Marty suddenly clutched my hand. “Don’t look now. Carlos is headed this way.’’
Everyone except me immediately shifted or turned in their chairs to watch him approach. Subtle.
“Sal, I need a word.’’ He nodded, unsmiling, at the rest of us.
“No problem.’’ Sal started to rise, when I saw Mama place a restraining hand on his tree-trunk-sized thigh.
“Carlos, honey, why don’t you have a seat and rest a bit. You look like something the dog dragged up from under the porch.’’
He offered Mama a weak grin. “That bad, huh?’’
I thought he looked gorgeous, if a bit tired. I wanted to smooth the frown line from his brow, and kiss the tension off his lips. I resisted an urge to reach over and straighten his hair. Whenever he was deep in thought, he scratched at each side of his head near the temples. It left his thick hair sticking out in peaks over his ears.
I interlaced my fingers on my lap so I wouldn’t be tempted. I was still angry about the way he’d left me standing at the horse corral, calling after him like a desperate, needy girlfriend.
Marty slid over on a bench seat, patting a space for Carlos. “Mama just means you look tired. You’ve been working so hard. Why don’t you take a break?’’
Marty looked up at him with that sweet, imploring way she has; the way I don’t have.
He glanced at me, raised his eyebrows in a question.
I shrugged. “It’s a free country.’’
I immediately felt a pinch on my thigh hard enough to leave a bruise: Maddie.
Mama said, “Ignore my middle daughter, Carlos. She was raised by wolves.’’
“Sorry. Do have a seat,’’ I mumbled. “We’d love to have you join us.’’
“Don’t mind if I do.’’ Ignoring the frost I tried to put in my voice, he squeezed in next to Marty, sitting across from me. “Where’s your good friend, Jeb?’’
I could feel my blood pressure rising. “I tried to explain, Carlos. I recall you stomping away and refusing to listen, as usual.’’
A worried look passed between my sisters and Mama. Even Sal looked concerned.
“Jeb Ennis?’’ Maddie snorted. “That broken-down, no-account, ex-rodeo cowboy? He doesn’t have a pot to piss in. I saw him getting coffee this morning; probably after a drunk last night. His looks are going, too.’’
“No, they’re not, honey. Jeb is still one fine-looking man.’’ Mama winced a bit, and I knew from her glare that Marty must have kicked her. “You’re right about the pot, though. I heard Jeb lost everything he owned, again.’’
“Well, he still has his cattle dog, right Mace?’’
I narrowed my eyes at Carlos. What kind of game was he playing? Did he want to get a rise out of me? Was he trying a lame joke in an attempt to make up? I couldn’t tell. He had his cop face on. So, instead of saying the wrong thing, I said nothing.
“Mace, the man asked you a question!’’ Mama swatted my folded hands. “I didn’t teach you to ignore people when they speak to you.’’
I jerked out of her reach. “Stop slapping on me, Mama. I’m a grown woman!’’
“Then start acting like one!’’
“Ring, ring … Kettle, it’s the pot.’’ I offered her a pretend phone. “Who’s the one simpering around the set, pretending to be a movie star? Who’s the one playing dress-up, like she’s in her second childhood?”
Sal slammed one of his bear-paw-sized hands on the table. “Enough, Mace! Don’t talk like that about your mudder. She earned a speaking part, and she’s good. She’s going to steal the whole movie!’’
He beamed with pride at Mama, who planted a kiss on his cheek. “At least I know how to keep my man happy, don’t I, Sally?’’
Sal nodded, grinning like a fat man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I heard Marty’s quiet voice. “Mace can’t help it if she doesn’t express her feelings well. Not everybody wears their heart on their sleeve.’’ She looked pointedly at Mama, and then turned to my estranged boyfriend. “She cares so much about you, Carlos. We’ve never seen her like this with anyone she’s ever dated.’’
“That’s right,’’ Mama chimed in. “Mace loves you.’’
My cheeks burned. I must have been blushing, which was totally embarrassing. I didn’t dare raise my eyes to see Carlos’s reaction to my family trying to patch up our romance. But I was listening to every word; including the next ones, when Maddie managed to put her foot in it.
