Running From A Rock Star (Brides on the Run Book 1)

by Jami Albright

  “Okaaay.” Maureen looked at Gavin. “I’m sorry I was rude, Gavin.”

  “That’s better.” Honey took Gavin by the arm and started down the street. He followed obediently.

  “What about the shampoo?” Maureen hollered.

  “I’ve decided I don’t like the smell as much as I thought I did,” Honey snapped.

  The bright Texas sun beat down on his head. He barely noticed. He expended all his energy trying to recover from the shock of Honey’s words. Never had a woman defended him. Not once. They always blamed him. For everything. Starting with his junkie mom and continuing on to the last woman he briefly dated. According to the opposite sex, he’d been responsible for his mother’s addiction, been emotionally unavailable, and everything in between. Hell, even Scarlett blamed him for this screwed-up marriage.

  “I’m hungry, how about some lunch at the café?” Honey interrupted his mental ramblings.

  “What?”

  “I said let’s go to the café to get a bite to eat. I’ve decided to let you treat me to lunch.” She was already moving down the sidewalk.

  “Scarlett said to wait here for her.”

  Honey turned to him, fist on her round hips. “Do you always do what people tell you to do?” She raised her precariously drawn-on eyebrows in challenge.

  It was a mistake to get attached to this family, but it appeared it was too late. According to Honey, he was now a Kelly. He grinned and ambled toward her. “Nope.”

  Her hoot of laughter filled the square. “Me either.”

  The faux leather squeaked when Scarlett adjusted her position on the small sofa in the waiting area of the First National Bank of Zachsville. She couldn’t sit still. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, she moved from the front of the couch to the back, and the sounds coming from the loveseat were attracting attention. The Harper twins were pointing and laughing until their mother finished her business and dragged them out the door. What was it about eight-year-old boys and potty humor?

  The hundred-year-old space hadn’t changed much since she was a kid. Something pine-scented pricked her nose but didn’t quite cover the smell of mildew and years of cigarette smoke that were as much a part of the old building as the light fixtures. Floor to ceiling windows spanned one side of the room looking out onto the town square. The offices along the other side of the lobby were made entirely of glass. It reminded her of the habitats at the San Antonio Zoo.

  She could only see the top of Poppy’s head through her glass enclosure because the lower part of her window was frosted. She mentally rehearsed the speech she was going to give the bank president.

  Scarlett’s sweaty hand ran over the column of her neck, and her fingers found the hammering pulse. The acid in her stomach churned like white-water rapids. She lost track of the laps her heart ran around her chest. Geez, she was a mess.

  Who could blame her? Poppy had gotten her thrown in jail for solicitation. Stupid, she’d been so stupid, but how could she have known that Miss Most Likely to Succeed ran an escort service?

  “When you get to the door, Scarlett, tell them your name is Heaven Leigh.”

  “Why, Poppy?”

  “Oh, it’s just a fun thing we’re doing.”

  Scarlett brought her thumbnail to her mouth then stopped. She needed to calm down. Poppy could always smell fear. Any sign of weakness and she’d go for the throat. Scarlett envisioned her peaceful place and tried to find her center. Unfortunately, there was a giant hole where her center should be.

  What was she going to say to the woman?

  What’s up, Poppy. Still turnin’ tricks?

  No. The best course of action was to ignore the giant pink elephant in the room. No good could come from dredging up the past.

  “Ms. Sims will see you now, Scarlett.” A petite, older woman in a lavender pantsuit led her to the office and knocked just below the Bank President plate. “Scarlett Kelly to see you, Ma’am.”

  Scarlett got her first look at Poppy in five years. She was gorgeous as ever. Expertly highlighted blonde locks were swept back in a tasteful chignon, her coral suit set off lovely green eyes. Her skin practically glowed, and the diamond studs in her ears twinkled in the sunlight coming through the window.

  “Oh, my Lord! Scarlett.” A high pitched squeal was the only warning Scarlett had before Poppy ran around her desk and wrapped her in a death grip. The pretty, pretty princess rocked them from side to side, continuing her incessant squealing. It was like being embraced by the bastard child of an anaconda and a sorority girl.

