Billie Jo managed a wan smile. Roddy spoke up. “She’s been feeling under the weather for the last few days.”
Preston plucked a glass from the tray. “I could have a look at her if we could find a quiet space if you’d like. It would put your mind at ease, so you can enjoy the evening.”
Roddy brushed a pale curl from Billie Jo’s forehead. “How about it, honey? I’m worried about you, and it won’t hurt to have a doctor check you over.”
“I’m fine. Stop fussin’,” Billie Jo murmured. “I ate something bad, that’s all. Give it a rest, Roddy. If I’m not better in a day or two, I’ll go see my own doctor. I’m not lettin’ Jolene’s new boyfriend have a gander at me, so shut up about it.”
Roddy did a playful mock salute. “Yes, my dear. I always stand ready to obey your wifely orders.”
I spotted an empty chair in the corner of an adjoining room and pointed it out to the others. They were in agreement and we moved our party away from the pressing crowd. Once we had Billie Jo settled in the quieter room, I made an excuse of needing to use the restroom, and went in search of the rest of my family. And encountered quite a scene, with clowns, kings and queens, witches, goblins, and every kind of costume competing for attention.
In the large library at the back of the house, I found Mama seated at the book display table autographing cookbooks as Daddy watched with a proud smile from his position behind her. He spotted me first and motioned to Mama. She gave me a quick wave and bent back down over the pile of books in front of her. Boxed in by an intoxicated pirate with roving hands, I backed out of the room and into the hall, in hopes of finding Deena and her fiancé, Wheeler County Probate Judge, Ryder Matheson, somewhere in this flock of party animals.
After searching most of the house, I spotted a virginal bride in white lodged between a rugged Daniel Boone and a wilted Thomas Jefferson deep in conversation near the butler’s pantry.
“You don’t have much of an imagination,” I complained to her when I pushed my way to her side. “It’s a costume party, Deena, not your wedding day.”
“Oh, excuse me, Sister Dearest, for not living up to your expectations.” She snickered in a playful tone. “You, however, look like a spray-painted Lone Ranger. I’m surprised you haven’t dropped in a dead faint from lack of oxygen.” Her eyes fastened on my bursting blouse seams. “Your boobs look enormous. It’s kinda embarrassing the way the men are ogling you.”
I snagged another glass of wine from a passing waiter who eyed my voluptuous display with a lecherous smile. “Yeah, I know, but it’s worth it. You should’ve seen Bradford’s face when I walked in.” I fanned myself. “The look he gave me almost set my pants on fire! Vanessa wanted to strangle me. That woman definitely doesn’t like me which suits me because the feeling is mutual. Where’s the groom-to-be?”
Deena frowned. “Fetching me a glass of cold water. And don’t change the subject. What about Preston? He’s a good man, and I’d hate to see him hurt by all this. Forget Sam and move on. He’s not the man for you. Besides, you blew it. Mama says that he and Vanessa are in a serious relationship.”
“His body language speaks otherwise.” I pouted, rebuffed by her words. God, how I hated to admit Deena was right—I did blow my chance with Sam last November during the Pecan Festival. He’d warned me numerous times that he couldn’t accept my “paranormal abilities” and had finally walked away when Scarlett did one of her flashy disappearing acts almost blinding him in the process. Sam doesn’t believe in the afterlife, and well, the afterlife follows me around like a shadow. So I let him walk.
Big mistake on my part and I wanted him back—bad. I was a middle-age hairdresser—currently sex-deprived—and I was getting antsy about not getting laid soon. Recently, Preston had started champing like a boar hog in mating season, and that had my attention. I’m not shy about wanting sex, and I wanted sex—and since I couldn’t have Prince Charming, Preston was a viable candidate for now.
“Jolene, are you listening to me?”
I flashed a big smile. “Refresh my memory.”
Deena waved her hand at the costumed guests. “I was saying how easy it would be for a stranger to crash this party. With all the costumes and masks covering our faces, it wouldn’t take much to convince the hostess you were invited. Someone could burst in here and rob us blind, and we’d never be able to identify them.”
