Free Lifeblood by Penny Rudolph Page A

sure was a sweetheart.
    Gabe moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Glad you changed your mind. I’m new around here. Don’t know many people. Gordon says I should get out more.”
    “Is he your keeper?” Rachel asked, and in spite of the fact that his leg was too close, she didn’t move hers.
    Gabe gave her an amused look. “He’s a good guy. Better than most.”
    Gordon reappeared holding a glass of clear liquid with tiny bubbles breaking against the floating lemon slice.
    Gabe removed the toothpick and wrapped it in his napkin.
    Gordon set the glass in front of Rachel, slid onto the bench across the table, then reached up and fingered the knot of his tie before picking up his own drink, which looked like scotch on the rocks. “I won the bet.” He gestured at Gabe. “This gentleman thought you wouldn’t show.”
    “He was close,” Rachel said. “I didn’t think I would, either. But I have a question, and it occurred to me one of you might be able to answer it.”
    Gordon tilted his head toward her. Gabe was wiping up a wet spot on the table with his napkin. They both said the same thing. “Shoot.”
    The bubbles buzzed up her nose as Rachel took a sip of soda. She set the glass down and pressed her napkin to her lips. “It’s about the hospital. The east wing on the,” she stopped to count, “I think it’s the fourth floor. The one with the sign that says Area Closed for Repairs or something like that.”
    Gabe shook his head. “No clue. I’ve only been here a couple months and I hardly ever get out of the pharmacy. When I do, I go outside, not upstairs.”
    Gordon was examining his swizzle stick as carefully as if it were the entrails of a sacrificed animal. He glanced at Gabe. “Maybe she means the celebrity wing.”
    Gabe frowned. “What celebrity wing?”
    Gordon rubbed a finger along the end of his thumbnail. “You mean you don’t know?”
    “So what’s there to know?” Gabe asked.
    “Where are we?” Gordon asked. “Could this possibly be Los Angeles? More celebrities than anywhere in the world? Okay, maybe New York has more per square foot, but a load of famous people right here, no?”
    Rachel’s eyes moved from Gabe to Gordon. She took another sip of soda.
    “So where do you think they go when they get sick?” Gordon asked. “Or maybe even when they just get a facelift?”
    Gabe broke into a smile. “Son of a gun, is that right? You mean we might have Paris Hilton up there?”
    “Of course they’re quiet about it. No one wants to be mowed down by a mob of star-struck fans,” Gordon said. “Or worse, a platoon of paparazzi scaling up the outside of the building. I’ve heard that some of the big-time pols, even a president or two, have been here at least once. They know Jefferson will protect their privacy.”
    Rachel put her glass down. “Okay, that probably explains it. Thanks.”
    Gordon glanced at her. “How did you find out about it?”
    “I stumbled across it earlier today when I was lost, and couldn’t help but wonder.”
    It wasn’t until she had left the bar and was driving home that it occurred to her that the mud-colored wainscoting and mustard-colored walls didn’t exactly connote celebrity. Incognito or not.
    Chapter Fourteen
    Later that night on the bench in front of the garage Rachel mentioned to Goldie the Jefferson ward that Gordon thought was reserved for celebrities.
    “Makes sense,” Goldie said. “If you’re Julia Roberts and you’re getting tucks here and there, you don’t exactly want your fans running through the halls, barging into your room, askin’ for autographs and seeing you without your face on. Ditto photographers.”
    “If it’s a secret place for celebrities, why the ugly color scheme, the dingy look?”
    Goldie shook her head, crossed her arms, peered over her eyeglasses and gave what Rachel called her school teacher look. “You ever think that may just be the point? The Army has a name for it. Dis-information