I heard the water shut off, so I pushed the journal back down in the bag, buckled the latches, and arranged it on the table, hoping I’d relocated it correctly and that she wasn’t particularly observant. I popped up off of the floor just as she came out of the bathroom.
She had on the new robe Charli had given me for my birthday, and with her hair wrapped up in a towel and her eyes scrubbed clean of the heavy kohl shadow she usually sported, she looked like a high school kid. She stopped and studied me, then scanned the room, then back to me, glanced at her bag, back to me.
I inadvertently glanced down at the coffee table, then caught myself. “I was just, uh, straightening up. Did you, uh, did you have a good day?”
She gave me a little half-smile and settled down on the couch, her legs tucked up under her. “It was banging. How about you?”
“Fine. It was fine. I worked, of course, then I had dinner with my sister. But I’m home now. I’m going to go back over to my boyfriend’s after he gets off. What did you do?”
“Oh, not much. This and that.” She picked up her messenger bag and unbuckled it. “I’m working on a treatment for a book, so I spent a lot of time reading and writing. Did some research, you know, stuff like that.”
She tossed me Anna Karenina. “Have you read it? It’s freaking amazing. I’m going to try and get some funding, write the screenplay, probably direct it. Star in it, of course.”
I handed the book back to her. “I did. For summer reading junior year of high school.” I didn’t want to admit to her how much I’d hated the book. In fact, I finally got so sick of it, I skipped to the part where she threw herself under the train and wrote my essay without reading the rest. It showed in my grade, too.
“What role are you playing now?” I asked, hoping to use her chattiness to get more info.
“Oh, it’s a cool part. I’m playing a serial killer. It’s total award bait. I had to get uglied up. Award voters eat that crap up. We just finished shooting in Nashville and I’ve got another week off before I’m due on set down in Texas.”
“A serial killer. Wow, I’ll bet that’s going to be really emotional for you.”
She tilted her head to the side, looking confused. “Why would it be emotional?”
Had she forgotten that her best friend had just been murdered? “Because of Vivi. You know. How she died.”
Beau stared at me for a second, then her lower lip quivered and a tear slid down her cheek. “Oh, Vivi. Of course. I mean, it will obviously be difficult, but I’m a trained actor. I’m able to separate myself from my roles. Compartmentalize and set aside my actual thoughts and take on the thoughts of my character.” She brushed away the tear and stuck the book back down into her bag.
“I’m so sorry. I mean about Vivi. I can’t imagine losing someone so close. When did you two meet?”
She twisted her mouth and puffed out her cheeks like she was thinking. “Right after she started working for the firm that does my publicity. I needed to prep for a role that required a southern accent and as soon as I heard Vivi talking, I corralled her to work with me. I really liked hanging with her. Girl had major brainpower and had read all these books. I’m super smart, too, but when I was a kid I was always on set and working, so I didn’t even know about some of the books until Vivi told me about them.”
She was still digging down in her bag. “Hey, you wanna see some pictures of Vivi and me?”
Well, duh. I obviously had missed a few things when I searched the bag.
She handed me one of those photo-booth strips people get made a weddings and parties. The first two photos were of Vivi and Beau, just a couple of friends acting silly.
The third picture was the one that surprised me. A man who looked to be about my dad’s age sat wedged between the girls. Beau’s attention was focused entirely on him and, based solely on the way she was looking at him, he was her married lover.
His arms wrapped around each of the girl’s shoulders and he was squeezing Vivi’s left breast. Vivi was stiff, unsmiling, and clearly uncomfortable.
“Who’s the guy?”
“That’s L.J. He’s the one directing my movie. He’s freaking amazing and totally a blast to work with. Dude is legend in the business. I’m shocked you didn’t recognize him.”
So I was right about him being Beau’s lover. “I don’t really pay much attention to Hollywood gossip,” I said. I handed her back the strip. “Vivi doesn’t look to happy about him squeezing her breast.”
