Lori Avocato - Nip, Tuck, Dead

The path was empty.

Not that either Goldie or I was superstitious (okay, he did carry a rabbit’s foot-a pink one), but we decided to cut our walk short-after we headed to the part where the lovers’ spat had occurred. If that’s what it was.

There was nothing below except water, rocks and red tide, which I’d learned was tiny reddish seaweed.

“Okay,” Goldie said, grabbing my arm. “I’m ready to go back.”

“Me too, Gold.” Something made me take one last look below. “Goldie!”

He swung around so fast his arm caught mine and I stumbled forward-and screamed.

Thank goodness for quick reflexes. Goldie grabbed my shoulder before I could stumble one more foot-to the end of the cliff and over the side.

My mouth dried instantly. “They need a wailing here,” I muttered through the dryness, and then ran my tongue over my teeth for some moisture. “Railing.”

“Jesus, Suga.” He pulled me back and took me into his arms. “Jesus.”

I stayed nestled in Goldie’s hold for a few extra minutes despite the fact that several tourists passed us-and stared. Who cared? He’d just saved me from splattering on the rocks below.

Goldie eased me to his arm’s length. “What the hell made you go so close to the edge?”

“Oh, geez. I nearly forgot.” I started to step toward the ocean, but Goldie held me back.

“Oh, no, Suga. Just tell me.” He held onto my arm rather tightly.

Despite a bit of discomfort I smiled to myself. It was great having a guy care so much for me-I only wished it was a heterosexual guy named…

Never mind.

“Gold, they must have thrown something over the cliff. There was a bag below. From Talbot’s, that expensive chic clothing store, on the corner near the Tennis Hall of Fame.”

“Well, let’s head back as we talk.”

I know Goldie wanted to get me off the cliff and away from any “accident” areas.

I smiled again.

We made it back to Highcliff Manor in about twenty minutes, but on the way Goldie had me feeling much better that the “lovers” were none of our concern, and it was probably something personal between them that they sent down to Davy Jones’s locker.

“You’re right, I’m sure. None of our business. You go ahead and get yourself a glass of wine, Gold. I’m going to head back to the lodge and take a little power siesta.

He laughed. “I hear you. I’m not the least bit tired, but I could rest after that emotional scene.”

I know he was talking about me nearly catapulting off the cliff-but I couldn’t get that couple out of my mind-or the stupid shopping bag.

Since it was Monday and still off-season, the lodge didn’t appear very crowded. I fixed myself a cup of tea and decided to go sit on the wraparound porch before taking my nap.

Once I settled in the comfy rocker, I leaned back, took a sip of my English Breakfast tea and set the cup down on the nearby table. When I shut my eyes, I could picture the couple on the cliff.

Was she trying to push him? Or was he trying to push her?

Suddenly I wasn’t sure, so I tried to use my investigative skills to re-create the picture in my mind.

He had the bag in his hands!

My eyes flew open. The guy did throw something over the cliff. Now, even from the distance that Goldie and I stood, I could see this couple had money, as my mother would say. They were dressed very yuppielike, with sunglasses I was sure didn’t come from Wal-Mart, like mine. Hers must have had diamonds on the lens since the sun sparkled on them. And her hair didn’t move in the ocean’s breeze. It remained a perfect brunette coiffure while my blonde locks danced about, making me look like Medusa.

After a few more attempts at reviewing the scene, I told myself that I was getting way too tired. What the heck did I care about that couple anyway? At least no one, including moi, went overboard.

But there was something instinct told me to keep in mind.

And a Sokol’s instincts were very precise-as evidenced by Stella Sokol on a daily basis.

Why I needed to keep thinking of that couple, I had no idea. But until I ate my dinner and headed up to my room for the night, I kept reliving the scene in my head.

Maybe my investigative skills were really sharpening!

I felt as if someone were watching me. I looked around.

Hm. No one in sight.

“Sweet or savory,” Tina, the innkeeper’s assistant, asked the next morning when I sat at the dining room table.

The question started each day off in the Samuel Freeman Lodge. She went through the two breakfast choices, and I picked sweet today. No great surprise with my penchant for sugar…especially chocolate.

“You’ll love the apple topping on the wheat pancakes. The cook always whips her own heavy cream too,” she said, and hurried off to the kitchen.

I sat at the big table all by myself and decided I’d pretend that I lived there. After my meal came, I devoured it, and told Tina to give the chef my kudos. I’d hire her in a heartbeat if I really did have the money to buy this place.

Money. The root of all evil and something that I was not blessed with very much of. One of these days I really wanted to have enough savings to buy a condo of my own. As it stood, I didn’t even have enough for a down payment thanks to a crooked friend, a Lexus car loan I’d co-signed, and a proclivity for shopping.

At least I’d cured myself of that last addiction lately-out of necessity and low cash flow.

I folded my linen napkin and set it near my empty plate then walked out of the lodge to go for my morning jog.

The ocean was one of my favorite spots in the world, I decided as I jogged along Cliff Walk-the safe section that was paved. Such a beautiful day had me smiling, greeting anyone that I passed and even not worrying about my case.

Deep inside I knew it would be a piece of cake, Goldie would be beautiful/handsome and all would be right with the Pauline Sokol world.

“Hey!” a woman yelled.

I stopped to listen and see where it had come from. Waves crashing below filled the air. After a few seconds and no more voices, I decided maybe I’d imagined it. Maybe the enchanting sea made sounds that had confused me. Or maybe it was a mermaid, I thought then laughed.

Or the ghost of Samuel Freeman following me around.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and gave one last look around, then started forward.

“Hey! Over here!”

This time I stopped cold and yelled, “What? Who is there?”

An Asian couple taking pictures of the back of the Vanderbilt mansion, The Breakers, gave me an odd look. I’m sure it wasn’t that they didn’t understand English but noticed me yelling-to myself.

“Over here!”

Now I could tell the voice had come from a cluster of bushes that had little thorns and orangelike balls growing on it. I hurried over and noticed a flash of pink. “I’m right here.”

“Help me up.” This time the voice held an air of authority. Made me feel like one of the servants from the nearest mansion.

After a few “ouches” on my part, I pushed enough of the branches away to see a woman lying amid the thorns. “Oh my gosh! Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“Only my freaking pride, honey. Get me out of here!”

I eased the thornier sections to the side and held out my hand to her. After several minutes of cursing (hers) and praying (mine) I had the most gorgeous woman standing next to me.

Even I had to admit to her beauty.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She snarled at me as if I’d pushed her into the bushes. Suddenly I realized being a Good Samaritan did not come without consequences in swanky Newport.

“All right? Look at my jogging suit!” she said.

No thanks. Not even a hello. The suit was torn in several places and sticks of orange balls hung off her arm. If she wasn’t so model perfect, she would have looked comical. If I had on that outfit, we’d both be in hysterics right now.