by Jayne Denker
“You don’t know—”
“Right. I don’t know how paparazzi behave. I don’t know a lot of things. That doesn’t mean I can’t figure it out.”
“It’s not them. It’s what they represent, what they’re a part of. The bigger picture. It’s ugly.”
“You do pretty well.”
“Not half as well as I seem to. And not without having paid a price.”
“That sounds ridiculously ominous.”
“I’ll tell you about it sometime.” He hesitated. Would he make good on that? He wasn’t certain. He wished he could explain everything right then, but those words? They wouldn’t come.
He sighed and leaned against the wall. “I miss you so much.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“I was trying to stay away from you. I thought it would help.”
Celia hesitated, then admitted, “I kept expecting to hear that you’d left town—given up on me and . . . everything else.”
Niall fixed her with a reproachful look. “Celia. I know I’ve been handling all this badly, but I would never . . . I’m not that guy. And you’re not Nora.”
Niall grasped her hand and tugged on her fingers, gently, until she stepped close enough to him that he could put his other hand on her waist. God, she felt so good. The more time he spent apart from her, the more he thought about her. Night after night, it had been just him and the crickets and the silence and the dark, hour after hour, trying to convince himself that keeping a safe distance was for the best. He’d failed.
As if she could read his thoughts—and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she could—Celia softened and put a hand to his cheek. “You look tired.”
He could sleep if she were beside him. Well, eventually. After they took care of a few pressing matters first. But he didn’t tell her that. He just leaned into her touch and said, “I’m all right.”
“You’re not very convincing.”
He shrugged, closing his eyes, focusing only on the sensation of her smooth, cool hand on the side of his face, her fingers straying into the hair at his temple.
“We need another round of secret-telling,” she said.
He stiffened a little, then realized it would never occur to her to ask the questions he was afraid of answering. He nodded.
“Did you know Tiffany was going to come to town?”
“God, no. Trent had said she wanted a public breakup, but I never thought she wanted to do it face-to-face—and I never thought she’d come all the way here.” He paused and dared to joke, “Do you think the town will ever recover?”
Laughing dryly, Celia said, “It might take a while.”
Niall let go of her hand and grasped her hip, pulling her to him completely. “I’m sorry for how I acted that night. I didn’t mean to order you around.”
“I could have handled Tiffany.”
“I know. It was just . . .”
“No more of that protection stuff, please. You sound like my dad.”
“Scary.”
“Bet you never thought you’d have so much in common with him, did you?”
“Can we not talk about your father right now?”
He spread his hands, letting his fingers follow the curve of her hips around to her back. Couldn’t resist touching his lips to hers, lightly—once, twice.
“Niall,” she whispered, “promise you won’t shut me out.”
“I—”
“I said I was in this, and I meant it.”
“I worry.”
She sighed, lowered her eyes, and it was as though a light had gone out. “What, then? Do you want to end this—before we even start? Because if you do, you’re going to have to let me go right now.”
“No,” he murmured.
“No what?”
“I don’t want to end things. I want to start things. And I can’t for the life of me let you go.”
At that, Celia wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, into a deep kiss that made him forget how to breathe. He broke it only to recover, yet found himself trailing kisses along her cheek, to her ear, down her throat. Celia squirmed and groaned, but she didn’t push him away. He held her even tighter, wanting to feel her every curve against his body as he returned to the haven of her mouth again.
A bellow from the top of the stairs made them both jump. “Contestants! Let’s get a move on! Nora and Laurie are next! Let’s go!”
Celia took a step back. “Looks like Ray’s ready to start.”
“Guess so.” He gave her a rueful grin and ran his fingers through his hair. How was he going to get back into emcee mode now?
Laurie brushed past them in the narrow hallway. “ ’Scuse me,” she murmured, carefully avoiding looking in Celia’s direction. Niall saw Celia stiffen but put a smile on her face, even if the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Um, Niall? Have you seen Nora?”
“Not lately, but she’s around here someplace. I’m sure she’ll be up there in a second.” Laurie looked doubtful, so Niall called up the steps, “Ray? Where’s Nora?”
“She’s here,” Ray called back.
“There you go.” Niall smiled reassuringly at the young woman and patted her on the shoulder. “Up you get. I’ll be right behind you. Break a leg.”
She smiled at him gratefully, ducked her head, and went up to the stage level. Sure enough, Nora was already in the wings, standing in the narrow space between two pulled curtains, staring straight ahead at the empty stage. Niall started to move past her, and when he did, he realized she was absolutely rigid, her face dead white.
“Nora? You okay?”
No answer.
“Hey.” He stepped in front of her to block the distracting, and likely terrifying, view of the stage. “Talk to me.”
Still no answer. Then, “I can’t.”
“Nora, honey,” he wheedled, keenly aware of the seconds slipping by until they had to start the second half of the program, “we’ve been over this. You can do it. You agreed.”
“I was wrong. I can’t.”
She spun around, heading for the stairs, past an openmouthed Laurie, whose pale gown gleamed in the shadows. Niall followed Nora and, before she could get any farther, grabbed her shoulders and turned her around.
“You can.”
