“What I—”
“It’s good livin’ and my cookin’,” Honey said.
Charlie grabbed a menu from behind the napkin dispenser and studied it. “That’s right. Good country living and Honey’s delicious food.”
He must’ve really pissed her off, because she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
Wardell shook his head. “I don’t see how she’s gained any weight with as sick as she’s been.”
What? “You’ve been sick?” The desire to make sure she was okay was intense and so inappropriate.
She waved him off. “A virus. I’m all better now.”
“It’s lasted longer than it should,” Wardell supplied. He held his thumb and forefinger close together. “I’m this close to sending her to Doc Sanders.”
“Oh, Lord, don’t send her to that quack. That man doesn’t know a stethoscope from a hole in the ground.” Honey stood and held out her hand. “Wardell, come with me. Sally Pruitt’s over there, and she’s been wanting to say hello and see how you are. I wouldn’t let her come to the house, or we’d never get rid of her, but we should go say hi, that way we can leave when we want. Charlie, we both want the chicken-fried steak with all the fixins.” She glanced at Hank. “’Scuse us.”
“Sure.”
Once they left, he and Charlie sat for several seconds in silence. They each took turns staring at the same spot on the linoleum tabletop. The awkward vibe strumming between them played an off-key chord. He closed his eyes and sucked her wildflowers-after-a-spring-rain scent deep into his lungs. When he raised his lids, she had him in a dead-eyed stare.
He should leave.
Go home to his wife and enjoy the evening with her. But he still owed Charlie an explanation. He’d stay to give her one if she’d let him.
Also, he was a masochist.
* * *
Charlie’s brain was whirring like the buzzing fan on the counter of the restaurant. What in the ever-lovin’ hell just happened? She owed Honey for getting her grandfather out of there for a minute.
“So, you’ve been sick?”
Are you kidding me? She needed to nip this in the bud right now. “Yes, Hank. Do you really want to sit through the retelling of my adventures in regurgitation?”
He chuckled and rested his arms on the table. “You’ve still got a sassy mouth.”
She gave him a flat stare and tried to ignore the fiesta going on in her girly parts at the sound of him talking about her mouth. Her brain, playing the role of the crabby neighbor to her party-loving anatomy, tried to put a stop to all the yummy vibes assaulting her. “Remind me again, you’re married, right?”
He dropped his head and took a long breath. The pain in his eyes when he glanced up at her made her want to crawl across the table and curl into his lap. It physically hurt her to see him so…tortured was the only word. “Charlie, I’m so sorry. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you. Please believe that.”
Truth rang clear as a bell in the words. “I believe you.” It was out of her mouth before she knew she was going to say it. But the sincerity of what he’d said drew them out of her like a snake charmer.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“I wish there was a way to make it up to you. I—you mean so much to me.” His expression pleaded for her to understand.
She didn’t, but she could accept his earnest apology. Maybe Honey was right, maybe she should tell him about The Pod. He cared for her. They could work something out. “Hank—”
“But I do need you to know that even though I’m sorrier than you can imagine, I’m committed to making my marriage work. I made a vow, and it’s the right thing to do.”
“And you always do the right thing.”
He shrugged. “I try.”
And there it was. This was who this man was, and she wouldn’t get in the way of him doing what he thought was right. Her secret would stay her secret until he and his wife could get on firmer footing. She would tell him eventually, but not right now. “So, I guess the boy did turn into an honorable man.” She hoped the sadness behind her smile didn’t show, but when she saw the same emotion in his eyes, she knew it did.
He bit his lip and glanced away. “You know, I think I’m going to get my food to go. Tell Wardell and Honey thank you and that I’ll take a raincheck.” He stood to leave.
“I will. Bye, Hank.” She had to maneuver the words around the mass of emotion in her throat. The smell of stale fries and her own disappointment chased away her appetite.
He lingered next to the table with one hand in his pocket, tapping the surface with the fingers of his other hand like he was trying to make a decision. After several long moments, he blew out a gust of air. “Goodbye, Charlie.”
* * *
With every mile he drove from the diner, Hank put Charlie farther and farther behind him. He wouldn’t lie to himself and say it didn’t hurt, but nobody could mind over matter shit better than him. Now that he’d been able to apologize, he could put her out of his thoughts and concentrate on his marriage.
Speaking of mind over matter. The lights of his house were on when he pulled into his driveway, and he could see Karen talking on the phone and pacing in the front room. She gestured wildly then dropped into a chair.
Suspicion snuck past his resolve to make this marriage whole again. He shoved it aside. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, and he wouldn’t let insecurity beat him.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out. “Hank Odom.”
“Sheriff Odom, this is Agent John Sheridan. I’m with the DEA.”
The Drug Enforcement Administration? He transferred the phone to his other hand and unbuckled his seatbelt. “What can I do for you, Agent Sheridan?”
“I’d like to set up a meeting with you tomorrow.”
He exited the car and leaned his butt against the closed door. “Alright. What’s this about?”
“I’d rather not say over the phone. Does 10 a.m. at your office work for you?”
