by CF Frizzell
“And I love you, Shay Maguire, so very much.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Shay’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of her cell phone alarm beneath her pillow. She switched it off hurriedly, before Mel stirred at her side, and rolled over, spooned against her, and kissed her back and shoulder. Warm satin. Given to me. With love.
Shay dressed silently and slipped away. She walked the Softail from the parking lot to the road before firing it up, knowing life was about to change in a very big way.
Home within ten minutes, she’d just poured herself coffee when Coby shuffled out of the bedroom and uttered a raspy, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Go back to bed. It’s early.”
Coby squinted at the clock over the sink and then at Shay. “Not even six thirty. You stay with Mel?”
Shay nodded and reached for the coffeepot. “Ready for a cup?”
“Sure.” Coby sat beside her and ran both hands back through her disheveled hair. “How is she?”
“Sleeping like a rock. Her grandmother, too, thank God.”
Coby snorted into her coffee. “You mean you two didn’t wake her last night with orgasmic screaming?”
“No, asshole. Well, we didn’t wake anybody. And we didn’t do it all night…just in the shower.”
“Ah.”
“Not good timing for all-night ‘orgasmic screaming’ anyway. She needed sleep.”
Coby nodded thoughtfully. “You did good, Shay, going to her like that, regardless of the grandmother. Good job.”
Shay looked up from the depths of her coffee.
“No question where I’d be. I love her.”
“About time you admitted it.”
“I said it and she said it.”
Coby’s sleepiness vanished. “Yes!” She threw an arm around Shay’s neck and hugged her.
“Who woulda thunk, huh?”
“You just know when it’s right, Shay. I’m really happy for you. Both of you. You’re so good for each other.” She raised her cup to Shay’s. “Oh, man, wait till Misty finds out.”
“But Mel’s got a tough road ahead.” She stared off at the stove, wondering what else she could do, what would help Mel most. “As if she needed to add the damn house to her worries. The grandmother hasn’t said more than a few words to her, the arson investigation starts right away, her position in the paper puts her in jeopardy, and now—now her folks are coming.”
“What? Oh, fuck.” Coby sat up straighter. “Her father’s a son of a bitch, I hear. Mel’s said they barely tolerate each other.”
“Well, that’s just great.”
“And her grandmother’s mad at her? For what? She can’t blame her for the fire.”
“Oh, on top of being gay and ‘ruining the family name,’ now Mel wasn’t home when she should have been. She ‘abandoned’ the grandmother to fend for herself.”
“Ha. Now, you know that’s gotta be your fault.” Coby snickered. “She’s been a thorn in poor Mel’s side from the beginning. This is just what Mel needs on her conscience.”
“Exactly. I don’t know what to do that won’t make things harder for her. I’d like to fix the house, start right away, but God knows how her grandmother will interpret that. Besides, the fire department will be all over it now.”
“When are her folks due in?”
“Wednesday. Mel is completely beside herself with worry. She tossed and turned all night. Plus, she’s mad they’re coming on her deadline day, the worst possible time. How she’s ever going to deal with them, I don’t have a clue.”
“Man, talk about pressure.”
“Should be swell, huh?”
“Hey, wonder if she’ll introduce you. I mean really introduce you.”
“It’s her call. Totally. I’d just love to get going on that house for her.” She finished her coffee and rinsed the cup in the sink. “I could round up some guys, I know Moriarty would loan me the stock, and we could have it back in shape in no time. Maybe even before Mel gets the insurance check. It kills me to wait.”
“Misty’s going to see her this morning, go with her back to the house and get a good look in the daylight, grab some things. There really isn’t anything you can do right now.”
“Maybe Chief Madden will let me in there sooner than later. It sucks that today’s the damn Fourth of July. I doubt anybody’s working.”
“Except you.”
“Right. One more day of this. Christ, this fair’s been endless.” She untucked her shirt as she headed toward the bathroom. “We were looking forward to the fireworks tonight.”
