Papa Sal was gobsmacked. “What? You can’t…You don’t know how to…”
I knelt down in front of him and took one of his hands. “I don’t have a choice. I’m not going to wait around for the police to decide they need to haul me in, too. Someone out there knows something, and we intend to find the truth.”
Delilah sat down next to Papa Sal and took his other hand. “Quinn and I are watching out for each other, and we’re being careful. I’m sorry we’ve been neglecting our duties here. We’ll try not to do that so much going forward, but we need to work quickly and put in as much time as we can to find our information.”
Papa Sal looked from Delilah to me and back again. “You girls are putting yourselves in a dangerous situation, and I don’t like it.”
“We don’t like it, either,” Delilah replied. “But it’s the only way. You don’t have to like our decision, but can you at least be on our side?”
He sighed. “I’m always on your side, girls.” Pausing for a moment, he shot a glance over by his dresser and nodded. Looking back at us, he said, “Frank says he and his friends will look after you two. I guess you’ll be okay, then.”
Delilah turned toward the dresser and waved. “Hey, Uncle Frank. Didn’t notice you there.” After a moment, she added, “I’ll tell her.” To me, she said, “Uncle Frank says for you to keep an open mind tonight. And something about ‘seeing is believing’ and ‘page seventy-six.’ Does that make any sense to you?”
I pasted on a smile, using all my willpower to control the scoffing going on in my head. Papa Sal was giving our sleuthing his blessing because a ghost and his ghost buddies had promised to keep us safe. And Delilah was fanning the crazy flames by giving me another nonsensical prophecy that she would undoubtedly find a way to twist later to make it seem authentic. This time, though, she’d been pretty specific with a page number. But then again, with millions of books in existence, there were probably many page seventy-sixes of many books that could be made to fit whatever situation arose.
“No, sorry,” I replied, keeping the rest of my thoughts to myself.
* * *
—
The plumber was (supposedly) on his way sometime this afternoon, so Delilah and I were stuck taking turns to speak to people on our list. She went to Oeuvre first while I waited for the plumber.
When she came back, she was practically dancing with excitement. She held a brightly colored card in front of my face. “Guess who got invited to an exclusive gallery party tomorrow at Oeuvre?”
“You?” I asked, happy to see her so gleeful.
“Us! Avery Harper—she’s the owner—said anyone who’s anyone will be there. Which means the Heywards will be there…which means you’ll have a chance to talk to them and realize they’re not killers. Then you can cross them off your list once and for all.”
I shrugged. “Okay, that works for me. That’s one less contact we’ll have to track down. Did you happen to ask the Harpers about Jason’s murder? Did they see anyone coming or going from Green that night?”
“Ooh, I don’t know.” She gave me a sheepish grin. “I got kind of excited when I received the invite and didn’t finish interviewing them.”
“How far did you get?”
“Telling Dalton Harper we were looking into Jason Green’s murder. Then Avery waltzed in with the invite.”
I smiled. “No problem. I’m sure we can speak to them at the party. Next on my agenda is trying to find Jason’s friend CJ. I’m not looking forward to it. From what Drew said, he’s not the best guy.”
Delilah frowned. “We should go together, then.”
“Someone has to wait for the plumber.”
“Then we find CJ another time.”
Shaking my head, I said, “I’d much rather go to his work than try to track him down in his leisure time. I’ve heard he spends a lot of his off hours in bars.”
“So do you.”
I made a face. “I perform for the drunks. I’m not one of them. Big difference.”
“Where does he work?”
“A sporting goods store downtown. He’s the manager.”
“Well, then he can’t be too much of a drunk, can he?”
“Let’s hope not.”
* * *
—
I headed downtown, having to weave in and out of late afternoon traffic. I had just enough time to get to my destination, talk to CJ, get home, and get ready for my “date” tonight. Ugh. It was not that I simply wasn’t looking forward to spending time alone with Tucker. I’d been alone with him last night, and admittedly, it wasn’t the worst thing I’d done all day. It was the pretense that bothered me. What had he thought when Delilah had told him I’d go out with him if he got us a table at Abercorn Bistro? What kind of woman did that and then was able to sleep at night? I felt like I should make some effort to explain to him that I wasn’t some heartless gold digger, but in doing so, I would have to tell him more than I wanted about my investigation. The fewer people who knew what Delilah and I were doing, the better.
As I entered Savannah Super Sports, a bicycle bell sound chimed, alerting the employees of my presence. I was immediately descended upon by two young men, both way too interested in helping me.
One of them said, “Hello, ma’am. Welcome to Savannah Super Sports.”
The other one elbowed his fellow salesman out of the way. “What can I help you find today? We have a sale running this week on football cleats.”
I wondered what about me screamed that I needed a pair of football cleats, but I smiled and said, “Forgive me, but I’m not here to buy anything.”
Mr. Football Cleats snorted and walked away without a word. Something told me the salesmen here worked on commission.
The other guy was about to slink away more subtly, so I said, “Wait, I came to speak with CJ McLeod. May I see him?”