With the perfect timing of an insensitive lummox, Ray showed up. “Nora, what are you doing? The stage is that way. What’s wrong with her? What’s she doing?” he demanded, turning to Niall.
Niall took a breath and refrained from shoving Ray out of the way. “Just give us a minute, okay?”
“You’re supposed to be onstage!”
“I know. Two minutes.”
“We don’t have two minutes!”
“Then you go out there!”
“Fine,” Ray muttered, storming off.
Dimly, Niall was aware of Ray nervously chatting with the crowd and someone in the audience shouting, “Where’s Niall?” Ray shouted back impatiently, “He’s indisposed!” then went on with introductions for Nora and Laurie.
“What do you need?” Celia was by his side, ready to spring into action.
He answered, “Tell Ray to stall. I’ve got this.”
She rushed off, and Niall heard another audience member shout, “Hi, Celia!” when she appeared onstage. It may have been Holly, but he didn’t have time to wonder. He didn’t even bristle at the sound of someone’s wolf whistle. He had to help Nora. He felt responsible; he’d dragged her into this against her will. Now he had to convince her she could pull it off.
“Nora,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone, keeping eye contact with her. “Come on. We’ve been over this already. You said you could do it.”
“The whole town is out there.”
“That’s a good thing. They all know you and they love you.”
“Everyone’s going to laugh at me.”
Niall held the woman’s cold, trembling hands. “No, they won’t. You’ve done an incredible job so far.
You sound great.”
Nora just shook her head. Laurie joined them, wide-eyed. “So this isn’t going to happen?”
“Sure it is—” he began, even as Nora shook her head more vehemently.
Then Celia was back at his side. “Nora,” she commanded, her voice hard. “Snap out of it.” Niall was surprised to see Nora focus on her, more alert than she’d been for the whole first part of the evening. “You said you’re doing this, so you’re doing this. It’s not just about you. You’re supporting Laurie. She needs this. Get out of your own head and do it for her.”
Niall was even more surprised when Nora blinked, shook herself, and pulled her hands out of Niall’s grasp. Nodding, she said, “Okay. Let’s go. Now. Before I change my mind.”
She marched toward the stage, and Laurie hurried to catch up, pausing only to squeeze Celia’s hand and whisper her thanks.
Niall was left gaping at Celia, who merely shrugged and said, “Nora doesn’t do pity. She does respond to a slap in the face, however—even if it’s verbal.”
He let out a huge, relieved breath. “Thank you, kraken.”
The two women tore into “Beautiful” so masterfully the population of Marsden forgot they weren’t supposed to like Laurie. The first truly confident duo of the night, they even got a standing ovation. And then Ray sent Niall out onstage with the announcement of their surprise tune: the old gothic story-song, “Delta Dawn.” About a woman who goes crazy because her lover never came for her like he promised.
“Dubois, you suck!” someone shouted.
While the women reluctantly started the tune, Niall stood guard in case someone rushed the stage with the goal of pounding on Ray for his weak attempts at humor, or whatever it was he thought he was doing.
Alan mercifully pulled the plug before the song finished, and nobody, least of all Nora and Laurie, seemed to mind. To a respectable round of applause, in acknowledgment of their talent but also their courage for persevering with the second song, the women left the stage, arms around each other.
Niall said into the microphone, “Uh, we’ll be right back,” and went in search of Ray.
When the older man spotted him backstage, he ordered, “Get back out there! We’ve got one more act!”
But Niall said quietly, and completely seriously, “No, man. I’m out. I can’t make jokes when the audience is verging on violence. What is wrong with you?”
“This is good!” he spluttered. “This is memorable. Edgy, you know?”
“No,” Niall said again. “I don’t know. You’re on your own.”
“You signed a contract!”
“Contracts were made to be broken.” He ought to know.
Ray could try to sue him. He didn’t really care. He glanced over at Celia, who was standing by her father at the sound board. Alan studied Niall, then gave one somber nod of approval. Niall nodded back.
“Fine.” Ray grabbed the mic from him. “I’ll do it myself.”
He had to shout to be heard over the angry audience, even with amplification. Niall resisted the urge to peek around the proscenium to see if the townspeople had brought in some torches and pitchforks. Ray had seriously misjudged what he thought the audience expected of the contest, as well as their level of tolerance for what he thought were good inside jokes based on town gossip. Did they still run people out of town on a rail? What did that even mean, anyway? Whatever, if they did, Niall was sure Ray would be on that rail within minutes if the crowd had its way.
“All right, all right!” he was saying. “Shut up!” When the audience finally obeyed, gradually falling into an uneasy silence, he said, “Our last duet is by Brianna Carroll.” He said her name brightly, then tacked on, in a grumbling rush, “And Darryl Sykes. Give ’em a warm welcome.”
Ray leaned back so he could see into the wings and frantically gestured for the pair to come out onstage. Brianna was conferring with Alan and Celia, whispering feverishly. Darryl came up, said something to her, and the young girl nodded and dashed out into the spotlight.
Niall narrowed his eyes at father and daughter. “What?”
“Nothing!” they replied at the same time.
“Best if you don’t know,” Alan added, turning back to the sound board.