Twenty minutes later, she was pulling on her boots when Misty appeared in the doorway, holding out the phone. She pulled it back just as Shay reached for it, then yanked Shay into a tight hug and gushed into her ear.
“I’m so damn happy for you two, I could scream.” She kissed Shay’s cheek and thrust the phone into her hand. “Here’s Keary.”
Shay had to grin as she answered. “Morning.”
“Hi, Shay. Sorry to bother you so early, but I figured you could let Mel know I’ll drop off my notes on the concert around lunchtime. How’s she doing?”
“She got some sleep,” she said, following Misty to the kitchen, “but today’s not going to be fun.”
“I’m sure. Things aren’t always better in the light of day.”
“Not in this case.” She hung up and smiled dimly at Misty and Coby. “Concert notes for Mel.”
Misty said, “Keary’s the Chronicle’s new reporter, huh?”
“Yeah.” Shay wondered how long Mel could afford the staff she already had. “It’s going to be really difficult for her in the days ahead. Torching that shed was a message. She knew she wasn’t winning friends in the construction trade, but this is scary now. At least she enjoyed Prairie Fire, for as long as that lasted. Did she tell you she lost the Home Depot and Dick Turner accounts?”
Coby glared. “No way.”
“Aw, Shay.” Misty sagged against the bar. “That’s terrible news.”
“The paper’s politics may have ticked them off, but learning that a lesbian has been running their newspaper all these years, well, that was the crowning touch. They’re homophobic pricks, that’s what it boils down to.”
Coby crossed her arms. “Because they heard Mel’s gay? You’re not serious.”
“Dead serious. Mel said Marie overheard them at the diner. Ironic, that advertising income from the Heights businesses could end up saving the Chronicle.”
“Yeah,” Coby said, “after the little guys downtown are crushed.”
“Well, that won’t happen this year,” Misty added, “not with the project delayed like it is. Everyone is saying it won’t open until well after Christmas now.”
Shay ran a hand through her hair. “It would be so great if those two accounts came back, if they missed the good thing they had. Even if Mel has to cut them a deal. If they did, the smaller ones might be tempted to hang on and ride those coattails.”
“Good luck convincing the likes of those assholes,” Coby said.
“Well, think about it,” Shay continued. “Pretty stupid business move to pull out when the paper stands to have Heights’ businesses advertising. The Chronicle could use the Heights to its benefit, right?” She cupped a hand to her mouth. “Hey, Dickie, you asshole. Look at all the people reading the Tomson Chronicle now. Too bad you’re not in it, dickhead.”
“I like that approach, Shay,” Misty said. “I bet Mel would, too.”
“First things first.” Coby pointed at Shay. “You find out what Madden says. Maybe he is doing his investigation today. You get the okay, we’ll fix us a house.”
*
Shay joined dozens of onlookers later that day, applauding as the winning ribbons were awarded outside the livestock barn and Mike took everyone’s picture. Despite her aching feet, she started a new supervisory sweep of the grounds, the midway, in particular, and considered sending a few fastballs into milk cans, just to vent her frustra
tion. The crowd grew steadily as the day pushed toward six o’clock, and folks streamed in, eager for prime seats for the fair’s fireworks finale.
She hadn’t been back in the office with her feet up on Lisa’s desk for more than five minutes before pounding on the door nearly startled her out of the chair. Now what the hell is it? Her anxiety disappeared when she opened the door and Coby, Misty, Keary, Doran—and Mel—started talking at the same time.
“Oh my God! The lesbians!” She shut the door.
Coby shoved it open and strutted in. “We’re here and we’re queer. Deal with it.”
“How you holding up?” Misty asked, as they filed in.
“We were a little worried about you,” Keary said. “It’s insane out there.”
Coby slung an arm around Mel’s shoulders. “Yeah, so we brought the queen of all troublemakers in to see you.”