“CJ’s gone. He’s at a conference ’til tomorrow night.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “Oh. Well, I need to see him as soon as possible. Might I leave him a message?”
The salesman shrugged. “I guess so.” He studied me for a moment. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so…”
He snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah. You’re in that chick band that plays at that crappy bar over on Drayton.”
I forced a smile. “That’s me.”
“You gonna be there tomorrow night?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“So will we. I’ll let CJ know you’ll be looking for him.”
“Thank you. That would be great.”
* * *
—
As much as I didn’t want my meeting with CJ to be in a bar, at least it would be on my home turf with my bandmates there as backup. I hurried home, a mix of anxiety and something else I couldn’t put my finger on churning inside me as I showered and changed for my dinner date. I hadn’t been on an actual date in…oh, heavenly days. It had been a year. Worse still, in my book this didn’t count as a real date, so my spinster timer didn’t even get reset—we were at a year and counting.
Delilah stuck her head inside my bedroom door as I was finishing my makeup. “Ready yet?”
“Almost.” I hoped she didn’t catch the tremble in my voice.
She came in and plopped down on my bed. “First date jitters? That’s so cute.”
“Are you sure this so-called date is legitimate? I mean, it’s not legitimate, but does Tucker actually want to take me out to dinner? He didn’t ask me himself, so I’m worried it’s a tad junior high–ish for us to be going out without even talking about it…much less texting about it or whatever the kids are doing these days. Delilah, are you positive—”
“Oh, will you put a cork in it, Quinn?” she complained, running her hands through her hair. “Yes, I orchestrated this date
. Yes, Tucker is fine with it, and yes, he does want to take you out. He’s wanted to ever since he saw you on Monday morning, but you’ve been such a frigid bi—”
“Language, D.”
“I’m sorry…frigid ice queen to him that he thought it was a lost cause. I cautioned him not to talk to you or text you today, because I knew if he gave you any kind of opening, you’d try to wiggle out of going.”
I frowned at her in response.
“Well, that’s not a pretty face.”
I frowned harder.
“Look, just promise me one thing tonight. Will you get off your high horse long enough to get to know the real Tucker? I think if you do, you’ll like what you find. He’s a good guy, and you’re not giving him a chance. You always give people a chance, Quinn. I don’t understand why you can’t do that for Tucker.” When I opened my mouth to run down the myriad reasons why I couldn’t, she held up her hand and went on. “I realize you’re fighting some kind of misguided battle for me, but I don’t want it. Even if Tucker were guilty of what you think, it’s been fifteen years. And most importantly, everyone deserves a second chance.”
I sighed. “Well now you’ve made me feel bad.”
“Good. Someone had to knock that chip off your shoulder.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket to read the screen. “If we don’t leave now, you won’t get to the restaurant on time.”
My stomach lurched, but not in a completely terrible way. It was almost like there were butterflies in there with the bile. I took a hard look at myself in the mirror. First and foremost, I needed to do what my sister had asked and make an effort to get to know the real Tucker—not in a romantic way, but in a friendly way, since we were going to be neighbors again. A close second on tonight’s agenda was making sure to speak to Mark Potter and Ross Cline, or else I’d have to cook up another way to meet them.
Chapter 18
I’d insisted on meeting Tucker at Abercorn Bistro, so Delilah had insisted on driving me, lest I take a detour at the last minute and decide not to show. She dumped me off in front of the restaurant and pulled away before I could change my mind. When I entered the bistro, Tucker was already there, seated at one of the tables. As I approached, he stood, smiling, off-puttingly handsome in the gray sport coat and crisp white shirt he was wearing. I reminded myself it wasn’t a date.
“You look gorgeous tonight, Quinn,” he said, pulling out my chair for me.
“Thank you.” I let my hair fall over my face to cover up the raging blush I felt on my cheeks. It’s not a date. It’s not a date, I said to myself over and over again.
Once we were seated, an uncomfortable silence settled between us. Then we both began speaking at once.
“Tucker, I think I need to tell you—”
“I should have called you myself—”
We gave each other sheepish smiles.
He said, “Ladies first.”
I closed my eyes and let out a breath. “I’m sorry if Delilah made it seem like I only agreed to dinner because you managed to get us reservations here.”
Tucker’s eyebrows shot up. “So you would have gone out with me otherwise?”
I paused, not really knowing what to say. I knew what the polite response should be, but it wasn’t the truth.
He said, “Don’t sit there trying to think of a way to sugarcoat it. My feelings aren’t that fragile.”
I smiled. “You caught me. The reason I wanted to come here is probably not what you think. I’m not here for the food.”
“Or the company, evidently,” he said, then broke into a stellar smile.
“Oh…you’re funny.” I was shocked that Tucker Heyward, superjock, would be so self-deprecating.
“Don’t sound so surprised. I feel like you think all I am is some dumb jock. I have a degree in business and graduated from college with honors.”
His other talents clearly included mind-reading.
I downed a gulp of water before replying. “Your degree is in business? Mine’s in accounting.”
