by Scott, D. D.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Roxy balanced six frosty beer mugs on her tray then took off across the saloon to serve a rowdy group of farmers. Her shoulders ached from slinging beers all night, but three of her waitresses had been no shows, leaving her no choice. She’d even put Audrey to work in the kitchen helping Jules cover an employee taking an early maternity leave.
Beyond exhausted, Roxy pushed herself harder. Zayne and Kat, and now Roxy’s mother too, depended on her to get them all through the end of summer or at least until the tomato contest was finished. Zayne’s entry was due three weeks from tomorrow. At best, that’s how long Roxy had to maintain her frantic pace.
She’d make it. She always did. And the fact that she didn’t have to do it alone was the extra motivation she needed.
Reaching the table to unload the beer, Roxy began taking each mug off her tray, setting them in front of the hell-raising bunch. With two beers left and its nasty foam sticking to her fingers, she circled to the next customer. When he turned to greet her, she about dumped the tray into his lap.
“Whoa, Cowgirl. Ya need help with that?” A loud, booming voice goaded her.
“Jack Baudlin,” Roxy said, hoping to cover-up her joy at seeing him. “What brings you into town on a weeknight?”
She served his beer then cozied up to him, wedging her body between his stool and the gentlemen seated next to him.
Not that she actually wanted to hang with Jack, but she had plans he couldn’t begin to figure out. He wasn’t that smart. And he definitely wasn’t as quick on the draw as she was. Although when she got done with him, he’d wish he’d have had a clue.
“Well, hi, darlin’. Don’t tell me Zayne’s got you runnin’ around here, overworkin’ your pretty self while he’s watchin’ his tomatoes,” Jack said.
The stench of beer on his breath about made Roxy sick.
“Running around here serving our customers happens to be my job. It has nothing to do with Zayne’s tomatoes.” She batted her lashes and casually brushed her hand against Jack’s thigh. Too bad the guy next to him already had a firm hold on his man.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends and tell me what you’re celebrating? A round on the house might be in order.” Waiting until all the eyes at the table were on her, Roxy flipped her hair behind her head, playfully swishing her newly highlighted locks as if she were in the running for the next John Paul Mitchell campaign.
Clearing his throat, Jack took her bait. “If you insist on buying, I’ll oblige your curiosity. These are my farmhands — Richard, Sam, Henry, and David.”
He gestured to the table at large.
“Now I think you’ve met my main guy, Santos.” Jack patted the dark warrior flanking his side.
You mean main squeeze, Roxy silently harrumphed.
“But I don’t know that you’ve met my dad, Harry,” Jack said, pointing to the large, gruff old bird across the table. “Fellas, this is Roxy, Zayne’s girlfriend.”
The farmhands waved. Santos gave her a picture perfect smile — damn he was hot, but in a gayer-than-gay manner. Why were most of the hot ones interested in the wrong parts?
Jack’s father took Roxy’s hand and shook it with a mighty strong grip, damn near a serpent attempting to strangle its prey. But Roxy was no mouse. When she slivered-in to suffocate his future, it’d be Harry’s eyeballs popping out of his head not hers.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Baudlin,” she said, pulling her hand out of his. “If you boys will excuse me I have some business to tend to in the kitchen. But I’ll be back shortly.”
She turned to leave then turned back, donning a smile fit for a Hooter’s girl working her customers for an obscenely large tip. “Now what is it you’re celebrating tonight? I’d like to hook you up with a round.”
The farmhands looked at Jack. Jack anxiously looked at his old man. Evidently Harry was the balls and the brains of the operation.
“Let’s just say we’ve made a major discovery that’s sure to secure our title as Nashville’s tomato kings,” Harry boasted.
His chest was so full he looked like a gigantic puffin.
“Good for you. I’ll be back with shots on the house in a few.”
Roxy sauntered away from the table, leaving the men to stare at her ass. So as not to disappoint them, she added extra bounce and swing to her gait.
She couldn’t wait to get into the kitchen and summons her accomplices. Lucky for her, they’d stopped in for dinner on their way home from the boutique.
Was it illegal in Tennessee to poach puffins? Guess she and The Moms would find out real soon.
After hooking up the Baudlin clan with a round on the house, Roxy pushed her way through the serving station’s swing doors and tossed her tray on a counter. No time for slinging beers the rest of the night. She had more pressing jobs to tend to.
She headed back to the food prep area where The Moms were catching a quick bite.
Seeing her mother laughing with Kat, and Audrey and Jules throwing tidbits into the conversation while chopping vegetables, seized Roxy’s heart, damn near pulling it out onto her shirt sleeves.
She didn’t know her mom laughed. The woman had never had a sense of humor and looked at everything in life as a check-off on her Blackberry. She’d participated in nothing for enjoyment rather everything she’d done was to maintain the illusion of the perfect life. Hell, she was the socialite equivalent of David Copperfield, making magic out of misery.
Not to mention she’d never eaten a meal in the kitchen of a restaurant instead of at a VIP table in the most highly visible room of the establishment. Yet, here she sat, totally out of her element, but apparently reveling in the change.
