your generosity,” the chef said, with no hint of admiration. “It looks state-of-the-art.”

  “As I recall, Francis, it was part of the bargain for the gracious loan of your kitchen and staff. Besides, I wanted to be sure the salmon for the party is smoked my way. Want me to show you how it works?”

  “I think I can figure it out. And of course, I would appreciate your finishing up here as soon as possible,” Francis said. “I have a hotel kitchen to run.”

  “We’ll handle it,” Alex replied, pleasantly enough, though I still sensed tension between the two of them.

  As we started work, I saw why. Francis was the king of this kitchen, but Alex was the star. Francis was in charge of taking the menu Alex gave him and figuring out how to prep it, cook it, and serve it. Alex was the one signing autographs for the staff.

  “I need to check out your salamander to be sure the temperature is right for my oysters.” Alex shot a critical look at a gleaming drawer above the oven. “My cilantro pesto must sizzle in two minutes, maybe even less time.”

  “It will sizzle.” Francis almost spit the words at him. “We can check the salamander later. I really need you to hurry up now. I hadn’t counted on your tardiness today.”

  “And I hadn’t counted on your service elevator screwing up today.” He gave the chef an arrogant smile. “But I’m ready to move forward if you are.”

  As Alex went to work, I could see that he was even more remarkable than he was on television. The simple act of slicing a cucumber—knuckles firm against the flesh as the thin, pale strips fanned out against the cutting board—left even Chili speechless. I had to admit it was amazing, yet I kept thinking about that elevator and the dangling telephone cord.

  After we finished walking through the event with the hotel staff and making sure the hotel kitchen could meet the demands of the menu Alex had provided, he and Chili passed out the food samples he had prepared.

  “Try this,” Alex said to me. “It’s not your basic salsa, I promise.”

  True, watermelon salsa was not my usual breakfast, but Alex Keen wasn’t my usual anything. I ate it on a carrot popper and couldn’t remember tasting anything more exotic, not even when Chili’s mom cooked for me.

  “Pretty wonderful, isn’t it?” he said with that Sadge laugh.

  I swallowed my last bite of the spicy appetizer and could-n’t help smiling up at him.

  “So you no longer hate San Francisco?”

  His gaze moved to Chili again, and those big brown eyes met hers with such intensity that I could feel the sparks from where I stood. “I’m starting to like it better by the moment. And I have every intention of making the most of my time here.”

  Chili blushed and began clearing the table.

  “I need to hurry, though. We’re packing a lot into one day. There’s a big photo shoot this afternoon.”

  “That’s right. Stacy said she’s meeting Arianna Woods there.”

  “Arianna Woods?” he asked, and his tone was suddenly almost hostile. “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s the cover model for the first issue. Didn’t you know?”

  “I don’t remember if we discussed it or not
. Doesn’t matter.”

  Just then, he reached for the huge tub of ice that held the cold appetizers, yanked it toward him and right off the table. Ice cubes and shrimp rolls bounced in every direction, and the table sailed into the wall.

  “Damn,” he shouted. “I can’t talk while I’m working. And look what happened. Who’s going to clean up this mess? Come on, people, I need some help here. This is what I get for traveling without staff.”

  Chili scrambled into action, and several hotel workers joined her. The famous Alex Keen temper. What had Stacy said? Pitch a fit? He was pitching one, all right.

  NOTES TO SELF

  So Alex Keen really does have a temper, unusual for a Sadge. And he seemed angry that I brought up Arianna. Sagittarius can be a clumsy sign, but I’m not so sure that was the case. The flying food and ice effectively ended our conversation. I’d really like to get my hands on his chart and see what else is lurking in there. Maybe nothing. And maybe even what happened in the elevator today was one of those weird freak accidents that no one can explain.

  11

  THREE OR FOUR TIMES A YEAR, MERCURY, THAT TINY

  PLANET THAT’S BARELY VISIBLE JUST BEFORE SUNRISE

  OR JUST AFTER SUNSET, APPEARS TO TRAVEL BACK-

  WARD FOR APPROXIMATELY THREE WEEKS. IT’S

  CALLED RETROGRADE, AND IT CAN CAUSE US TO

  TRAVEL BACKWARD AS WELL. FORWARD MOVEMENT

  MAY BE STRAINED. THIS IS A TIME TO AVOID RUSHING

  INTO ANY NEW RELATIONSHIPS AND TO EXAMINE PAST

  DECISIONS. IT’S LIKELY YOU WILL RUN INTO AN OLD

  LOVE, IN PERSON OR IN A DREAM, DURING THIS PERIOD

  OF REVERSAL.

  —Fearless Astrology

  I already knew all about Mercury in Retrograde. Early this year, my friends and I had lost car keys and phones, and once when we were at the hair salon, Chili’s highlights had actually turned orange. The stylist had blamed the new color she was using, but I knew better.

  This time, Retrograde would start in Taurus and end in Gemini. That meant communication and relationship issues. If only I could blame Jeremy’s silence on the planets. I knew I’d have to phone him and make him tell me what the hell was going on. But that phone call would have to wait. After what had happened in the hotel elevator on Friday, I couldn’t sit around obsessing about my love life. The incident proved I was right that day in journalism class when I called up the ephemeris and saw possible danger for someone at the Halloween launch party. What if the stalled elevator wasn’t an accident? What if someone had wanted to scare Alex, or worse?