“Oh, you’re one of those number crunchers. I always had trouble with accounting classes. I’ll have to come to you for help with my taxes.”
“Absolutely. Every spring, I prepare people’s taxes on the side for extra income and to keep my skills sharp.”
We launched into a lively discussion of college and classes and how we were using our degrees in our work. Tucker was incredibly interesting, well read, and as I’d found out earlier, quite funny. As we were finishing up dinner and he was regaling me with an anecdote from his fraternity days, a server sidled up to our table and interrupted him.
“Hi, Tucker,” she said shyly, completely ignoring me.
Good gravy. It was Scarlett Owens, Tucker’s high school sweetheart. She was the waitress who owed him a favor? I felt my temper flare at the sight of her.
“Hey, Scarlett. Thanks for getting us in here tonight. You remember Quinn Bellandini, right?”
When he gestured to me, Scarlett finally registered my presence at the table and did a double take. “Quinn Bellandini? Wow, you’re not all gangly and emo anymore. You’re…”
“Beautiful, just like always. And my date,” Tucker said, giving me a wink.
I barely registered Tucker’s kind words, busy willing myself not to say the awful things swirling around in my head. Scarlett had been the leader of the mean girls at school, the one responsible for the incident that had hurt my sister so deeply. Even through my anger, though, it was not lost on me that Tucker was making it clear to his former girlfriend that he was here with me.
I looked up and gave her the best smile I could come up with. “Hello, Scarlett. Nice to see you again. I hope you’re doing well.” Needless to say, that was a dirty lie. But I impressed myself by being able to speak civilly to her.
Scarlett glanced back and forth between us, seeming to be at a loss for words. I could feel the jealousy radiating from her. Finally she said, “You…and her. I can’t…Whatever. Bye.” She stalked away from the table before we could say anything else.
“That was…interesting,” I murmured, working to keep the glee off my face. It wasn’t every day (or ever, actually) that I got the better of Scarlett Owens. Not the nicest attitude to have about the situation, but my high school self was doing a little victory dance inside me.
Tucker’s face grew serious. “Quinn, speaking of Scarlett, I need to clear something up between us. On the day of the homecoming pep rally, when Scarlett and her cronies put on that awful skit making fun of Delilah, I was out of school getting my braces taken off. I know I’m the reason she had it out for your sister, but you have to know that I was never a part of the bullying and ridiculing that went on. I didn’t know anything about the skit until it was over and done.”
I sat there, shell-shocked. The whole football team had been in on the skit with the cheerleaders. He’d been the captain of the football team. He had to have been there. I racked my brain trying to remember back to that day.
When Tucker and Delilah were in the third grade, his family moved in across the street from us. The two became fast friends. Around middle school, they grew apart, as most kids do, gravitating toward groups of same-sex friends. In high school, they had a few classes together and started hanging out again—mostly at home, alone, because neither of their vastly different groups of friends would deign to welcome either outsider. Tucker’s girlfriend at the time, Scarlett, decided she didn’t like him spending time with another girl—especially one of the “Loco Bellandinis.” Tucker being seen in public with Delilah would only serve to ruin his social status, and hers by association.
So, Scarlett decided to make it her mission to end their friendship. It started with catty suggestions that Delilah should quit hanging around her man and escalated into thinly veiled threats that she stay away or else. It ended with a poorly written and even more poorl
y acted skit that was the “entertainment” at one of our school pep rallies for the football team. Scarlett played the part of Delilah, portraying her as a crazy witch, dressed all in black (which wasn’t an inaccurate representation of Delilah’s wardrobe at the time—she and I had gone through a short-lived but unfortunate emo/goth phase right around then). She’d danced around wildly while talking to a ghost (one of the other cheerleaders wearing a sheet) about her crush on Tucker and concocting a love potion. It was right after Uncle Frank had died, and Delilah had misguidedly told everyone who would listen that his ghost regularly spoke to her. Even if that were true, it was a terrible idea to admit it to her high school classmates, especially ones who had the reputation for being cruel toward anyone who was the slightest bit different.
At the pep rally, the whole student body began laughing and pointing at Delilah until one of the teachers put a stop to the skit and took Scarlett to the principal’s office. The skit might have been terminated, but the damage had already been done. Our fellow students mocked Delilah mercilessly. She pulled back from everything and everyone, including me. I didn’t know what to do. I stood up for her against the bullies, but it made no difference—it only got me ridiculed right alongside her. When that happened, Delilah insisted I quit fighting her battles for her, and she became even more introverted. It killed me to have to watch my sister miss out on her senior year of high school because of some narrow-minded idiots. But after about a month, the ridiculing suddenly stopped. We never knew why, but we were thankful for it. Delilah and I went back to being invisible, which was a welcome change, but Delilah was never really the same until she graduated and put high school behind her.
I said, “Maybe you weren’t at the pep rally that day. But that’s not all that bothers me about the situation. What bothers me is that you knew what was going on and did nothing to stop it. You sat back while your girlfriend made my sister’s life miserable. If you were Delilah’s friend, how could you let that happen?”
Southern Discomfort Page 14