Bahama Mama

by Tricia Leedom

  Chapter Eight

  Molly dragged her gaze away from Anders Ostergaard’s tall, broad form and smiled at the customer in front of her. A twenty-something hipster with trendy black glasses pushed his items, three horror novels, across the counter so she could ring them up.

  The next person in line, a stout middle-aged woman, leaned around him. “Oh, my Lord, was that Anders Ostergaard, the famous country singer?”

  The hipster shrugged. “Wasn’t he arrested for murdering an actress or something?”

  “He wasn’t arrested,” Molly said defensively as she totaled the sale. “He was questioned and released. That’ll be twenty-four thirty-five. You can insert your card. Casey Conway had a stalker. He confessed to everything.”

  “Scary.” The woman turned to peer out the front windows as if trying to catch another glimpse of Anders. “I guess that’s the price of being famous.”

  “I’d take his millions any day.” The hipster punched in his pin.

  “Hallelujah,” The woman murmured.

  After the hipster left, Molly looked up a book for the next customer. They were just finishing up when Cheyenne came around to stand behind the counter.

  Molly handed the woman the bag with her purchase. “You have a nice day now. Come back and see us.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  Molly waited until the customer had departed before turning her attention to Cheyenne. Her daughter was leaning on the counter, chin in her hand, cupping a mouth that was spread into a giddy smile. “How come you’re not totally freaking out, Ma?”

  Molly sat on her stool and took a long swig of coffee before answering. “I did that this morning.”

  “You met him this morning? How? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me the moment I walked through the door?”

  Cheyenne had come straight from school like she did most days, grabbed a snack from the small kitchen in the back room, and curled up with a book on one of the window seats at the front of the store. Molly had been involved with putting a book order into the system, but that wasn’t the reason she hadn’t told Cheyenne the amazing news that Anders Ostergaard was in town and she’d puked on the tire of his Bugatti. She hadn’t talked to Cheyenne because she was still far too upset about what she’d learned from her ex-husband.

  Cheyenne contacted him on Facebook and had been talking to him for months, and she’d never mentioned a single word about it to Molly. If that wasn’t bad enough, Trevor wanted Cheyenne to fly to LA alone to spend her birthday with him and his wife. Did Cheyenne really want to see her father? Molly was so incredibly hurt by all of it, her chest ached whenever she tried to open her mouth to ask Cheyenne if it were true. She was terrified of what her daughter might say.

  Finding Anders Ostergaard in the shop had rattled Molly enough to make her forget about her ex-husband for the moment, but now that he was gone dread hung heavily in the air again. Molly cleared the tightness in her throat. “Anders and Jimmy are brothers.”

  Cheyenne’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Shut the front door. I thought they looked alike. When Anders walked through the door, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought you were going to freak out when you saw him. His son Obie is a cute kid. He told me he’s staying with his dad for the summer because his mom is busy making a movie. He said he hasn’t seen his dad in a few years. He used to see him once a year on Christmas but that stopped when he was seven. I feel bad for him. A kid needs to see their dad once in a while.”

  Molly hopped off her stool so quickly it scraped against the floor. “He lost his right to see his child the moment he abandoned him. No wonder Obie looked scared of his own shadow. He’s being forced to spend the summer with a man he barely knows.”

  Cheyenne was staring at her. “Are you okay, Ma?”

  Molly paced past her, went to the farthest bookshelf where she started straightening books that didn’t need to be straightened. “I’m fine,” she snapped.

  “It’s just, you’re talking about Anders Ostergaard, your idol. The man you worship, not just because of his music, but because of how kind and generous he is. You’re always telling me that.”

  “He is kind and generous.” Molly slammed a paperback onto the shelf too hard. It bounced and tumbled to the ground. “Dagnabit!”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  She hadn’t noticed the comparison. Was her idol a deadbeat dad just like Trevor? Anders was divorced and didn’t have custody of his son, but she’d always assumed he was still in the boy’s life in some way. Had he put his career first like Trevor Schaffer had? The thought made her ill. Suddenly, the man she’d put on a pedestal for fifteen years didn’t look quite so perfect. That bummed her out as much as the conversation she knew she needed to have with her daughter.