  Scarlett’s tear ducts watered from the assault of spicy perfume. Poppy’s gravity-defying breasts enveloped Scarlett’s head, cutting off all her airways. She would have extricated herself from the death-by-boobs hold, but her old nemesis had pinned her arms to her side so she could only flop her hands.

  What the heck?

  This was the last thing she’d expected. And if the former Miss Zachsville started singing Kumbaya, Scarlett was out of there.

  Poppy abruptly released her to walk back behind her desk, causing Scarlett to stumble several clumsy steps.

  “Sit, Scarlett, sit.” The beautiful woman gestured to one of the leather guest chairs.

  Scarlett wondered how many eyeballs Poppy had gouged out to get that particular shade of red on her fingernails. “Thanks.”

  “Sooooo, I heard you got married.” Poppy clasped her hands together and leaned onto her desk, like the next words out of Scarlett’s mouth would forever change her world.

  “Yes.” Scarlett’s smile was so mechanical she was surprised there wasn’t a wind-up key sticking out of her back.

  “How deliciously unexpected. You’re all the talk this morning. But I’m sure your family’s used to that.” Poppy gave a shrug and adjusted some papers on her desk.

  “I’m sorry? I don’t think I understand your meaning.” She understood perfectly, but she was going to make the witch say it to her face.

  Poppy didn’t disappoint. “Well, I mean, your mother caused quite a stir in her day. My mama tells me Mary Kelly was…well…you know that talk.” Her smile was sympathetic. Her eyes, though, were malicious and calculating.

  It took all the courage Scarlett could muster, but she refused to look away. “Yes, I do know the talk.”

  I am not my mother, I am not my mother.

  Poppy reached her hand toward Scarlett, placing it palm down on the desk. At the same time, she cocked her head, pouted her lip and gave her the you poor thing face.

  “Yes, well, that’s all in the past.”

  Where it should stay. Didn’t these people ever forget anything? “I actually came to talk to you about our farm.” She opened her purse, pulled out the check for fifty thousand dollars, and slid it across the desk.

  Poppy’s big whiskey gaze blinked once. Twice. “What’s this?”

  “It’s the money for the loan on our farm that you called due yesterday.” She wanted to do the happy dance as she watched Poppy try to formulate a response.

  “Ah…where exactly did you get this money?”

  None of your business, witch.

  Poppy’s lovely tan skin was losing color at an alarming rate. Well, it would be alarming if Scarlett cared. And she didn’t.

  “This check is from another bank. How do I know the funds are available?” Poppy bit out.

  Never comfortable with the folks she went to church with or sat next to at Friday football games knowing her business, she preferred to do her banking in the next town over. “Oh, I assure you the funds are there, but feel free to call and verify.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs.

  Poppy’s face readjusted into a professional mask. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not necessary.”

  “Okay, then, I won’t take up any more of your time.” She stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. “It was good to see you again, Poppy. Have a great day.”

  Six feet.

  Four feet.

  A few more steps. She was almost to the door.
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  Three feet.

  One foot. She reached for the handle. The sound of paper ripping and Poppy’s icy voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

  “Not so fast, Heaven Leigh.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The cold doorknob in her hand helped keep her upright. Her head fell on the hard wood of the door. “What?”

  “You heard me. Now, sit down.” The ice in Poppy’s words smashed into her like an arctic storm.

  She glanced over her shoulder. There was a mound of paper torn to pieces on the desk.

  The check.

  She made her way back to the chair, where a Chanel-clad nightmare stared back at her.

  “I’m afraid your money’s no good here, Scarlett.” Poppy smiled a sickly sweet smile again.

  “What do you mean my money’s no good here? I have no idea what this is all about, but you have to take the payment, Poppy.”

  “It’s about the land that your sorry excuse for a farm sits on,” Poppy said, in the most reasonable tone imaginable. “It’s a beautiful piece of property, perfect for a new housing development. The pond, the creek, all those luscious trees. People will pay top dollar for the illusion of land to sprawl on.” She slid open her desk drawer and pulled out a schematic.

  Scarlett could only stare. Poppy had lost her mind. She may be the bank president, but she still had to follow bank procedures set by the government.