As Roxy allowed the moment to sink into her system, her heart expanded. Gone was the tight constriction she used to feel in her chest at the sight of her mother. In its place, a tingling surge of awkward pleasure took form.
As much as she wanted to accept that her mother was trying to change, and indeed had made gigantic leaps in the right direction, Roxy couldn’t embrace her new persona without a tiny reserve of doubt. She’d been hurt for too many years to forget the sting.
But tonight, Roxy needed her. She swallowed hard. The idea of that reality frightened the hell out of her. She couldn’t recall a single instance in which she’d had the nerve to ask her mother for help. She’d learned though that rejection and dismissal were worse than asking for and accepting help. Now, Roxy would have to ask her mom to step-up to the maternal plate.
Zayne’s dreams and her dreams depended on it.
But Roxy swore, if her mother didn’t come through, she’d never ask again, ending all hopes of their reconciliation.
She sucked up her anxious fear and dove into the abyss of the unknown.
“Okay, Divas. It’s show time.”
Kat and Lily put down their forks and wiped the barbecue off their mouths and fingers with wet-naps, stopping mid-laugh to give Roxy their full attention. Halting their vegetable massacre, Jules and Audrey lifted their knives into the air as if they were being held-up.
“Put the knives down first, girls. You’re making me nervous,” Kat said then giggled. “What’s up, Roxy dear? You look flushed.”
“I have good reason to be. Guess who just walked in?” She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers and licked her lips.
“The bad guys?” Roxy’s mother whispered.
“That’s right, Mom, our targets have entered the building,” Roxy answered. “Time to put our plan into action. Everybody knows their position, right? And Audrey, I know I promised you wouldn’t have to directly participate, but our guys brought extra company so I could really use your body.”
“It sounds so trashy when you say it like that,” Audrey whined doing her best Charlotte York-Goldenblatt impression.
“Well, that’s because it is,” Jules cooed, always the Samantha Jones of their bunch. “How fabulous is that?”
“Oh, I just love being a part of som
ething this sinister. I’ve watched CSI Miami. And Vegas too. I can do this.” Roxy’s mom stood up from her stool and unbuttoned two more buttons on her blouse, then hiked her skirt revealing a bunch more leg.
Roxy couldn’t help giggling both inside and out. Her mom’s new wardrobe was killing her. Nashville would never be the same. Lily Vaughn had become a socialite slut. Although she still hadn’t traded in her Blahniks for boots. But it wouldn’t be much longer before her feet gave-in. Except tonight, her sexy stilettos would come in handy.
“Easy Agent Vaughn,” Kat chided Lily while she repositioned her breasts in the new push-up bra Lily had talked her into trying.
“Agent Vaughn. Oh, I like the sound of that.” Lily squealed.
“Are you sure you need Audrey and I?” Jules asked, picking up her knife and pointing it at The Moms. “Looks like these two Charlie’s Angels gotcha covered.”
Roxy laughed aloud. “Yes. I need all four of you. This is a team project.”
“Anything for the team,” Audrey chimed in, raising her knife and clinking it against Jules. “Let’s get ‘em, Cowgirls.”
“Yeehah,” Lily whooped and whistled.
Roxy’s heart opened a little wider. Maybe she had more room for Lily in her life than she’d originally thought.
“Follow me, Super Sluts. It’s time to play hard ball with the hard-ons,” Roxy said, revving up her troupe.
Walking through the saloon with her moms and her two best friends, Roxy’s pride soared to heights she’d never climbed, even when compared to Raeve’s unimaginable success. She felt every head turn in their direction, and she fed her nerves off the heat of the patrons’ stares.
Reaching the table a step before her entourage, Roxy wrapped one arm around Jack and another around Santos. Positioning her ample cleavage between them, she leaned down far enough even gay men would be tempted.
“Back again, boys. I see our staff has treated you to another round. Drink up,” she commanded with all the sweet sugar she dared. “Cheers.”
Hearing their cue, The Moms descended on Harry Baudlin while Jules and Audrey went to play with the four farmhands.
This could be fun, Roxy thought, hating to take her attention away from the show but needing to work her own crowd.
Their assignment had been to make nice with the boys, getting as much dirt on the Baudlin Farms’ operation as they could. Shouldn’t be a problem. Roxy had ‘em all liquored up and their eyes filled. All that was left to do was to get their mouths running.
Roxy had the easiest job on the diva squad. She loved gay men. And gay men loved fashion. Besides, Roxy hadn’t had a chance to properly thank Jack for sending Deena Mettles and her stylist to Raeve. She would take this very special opportunity to do that.
Working her charges, gabbing non-stop about her ideas for Raeve’s fall collection, Roxy hooked her idiots. Once she’d mentioned she’d like their input on a men’s line, Jack and Santos were hers until she cast them back into the sea.
Taking a moment to glance at The Moms, Roxy could hardly stifle a wicked grin. Harry was had. Poor man had been Mommified. Kat and Lily had their hands all over him, with other body parts dangling dangerously close to invading his personal space.