Again, I surveyed the crowd and spotted Vanessa’s mother, Betty, decked out like a star-studded 1940’s Hollywood actress. She waved a bejeweled hand at me from across the room, and then turned her attention back to Lady Liberty and her companion. From my viewpoint, most all the invitees were indeed wearing elaborate costumes which included a mask that concealed their identities. They could be anyone for all I knew from this perspective.
“Well, Deena, I hadn’t thought of it like that but I suppose you could be right. But then again, isn’t that the purpose of Halloween? Dressing up and fooling people? Trick-or-treating and having fun? I don’t believe we have to worry about someone impersonating a guest and robbing us. The DA is here. And most of the Whiskey Creek police force. Look over there by the piano.” I pointed to a large multicolored bird. “There’s the police chief. And the Shakespearean Romeo beside him is the sheriff.”
Deena’s rosebud mouth quivered with amusement. “Can you imagine someone impersonating Mayor Kent? Or his wife? She’s dressed up as Little Bo Peep.”
I turned to see the lady in question stroll by on the arm of Superman and giggled at the sight of the plump woman who favored a pink Liberty Bell more than a gentle shepherdess.
“Oh, look.” Deena grabbed my arm, jerking my attention away from the First Man and Lady of Whiskey Creek to the fairytale pair making their way toward us. “There’s Sam and Vanessa now. You have to admit, Jolene, they do make a handsome couple. Sam looks content, don’t you think?”
My heart did a quick step at the sight of Vanessa’s hand resting cozily through Bradford’s arm. Jealousy kicked my gut like a mule. Damn, I had to make my escape, and fast, if I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Deena had enough to worry about with her wedding drawing close without any added distractions—like me strangling the woman.
“I left Preston cooling his heels in the next room with Billie Jo and Roddy. See you later.” I turned and bolted through the crowd. At the door, I turned back to witness the smiling couple engaged in a cozy embrace. My previous confidence took a dive, and my spirits sank even lower. I sat my empty glass on a nearby table and went to find Preston and another glass of liquid comfort.
Chapter Two
Queen of the Vampires
Three glasses of wine later, I was feeling no pain and well on my way to making another life-altering mistake. The combination of jealousy and alcohol had completely stripped me of common sense, inhibitions, and any second thoughts I might be entertaining at the moment. And, at the moment, Preston and I were standing outside in the small, enclosed, moonlit backyard behind a group of prickly bushes that offered a maximum of protection from any interested bystanders who had the same idea.
The girls were about to escape their confines when a familiar voice penetrated the heated haze fogging my brain.
“Stop the theatrics, Cash. I have the proof in my hands.”
“Vanessa, give me a chance to explain.”
Hastily, I pushed away Preston’s hands and started buttoning my blouse. The last thing I needed was my replacement running back to Bradford with tales of me and Preston gettin’ it on in her backyard. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past her to have us doing the dirty in every kinky position her writer’s imagination could dream up.
Preston immediately protested my sudden shyness. His fingers plucked again at my buttons. “Ah, Jolene, don’t stop me now.” He fished a condom from his shirt pocket with one hand, and opened the top button of my blouse with the other. “I’ve been fantasizing about this moment from the first time I laid eyes on you.” The second, third, and fourth button followed.
“Shh,” I whispered. “We have company.”
Warm hands slipped inside my bra. My world tilted.
“Explain? My royalty statement explains it all. You’re fired, Cash. I’m hiring another agent.”
“Not so fast, Vanessa, my dear. Fire me and I’ll be forced to explain to your boyfriend cop that dirty little secret you’ve been keeping from him. I wonder how he’d react to know—”
Preston’s nimble fingers found the bra clasp. I couldn’t think clearly. All resistance took a hike as my breath quickened, and a wave of liquid warmth flooded my twinkie pie. I licked my lips and lifted them toward him.
“You wouldn’t dare, you fool. I’m not the only one who will lose. Your reputation won’t stand another scandal. I’m going to bury you if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Never say never, Vanessa. I’ve weathered many storms. I’ll weather this one, but the truth about you would kill your career. Think about the lawsuits and get back to me.”