Brianna and Darryl’s earnest rendition of “No Air” was so well done they even managed to distract the audience from calling for Ray’s head on a platter, and by the time they finished, there was nothing but love in the arts center.
Niall breathed a sigh of relief that their duet went off without a hitch, but then he tensed up, wondering what Ray had in mind for their surprise song. Bracing himself for another round of near violence he might have to help defuse, no matter that he told Ray he wasn’t going to participate any longer, he kept a close eye on Darryl and Brianna. They looked at one another excitedly, and Brianna bounced on the balls of her feet a little. Something was definitely up. He glanced over his shoulder at Celia, who was still near her father. She smiled conspiratorially and put a finger to her lips.
When the applause died down, Ray moved toward the stage to announce their next song, but before he could step out from the wings, a song cued up. Darryl dug deep for some resonant base notes. “Rollin’ . . . rollin’ . . .”
They were doing “Proud Mary.” Ike and Tina Turner’s version. A classic. Niall grinned broadly.
“That’s not what they’re supposed to be singing!” Ray pointed accusingly at Alan. “Fix it!”
Alan shrugged. “I can’t seem to get it to stop, Ray. Sorry.”
“Liar!”
“It seems to be going over really well,” Celia chimed in. “Maybe you should just let them run with it.”
“Run with it? This is . . . a travesty! I had a cute little Taylor Swift song picked out, but this . . .”
Sure enough, Darryl and Brianna had gotten through the slow, lazy intro, and the horns kicked in. Brianna marched to center stage and, doing her best Tina Turner with legs as wide as her minidress would allow, belted out the song. Darryl, absolutely gleeful, was content to dance around merrily in the background, belly fat jiggling, underscoring the girl’s singing with his deep backing vocals, until the audience was on its feet, cheering.
Ray started to charge onto the stage but was stopped by a large hand on his shoulder. “Dubois! What have you done to my little girl?”
The tall, sandy-haired man spun Ray around. Nate had at least six inches and fifty pounds on Ray, and he looked prepared to use them to his advantage.
“Calm down, Carroll—”
“Calm down? Calm down? Look at her out there! No, don’t!” he amended, as Ray’s head started to turn. Nate freshened his grip on Ray’s lapel. “This is all your fault!”
Nate gave Ray a shove, and the smaller man stumbled back a step. Ray recovered and shoved back, but Nate was immovable. Suddenly they were grappling with one another, gripping each other’s suit jackets and basically going nowhere, although occasionally Nate gained some ground and inched Ray backward, toward the stage. Ray dropped the microphone, and it hit the wooden floor with a huge, amplified thump and whine. Niall watched this for a few moments, highly amused and completely disinclined to break it up. When he figured the deadlock had gone on long enough, he ambled over and hip-checked Nate, hard. The two older men lurched into the spotlight just as Brianna and Darryl were taking their bows.
The enthusiastic applause died quickly as everyone gaped at the disheveled men. Nate’s comb-over was sticking straight up, looking like a halo in the brilliant stage lights. Ray’s face was an incredible shade of vermilion from the exertion. Both men straightened up, shifted their twisted suit jackets, and started to retreat, when some wag in the crowd whistled loudly. That was echoed by another whistle, and another. A few people shouted their approval. A couple of teenagers attempted to start a chant of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” but it died out faster than it would have in the high school cafeteria.
Niall sighed and picked up the microphone. Smirking at Celia and Alan, he p
repared to go out onstage to salvage the situation. Before he could, Celia gently pushed his hand holding the microphone down to waist level and whispered in his ear. He smiled and nodded, then joined the feuding men onstage.
“And that concludes the WWE portion of the evening,” he announced, drawing a fair amount of laughter. That was a good sign. “First of all, let’s hear it for Brianna Carroll and Darryl Sykes. Great performance, right?” He paused as everyone cheered. When it grew quieter, he said, “They were our last competitors, but we have a special surprise for you before we announce the winners of the contest. Now, I know you all know there’s been no love lost between Ray and Nate over the years.” Both men opened their mouths to protest, but he cut them off. “No denying it, fellas. Yours is hardly the town’s best bromance.”
“Own it, boys!” came a shout from the house.
“But I think I speak for everyone in Marsden when I say it’s time to let bygones be bygones. Yes?”
Judging by the looks on their faces, neither man was about to agree to that. Ray pushed his way over to Niall and hissed, “Crenshaw, I don’t know what you think you’re up to, but—”
“Okay!” Niall enthused, stepping away before the mic could pick up Ray’s heated words. “So here’s the thing. There’s nothing like the healing power of music. So it’s time Nate and Ray buried the hatchet with a duet of their own. Whaddya say?”
The audience wholeheartedly approved, although Nate and Ray most certainly did not. To keep them onstage, Niall stepped between them and put one arm around each of their shoulders. It looked like a friendly embrace, but he made sure he had them both in an iron grip while Brianna and Darryl relinquished their microphones to the men, who accepted them numbly.
Once the music started drifting out of the sound system and the first lyrics scrolled up onto the monitor, Niall gave Nate’s and Ray’s shoulders a vicious squeeze, and he backed away to let them get on with it.