“She was crazy about Jeb Ennis, of course. But Mace only thought that was love.’’ Maddie leaned to grab at both shins. “Ouch!’’
“Jeb is history, Maddie. I was a kid. I tried to tell Carlos that, but he didn’t want to listen. Now, if y’all are through dissecting my sorry love life, I need to go check on the horses.’’
I propelled myself away from the table, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder to see if Carlos would come after me. I could almost feel my skin scorching where five pairs of eyes were aimed at my back. I was debating whether to swallow my pride and return to get Carlos, when I saw Greg Tilton watching me from another table, a plastic-wrapped sandwich in his hand. Maybe he lacked the Hollywood obsession with calories, because I’d already seen him eating lunch, and this was his second extra sandwich of the day. Dropping it on the table, he fell into step beside me.
“Hey, want some company?’’
“Not really.’’
A look of surprise flitted across his face. “I thought we could talk about what’s been happening around here. Somebody mentioned you’re really smart. They say you’re some kind of super amateur detective when it comes to solving murders.’’
He had me at “smart.’’
“I’m not much in the mood for talking,’’ I said, “but you can tag along with me to the corral.’’
As we made our way through the woods, Tilton must have caught on to my black mood. I was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t yammer at me, or insist I turn my frown upside down to a smile. I hate when people say that. I saw him watching a cardinal as it flitted from branch to branch. “Pretty redbird, huh?’’
“ ‘Cardinalis cardinalis,’ ’’ Greg answered.
You could have knocked me over with a cardinalis feather. He gave me his patented movie-star smirk.
“I was quite the birdwatcher when I was a kid,’’ he said. “Guess that makes me a dork.’’
“Not at all,’’ I said. “I wish more people were aware of the natural world around them.’’
“When I was a boy, I used to escape to the woods for hours. I felt safe there.’’
“Me, too.’’ I raised my head to take in the green canopy of trees above us. “Still do.’’
We were silent for a while, just standing together on the path, enjoying the sights and sounds of the woods. Something small scurried through the undergrowth, and we both turned to follow the noise. It was probably a squirrel, or maybe a snake. He spotted a hawk in a tall pine, and pointed it out to me without a word. I showed him the resurrection ferns growing on an oak’s branches, green and lush now after yesterday’s rain. It felt good, companionable, to share my love of nature with somebody who appreciated the outdoors like I did.
I was scanning the ground, still searching for any little critters moving through the brush, when I realized Tilton had gone motionless beside me. He wasn’t checking out the trees or the undergrowth or the birds anymore. He was checking out me.
“You know, the way that dappled sunlight hits your face is really stunning. And you have this serene expression as you look at the woods. You’re a beautiful woman, Mace. It makes you even more desirable that you don’t seem to realize it.’’
Uh-oh.
I started to protest that he shouldn’t get the wrong idea, that I was involved with somebody, but he put a finger to my lips.
“Shhhh, don’t speak.’’’ He’d lowered the tone of his voice into the seduction register. “Just accept the compliment.’’
I felt
like Sandra Bullock in a plain-Jane role, at the moment the dashing hero shows an interest.
He rubbed his finger suggestively over my lips. That sandwich must have been tuna fish, because I could smell it on his hand. I jerked back my head, and shook it with force. “No.’’
“No?’’ He raised his brows, surprised. Then his face contorted with anger, and he grabbed my wrist. “I know you’re attracted to me. What’s your problem?’’
An image of Carlos’s face appeared in my mind. “For one thing, I’m seeing somebody. For another, I’m not attracted to you.’’
He gave a snort of laughter at the very idea of that. “Yeah, right. Anyway, I’m not asking you to marry me. Wouldn’t you like to be able to say you got it on with the great Greg Tilton?’’
He still had a bruising grip on my wrist. He pulled my hand to the fly of his jeans, forcing me to stroke him through the fabric. Apparently, he was ready. But I was far from willing.
