On His Honor

by Jean Brashear

  “Well, ouch.”

  “Do they live nearby?”

  “Nope. They’re way out in Lubbock, where I grew up.”

  “Your brothers there, too?”

  “One is. He farms cotton with my dad. The oldest one. The good son.”

  “And what are you?”

  “The baby boy.”

  “You have my condolences. I’m the baby girl.”

  “I knew I liked you. So do your brothers think you don’t have the brains God gave a flea, and your mom still calls you her baby? And everybody believes they need to tell you how to do every last thing?”

  “It’s a little scary how well you know my family.”

  “Amen. When I have kids, I’m letting the little one boss everybody around and making the big kids take orders.”

  She giggled. “You want kids?”

  “Oh, yeah. I mean, I wasn’t in any hurry and I’m still not, well, not exactly, but…things I see in my line of work remind me often that you don’t know how much time you have. I guess I’m finally about tired of fooling around. Might even have to grow up, sad as that is to have to say.”

  “So is Mrs. Cameron all picked out?”

  “Uh…no. Not even on the horizon. I did say about tired of fooling around. How about you?” He hissed as he remembered. “Sorry. Forgot. Honest, Violet, I said that without thinking.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s really not.”

  “You don’t have to tiptoe around me. Yes, that’s a painful subject, but mostly because I’m the only divorced person in my family in anyone’s memory, and here I am, a two-time loser.”

  “There’s not one ounce of loser in you.”

  She hesitated, then confessed her fear, “Maybe there’s something in me, some ingrained failing.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Neither man deserved you.”

  She sighed. “Even if that’s true, how come I have such poor judgment?”

  “’Cause you’re a romantic, just like your movies.”

  She did a mental double take. “Wow. I never looked at it that way.”

  “There’s no shame in it, Violet. The world needs more romantics. Where would we be if no one believed in love?”

  Her heart squeezed. “I do want children, but I can’t seem to figure out how to find their father first.”

  “You could be a modern woman and have them without a man.”

  “No. No, I couldn’t. Or at least, I won’t. I know it’s terribly old-fashioned, but I believe in the traditional family. I don’t pass judgment on others, but I really hope I can manage to follow in my parents’ footsteps. I know a lot of single mothers who do an excellent job raising their children, but it’s a hard life for them, and it’s lonely. There’s enough of a romantic in me to keep hoping I’ll find that one man who loves me for myself and who wants to build a home and a family together.” She sighed. “But in my business, that’s not easy. Zane is one of the few who’s managed it.”

  “He’s a good dad. All the men in that family are.”

  “They remind me of my father and brothers that way.”

  “Mine, too.”

  They fell silent for a moment.

  “Well!” he said brightly. “Now that I’ve got you all bummed out, I’m sure you’d like nothing better than to spend the rest of the day with me.”

  “I’m not bummed out. It’s kinda nice to be able to talk to someone who understands the world I came from.”

  “Someone disgustingly normal?”

  “Normal squared.”

  They shared a chuckle.

  “Okay, so since I’m on a roll, let me ask you just how much you like the outdoors.”

  “I told you yesterday that I love it.”

  “Up for a little hike?”

  “Absolutely. Where are we going?”

  “Well, I was trying to think of where we could go that you’d encounter the fewest people, and there’s a place about a half hour’s drive called Hamilton Pool. It’s a nature preserve with a waterfall where Hamilton Creek spills into a pool with a grotto.”

  “Sounds gorgeous.”

  “It is, and the best part is that school isn’t out for the summer yet, plus it’s a weekday, so it shouldn’t be crowded. But it’s a dusty trail, and there are rocks to climb over to get into the heart of the grotto. You have clothes for that?”

  “I’ll figure out something.”

  “We could swim, too, if you wanted to.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t like to swim?”

  “Love to, just…” She only had a bikini with her, and suddenly that seemed intimate.

  “Well, bring your suit if you want to, and if you feel like swimming when we’re there, fine. If not, fine, too. The water will probably feel good on a day like today. But whatever you decide, I’ll throw some towels in the truck, and I’ll pack us some snacks.”

  “Oh, JD, don’t go to all that trouble. Couldn’t we stop at Whole Foods and pick something up? Isn’t it close to here?”

  “Yeah, if you like healthy stuff. Girly food.”

  She laughed. “Girly food. Whereas you’d pack, what, some white bread and bologna?”

  “Hey, what’s wrong with good old bologna?”

  She shook her head. “You are too much. Okay, here’s the deal. I happen to have access to an amazing kitchen just across the grounds. Let me see if I can wrangle something for us from Sophie, since you’re arranging all the rest. Or if she doesn’t have anything, since she’s only feeding me right now, with my—gasp—girly tastes, then we’ll stop somewhere and grab something on the way.”

  “At Whole Foods?” He sounded slightly sick at the prospect.

  “You didn’t get that physique from only eating barbecue.”

  “You noticed my physique? Score!”

  “Oh, get out of here. Bring your bologna if you just have to have it, you plowboy, but I’ll arrange my own. We’ll see who winds up eating whose food. Now I’m going to get ready.”

