Obsessed Read Free Page A

I’m up here . . . to tell you about Covers.”
    That was Judy’s cue to bring up the back-lighting on the Covers logo. It began to gleam vividly against the dark green background, and she smiled. Back-lighting the logo had been her idea, and once she’d shown Mr. Calloway the effect, they’d used it every night.
    “Covers is our nightclub, staffed by teens with teen en tertainment. But Covers isn’t owned by a teen. I’m telling you that right up front, because sometimes my former teacher, Mr. Stan Calloway, tries to pass himself off as a high school sophomore. Stand up, Mr. Calloway, and show everybody how young you look after that last face lift.”
    Judy swept the spot toward Mr. Calloway, and he stood up to take a bow. The audience applauded, and there were a few predictable chuckles from the regulars. Stan Calloway was a short, bald-headed man in his forties, and absolutely no one would mistake him for a teenager.
    “Covers serves the best burgers this side of the Burbank River.” Michael paused, waited for the puzzled expressions, and continued, “That’s the concrete drainage ditch that runs right by the back of the building.”
    There was a burst of laughter, and Judy nodded. Michael had given this speech so many times, he could probably do it in his sleep. But Michael was a good actor, and he had the ability to make it sound fresh each night.
    “But seriously folks, our burgers are great. Andy Miller, our short order chef, just won several prestigious awards from the California Council of Intestinal Medicine.”
    There was another burst of laughter and Judy was ready with the spot. As he did every night, Andy poked his head out of the kitchen and waved a spatula at the crowd. He was a high school senior who looked like he enjoyed his own cooking. His face was freckled, and his curly red hair was almost hidden under a high chef’s toque that Judy had found in a gourmet shop. Andy hated the white, puffy hat, and he only wore it when Michael did his introduction.
    “Your menu’s on the table, under the glass. Order from Ingrid Sunquist, she’s the stunning Scandinavian blonde in the pink blouse. Or you can flag down our lovely Latin beauty, Nita Cordoza. Nita’s brother, Alberto, will also take your order. He’s the big, dark-haired guy in the pink shirt. And I wouldn’t say anything about the color of Berto’s shirt, folks. He’s a fullback on the Burbank High football team.”
    Ingrid curtsied, Nita waved, and Berto gave one of his tough-guy smiles. Judy held the spot on them for a moment, and then she dimmed it.
    “And now for the good news. Just in case you didn’t know it, we have a bar!”
    The audience burst into applause, but they stopped abruptly when Michael followed it up with his next line. “The bad news is, it’s a non-alcoholic fruit juice bar. But our bartender, Vera Rozhinski, makes a very mean virgin Piña Colada, so belly on up between acts and tell Vera your troubles.”
    Judy swiveled the spotlight to Vera, a classic Slavic beauty with coal black hair and blue eyes so dark, they were almost purple. Vera was short, only a little over five feet, and Mr. Calloway had built a slatted platform behind the bar so that she could reach the glasses.
    “It’s almost time to say ‘on with the show.’ But first, Mr. Calloway has a few words. As some of you may know, one of our best singers, Deana Burroughs, died last night.” Michael’s voice faltered and he cleared his throat. “Mr. Calloway would like you to join us in a moment of quiet reflection.”
    Judy picked up Mr. Calloway with the spot, and followed him to the stage. Then she dimmed, and leaned back, half listening to the words of praise about Deana. Just last night, Mr. Calloway had been mad enough at Deana to kill her. She’d thrown them all off schedule by being late. But now he was praising her, and telling the audience how much they’d all miss her. It was ironic, and Judy almost smiled until she realized that