Beau chuckled. “She was cool with it. He just startled her. He’s just a touchy-feely sort of guy. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Vivi actually laughed about it when she saw the photo.”
I thought about how I’d feel if a powerful man in my industry was “just a touchy-feely sort of guy” and had squeezed my breast like that. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t laugh it off and I was even more sure that Vivi Anne Conrad wouldn’t have. When she was in high school, she’d dumped a carton of sour milk on a guy who’d had the audacity to smack her on the rear end. I couldn’t help but wonder if Charli and I had been too quick to discount that sketchy blind vice.
I was really groggy when I woke up Friday because Tim and I talked, fought, made up, and talked even more into the wee hours of the morning. When I left his apartment, we seemed to be back on track. I felt a little guilty about keeping secrets from him since a big chunk of what we’d talked about revolved around the need to trust each other, but I rationalized my working out with Otey as being a secret he’d appreciate.
I couldn’t actually think of a way to rationalize Beau, other than that I’d made a promise to her. Did a promise to a stranger outweigh lying to my love? I decided not to think too much about it. Besides, soon Beau would go back to her big-time, Hollywood life and I’d get on with my small-time Glenvar one and no one would be the wiser, I told myself, fully embracing my brewing romance with Delusion and Denial.
After I fed and loved on Delbert, I turned the shower up as hot as I could stand it and stood in there until it began to run cold, not caring one little bit if my houseguest was forced to take a cold shower. Maybe, I thought, it would be the thing that finally made her decide to hit the road.
Clearly, she hadn’t heard that old saying my mom says about how “visitors are like ornaments until they turn into fish and start stinking”. At least that’s how I think it goes. Anyway, the point is, Beau’s constant presence stunk so bad by then that I was thinking about maybe talking Otey into letting her crash at his place for awhile. Luckily, it didn’t come to that.
When I came out of the bathroom, I caught Beau forcing Delbert into the linen closet.
“What the heck are you doing to my cat?” I shouted. “Have you been putting him in there all this time?”
She shot me a disdainful look. “I told you I was allergic and that he tried to bite me. He’s not a good cat.”
“How dare you? He’s an amazing cat. He’s sweet and loving. He’s my best friend and I will not allow him to be treated like that.”
I picked up my sweet kitty and kissed the top of his head. “It’s okay, buddy. The mean lady won’t hurt you any more,” I told him.
“Look, Beau,” I tried not to yell too loudly, but I’m not sure I succeeded. “I don’t know just who you think you are, but this is my home and my rules. Delbert lives here. You don’t. You touch him again, and there’s going to be hell to pay. Are we clear? The answer to that is yes, by the way. If, for some reason it’s not, you can just leave right this minute.”
“If that’s how you feel, I guess I’ll try the shelter.” She tried to do the eye and lip thing, but I was not buying it. Especially since I knew she had that big old wad of cash in her bag.
“I’ll get the address for you,” I said. “As a matter of fact, now that I think about, it’s best that you go ahead and leave. I’ll give you a ride. Where would you want to go? Hotel? Airport?”
She made her lip tremble and a tear slide down her cheek. “I just don’t know. I’m really a
ll alone in this town and I don’t have any money. Do you think you can loan me enough for a bus ticket?”
I went in the bedroom, threw on the first pair of jeans and sweater I saw, pulled on my new boots, and located her clothes and Doc Marten’s. She stood next to my bed, giving me all of her best actor facial expressions. That’s when I realized how limited of a range she had. No best actor award for her anytime soon, uglied up or not.
“Here” I said, tossing her clothes on the bed. “Get my clothes off and put yours on. You’ve got five minutes.” I slammed the bedroom door in her face and stalked into the bathroom to brush my teeth and try to tame my hair. I was so ticked off I nearly yanked it out of my head. How dare she? I felt like telling her I knew about the money, but that would have meant I’d have to confess to snooping through her things, which, for obvious reasons, I was not about to do.