I struck as fast as a Florida panther, using my free hand to grab his ear. I twisted it, hard. At the same time, I brought my knee up with a solid shot to his groin. Dropping my wrist, he doubled over. He clutched one hand to his ear. The other cupped his crotch, as he gasped for breath.
He stepped backward, stumbled over a marlberry shrub, and landed on the ground. “Bitch!’’ His face was crimson, either from groin pain or rage.
“You asked for it.’’
“Nobody treats Greg Tilton like that, especially not some country mouse from Hicksville, Florida.’’
“Well, I guess you’re wrong about that, because this country mouse just kicked Greg Tilton’s ass.’’
Grimacing, he tried to get up. I put my boot to his shoulder and sat him back down.
“Touch me again,’’ I said, “and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat just to watch you spit ’em out, single-file.’’
What happened wasn’t funny. Still, I was grinning as I walked away because of the last sight I’d had of him. The “great Greg Tilton’’ was sprawled on his ass, smack dab in a patch of poison ivy.
I was still shaking, not from fear but from anger. Hicksville? Who the hell did Greg Tilton think he was?
I was on my way back to base camp, to warn Mama and my sisters about him. I didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if he’d tried the same thing on Marty, who is as sweet, and about as fragile, as a child’s heirloom doll. Passing by where Tilton had been sitting, I noticed a raccoon had jumped onto the table. He’d gotten past the plastic wrap on the sandwich Tilton left, and was feasting on half of it. I must have been right about the tuna fish. Raccoons can’t resist the strong smell.
Paul’s wife, Savannah, was talking with my family. She was animated, gesturing with those graceful hands. Sal had left, probably to have that word that Carlos wanted. But my sisters and Mama leaned forward, listening eagerly. Savannah noticed me first, and waved me over. As I got closer, her smile changed into a worried frown.
“Where’s Greg?’’ she asked.
All eyes were on me, expectant.
“Gone, thankfully.’’
“What did you do, Mace?’’ Mama tsk-tsked. “Don’t tell me you managed to scare him away, too.’’
“Oh, I scared him all right; but only after he scared me first.’’
Savannah nodded. “I told you so,’’ she said to my sisters. “Did he force himself on you, Mace?’’
Mama’s eyes got round. Marty gasped. Maddie reached out a hand to touch my cheek. “Did he hurt you?’’ my big sister asked.
I shook my head, uncomfortable now with all the attention on me. “He did try something, but he didn’t get very far. I’m fine.’’
Maddie patted my face with relief. “He’s not nearly as big as he looks in the movies. If anything, you probably hurt him.’’
“Well, not permanently,’’ I said with a smile.
“I’m just happy to hear you took care of it,’’ Savannah said. “Just so long as it wasn’t his face. Paul’s shooting Greg’s close-up scenes this afternoon.’’
“Oh, it wasn’t his face.’’ I told them what Tilton had done, and how certain he’d seemed that I’d be willing to play along. “I kicked his butt, and left him sprawled in a patch of poison ivy.’’
“Well, I’d say that’s right where he belongs, honey. Not that I approve of violence, but you had every right,’’ Mama said. “See if I ever ask him for his autograph!’’
Savannah reached into her purse. She slid a wrapped candy across the table. “I was saving this for later, but you need a treat from ‘Savannah City Confections’ more than I do. The pralines are good, but this chocolate’s to die for. They’re from my hometown.’’
I thanked her, and then asked, “When I first walked up, you said ‘I told you so.’ What did you mean?’’
She brushed back a thick lock of her graying hair. She really was pretty. She had Meryl Streep’s dignity, crossed with the perky Southern charm of Reese Witherspoon.
“Your mama had gone off to the little girl’s room when I sat down, but your sisters told me Greg followed you off into the woods. I had a bad feeling …’’
Marty said, “… and you were right.’’
Savannah’s nod was grim. “He fancies himself a ladies’ man. When a lady doesn’t agree, he’s been known to get really ugly, really fast.’’
“Is that personal experience talking?’’ I asked.