  “That’s harsh, Hollywood. I think you hurt my feelings.”

  “I’ll be ready in thirty minutes, plowboy.”

  “Me and my white bread will be waiting.”

  She hung up, laughing.

  * * *

  AS HE DROVE BACK TO THE CLUB, Avery Lofton’s phone rang.

  “What’s going on? Why did you have Leslie wake me up?” Sage demanded.

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get to sleep until nearly five.” She yawned. He could easily imagine her there, tawny hair tousled by sex, long, supple she-cat body naked in the satin sheets she preferred.

  They’d had a go at each other, several torrid months, until his head had cleared enough to realize that they could be lovers or partners but not both.

  Sage Holland was greedy and venal and ambitious. Also smart as hell. And damn good at making money.

  But lately her vices were causing him concerns.

  “Not my fault you insist on picking up hotties at the club.”

  “Not my fault you’re living like a monk lately. It’s making you surly.”

  Enough dithering. “What’s making me surly is cleaning up your messes.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Bately called the club this morning. Thank God he didn’t say anything specific to Leslie, but he insisted he needed to speak with me when she told him you weren’t available.”

  “What did he want?”

  “I haven’t talked to him yet. I’ve been tied up.”

  “Another of your mysterious morning errands? Where do you keep disappearing to, Avery?”

>   “You get to have a life outside the club but I don’t?”

  A charged moment of silence. “You’re the one who thinks we should keep things strictly business between us.” Her voice turned to a purr. “I miss you in my bed, Avery. Nobody does it for me like you.”

  If he let himself, he could fall right back into her quicksand. Sex with Sage was explosive and dangerous and…unforgettable. But you could never be sure if you’d escape without parts missing.

  One of those parts that had gotten lost had been, too often, his brain. Hence his current situation. “Sage…”

  “Screw you.” Then she laughed, but it was brittle. “You’re no fun anymore, anyway.”

  That was another concern, Sage’s mercurial moods. Sometimes they were drug-induced, but there was an instability to her, a counterbalance to her brilliance, that threatened to explode even when she was stone sober.

  Dealing with Sage was like juggling lit sticks of dynamite.

  But he was in too deep to do anything but keep juggling. Their fates were inextricably intertwined.

  “Bately probably wants to beg for more time,” she sneered. “Or lower payments. He’s a pain in the ass, a constant whiner.”

  “Should’ve thought of that before you decided we needed to get into the blackmail game.”

  “Don’t give me that. We couldn’t run enough money through here to stay in Lima’s good graces. He was going to cut us out, you know that as well as I do. We needed options.”

  “Well, you sure found them, didn’t you?” Avery gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. “I can’t talk about this right now. I’m at the club.”

  Spending time with Violet and then reentering his own world was like breaking open a scab and watching the blood well. Being with her reminded him too much of the young dreamer he’d been.

  And how far he’d drifted from the man she’d known.

  “I’ll call Bately,” Sage said.

  “Let me know if there’s a real problem.”

  “I can handle him.” Her voice was icy as she disconnected without saying goodbye.

  You’d damn well better, Avery thought. We can’t have anyone get out of our control, not now. It could cost us our very lives… .

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “SO WE’RE WEST OF AUSTIN NOW, RIGHT?” Violet rode in the passenger seat of his pickup, scanning the scenery.

  “We are, indeed, out in what’s called the Hill Country. This used to be strictly ranch territory.”

  “Cattle?”

  “More often goats. This land is so rocky, it’s hard to grow good crops, and you’d go bankrupt bringing in hay for cattle. Goats can fend for themselves. They’ll even eat trees, if they have to. If you have goats, you don’t need a lawn mower.”

  “Goats are cute.”

  “See them much in LaLaLand?”

  She looked at him askance. “Have you ever actually been to California?”

  “Nope. Don’t need to.” He said it just to get a rise out of her.

  It worked. “Excuse me? You can’t just say something like that.”

  “Sure I can. I know everything about the place already. Land of fruits and nuts. Granola country. The Left Coast—home of every crackpot in America.”

  “Seriously? You can’t spout such drivel—” Her head whipped toward his, and he could just imagine the sparks in those turquoise eyes currently concealed by sunglasses. Then she shook her head. “Of course you’re not serious. What was I thinking?”

  “I can be serious,” he protested. She had no idea.

  “Uh-huh.” She tipped down the darkened lenses, her luscious cherry-red lips curving at the corners. “Be sure to alert me when that happens. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  “Deal. But let’s just remember who bought hummus and fruit and junk.”

  “How does a plowboy know about hummus?”

  “Hey, I read.” He grimaced. “Looks nasty, though.” Actually, he liked all kinds of food, including hummus—but he wasn’t about to tell her so.

  “If you’re nice, I’ll share a taste, and then you’ll be hogging the container.”

  “Nope. Got my bologna sandwich, so I’m good.” She hadn’t actually seen what he’d packed.

  “If you honestly eat as badly as it seems, it’s a miracle you don’t weigh three hundred pounds. My trainer would expire from fright.”