Shay went to Mel and leaned in for a light but lingering kiss.
“Hi,” she said gently.
Mel tugged Shay into a hug by her belt. “God, it’s good to see you.”
“I’m all set now,” Shay announced to the room.
“Any crises?” Doran asked.
Shay knocked on the wooden desk three times. “So far so good. In fact, it’s gone so well that I’m worried, like something should have happened by now.”
“God damn. Enough already,” Coby said. “Don’t go thinking that.”
“How about you, Mel?” Shay asked, brushing her nose against Mel’s.
“I’m…better.” She kissed Shay’s chin.
Keary steered Doran toward the door. “Time we all found something unhealthy for supper.”
Coby retrieved a blanket from the Jeep and they cut across the parking area, headed for the concession stands, hopelessly undecided about what to eat. Ultimately, they purchased a smorgasbord of food and planted themselves amidst the growing crowd in the fireworks field.
Shay spoke softly into Mel’s ear. “Think kissing you right now would be too much?”
That drew a chuckle. It’s good to hear you laugh.
“Too much in more ways than one,” Mel said, and yanked the brim of Shay’s hat down.
“I love you.”
Mel wiped a speck of chili sauce from the corner of her mouth. “I love you, too.”
Shay leaned to her ear. “You make me break out in a sweat.”
“That’s the chili.”
“Uh-uh. I want to lay you back right here and get lost in your kisses.”
“Shh. I can’t hear that right now. Makes me woozy.” She grazed a finger along the inseam of Shay’s jeans.
“I can’t wait for this fair to end. I have to do another sweep now and the last thing I want is to leave your side.”
“Can I go with you?”
Shay brightened. “Of course.” She rose from the blanket and offered Mel a hand up. “Time for another patrol,” she told the others. “We’ll back in a while, hopefully by the start of the show.”
They picked their way out of the crowd and meandered along the midway.
“I talked to Madden a little while ago,” Shay said, an eye on four teenage boys loitering by the beer stand.
“Anything new? I was surprised to find an investigator at the house this morning. We spoke briefly, but he didn’t reveal much.”
“Well, the chief said his guy did collect evidence of arson. They hope to have a report typed up by tomorrow afternoon.” Mel was quiet, and Shay tried to be optimistic for her sake. “It means repairs can start immediately.”
“My father will be glad of that. I just hope he focuses on fixing the place instead of why the fire happened. He thrives on righting wrongs.” She snickered. “And those wrongs include me.”
“You can’t let him get to you, Mel. This wasn’t your fault.”
“Wasn’t it, though?”
Fireworks lit up the fairgrounds, and explosions made talking nearly impossible. Shay urged Mel toward the side of the pizza booth.
“Don’t think that way, Mel. Someone lit up that shed. Could’ve been in the middle of the night while you were both sleeping, for Christ’s sake. Then what would have happened?” She placed her hands on Mel’s shoulders. “You, amazing woman, can’t be ruled by nutcases who flip out about your paper’s position. And you can’t stay glued to your grandmother every second of the day.”
“I am responsible for her, Shay, for her well-being, and I—”
“No one should fault you for having a life, Mel. Like I said, this could’ve happened at any time, regardless of whether you were there with her.”
“Dad is going to freak. For starters, he’s going to look at the politics and say it’s just one way I’ve embarrassed the family. He’ll probably side with Della and think I’ve stirred the pot recklessly and cost the paper dearly. He’ll basically believe I asked for this.”
Shay hadn’t even met the man, but knew she didn’t like him. “He has that little faith in you?”
Mel swiped angrily at the tendrils of hair that tickled her face. “Once Nana gets at him, God knows what he’ll think. She’ll out me, Shay, and then…It’ll all come crashing down.”
Another massive explosion sounded, right on cue. Shay ducked instinctively. “He can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Oh, he’ll be beside himself, resenting that he’s been backed into a corner, that I’ve not only become reckless with the family’s legacy but shamed the Baker name, and that means…I’m so not looking forward to this. I’ve been trying to keep from dwelling on it, but not doing a great job.”