  Poppy pointed a blood-red nail at the drawing. “See? Isn’t it gorgeous?” She sounded like a kid showing off a new puppy. “Hiking trails, schools, parks, and million-dollar homes.”

  “Million-dollar homes? Poppy, who in Zachsville, besides your family and Luanne’s, can afford such a thing?”

  “No one,” she scoffed. “I’ll let you in on a super-big secret.” She leaned forward. “Crude Co. Industries is going to build its new plant in Holton, only thirty miles away. All those oil execs will need a beautiful place to live. And my new development, located where the Kelly farm currently sits, will be perfect.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice. Too bad you’ll have to find somewhere else to build it, because I just paid off the Kelly farm. We own it free and clear.” She crossed her arms. “Is your father in on this scam too?”

  “Please,” she scoffed. “If it were up to the ever-benevolent Hartley Sims, every farmer in this county would have an open line of credit. No, Mom and Dad are on a six-month cruise in Europe. He’s happy and clueless.”

  “So you were going to take our land and leave us with nothing?”

  “It sounds so ugly when you put it that way.” Poppy tented her fingers and tapped them together. “And now that you’ve so inconveniently paid off the loan, I’ll have to come up with another plan.”

  Scarlett rose. “Okay. I think we’re done here. I’ll have my bank draft another check. Any further transactions should be handled through my attorney.” But it was clear the bank president wasn’t listening to her. Whatever. She’d had enough of this insanity.

  Poppy sighed, sat back in her chair and made a what can you do gesture with her hands. “I suppose there’s only one thing to do, Heaven Leigh.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “In a heartbeat.” Her snake’s glare confirmed the threat.

  “You invited me to the party. You got me arrested.”

  The she-devil had the nerve to grin. “True. But I also got you out. So, technically you owe me. It’s time to pay up, Heaven.”

  “I owe you? You’re insane. I’ve always wondered how you managed to escape the arrest and how you got me out.”

  Poppy adjusted her jacket. “It’s not hard when you know people. I have everything I need to destroy you, and I’ll use it in a New York minute if you don’t give me what I want. That land at pennies on the dollar.”

  “You want me to betray my father by getting him to sell the land to you?”

  “Precisely.”

  A bark of laughter shot from Scarlett’s mouth. “Are you off your meds, Poppy? I would never hurt my family like that.”

  The dragon-lady behind the desk brushed imaginary lint from her lapel. “Tell me this, Scarlett. How hurt do you think your family will be when they find out their precious girl was arrested for prostitution?” Poppy’s hand went over her heart. “What will people say?” she mocked. “And who do you think our friends and neighbors will believe? Zachsville’s princess or the town slut’s daughter?”

  Would she ever outrun her mother’s reputation?

  “Of course, I’ll have to insist you keep this only between us, or things could get really ugly.” She winked. “Understand?”

  Scarlett gripped the arm of the chair. “Oh, I understand, alright. You’re an evil bitch.”

  “Name-calling, Scarlett? It’s so beneath you.” Poppy dug in a drawer and tossed a manila envelope on the desk. The edge of a photo peeked out.

  Angry tears shoved against Scarlett’s eyeballs when she saw the image on the desk. She clamped down her emotions and tried to ignore her mascara stained face in the picture. She would not let Poppy see her lose it. “How can you ask me to do this horrible thing for you?”

  Poppy’s tone was conciliatory, her expression shocked. “No. No. Not for me, Scarlett. For you.” She narrowed her eyes, and all sign of mollification vanished. “Because if you don’t, I will release every piece of evidence I have about Heaven Leigh, including her true identity, to the media.” She leaned forward, her face as chilling as her next words.

  “It’ll be a bloodbath.”

  The midday sun scorched Scarlett’s retinas when she emerged from the bank. She leaned against the building and dug her sunglasses from her purse. Her arms and legs didn’t want to work, the afterburn of too much adrenaline, too fast, in her system.

  How had this happened? This problem was supposed to be put to bed. But instead of being resolved it was exponentially worse. She would not give into Poppy’s demands.

  She. Would. Not.