  After picking up the fallen book, she tucked the Clive Barker novel carefully back into place. She stared at the shelf, not really registering the creepy, ghoulish images on the horror novels. Cheyenne stood just a few feet away, a curious and confused expression on her face. Shoving the last book onto the shelf, Molly said, “I spoke to your father today.”

  No answer. The ticking wall clock above her head filled the silence. When Molly couldn’t bear it any longer, she turned around. Cheyenne was staring at the ground, her face pinched with shame. Molly shook her head sadly. “Why didn’t you tell me, Cheyenne? Why all the secrecy?”

  “Because I knew you’d be mad.”

  “You’re right. I would have been mad, but now I’m mad and hurt.” She crossed her arms and asked the question burning brightest in her gut. “Do you want to know your father?”

  “Yes. No! I don’t know.” The teenager brushed past Molly, heading toward her favorite alcove.

  Molly stayed where she was because she was afraid if she moved an inch, she’d crumble into pieces. “I cannot allow you to see him.” She used the parental tone she used whenever she meant business.

  Cheyenne picked up the book she’d been reading earlier. “You can’t stop me.”

  “Yes. I can.” All of the fury Molly felt toward her ex-husband for suddenly appearing in their lives again bubbled up inside her. The anger held her together like glue as she marched toward her daughter. “I am the mother. You are the child. You do what I say. That man is not your father. That man was a sperm donor who gave up any rights he had to you the day he walked out on us.”

  “You don’t trust me, Ma,” Cheyenne said softly. “When are you going to start trusting me?”

  The front door dinged and a blast of afternoon heat followed April Linus into the shop. She gave them a big, sunny smile. “Hey, Chey! Hey, Molly. What’s—” Noticing the tension in the room, she paused mid-question. “Up.” The door banged closed.

  “Hi,” Cheyenne muttered.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Molly nodded curtly. “Fine.”

  Cheyenne turned to April. “Can I still sleep over tomorrow night?”

  “Sure. I have some leads on our project I want to go over with you.”

  “Tomorrow night is Sophie and Jimmy’s rehearsal dinner,” Molly said. “And their wedding is the day after. I’d rather have you home Friday night so you’re fresh for the wedding.”

  April interrupted before Cheyenne could protest. “Sorry, I forgot all about the rehearsal dinner! How about Saturday night after the wedding? Would that be okay?”

  Molly nodded. “Yeah, Saturday night would be fine with me.”

  “Awesome. I’m going to the wedding too, so you can come home with me after. Okay?”

  Cheyenne’s furious, frustrated gaze bored into Molly, but Molly didn’t back down. She was the parent here. She made the rules.

  Turning back to her friend, Cheyenne nodded. “Sounds cool, April. I’ll see you Saturday.” Her book clutched to her chest, she pushed open the door and exited the shop.

  April’s head tilted with curiosity as she looked at Molly. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. It will be.” But Molly wasn’t so sure. C
heyenne was getting to the age where she could decide where she wanted to live, and with whom, and Molly wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. But damned if she was just going to step aside and let her daughter spend the summer with that selfish rat bastard, Trevor Schaffer.

  Chapter Nine

  Cheyenne sat at the kitchen table staring at the words in the blue bubble on her computer screen:

  Can’t come to California for my birthday. Mom found out I’ve been talking to you and freaked out. Sorry. Really bummed.

  Molly was still pissed. When she came home from work last night, she’d barely said two words to Cheyenne and she was even quieter this morning. Breakfast was tenser than final exams in her honors classes. Molly could be majorly stubborn sometimes, but she never stayed mad. And definitely not for this long.

  It wasn’t fair. Cheyenne pulled her braid over her shoulder and played with the end of it. She had a right to see her father if she wanted to. Trevor said Molly couldn’t legally keep them apart.

  Cheyenne hit ENTER on the keyboard. The second she did, a sick feeling crept into her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have sent another private message to her father.

