by Sarah Hegger
“Wow!” The kitchen looked cleaner than when she had lived there. “Brett again?”
“Yup.”
“That doesn’t sound like Brett.”
“You’d be surprised.” Dixie filled the coffee maker and started it.
Blythe pointed to it. “Is that new?”
“Yup.” She spooned grounds into the top. “Brett threatened to break Barron’s legs if he came anywhere near it.”
“What did Barron do?” Blythe pictured a throw down of epic proportions.
“Screwed if I know.” Dixie shrugged, flipped the switch, and then leaned her back against the scrubbed counter. “He gave Brett a bit of lip about that and the tidying, and Brett threw him out.”
Blythe gaped. She couldn’t help it. Barron had been Brett’s mini-me, then later his sidekick. The only reason Barron hadn’t followed Brett into prison was because Brett had taken the fall for both of them, and then had made Barron swear not to speak up.
“Right?” Dixie shook her head. “Never would have thought I saw that coming. Barron tried to throw down as well, but Brett wasn’t having none of that. He lit right into him.” She pulled a face. “I’m sorry, honey, but they broke your grandma’s bureau in the fight that followed.”
“That’s okay.” When you had history like she did, you didn’t get sentimentally attached to stuff. Plus, she still couldn’t make sense of Barron and Brett falling out.
“Look who’s here.” Bo slouched in the doorway and sneered at her. “Aren’t you all fancy. Sure you want to be here and risk getting your new duds dirty?”
Blythe knew better than to flinch or back down. “Hi Bo. You look just the same.”
“Then you aren’t paying close enough attention.” Dixie chuckled. “Brett lined him and Becker up outside and hosed them down. Said they couldn’t come back in this house until they didn’t stink no more.”
Bo flushed. “Watch yourself, Dixie. Ben ain’t here right now, and he wouldn’t do shit if I taught you some manners anyhow.”
“Nah.” Dixie sashayed up to Bo and poked him in the chest with one silver acrylic nail. “You watch yourself, Bo Barrows, because your mean big brother has his eye on you, and he won’t like the way you’re speaking to me or our Blythie.”
In Blythe’s case, Brett would probably ask her other brothers to hold her while he did the manner teaching, but Brett had had a soft spot for Dixie. Blythe had once overheard him tell Carly that Dixie would be the making of Ben. Even at his most violent, Brett had been smarter than the rest, and with moments of kindness that made him impossible to read from one day to the next.
“Brett was real interested to hear where you live now.” Bo looked sly. “Wanted to hear all about that new, fancy place you got yourself, and how you and Wheeler and Kim was living there now. Like the three of you was better than the rest of us.”
“I don’t think that,” she said. Bo didn’t scare her. He was a loudmouth and a jerk but he lacked the streak of pure mean that Brett and Barron shared. “I pretty much know it.”
“Bitch.” Bo curled his lip up.
Blythe didn’t break the stare down. “And Brett has already been ’round my place, so you got nothing.”
“Shouldn’t you be running along?” Dixie shooed him with her hands. “I would hate to be you telling Brett how you spent another day lying around the house when you should be doing that job he got for you.”
“I got the day off.” Bo sneered at Dixie. “Shows how much you know about it.”
Blythe gaped at Dixie, for the second time today. “Brett got them jobs?”
“He sure did.” Dixie fetched coffee cups out and set them on a tray. “Told them they couldn’t live here unless they started chipping in for food and stuff. Get this.” Dixie leaned in with mischief dancing in her eyes. “Brett has them working construction at the same site where he works security.” Dixie chuckled. “Same place Barron was fired from the week before.”
Blythe’s belly twisted. Eric had himself embroiled in all her brothers it seemed. The only one missing was Bart and he was serving time still.
She had warned him, or tried to. That hadn’t gone as planned at all, and she couldn’t risk a repeat.
“Blythe?” Carly appeared behind Bo and peered at her through surprisingly lucid eyes. “Is that you?”
“Hi, Mom.”
Bo shifted to the side and Carly walked into the kitchen.
Her bathrobe was clean, and her hair brushed. She had more color in her face but was still desperately thin. There was something else different about her that Blythe couldn’t put her finger on.
“I’m okay.” Carly slunk over to the table and sat. “You know I get all these headaches, but I live with them. I don’t like to complain.” She leaned over the coffee cups. “Is there one for me?”
“Sure, Ma.” Dixie gave her a smile. She was always kind to Carly, which is one of the reasons Blythe had always liked Dixie. “I even brought some of those cookies you like so much.”
“I’m not sure I can eat.” Carly grimaced. “I don’t know if my stomach can take it.”
Dixie put a plate of cookies on the table in front of her. “Well, you think about it and if you decide you might be up to it, give one a try.”
Bo leaned in.
“There’s a cup here for you too,” Dixie said. “And you’re welcome to join us as soon as you stop acting like a jackass to Blythe.”
He muttered but flung himself over to the table and took a chair.
“Is Brett here?” Carly perked up and looked about her.
Blythe certainly hoped not.
“No, Ma. He’s at work,” Dixie said. “He’ll be home later, and he promised to take you for a drive.”
