by Beth Yarnall
“It’s been a long time.” Vivian smiled, batting her eyelashes at him.
My brows bounced up and I stared in openmouthed astonishment. Vivian did know Dhane. From where? When? How? And why in the hell didn’t I know about this?
“And yet you look the same. How is this possible?”
Vivian giggled. Giggled! Viv didn’t do smitten teenager. Not even when she had been a teenager. Um, hello! Somebody was forgetting all about her boyfriend of three years back home.
Juan Carlos nudged me out of the way, hinting at an introduction. But it was as if Dhane and Vivian were alone in the room, their gazes so entwined not even Juan Carlos’s throat clearing and posturing could break their bond. It took a sharp nudge in the shoulder from Juan Carlos for Viv to return to us.
“Oh, sorry. Dhane, I’d like you to meet my friends. This is Juan Carlos. He’s a stylist at my salon and a dear friend.”
Dhane kept ahold of Vivian’s hand while extending his other to shake Juan Carlos’s. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Mine, too,” Juan Carlos purred.
“And this is Azalea, my best friend and business partner.”
Dhane turned his brilliant blues on me. Were it not for the hand he’d clasped, I’d have swooned like a lovesick boy-band fan. “Azalea, so nice to meet you at last.”
At last? I looked a question at Vivian. Boy did my best friend have a lot of explaining to do.
“How long are you in town?” Vivian recaptured Dhane’s attention, leaving Juan Carlos and me to exchange looks of confusion and conjecture.
“I am to stay for the awards and then return to Europe for another event.” They were in the vortex again, just the two of them. “Will you meet me later?”
“Of course.”
Dhane smiled, and I could have sworn a choir of angels sang. “We have much to discuss, no?”
One of the executives tugged Dhane’s sleeve. “She’s waiting. We have to go.”
Dhane cast him an annoyed look mixed with something else—fear, maybe?
“A moment,” he told them, then turned back to Vivian. “I am looking forward to spending time with you.” They exchanged cell phone numbers and a lingering good-bye.
Vivian, Juan Carlos, and I stood shoulder to shoulder, watching Dhane leave. The crowd that had gathered made room for his departure, surreptitiously casting furtive glances at him in that way you do with celebrities when you recognize them but don’t want to pester them. A few gave Vivian curious looks, no doubt wondering if she was someone they should recognize. A few others didn’t bother to hide their jealousy before they turned their backs and followed Dhane.
I shoved Vivian’s shoulder. “Why did I not know that you knew Dhane?”
Juan Carlos joined in. “I cannot believe it! I should shun you. This is unforgivable…but I might consider forgiveness if you tell all. And I do mean all.”
Vivian spun away, leaving us to scramble after her.
“Come on, Viv. How’d you meet him? How long have you known him?” I would have continued peppering her with questions, but she stopped me with a, “Ssh” and a, “Not here.”
Juan Carlos and I followed her out into a hallway and down a corridor to a small, out of the way windowed alcove with a view of the famous Las Vegas strip.
“Okay, you can’t repeat what I’m about to tell you, got it?” She seemed nervous, casting furtive glances around as though she were about to give up state secrets or something.
Juan Carlos and I bobbed our heads. In that moment, we would have traded our finely honed, ridiculously expensive hair-cutting shears to hear what she had to say.
“All right.” She cast a wary eye around us, making sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “I met Dhane when I was sixteen during the summer I went to stay with my aunt Tita in Wichita.”
So just before Vivian and I had met in beauty school. I felt a little pang of jealousy at the thought that Dhane had known her longer than I did.
“She’d just had twins and my mom sent me to help her, since all of our family is in California.” Vivian paused. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this. I promised.”
“We won’t tell. We swear.” I glanced at Juan Carlos to get his agreement.
“Absolutely,” Juan Carlos agreed. “Even if you dipped me in hot oil and pulled my fingernails out one by one. Or did that water-torture thing with the drips on the forehead, my lips would stay sealed. Cross my heart, hope to die—”
Vivian stopped him with a hand. “Got it. You won’t tell.” She took a deep breath and another look around. “Aunt Tita had put the babies down for a nap, so I had some free time. I decided to go for a walk.”
She stopped again and looked out the window, but her gaze was unfocused, as if she were looking more within than without. I got the impression that she’d buried this part of her past so deep for so long that it took a great deal of effort for her to pry it loose.
After a moment, she continued, “I was walking, not really paying much attention to what I was doing. I was just so glad to be out of the house. It was hot, really hot. I put a hand up to wipe the sweat off my forehead and that’s when I got grabbed from behind and pulled into a space between two apartment buildings.”
She turned and paced a couple of steps away, then back again. “I was scared out of my mind. I thought he’d kill me. He told me to give him my watch and the pearl earrings I got from my grandma for my fourteenth birthday. He was big, huge. Like I said, I was really afraid. But my grandma had given me those earrings right before she died. I couldn’t just hand them over.”