The kiss was hot, urgent, and mind numbing, and I gave into the pleasure and the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream. Tomorrow might bring regrets, and of course, a whopper of a hangover, but tonight I was gonna do things in the dark with this man that would make the devil blush.
Giddy-up Silver! Away we go!
****
Later that evening, after Preston and I had returned to the party, I escaped to the upstairs powder room to restore my appearance before Mama and Deena caught a glimpse of me and bombarded me with outrageous indignation for dilly-dallying in Vanessa’s backyard. Billie Jo would’ve given me the thumbs-up because she’s been bugging me for months to get back in the saddle again. I suppose I should feel guilty for using Preston in the manner that I did, but I didn’t. I felt wonderful after sex in the bushes with a younger man. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I felt like dancing like a silly teenager.
Humming along with the rhythmic music drifting from downstairs, I brushed off the leaves and twigs clinging to my costume, smoothed my hair back under the cowboy hat, retied the mask, and stepped back to survey my work in the mirror. All signs of dishabille had been erased but for the pink staining my cheeks, the sparkle in my eyes, and the huge smile on my lips. Some things can’t be disguised no matter how hard you try.
Ready to rejoin the party, I left the bathroom and made my way to the top of the landing where I paused when faint, angry voices on the stairs caught my attention. Thinking to avoid an embarrassing confrontation with whoever and allow them privacy, I sat down on the velvet settee and waited for them to work out their problem or move on.
“Come on Vanessa, I know you want it,” a man’s drunken voice wafted up the staircase. “You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length long enough. Your boy toy won’t mind sharing.”
“Purvis Dupree, take your hands off me, you fool. Someone might see us.”
Curiosity overcame caution at the anger in the famous author’s voice, and I peered over the railing to see a broad-shouldered Victorian dandy embracing Bradford’s girlfriend in a compromising embrace. Large hands roamed freely over her body, pinching, exploring, before his mouth crashed down on hers.
Ah, the turned-on dude happened to be Purvis Dupree. Editor and owner of Firebrand Publications, a publishing company out of Atlanta. I’d heard his name bandied about this evening by several of the female writers I’d been introduced to, and I came away with the impression that there was more to the man than meets the eye. He was a lecher—a fact easy to discern if you stood within hands’ reach, they’d said, and a crack-shot businessman who wanted to, and here I quote, “take a bite of the multimillion dollar Queen-of-the-Vampires empire,” unquote. Yep, those Southern romance writers definitely had some issues to resolve I discerned from the tone of their voices. Jealousy topped the list.
Heat flooded my face as I continued to watch their dance on the stairs. Hey, I’m no voyeur, but curiosity kept me glued to the spot. Muffled cries erupted from the pair, and I stood in indecision, uncertain how to react to the steamy porn show unfolding before me. Captivated, I couldn’t look away as Vanessa broke the hold and tried to step away. Mr. Dupree only laughed as he captured her hands behind her back and pressed her body into the wall, raining slobbery kisses across her face and neck.
And then it happened. Vanessa jerked out of the man’s embrace, swung back, and delivered a stinging blow to the side of his face. Immediately he crumbled to the stairs, sobbing contritely then begging for forgiveness. The pitiful sight of the deflated man and the petite author gently bending over him, murmuring soothing words much like a mother tending her wounded child, left me stunned and sickened. Damn, the character traits these writers displayed. God, I hoped Mama didn’t pick up any of their bad habits while hanging around them. With that on my mind, I silently backed away from the railing and slumped down again on the settee—feeling a tad queasy and confused about the strange scene I’d witnessed.
My picture of the Queen of the Vampires, as her competitors had dubbed her, underwent another change. One minute she’s fluttering about her guests like a lightning bug on a search for a mate. Then she lands on some pitiful flower and devours its sweet nectar before moving on to take another bite out of her next unsuspecting victim. First, her agent and then the publishing mogul.
My stomach did a flip as I thought about Mama in the library autographing her cookbooks for the masses. Exactly what was Vanessa’s agenda concerning my mother? And what about Bradford? Just as sure as the grass was green in spring, I knew I had to find out more about this woman who held the happiness and prosperity of two important people in my life in her deceptively delicate hands.