  She didn’t want Trevor to take her mother to court. That would just make this whole situation ten times worse. And she didn’t want to hurt Molly any more than she had already, but it was too late to delete the PM.

  Cheyenne slumped back in the chair and massaged her throbbing temples.

  She didn’t mean to complain to Trevor about Molly, but she could be so frustrating sometimes and Cheyenne didn’t have anyone else to talk to. She couldn’t talk to April because she'd lost her mom when she was twelve. It would be insensitive to complain when April didn’t have a mother at all. She’d never understand when the one thing she wanted most in the world was to see her mother again. That left Cheyenne’s father who’d turned out to be a great listener. He was smart, sympathetic, and kind, and he treated Cheyenne with respect.

  Trevor wasn’t all anti-Molly either. He tried to help Cheyenne see where her mother was coming from, but he also considered Cheyenne's feelings too. He’d invited her to visit him in California for her birthday, and Cheyenne was excited about the idea, but she was also torn. She and April had been planning their big shared birthday party for months and it was finally just over a week away. She didn’t want to bail on her friend, but if staying home meant fighting with Molly, she didn’t want that either. Her mother’s anger was off the charts and completely unreasonable.

  Cheyenne probably wasn't even going to get to make the decision anyhow and she hated that a tiny part of herself was actually relieved.

  Resting her chin on the heel of her hand, Cheyenne leaned toward her computer screen. She moved the cursor over the page, intending to close Facebook when a message popped up at the bottom of the computer screen: You received a new notification from Amanda Grace. Cheyenne sat up straight. Her stomach turned into a block of ice as she stared at the name. What now?

  Her heart beat slow and heavy like booted feet trudging through knee-deep mud as she forced herself to click on the notifications tab.

  Amanda Grace tagged you in a photograph.

  Cheyenne already knew what it was going to be. Amanda Grace had a knack for being at the right place and the worst possible time. She hung out with April and her group of friends, but she never liked Cheyenne. She sneered at her clothes and poked fun at her accent when no one was around. Now that April was graduating and Amanda Grace was going to be a senior in the fall, she'd cornered Cheyenne twice to warn her that when she was queen bee, Cheyenne’s days at Key West High School would be numbered. This was distressing because there were no educational alternatives on the island except for homeschooling, and no offense to Molly, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  There were only a few days left in the school year. The seniors were done. Getting the week off as a reward and to prep for graduation the coming Monday. So April wasn't around to stand in Amanda Grace’s way. This morning, Cheyenne had found a dead lab frog in her backpack. When she didn’t react and simply took the frog out, walked to the trashcan at the front of the classroom, and tossed it into the trash, Amanda Grace had come up behind her and bumped into her so hard Cheyenne tripped and fell. She’d managed to get her hands out just in time, but she’d landed with her butt pointed in the air.

  The photo Amanda Grace tagged her in was a picture of Cheyenne in that humiliating position with the caption: Downward Don’t.

  Tears burned the back of Cheyenne’s eyes as she crisply typed a reply in the comments of the post, banging out the words on her keyboard wishing she was typing on Amanda Grace’s hateful face. While I find the caption clever, the picture itself is the work of a childish, immature person whom I pity because the only way she can feel good about herself is by embarrassing other people.

  The cursor hovered over the send button. Cheyenne’s chest burned as she reread what she’d written.

  The door to their second-floor apartment flew open and Molly dashed inside carrying her oversized, overstuffed purse and a large T.J. Maxx bag. “You’re not ready yet?” She dropped her purse by the wall just inside the door and kicked off her sandals. “We have to be at the bar by 5 p.m. for the rehearsal.” She headed toward her bedroom. “That leaves us only thirty minutes to get dressed and get over there.” She disappeared into her room.

  The burning sensation inside Cheyenne’s chest flared. She really didn’t feel like going to the party. She selected the text and hit the delete button. Molly always said the best way to deal with a bully was to ignore them. Her mom might not be good at calculus and honors biology, but she knew people.