“I don’t know.” Carly chewed her lip. Her glance bounced around the kitchen. “I don’t feel right leaving this house. What if I have a fit or something?”
Bo snorted. “You won’t have a fit. Not unless he drives you past a liquor store.”
“Hey.” Dixie cracked him across the head. “She’s trying.”
It hit Blythe what was different about her mother. The constant smell of cigarettes and alcohol wasn’t clinging to Carly.
“Like that’s going to stick,” Bo said.
“Don’t be a dick.” Dixie snatched the cookies away from Bo. “Your ma is trying and that’s a lot more than I can say for you.”
“Dixie,” Bo whined. “I don’t mean nothing by it. Just trying to be funny is all.”
“How is Kim?” Carly’s hands shook so badly, she could barely lift the coffee mug. The desperation to know in her eyes twisted Blythe’s heart.
“She’s really good, Mom.” Blythe steadied the cup so Carly could sip her coffee. “She’s going to a regular kindergarten, and she loves it. They tell me she’s one of the smartest in her class.”
Carly’s eyes filled with tears. In a drunken doldrum, Carly had once confessed her fears to Blythe about Kim and fetal alcohol syndrome.
“She looks just like you.” Blythe tucked a piece of hair behind Carly’s ear and helped her put her mug down. “She has your exact hair. So pretty, and your eyes.”
“Brett said if I work real hard on not drinking, he would talk to you about letting me see her.”
The plea in Carly’s eyes yanked Blythe’s heart out. She really hadn’t taken Kim from the house to hurt her mother. Incompetent mother though she was, Carly still loved all her children. “If you work hard on your not drinking, of course you can see her. She misses you.”
“She does?”
God help her, but surely a little white lie couldn’t hurt. Maybe it would give Carly a life raft to cling to, because despite their history, deep inside Blythe was a little girl who desperately wanted to see her mother recover. “Of course she does. You’re her mama, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.�
� Carly sniffed and drew strength from a hidden reservoir and sat up straighter. “I am her mother, and a girl needs her mother. I’m gonna make sure I come right for my little girl.”
Not for your other little girl, though. Blythe didn’t tolerate self-pity but there were times when it snuck up on her. “That’s right, Mom. A girl needs her mother.”
She didn’t stay much longer. Carly drank her coffee, ate a couple of cookies and went back to bed. Bo managed to be silently belligerent, which she took as a win.
Dixie walked her out. “You doing okay?”
“Yes.” Blythe managed a big smile. “I’m not a big fan of coming back here.”
“I get that.” Dixie snorted. “You look great, no doubt about that but you feel…sad.”
Blythe had never told anyone in her family about Eric. “I’m fine.”
Dixie studied her, as if debating whether to push the matter or not. She nodded. “If you say so.”
Becker rode in as she reached her car.
He passed her without even a wave, which was fine by Blythe.
“Listen, about Brett.” Dixie leaned on Blythe’s open car door. “I know how you feel about him, and I know why. Don’t blame you one bit. But he does seem different.”
“Really?” Blythe didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. Just like the Pats of this world, the Bretts didn’t change. He might be getting everyone in the house moving and shaking, but she’d lay money on him having an ulterior motive.
Dixie grinned as if she read Blythe’s mind. “I don’t blame you for thinking I’m talking shit. Like you, I grew up around here, and there’s only so many times you can trust that people turn over a new leaf. Only so many times that new leaf slaps you in the face before you wise up.”
“I can’t take that chance around Kim,” Blythe said. “So far, she’s had a Brett-free life, and that’s a good thing.”
Dixie nodded and stepped back. “You know best what you’re doing, and I’m not going to argue with you. I’m only telling you what I’ve seen.”
Blythe kissed her cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Dixie. Ben is lucky to have you.”
“Don’t I know it.” Dixie snorted. “And I remind him of that fact every chance I can.”
Laughing, Blythe started her car and drove away. She would be on time to fetch Kim, and she left Will a message to say as much.
A red pickup headed down the road toward her. An older model, it looked like it needed some love and attention.
The pickup drew level with her, and the driver turned his head.
They recognized each other instantly.
Brett’s head whipped around, and he stared.
Blythe froze and snapped her eyes away. Her heart jumped into her throat.
In her rearview mirror, the pickup slowed and pulled to the shoulder.
She grabbed her phone and went for Eric’s number. Shit! She’d deleted it days ago. Will would be no good.
The pickup sat by the side of the road, and then pulled back into its lane and carried on its way.
Blythe’s breath rushed out of her mouth. Shit, that had been close. Too close.
As soon as she could, she pulled into a strip mall parking lot and stopped her car. She took a few deep breaths to regain her composure.
A knock on her car window made her shriek.
Chase Gunning stared back at her. “Blythe?”
She rolled her window down, relief making her giddy. “Chase, you scared me.”
“Are you okay?” Chase frowned at her. “You’re sheet white.”
“I got a fright.” She managed to string words together. “It was something on the road that scared me.” A six-six, two hundred pound something with a bad attitude. The strip mall she had pulled into didn’t seem Chase’s sort of place. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you.” He gave her a disarming grin, and then he said, “No, I have a few associates I was seeing.”