“Your grandmother will just fuel his fire?”
Mel nodded. “I’m sure of it. After meeting you yesterday at the Rangers show, she fell back on all the gossip she’d heard about you, about us, and went on a rant.”
“I thought she actually might have liked me.”
“I was hopeful, too. I tried to explain what you mean to me, and why, and of course I couldn’t do that without leveling with her. So I did.”
“You did?”
Mel nodded. “And we fought all afternoon. Reasoning with her was impossible, and she said so many ignorant and mean things, I refused to listen anymore, so I left in a huff. I was furious—and so glad to get back here to you.”
“So you told her?” Shay was afraid to be happy. “And I’ve perverted the all-American girl.”
“Yes. My father will cruise in here Wednesday and take up her cause.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Mel’s face fell and Shay frowned at the expression that looked too much like shame. “Mel, things in town will settle down soon, honest. I don’t think you need to worry about the majority of folks. I don’t think your dad does, either.” She was desperate for the right thing to say. There had to be a way to sort through this mess, at least for the sake of Mel’s sanity. Her world was disintegrating, and Shay’s gut told her to come up with something.
Mel smiled ruefully and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Shay. Aren’t you glad we met?”
Shay took Mel’s face in both hands and the sky’s brilliant colors flickered across her cheeks. “Melissa Baker, you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Do not think for one second that I regret falling in love with you. I’m here for you, Mel, at your side. And that’s where I’m staying for as long as you’ll have me.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Tuesday, Mel tackled work like never before, trying not to question if she was staying ahead of the onrushing Robert Baker disaster or simply burying it. Tomorrow, her deadline day, would be total chaos once her parents arrived, so she compiled columns and news articles, laid out advertisements, and edited photos as if there was only an hour left before going to press.
“The damn fair might be our saving grace,” she mumbled to Mike as she sketched a photo layout on paper. He leaned over her shoulder and watched. “I’d worked in a double-truck of photos, but it won’t be enough to make up for Turner’s hole on page three, so let’s do two
.”
“A four-page spread?” His eyes lit up like a kid’s at Christmas.
“And I’m going to jump the Prairie Fire interview off page one, so we’ll take it inside with a handful of shots. I think another full page, but we could end up at two-thirds.”
“Sweet!” He grabbed her sketch and headed for the workroom.
“Remember: kids, animals, faces.” She raised her voice once he disappeared. “And give me something kick-ass of the band for our lead!”
She was as happy as he was to showcase his work, but allocating so much space to unpaid content gnawed at her business sense. After this, we really have to start cramming, pinching pennies. For as long as this run lasts, goddamn it.
“You sure you want to go with all this, Mel?”
“Biggest weekend in forever. Why wouldn’t we? Besides,” she tossed a hand at her paperwork, “we have space to fill.”
He leaned pensively against his door frame. “Well, yeah, but can we really afford this?”
“We’re going to hold out as long as we can. You’re thinking we’ll lose more, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Aren’t you? The trades guys may stir up more trouble, and then there’s the animosity toward you personally.”
She massaged her temples. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think folks in general give a damn, Mel, but they aren’t the majority of advertisers. The old-timers with the money, they’re the ones who don’t get it, all stuck in their ways. And any one of them on the fence about our Heights story could easily be pushed to the wrong side, swayed to join the gay-bashing party. Cripes, I wish things were different for you and for the Chronicle.”
“And for you,” Mel added, knowing her father sat among those “stuck in their ways.” He’d soon drive right into a town roiling in controversy, scandal, in his mind, and she knew how he would react. She’d not only jeopardized her role and the Chronicle itself, but Mike’s job, as well. Finally getting mad, standing my ground on all fronts was my only choice. Mike deserved better, and certainly deserved to know the score.