  A glimmer of doubt flittered through Cheyenne’s mind. What if she was right about Trevor too?

  Cheyenne shoved the thought away and closed her computer. Following Molly into her room, Cheyenne found her on her knees half inside the small closet, digging for something. She didn’t have a lot of clothes, but shoes were a different story. She was a total shoe hoarder.

  “What are you looking for?” Cheyenne folded her arms across her chest as she stood behind her mother.

  “The heels Sophie gave me. Have you seen them?”

  “No.”

  The closet door, which had a tendency to swing shut, was propped open with a heavy bean bag door stopper shaped like a fat calico cat. They’d had a cat like that when Cheyenne was little. Her name was Smudge. Cheyenne missed that old cat. She missed her life in Tennessee too, even though they’d moved around a lot and she changed schools eleven times in nine years. The upside was that she was never in one place long enough to annoy anyone.

  Above Smudge, a large poster of Anders Ostergaard was taped to the inside of the door. Cheyenne tilted her head to study the poster. Anders was leaning back against the door of a beat-up red pickup truck in a pair of equally worn out jeans. His legs were crossed at the ankles. His blue plaid flannel button down shirt hung open, revealing his naked chest. The expression on his stubbly face was squinty and brooding. The picture must’ve been taken seven or eight years ago. His shaggy, dirty blonde hair was longer than it was now, but he still looked pretty much the same. Molly practically drooled over the poster the first time she saw it. She said he looked like “sex on a stick,” whatever that meant.

  Molly hid the poster in the closet because she didn’t want the maintenance guy to see it if he had to come into the apartment. She thought she was too old to fangirl over a celebrity, but she was a total fangirl. Cheyenne still couldn't believe Anders was here in Key West. Her mother was handling it surprisingly well.

  “Are you going to get changed?” Molly tossed a pair of fuzzy slippers over her shoulder.

  “I just have to put on my dress.”

  “Dagnabit!” Molly took a stack of shoe boxes out of the closet and set them aside. “Where did I put those shoes?”

  Sophie had given Molly the very expensive pair of designer snakeskin stilettos last October as a thank-you gift for letting her spend the nig
ht at their apartment even though Cheyenne accidentally destroyed her designer dress. Okay, maybe it hadn’t been an accident, but she didn’t like Sophie when she first met her. She’d wrongly assumed Sophie was one of the rich, snobby types, like Amanda Grace, who thought they were better than everybody else. Turned out, Sophie wasn’t like that at all. She was kind and caring and ended up becoming Molly’s best friend. She was nice to Cheyenne too even though she didn’t have to be.

  Cheyenne frowned as a thought struck her. “Sophie didn’t tell you she was going to be Anders Ostergaard’s sister-in-law. Why aren’t you mad at her?”

  Molly stopped digging for a moment and sat up. “She apologized to me over the phone last night and swore she didn’t keep the secret from me on purpose. She said she never meant to hurt me and she’s relieved I know the truth. I forgave her.”

  Sure. She forgave her BFF for keeping a secret, but she couldn’t forgive her own daughter. Disgusted, Cheyenne spun away from the closet and her gaze landed on a pair of jade green designer heels perched on top of the highboy dresser in the corner. She should just keep her mouth shut and go to her room. Maybe Molly would change her mind about going to the party or take so long they missed it all together. But Sophie would be really disappointed if they didn't come. Cheyenne sighed and grumbled, “Ma, I found your shoes.”

  Molly shimmied out of the closet and turned around. “Oh, thank goodness. I just bought a new dress to match them.”

  Still in no hurry to get changed, Cheyenne sat on the bed watching her mother wrestle with a price tag that refused to tear off. Molly was apparently speaking to her again, but Cheyenne was only half-listening. “I would’ve been home sooner, but Anders’ publicist stopped into the bookstore and held me up. She was a little intense.”

  “Why do you say that?” Cheyenne laid back on the bed, her feet dangling over the side.

  “Just the way she questioned me about what happened at the bar yesterday when that paparazzo snapped a picture of me falling into Anders’ arms.”