Neither one of us said anything the whole trip to the bus station. When we got there, I handed her the hundred-dollar bill I kept stashed in my car in case of emergencies, figuring that even if she never paid me back it would be money well-spent if it meant I never had to see her stupid little face ever again.
“If that’s not enough, I guess you’ll have to sell some blood,” I told her. “Donation center is just across the street.” Okay, so it was cruel, but come on. I knew she had that cash and I knew that she was probably just going to call for a ride to the airport and fly first class to wherever it was she wanted to go.
She slammed the car door and strutted away, her expensive messenger bag slung over her shoulder and her little carry-on rolling along behind her. “Goodbye, you rich, egotistical, hippie-wannabe jerk,” I muttered. “Good riddance.”
23
I felt so pumped after kicking Beau out that I wished I could go over to Otey’s playground and do a hard workout. Alas, I had to go open the gift shop. But, before that, I still needed to go to the radio station and find out about the gift basket. And sign my termination papers. Remembering that instantly killed my adrenaline rush. I sulked the whole drive over, wondering what my future would hold.
I liked working as a DJ, but, to be honest, I didn’t really love it. Not anymore. When I’d first started out, it had been way more fun. The station had been tiny and the equipment old. Back then, Herb and Georgina let us jocks have more input. Back then, I got to pick out a lot of the songs I played and take requests from listeners. I’d had control. Nowadays, it was all automated and, honestly, not nearly as much fun. Not to mention the money situation. I only worked part time. The pay sucked and benefits were non-existent. I’d been forced to work with my arch enemy, which meant I ended every shift in a horrible mood.
As long as my sometimes-boyfriends, Delusion and Denial, were MIA, and I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that the past few months had actually been pretty miserable. The thing is, radio was all I knew how to do. I was pretty good at it, but other than working retail at Charli’s shop and at a local ice cream shop during high school, I hadn’t held any other jobs. Other than my sister, who would hire me?
That train of thought ended up depressing me even more. By the time I got to WRRR, my mood had practically bottomed out. I trudged in through the front door instead of the employee entrance, hoping I didn’t have to see anyone other than the receptionist and maybe Georgina’s secretary.
As usual, with my lack of luck, it didn’t happen like that. By the time I left, thirty minutes later, I’d had to deal with a lot of insincere hugs and reassurances that I’d be back on my feet in no time. Worst of all, I didn’t really find out anything helpful about the basket. Maria, the woman who usually worked the front desk had taken a vacation day and was on a flight to Aruba. I got her cell phone number and sent a text asking her to call me first chance she had, and then headed out.
At six, when I closed up, I was surprised to see Sugar and Rose hovering next to my car. I thought about going back inside, but figured that there was no way they were going to try anything in the middle of town, a couple of blocks down from the police station. I was, of course, mistaken.
When I came to, it took a few minutes to figure out that I was in the back of Sugar’s pickup and that it was moving. At first, I screamed and slapped at the flat metal bed cover, yelling “let me out” and “this is not funny”, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that my efforts weren’t accomplishing anything except bruising my hands.
I took an inventory to see if anything other than my head hurt, then felt around to see if there was anything in the truck bed with me that I could use as a weapon for when we stopped. No luck.
The truck took a right turn a little too tight, causing me to slide hard against the side. My body and head bounced against the wheel well. Sugar seemed determined to hit every pothole in town. Every time she hit one, my whole body jarred and my teeth rattled against each other.
The temperature had continued to drop throughout the day, sinking into the mid-forties. I shivered and wished I had on a jacket instead of the thin windbreaker I’d found in the back of the store before leaving.
The truck took another right, then a quick left, bumped across what felt like a billion railroad tracks, made one more left, slowed, then stopped. I heard whispering and then laughter, which totally pissed me off even more.
I vowed that if it was the last thing I ever did, I’d find a way to get even. It suddenly occurred to me that I might not have an actual weapon, but I could sure let them know that I wasn’t going to go gently into that good night. I slid down as close to the tailgate as I could and pulled my knees up to my chest. At least I’d worn my new boots instead of my usual sneakers.