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, hugging herself. “He hit me. I went down and stayed down. I figured if he thought I was dead, he’d leave me alone.” She rubbed her arms. “But he didn’t. He bent down over me. I held my breath and tried to be as still as possible. And then he was on top of me. I panicked and screamed, kicking and hitting at him, but he was just too heavy.”
“Oh, Viv.” I took a step toward her, but she waved me off.
“I’m fine. I was fine because of Dhane. Only his name wasn’t Dhane then.”
Juan Carlos’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What…what happened? Go back. What happened with the guy?”
“He was heavy because he’d been hit in the head with a brick. Dhane hit him. He saved me.” I could tell her emotions were right there at the surface, reflecting in her dark brown eyes.
“Then what?” I asked, knowing there had to be more, a lot more.
“Dhane was skinny then, you know, in that young kid, gangly kind of way. But he was really cute even then.” She cracked a hint of that secretive smile I was already beginning to associate with Dhane. “He helped me up and then he handed me my watch back, but not before he’d kicked the guy in the gut.” She laughed. “I think I fell for him right then.”
“You and Dhane?” Juan Carlos asked with more than a hint of awe and an obvious twinge of envy.
“Well, no. I was a good Catholic girl. But we did fool around a bit.” She looked off, that grin playing around her mouth again. “I sneaked out as often as I could to see him. And then the summer was over and I had to go back home.”
“Did you see him again?” I asked.
“Yes, a few more times. Another summer and then he came out to see me. By then I was in beauty school and we were just friends. I showed him a little of what I was learning. He picked it up quickly. He had a natural talent for working with hair.”
“You said that his name wasn’t Dhane then,” Juan Carlos reminded her.
She looked confused. “I did?”
We nodded.
“Oh, well, I guess he wanted a new identity, a new name. His home life wasn’t the greatest and he wanted to distance himself from it. He came up with the name Dhane and I thought it fit.”
“Wow, you helped create Dhane.” Juan Carlos said this as if Vivian had invented a flying car or something.
“No, Dhane created Dhane. He worked really hard and he deserves his succ
ess.”
“What was his real name?” I asked.
She shook her head, scanning the small alcove as if she’d already said too much. “That’s for Dhane to tell.”
“If he’s from Kansas, then how’d he get the accent?” Juan Carlos asked.
“It was part of reinventing himself.” She bit her lip, and her voice took on a pleading, desperate tone. “Look, please don’t say anything to anybody. This is important. Please promise me you’ll keep what I’m telling you to yourself.”
She’d told us everything she was going to, and I got the impression she regretted even that small amount. I examined Vivian’s face in that way we did when we wanted to know what the other is thinking. She avoided meeting my eyes.
I knew Vivian better than I knew myself. There was something else going on here. And as soon as I could get her alone, I was going to find out just what that was. The one thing I knew for sure was that Vivian seemed very protective of Dhane, and keeping his secret was extremely important to her. Being the keeper of more than a few of my secrets, I knew Viv would never spill Dhane’s.
I also knew without a doubt that the story she’d told us was at best incomplete and at worst a total and complete lie.
Giving her my word of honor to keep what she’d told us to myself, I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d left out…and why.
Want to read more Dyed and Gone? Click here.
FIND ME, MAGGIE
Beth Yarnall
Copyright © 2014, 2017 Elizabeth A. Yarnall
All rights reserved under the Pan-American and International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.
Digital ISBN: 978-1940811765
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
About the Author
Award-winning author Beth Yarnall writes mysteries, romantic suspense and the occasional hilarious blog post. A storyteller since her playground days, Beth remembers her friends asking her to make up stories of how the person “died” in the slumber-party game Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board, so it’s little wonder she prefers writing stories in which people meet unfortunate ends. In middle school, she discovered romance novels, which inspired her to write a spoof of soap operas for the school’s newspaper. She hasn't stopped writing since.
For a number of years, Beth made her living as a hairstylist and makeup artist and at one time owned a salon. Somehow, hairstylists and salons always seem to find their way into her stories. Beth lives in Southern California with her husband, two sons and their rescue dog where she is hard at work on her next novel.
For more information about Beth and her novels please visit her website: www.bethyarnall.com.
You can also visit with Beth on
Facebook—BethYarnallAuthor
Twitter—@BethYarnall
BOOKS BY BETH YARNALL
Now Available:
Maggie Mae Misadventures
Wake Up, Maggie
You’re Mine, Maggie
Find Me, Maggie
Pleasure at Home
Rush
Lush
Recovered Innocence
Vindicate
Atone
Reclaim
Azalea March Mysteries
Dyed and Gone
Stand Alone Titles
A Deep and Dark December
Crafting Unputdownable Fiction
Making Description Work Hard For You
Going Deep Into Deep Point of View
Coming Soon:
Gods of Redemption
Far From Honest
Far From Free
Far From Safe
Audio Books:
A Deep and Dark December
Rush
Lush