“That’ll work.”
“Great, see you tomorrow.”
“See ya then.”
What the hell? There was obviously trouble here in Blister County. A charge of excitement shot through him. He passed his phone from hand to hand. It was doubtful the DEA wanted his help—it was probably a courtesy call to let him know they were investigating something and he should stay out of their way.
He pocketed his keys and made his way inside. “Hey.”
Karen was curled into the corner of the sofa with a glass of wine in one hand and her phone in the other. She dropped the phone into her lap when she saw him. “Hey.” The edges of her smile looked like one of those old faded photos in his mom’s attic.
He slid the to-go box onto the table. “Let me grab a fork and beer and I’ll join you.”
She rose from the sofa. “Actually, I was about to head to bed. It’s been a long day, and I’ve got a headache.” She placed her hand on his arm and kissed his cheek. “Night, babe.”
“Night.”
He hated to admit that he was relieved when the bedroom door closed. While he was committed to working this thing out, he couldn’t deny that he was still nursing a grudge. He’d get over it. He wasn’t weak minded. He’d overcome these feelings. He would.
Once he finished eating, he sat back on the sofa with his beer, a ballgame, and his wife asleep down the hall. Was he happy? Not really. But this could be enough for now. And besides, happy was overrated. What defined a man was his word and if he could keep it or not.
Chapter Ten
Charlie sang along with the song on her phone and whipped her latest batch of body butter with her hand mixer. The smell of tangerine and honeysuckle filled the kitchen. This recipe she’d created to prevent stretch marks.
She’d gotten the idea while reading her pregnancy book the night before, then she’d combed through her grandmother’s recipes and pieced together what she hoped would be something amazing. If it didn’t hel
p with stretch marks maybe the smell would make women feel so good they wouldn’t care if they had stretch marks.
The little happy sphere she lived in while she was creating helped shave off the sharp edges of her broken heart and her panic, the evil twins that were her constant companions. In a lot of ways, real life sucked.
The truth was, life in the never-never land of Hollywood had shielded her from reality. There’d been moments in the last couple of months that she’d longed to retreat back into that cocoon. She could call Ron, beg for forgiveness. Then he and Marci would take care of her. They’d make the hard decisions and she wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. But every day that she wasn’t in La-La Land, she found that she had less and less desire to go back. No matter how hard her current life situation was.
Being a star had never really been her dream. Sure, she’d been excited in the beginning. It was thrilling to be the center of so much attention, but pretty soon after the production of the show began, she felt the undeniable pressure of being responsible for the jobs and livelihoods of the cast and crew. People with children and mortgages relied on her to deliver every single day, and that was overwhelming for a sixteen-year-old kid.
She thought of her grandfather and The Pod. They were her responsibility now, and somehow she’d figure out a way to make this all work.
Anger scorched her from the inside out, when she thought of the thousands of dollars in residuals from Charlie Takes the Town that could make this whole mess go away, but were instead going to pay off her astronomical IRS debt.
Several cleansing breaths to calm her resentment toward her mother, and she was on firmer emotional footing. For the millionth time, she wracked her brain as to why her mother would’ve done such a thing to her, and for the millionth time there were no answers. The only thing she knew for sure was that she’d have to get a job sooner rather than later.
“Oh, that smells wonderful.” Honey stood in the doorway of the kitchen with her head tilted up and her eyes closed.
“Thanks. It’s something new I’m trying.” She lined up empty lotion jars she’d ordered off the internet.
Honey picked up her recipe. “These ingredients are lovely. Your grandmother was a genius.”
Pride pounded through Charlie’s chest. “Actually, this is mine. I took a little from several of Gram’s recipes. But I was reading about skin care while you’re pregnant.” She whispered the last word. “This is for stretch marks.”
“Really? Darlin’, you have a talent. I gave Scarlett one of the bottles you gave me and she hasn’t stopped talking about it. She loves it.” Honey went to the fridge and grabbed them both a bottle of water. “She said you should sell the stuff.”
Charlie laughed. “That’s what my makeup artist and hair stylist used to say.”
“Why don’t you?”
She removed the pot from the burner. “Why don’t I what?”
Honey set the water next to her on the counter. “Sell it. You said you needed a job.”
“Honey, that’s not a job, that’s a business. I don’t know anything about running a skin care business.”
“Yet.”
“What?”
“You don’t know anything about running a skincare business, yet.” She patted Charlie’s cheek.
The woman had lost it. She was Charlie Kay, child star, not an entrepreneur. Her education once she moved to Hollywood had been spotty at best and neglected at worst. “I didn’t go to college. I mean, I’ve taken a few business classes online, but that’s not the same as attending college.”
Honey shrugged. “I don’t think you have to have a degree to run a business, but if you feel like you need some more classes, then take them.”
“It’s not that simple. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to set up a business, or how distribution works, or anything.”
“Isn’t that what the Google is for? We had a speaker at the senior center that said she taught herself to make colored paper from that thing where you can watch all the videos?”