  “You have a trainer?”

  “It’s Hollywood, JD. The script girl has a trainer.”

  “I guess it’s sort of your job to stay in shape.”

  “You have no idea. Fortunately, I like exercise—well, until Randy gets too brutal. It’s the not eating that kills me. I do love food.” She glanced over. “Ergo the healthy junk, as you call it. I’ve eaten much too well since I got here and had far too little exercise, mostly only my yoga.”

  He looked her over. “You seem pretty prime to me. Not to be a chauvinist, of course.”

  “The camera adds ten pounds.”

  He sensed a strange undercurrent of insecurity in her words. “Do all those women really think having a teenage boy’s figure with boobs is attractive? Me, I think the fashion world is run by gay guys, and their idea of beauty is a woman who looks just like them.”

  “That’s terrible,” she spluttered. But her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

  “Am I right? You bet I am. A woman looks like a woman, and people tell her she’s fat. Then folks wonder why teenage girls are bulimic and such. Well, excuse me, but a man wants his woman to have curves. Hips he can put his hands on. Softness, not a body that feels like his own.” He glanced over. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to rant, but if your trainer is selling you that hard body crap, you need to ditch him. Real men don’t want stick figures with fake boobs.”

  Her head was cocked as she studied him. “I guess you can be serious.”

  “Don’t get me started. In my line of work, I see what happens when people treat others as if they’re not human. There’s too damn much ‘me, me, me’ attitude these days, folks being so callous about others, and it sure seems as though your business is one of the worst for that. Everything’s about what’s hot right this second, and good people like you are chewed up and spit out as though they don’t have feelings, as though they aren’t people. Am I right?”

  She removed her sunglasses. Blinked.

  “Sorry. It gets me wound up. I just… I just think it’s a crime, all this emphasis on the superficial. That whole attitude of use them and discard them, that sense of survival of the fittest and dog-eat-dog competition…I’ve seen the hell that results when people are reduced to commodities. When they are loaded in trailers with no food or water and some of them—”

  He exhaled. “I’m sorry. Not sure where that came from.”

  Except he did know.

  But he couldn’t afford to let down his guard like that. Especially not with her.

  “Don’t apologize. I can’t imagine how you do what you do— I mean, back when you were on active duty.” She shook her head. “You witness the worst of mankind, don’t you?”

  Yeah, and you never forget it. He shrugged. “You just…you handle it.” Or you burn out.

  “I never thought about how that creed of cynicism and depersonalization spins out from the world I operate in to become something evil, but you’re right. I live in the most artificial atmosphere imaginable, yet most people have bought into it. Even me, to some degree. It’s all about the surface and almost nothing is about the person you are inside.” She stared ahead, elbow on the window frame, head resting on her fist. “That’s part of why I ran away to Texas. Things seem so important in Hollywood that really aren’t.” She glanced at him. “Especially compared to what you’ve seen. I feel foolish, ever wo
rrying for a second about crazed fans or tabloid rumors.”

  “Don’t. In your world, they can be just as dangerous.”

  “My small and incestuous world.”

  “What you do has a positive impact, though, never doubt it. You reach a lot of people.”

  “Even with my little comedies?”

  He snorted. “Not so little.” Man, he’d sure derailed their easy mood. “Okay, I’ll just say one more thing, then enough with philosophizing. My point is that there’s nothing wrong with a real woman’s body and a real woman’s face, like yours. Never let them make you feel otherwise. There’s more to you than your appearance, and age won’t change that. My grandmother is more beautiful than ever, and she’s eighty-five. Her beauty comes from who she is.”

  Her brows rose, and her smile was brilliant. “I wish you called the shots out there. Professionally, I will pay a price for it soon, but for your information, no one’s coming near me with a knife or a needle. That very well may mean the end of my career, especially in the genre where I’ve been pigeon-holed. Once I’m not pretty and young, I’ll still be able to do comedies, but I’ll be reduced to supporting roles and slapstick, to being a caricature. Still, I hope that when that day comes, I’ll retain at least a little scrap of my upbringing, enough to prevent me from stooping to cosmetic surgery.”

  “You’re smart and talented—you can be whatever you want. Haven’t you already proven that to yourself?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t think you understand the essential insecurity that’s at the core of every actor. If we were happy being ourselves, we wouldn’t need to escape into a character.” Her smile at him was fond. “If you could bottle your confidence, you’d make a killing in my world. Of course, then there would be no movies because we’d all be too steady and secure and real.”

  She laughed, and he tried to laugh with her. Would she be laughing if she knew who he really was?

  “Nearly there.” He pointed at a sign and turned off into the parking area. “Cool. No one here but us.” He parked his truck and cut off the engine. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Ready.”

  * * *

  JD HAD WAVED HER ONTO THE PATH in front of him, but she’d demurred, preferring to follow him since she was in unfamiliar territory. The preserve they’d run in yesterday had seemed remote and peaceful compared to her life in L.A., but this…the wind seemed exceedingly loud until she realized that was simply because nothing else competed with it.