****
From my hidden position by the corner hutch in the breakfast area, I could hear Vanessa give the caterer strict instructions to keep an eye on Purvis Dupree until he sobered up. I shadowed Vanessa as she left the publisher drinking hot coffee in the kitchen and into the dining room where she paused to speak with a group of women. From their conversation, I assumed they were part of the local writers group that met in the library every Wednesday afternoon. From there she moved between groups of people, stopping here and there to engage in casual conversation during which she would lift her head and survey the room as if she were searching for someone. My immediate guess would be Bradford.
After several more seconds of chitchat, she excused herself and walked in the general direction of the back library where I’d last seen Mama autographing cookbooks. Suddenly, without warning, Vanessa halted her progress and swung around, again searching the crowd nervously.
Before she could spot me hot on her trial, I ducked behind a large man in a clown costume. So far, my mission to learn more about this woman hadn’t turned up much. One thing for certain, this was going to take time and patience on my part, but I was determined to stick it out until her true colors were exposed.
Over the country music and conversation, I heard a cell phone ring and Vanessa’s loud “Hello” as she answered the call. “You’re here—now? Leave this instant! Wait. I can’t talk here.” The crisp words were spit out in machine gun fashion. Her tone of voice made it easy to deduce her displeasure at hearing from the caller. Cautiously, I peered out from behind my cover and saw her dart into a room off the hall. In a flash, I skirted around Mr. Clown and followed—my curiosity pushing me forward.
I paused in the doorway, hoping to hear more of her private conversation and heard only the muffled sound of exasperation over the noise in the hallway. If I wanted to snoop, I’d have to do better than this. Pressed against the doorjamb, I poked my head around the entry and saw Vanessa, her back to me, standing in the farthest corner of what appeared to be a small study. A nearby closet offered a great hiding place. With her preoccupied with the caller, I slipped inside the room on silent feet and then the closet, leaving a slit in the door to allow eavesdropping without detection. Through the crack I had a limited view.
As though sensing my presence, Vanessa swung around, her amber gaze sweeping the r
oom. I held my breath in fear of discovery and pulled my face back into the shadows.
“Hold on while I close the door,” I heard her say, then footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor, and finally the soft click of a door closing.
“Listen to me good. This is not the right time to make the switch,” she continued. “Wait until after the party to lessen the chance of a mistake.” A pause. I peered through the crack to see Vanessa sink down onto a plush chair, her face pulled into a frown. “Yes, I know our agreement… Yes, I know all of that, but listen to reason. Sam will know. He’s acting strange. I’ve done what you’ve asked, but he’s suspicious…yes, of course, I understand. You’re the boss.” Her voice echoed exasperation. “It end’s tonight? Yes, yes, whatever you say. I expect to be paid. Handsomely. Yes, I won’t keep you waiting.”
Vanessa sat in silence for several minutes after ending the call. She let out a long, audible breath. “Now what am I going to do? I can’t let my work be in vain. Somehow I have to stop this from happening tonight.” She grabbed up her phone and sent out a text message. “If he fails to check his phone everything we’ve worked for is gone. The money, the fame, the spotlight. It’s over for us.”
From the crack in the door, I watched her climb to her feet and make her way across the room. It sounded as if she sniffled just a bit. Seconds after I heard the door open and close, I emerged from my hiding place with the intent of following her. I wanted to, no, had to know what was going on with this woman. Bolting for the door, I pulled it open and charged out into the hall only to crash into Prince Charming—the one person on the planet, other than Mama, who would take one look at me and know exactly what I had been up to.
“Jolene?” His strong hand on my elbow steadied me. “What have you done to Vanessa?”
His words were unexpected. I jerked my eyes to his. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“She was crying when she came out of this room mere seconds before you,” Bradford accused in a manner that set my teeth on edge. I wanted to share my concerns and observations with him but not when he was harboring the notion that’d I’d taken a bite out of his lady love.
A Dead Pig in the Sunshine Page 2