“YouTube?”
Honey nodded. “Yeah, that’s it.”
The lotion was poured into the bottles. “Hand me that towel, please.”
Honey retrieved the towel from the kitchen table and handed it to her. “Plus, your grandfather ran the Zachsville Feed Store for forty years. He might not have owned the place, but he sure as shootin’ ran the day-to-day operation.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m likin’ this idea.”
Charlie used the towel to clean the bottles. “Well, I’m not. Can we talk about something else?”
“Okay, let’s talk about what you and Hank were in such a deep conversation about last night when Wardell and I left the table.”
“Yeah, thanks for that, by the way.”
The meddler pulled out a chair, sat, and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for a full report. “Spill.”
Charlie tossed the towel over the back of a kitchen chair. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, mimicking Honey. “Nothing to tell. He apologized. And I accepted. Then he left to go home to his wife.” She shrugged. “Pretty uneventful.”
What a crock. It was the turning point in her life. He was officially out of reach. Sadly, there’d still been a tiny part of her that’d wished it would all work out. That she could finally have the picket-fence lifestyle she’d always wanted with Hank and The Pod, but she knew now that it would never happen. Not with him, anyway.
You can still have that. You can make it happen for The Pod and you.
She didn’t really believe that yet, but she had a minuscule hope that it was true. She didn’t know how. But she’d get through this. She’d get a job and make a life for herself.
“Oh, my Lord.” Honey looked up from her phone.
“What? Is it Pops?”
“No.” She slapped her hand on the table. “I should’ve let Wardell at that manager of yours when he was here.”
“You’ve lost me, Honey.”
Honey held her phone out to her. “I get updates from People magazine.”
Charlie yanked the phone from her hand and read.
Is Charlie Kay okay?
Ron Gaylord, the former manager of Charlie Kay, who starred in the Carousel Network’s Charlie Takes the Town, said in an interview yesterday that Charlie recently fired her whole team, and implied that she may be mentally unstable.
“I fear that Charlie may be losing her grip on reality. We’re all concerned for her, but I’m afraid that she may have turned a bend that we can’t get her back from. We’re all praying for her.”
It should also be stated that while Mr. Gaylord may be praying for Charlie Kay, he also said he hadn’t ruled out filing a breach of contract suit against his former client.
She dropped into the chair next to Honey. She kept rereading the article like maybe if she looked at it enough times the words would rearrange themselves into something not so soul crushing. Then she dropped her head on her folded arms. “Ron, you vicious bastard.”
“I could just spit fire. I’m so mad.” Honey sucked in a sharp breath. “I just had a horrible thought. What if he leaks to the press that you’re pregnant?”
Charlie never looked up. She continued to hide behind her crossed arms. “He won’t.”
“Why wouldn’t he? He obviously wants to make you look as bad as possible.”
She turned her head so she could see Honey. “It makes him look bad if his star client went rogue and got herself pregnant. A manager is supposed to be able to manage any and every circumstance. He didn’t.” Her elbows stayed on the table, but her hands came up to cradle her forehead. “Oh, this is bad.”
Honey reached over and stroked her head. “We’ll figure something out. I promise. You and this baby will be taken care of. It’ll be alright, darlin’.”
“No, it won’t. Nobody is going to hire me, inside of Hollywood or out, if they think I’m unhinged. And how am I going to fight a law suit? It’ll take what little money I have to
defend myself against that.” Her chair screeched as she shoved away from the table. “I need to call my attorney after I clean up this mess.” She rose and started to clean up her supplies.
“I’ll get this, Charlie. Why don’t you go take a nap? Things will look better after you rest.”
Tears stung her eyes at Honey’s generosity. “Thank you.”
She climbed the back stairs to her room. She appreciated the save, but Honey was wrong. In an hour, things would be so much worse. By then every entertainment news agency would have the story and there wouldn’t be one person who didn’t think she was having a nervous breakdown.
Which, ironically, wasn’t far from the truth.
Chapter Eleven
Hank answered his phone on the first ring. “How’s my favorite sister-in-law?” Hank hung his hat on the coat rack in his office, nearly dropping his phone in the process.
“I’m not your sister-in-law anymore, Hank,” Hailey reminded him.
He opened the office blinds and took a seat at his desk. Anger at Derek, his witless brother, made his chest burn. “You’re still my favorite.”
She laughed. “You know Roxanne and I talk. We keep score on which of us is your favorite.”
He chuckled. “You’re both my favorite. I love y’all, and you know you can count on me for anything.”
“I’m really glad you said that. Is there any way you can grab Lottie after school and bring her to the bar? I have to interview some people today. My dad and Irene are meeting with their wedding planner, and Derek is…well…”
He clicked a pen and wondered how someone as great as Hailey had ended up with his good-for-nothing brother. “Sure. Remind me what time she gets done?”
“Three thirty.”
“Alright. I’ll put it in my phone. The only thing that would keep me from doing it would be an emergency around here. If that happens, I’ll get Barb to do it.”
Running From the Law Page 7