She cast her eyes down, her long lashes feathery against milky skin. Her voice was a whisper. “I’m not the only one.’’
Mama put a hand on Savannah’s arm. “Now, I’m doubly glad Mace gave him what for.’’
Maddie said, “How come we’ve never read about this side of Greg Tilton in People magazine?’’
Savannah lifted her shoulders. “There have never been formal charges, as far as I can tell. Women know if they come forward against a famous star like Greg, their whole lives become open for examination. Nobody wants to be hounded by paparazzi, or become the lead story in the National Enquirer.’’
Marty shook her head. “That’s not right. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’’
Savannah waved a hand. “Everyone makes excuses for him. And he did have a terrible childhood. His mom was an abusive drug addict who abandoned him, basically selling him for a pipe full of crack. He lived in a whole series of foster homes; most every one of them was worse than the last.’’
“How old was he?’’ Mama asked.
“Four or five when his mom sold him.’’
“Old enough to realize what happened,’’ I said.
“I can see how he might want to feel loved,’’ Marty said.
Maddie balled her fists and rubbed pretend tears from her eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. None of that gives him the right to go forcing himself on women who aren’t interested in ‘loving’ him. He’s not the only person in the world who had it tough as a kid. A troubled childhood excuses nothing.’’
Savannah nodded. “You’re right, Maddie. There is no excuse. But it does help explain why he’s the way he is. And living in the bubble of Hollywood has just amplified it. When you’re a big star, you come to expect special treatment. No one ever says no.’’
When it comes to the word no, I was finding out that Hollywood people are a lot like spoiled toddlers, screaming for more in the checkout line at Toys “R’’ Us.
_____
Nerves always stimulate my bladder, so it was time for me to make a visit to the honey wagon.
Dispensing a butt-kicking, though, gooses my appetite. So, I made a detour on my way back by the craft services truck to check out the snacks. I grabbed an oversized brownie for myself, and two more, plus a cookie for the table.
I ducked my head into the catering tent, which was nearly empty between meals. I noticed Jesse in a corner, talking to Paul. I wondered if she was looking for praise from him about how she handled her scene. Unlike their aversion to hearing “no,’’ these people loved to hear about how great th
ey were. Big egos and a lack of self-control seemed like a dangerous combination.
Toby and Johnny Jaybird sat at another table. Johnny, leaning in toward the younger man, was doing most of the talking. Though Toby’s eyes were aimed at the ground, his head was inclined toward Johnny. He seemed to be listening intently.
Mama’s husband was bonding over a cup of coffee with a tall, red-headed Teamster. The man had a New Yawk accent to rival Sal’s. I’d seen the teamster earlier in the week, radioing instructions to a driver arriving with an 18-wheeler filled with movie-making equipment. I had a fleeting urge to stop at their table and ask Sal if he’d spoken with Carlos. I didn’t want to seem so desperately female in front of two tough guys, though.
Excuse me, does my boyfriend still like me?
Outside, the raccoon had finished off the first half of Tilton’s sandwich, and was now working on the second. The animal seemed to be having some trouble with the plastic wrap, though. Raccoons are extraordinarily clever and dexterous, so I was confident it would prevail.
Back at our table, Mama’s face brightened when she saw the sweet treats.
“Just what we need!’’ She clapped her hands. “Eating chocolate is much better than talking about Greg Tilton. What a disappointment. I still remember him, guns blazing against the bad guys, in the first Western I saw him do. What a hero he was.’’
“Acting, Mama,’’ Maddie said.
As I sat, my gaze returned to the raccoon. It had dropped the sandwich, without managing to peel free the wrapping. In fact, the animal’s behavior was strange. It tumbled from the bench seat, and then had trouble righting itself on the ground. The coon zigzagged toward the woods, like a drunk trying to follow a straight line at a DUI checkpoint.
“Mace?’’ Mama’s voice sliced through the air.
“Hmm?’’ I said, turning to her.
“Pay attention! Maddie and I asked which brownie you wanted. What is so darned interesting over there that you can’t answer your mama?’’
Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery Page 14