“Around here?” Blythe knew what sort of people hung around there, and Chase didn’t belong.
He waved a dismissive hand. “From way back. More of a social thing.”
“Okay.” Blythe’s pulse headed for normal. “Thanks for checking on me. I need to get going.”
“It’s time to pick up your sister, isn’t it?” Chase checked his watch.
“Yes.” It surprised her that he’d remembered that detail. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
“Right.” Chase stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was…um…wondering if you have a no fraternization rule with your clients.”
“Sorry?” She hadn’t seen that coming. “Um, no, I mean yes, I do have a rule about that. I don’t fraternize.”
“That’s what I thought.” Chase gave a curt nod. “But if you did…”
She needed to shut him down. Even if she didn’t date her clients, she was far from ready. Keeping her tone firm but gentle, she said, “But I don’t, Chase.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It took Blythe three days to stop checking over her shoulder all the time, and another two to be comfortable leaving her house without fearing Brett lurking in the shadows. She spoke to the kindergarten about him and left clear instructions that Kim was not to be entrusted to him.
By the next week, she had relaxed as much as she could with Brett out of prison. It probably wouldn’t be long before he landed himself in trouble again. He may have Dixie fooled but Blythe had seen right into his cold, black heart, and she really didn’t want another peek.
She arrived at the gym to train one of her favorite clients. Bonnie had come to her severely overweight with a number of related health problems. Two years later Bonnie was off her blood pressure medication and was no longer heading for diabetes.
Clients like Bonnie made Blythe love her job.
She walked over to the treadmill where Bonnie was already warming up. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Bonnie beamed at her. “Down another two pounds this morning.”
Blythe held her hand up. “Congratulations. You’re killing it.”
“Thought I’d get myself a box of donuts to celebrate.” Bonnie winked at her.
“Agrippina.” Phi’s unmistakable voice vibrated across the gym. “Why, this place is a veritable smorgasbord of delicious young flesh.”
Bonnie almost missed her step on the treadmill. “Who is that?”
“That’s one of the best ladies in the world.” Blythe didn’t want to modulate the huge grin that spread over her face.
Phi sailed through the gym with Pippa in her wake. “If I’d only known.” She winked at Randy, who almost dropped a forty-pound weight on his foot. “All this time, and I have remained in ignorance. I knew there had to be a reason people came to these places.”
“They come here to stay in shape, Phi.” Pippa had Jasmine in her arms. “Not to be gawped at.”
“If they do not want to be gawped at, they should wear more clothing.” Phi stopped to study Connor, who was busy training for an upcoming fight. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Connor blushed, and Blythe took pity on the rest of the gym.
“I’ll be right back,” she said to Bonnie and approached Phi and Pippa. “Were you looking for me?”
“Blythe, darling.” Phi threw open her arms and enveloped her in patchouli. “How lovely to see you.” She put Blythe at arm’s length. “You look fabulous. Doesn’t she look fabulous, Agrippina?”
“She looked fabulous before.” Pippa leaned over and kissed Blythe on the cheek. “I have no idea why I thought bringing her here would be a good idea.”
“I can hear you.” Phi breathed a deep, happy sigh. “I do so love it here.” She waggled her fingers at a group of college students working on their quads. “Keep it up, boys.”
“That’s what sh
e said.” Pippa snickered.
Phi whirled around, her purple, pleated caftan belling out around her in a jingle of tiny bells sewn along the bottom. “Did you tell her?”
“Not yet.” Pippa handed Jasmine over to Phi. “Keep your great grandmother out of trouble,” she said to her daughter.
“Tell her.” Phi shifted from foot to foot. “We came all this way to tell her.” She raised her voice. “Into this place, which although is filled with lovely looking boys, is also a touch malodorous.”
Pippa rolled her eyes. “I’ll apologize to the management.”
“No need.” Blythe enjoyed the Phi show too much to take offense, and she had the feeling everyone else did as well. “He needs to get stronger extractor fans.”
Pippa’s green eyes sparkled. “It turns out Bernie, the cameraman, got a mite carried away taking footage of you.” She lowered her voice. “We suspect he might have a bit of a crush.”
Heat climbed Blythe’s cheeks.
“And Chris Germaine saw the footage of you.”
Everybody who owned a television knew who Chris Germaine was, the first lady of talk show television. She was also the power behind Pippa’s show, Your Best You.
“Chris loved everything about you,” Pippa said, and Blythe forgot to breathe for a second. “And she’s never wrong about who is going to work on the small screen and who isn’t.”
Blythe was sure she looked all kinds of stupid with a goofy grin all over her face. “Thanks for letting me know. That’s very flattering.”
“That’s not the best part.” Phi poked Pippa. “Tell her the best part.”
“I was getting to that.” Pippa threw her grandmother a fond, exasperated glance. “Chris wants you to take a regular role in the new season.”
The words entered Blythe’s brain and sat there like discombobulated goo. “She wants what?”
“She wants you to be part of the show. A feature.”
“Oh.” Bonnie breathed from beside her. “Blythe would be wonderful at that.”
She had no idea when Bonnie had arrived, but she must have heard most of the conversation. “On television?”