  Yes, she’d been arrested, but she’d never been charged, and it had all gone away. Really, it would only be Poppy’s word against hers.

  Who do you think people will believe, Zachsville’s princess, or the town slut’s daughter?

  Bile burned her throat. She wanted to hurl, but then she heard the sweetest sound in the world.

  “Miss Scarlett, Miss Scarlett.” Two five-year-olds barreled down the sidewalk toward her, leaving their mothers in their wake.

  “Ginger and Mia, how are you?”

  “We’re good. We missed you in Sunday school,” Ginger said.

  “Yeah. Mrs. Ellis was mean. She wouldn’t let me turn the storybook, even though I telled her you let me do it all the time.” The mutinous look on Mia’s adorable face was hilarious.

  “You told her?” Scarlett said.

  Mia scrunched her face up for a second and said, “Yes. I told her.” Her snaggletooth smile melted Scarlett’s heart.

  “Harry Mosely brought a grasshopper to class, and Mrs. Ellis yelled when he pulled it out of his bag. She has a phe…a pho… What’s it called, Mommy?” Ginger asked her mother.

  “A phobia. It means Mrs. Ellis is very afraid of something,” Ginger’s mother answered. “I guess you can tell they really missed you Sunday. But it sounds like you were kind of busy.” Ginger’s mom, Carol, waggled her eyebrows. Laurie, Mia’s mom, gave a throaty mmh-hmm.

  Heat exploded across Scarlett’s face and neck, and it didn’t have anything to do with the Texas sun. She ducked her head. “Yes. I was a little busy.”

  Both women howled with laughter, and Laurie threw her arms around Scarlett, “Congratulations, girl. I’m so happy for you.”

  Before Scarlett could respond, Carol jumped into the fray and wrapped them all in a group hug. “I’m happy and jealous. He’s hot as fire.”

  Not to be left out, Mia and Ginger began dancing around singing, “He’s hot as fire, he’s hot as fire, he’s hot as fire.”

  Thankfully both moms released her and took ahold of their offspring, putting an
end to the PG-13 chant.

  Ginger pulled on Scarlett’s hand. “Is Mr. Scarlett coming to Sunday school with you?”

  Scarlett stifled a giggle at the thought of Gavin ‘The Delinquent’ Bain in a kids’ Sunday school class. If Harry Mosley showed him a grasshopper, Gavin would probably drop an “F” bomb then bite the head off the thing. “I doubt it, sweetie.”

  “Well, we’ll let you get on your way. Girls, tell Miss Scarlett goodbye,” Laurie said.

  “Bye, Miss Scarlett.” They both wrapped their skinny arms around Scarlett’s legs, making it hard to stand.

  “Goodbye girls, see you Sunday.” She smiled as she watched them skip down the sidewalk.

  “What a touching scene,” sneered an older woman with jiggly jowls and hard eyes. Marjorie Stewart, Zachsville’s biggest gossip and the mother of her ex-boyfriend, Justin, blocked the sidewalk.

  “Hello, Marjorie.” The burgeoning bubble of happiness the girls left behind popped at the sight of this spiteful woman.

  “I wonder how long you’ll be teaching Sunday school after everyone has time to process your spontaneous marriage to a musician.” She spat musician like a four letter word.

  “Marjorie, I’m not interested in discussing my husband with you. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “A Las Vegas wedding is so cheap, not to mention tacky. But then again you are your mother’s daughter, and if there was ever a tawdry, tacky woman it was Mary Kelly. Hmpf, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She pulled her jacket down over her considerable girth. “The best thing to ever happen to my Justin is the day he cut you loose.”

  “Goodbye, Marjorie.” Scarlett stepped past the woman to make her escape. But Marjorie’s words rang in her ears. Not the part about Justin, because she’d broken up with him, but the apple not falling far from the tree.

  Thoughts of her Sunday school kids floated through her head. She loved them, and they loved her. Their parents loved her. What would they all think when she was exposed?

  Her mother’s reputation ensured everyone would believe the worst. The truth rarely mattered once gossip started.

  Her phone buzzed. With a shaky hand, she fished it from her purse. Five messages from Gavin blinked with insistence.