When the cover rolled back and I spotted Rose in prime position, I kicked both of my feet out as hard as I could manage, catching her smack dab in her face. Her head snapped back a little from the impact and blood gushed from her nose. She covered her nose and mouth with both hands, attempting to either catch the blood or stop the pain.
I admit, I did feel bad about her nose, but that moment was not the time for apologies and remorse. I screamed and cussed as loud as I could, hoping someone would hear me and come to my rescue. Sugar grabbed me by my ankles and yanked me off the truck bed and onto the ground. That’s when I realized a rescue wasn’t in the cards.
We were out at the old abandoned house on Skillet Road. There wasn’t another house around for at least two or three miles.
“Shut the aitch-e-double-l up,” Sugar screamed. She twisted my hair around her hand over and over, pulling so hard that I thought she was going to scalp me. “You have caused enough dad gum trouble, missy. Get your scrawny behind up off that ground.”
Rose moaned. She held an official Ricky Ray beach towel she’d retrieved from the cab of the truck to her nose.
“Go sit on the steps, Rose, I’m going to make this here hussy tell us where she’s keeping our sweet boy or she’s gonna wish she had,” Sugar said. She kept pulling my hair as I tried to scramble to my feet.
She had her nose about three inches from mine. “You listen here, you are going to do as I say, you got that missy? I want you to walk on over to that there house now. Don’t you go giving me any trouble, either, you hear?”
I spit as hard as I could in her face.
She slapped me with the hand that wasn’t twisted in my hair. My face stung, but I gathered another mouthful and spit again. I kicked out at her, but she turned and twisted so that my blow hurt my head more than it hurt her.
I had to get her hand out of my hair if I wanted to have a chance at getting away. It was about three miles into town, but I knew that, even in boots, I could outrun the two of them if I could just get loose.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go inside. But you need to let go of my hair.”
“Not on your life, missy. I ain’t gonna be falling for that. I ain’t letting go ‘til we get you inside and get you tied up.”
We did a sort of shuffle-slide walk over to the porch, my head cocked hard to the right. It was cold and dark, w
ith the only light coming from the headlights of Sugar’s truck.
An idea popped into my head. “Okay, you’ve got me. I do know where Ricky Ray is. But I’m not going to tell you unless you let go of my hair.”
“Rose! We were right!” Sugar shouted. “What do you think I should do? Call Bella?”
Crap. “No, no. If you do that, I’m going to tell her y’all are just making it up, that I didn’t really say that. I’m only going to fess up to you two. Don’t you want the reward money?”
“Reward money? What reward money?” Rose asked. Her nose no longer seemed to be bleeding, but she sounded nasally, like she had a bad cold.
“You didn’t hear? The Rileys and Ricky’s record company are offering a $50,000 reward for anyone with information that leads to finding Ricky,” I lied. “Y’all are the ones that deserve, it. Right?”
Sugar searched my face, then slowly began unwinding her hand from my hair. I guess I’m a better actor than I give myself credit for. Definitely better than Beau.
I primed myself to react as soon as her hand was clear of my hair, knowing I had to use my familiarity with Skillet Road and Glenvar’s geography to full advantage if I wanted to get away from them.
Thankfully, right as Sugar finished unwrapping her hand, Rose said “I think it’s broken. Do you think it’s broken, Sugar?”
It distracted Sugar just enough for me to jerk away and take off running. I flew faster than I thought possible toward the abandoned bridge, dashing around the barrier and making it across safely, just as Sugar’s truck roared up.
I didn’t look back, even when I heard the crunch of her truck slamming into the barrier. I don’t know how fast she had been going, probably not very, but the sound of her radiator hissing told me that if she was going to catch me, she’d better be a whole lot faster on her feet than she looked. Since I didn’t want to find out the hard way, I just kept booking it down Mountain Crest, not slowing until I reached Chamber Road and the safety of the city lights.
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