Roxy knew Kat could handle the heat, but she was amazed watching her mother play her own cards. Lil was lethal. When Harry pulled out his wallet and started removing dollar bills, Roxy got worried.
Her mom sure as hell didn’t. She shimmied her body even closer to Harry then whispered in his ear. Whatever she’d said made his wallet fall to the floor and his face turn a deep, dark red.
Without missing a beat, Kat’s head disappeared under the table, hopefully just to retrieve Harry’s wallet and the contents that had spilled onto the floor.
Concerned because Kat had been under the table for awhile, Roxy couldn’t take her eyes away from the action, even though Jack and Santos were getting way too involved in Raeve’s men’s line.
Harry hollered then damn near jumped off his seat.
Roxy gasped.
The rest of the table cheered.
Surely not. Now that’s just bad.
When Kat returned to a more respectable position above table-level, she winked at Roxy then smoothed her hair and straightened the collar on her shirt.
Time to call-off the cavalry and regroup in the kitchen, Roxy thought. Kat must have gotten a good grasp on why her farm’s competitors were celebrating.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Roxy and her sisters of seduction fixated on the index card pinned to the kitchen’s butcher block table via a grotesquely large knife. There it was…The Red Rocket Brandywine seed mix card number four of five.
“I know what I’d like to do with that knife,” Kat said, pounding her fist against the table.
“Easy, Kat,” Lily said, laying her hand on her co-conspirator. “You shouldn’t get this riled-up.”
“Oh hog shit. The damn bastard took that card last spring when Zayne dropped his daddy’s file box. I have every right to be a raging lunatic.” Kat fanned herself with a soiled dishrag. “I should have kicked Harry’s balls instead of just pinching them. But at least we got the damn card back.”
“Let’s hope it’s not too late.” Roxy said, just as the lights in the building went black.
“What the —,” Kat started, cut-off by a horrific clash in the heavens. “That sounds like one hellacious storm.”
She crossed to a nearby baker’s rack and grabbed a flashlight from the top shelf then turned on the radio one shelf down. Turning up the volume, she brought the radio to the butcher table, setting it in the middle of the chop block next to the impaled card.
Following the National Weather Service’s Emergency Alert siren, the robotic announcement indicated they were under a severe storm warning and tornado watch.
Roxy’s heart palpitated beneath her shirt. Her hands grew damp. Zayne was working the fields late tonight. With the tractor running, he’d never hear the warnings.
She looked at Kat, who, judging by her panic-stricken look, must have read her mind.
“You keep things under control for our customers. I’ll go after Zayne.” Roxy reached under the table, grabbing her purse out of the cabinet.
“Here take my truck.” Kat yanked the keys to her Hummer off a rack on the wall and tossed them to Roxy. “It’ll handle better in this weather than Zayne’s tomato truck. But hold the wheel tight. In strong winds, it’s a rough ride.”
“I’ll go with you.” Roxy’s mom said, searching the dark kitchen for her purse, unable to find it. “Oh, screw it. Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste.”
“I appreciate your offer, Mom, but stay here and help Kat. There’s more you can do here helping her calm the customers. I’ll be fine.” Not thinking first, simply going with her gut instincts, Roxy pulled her mother close and hugged her. “But thank you for being here for me. I’ll never forget it.”
Seeming too overcome by emotion to respond with words, her mother nodded.
After hugging Kat, Jules and Audrey, Roxy pulled the knife out of the mix card and dropped the card into her purse. Slipping out The Neon Cowboy’s back door, she damn near lost her hold on the handle as the wind challenged her grip.
Secured in Kat’s truck, Roxy shoved the Hummer’s gearshift into drive and fumbled for the headlight switch. Even though it was probably too late for Zayne’s tomatoes, at least he’d have the card back and be on the look out for the foul weather approaching.
He’d been so hard on himself because he couldn’t get the mix right. Roxy couldn’t stand to watch him lose the contest without proof of the Baudlins’ underhanded actions. Even if he hadn’t asked for her help, she’d have hunted down the truth on her own, unable to rest until she’d nailed the sons of bitches.
As she hit the highway, the wind howled, making it difficult to keep the Hummer on the road.
She felt safer, though, in Kat’s big tank than in her sporty sedan or Zayne’s beat-up pick-up, al
though the humungous size of vehicle probably led to a false sense of security. Still, she liked it. Her boots looked much better against monster truck floorboards than against her sedan’s plush, lamb’s wool mats. Maybe she would sell the Mercedes. She just didn’t really care to drive it anymore.
Like the storm raging across the Tennessee countryside, Roxy had navigated the storms in her life, never afraid to face threatening clouds alone. But not until Zayne and Kat had become a part of her life did she realize the comfort in battling conflicts with a small army of love backing her every move.
Rain pelted the windshield, forcing Roxy to turn up the wipers’ speed. She cranked up the defrost and leaned-up in her seat, trying to get a better view of the road ahead. Lightning cracked the sky, splintering the night into an electrical symphony.
With the heavy rains came pea-size pellets of hail. Each pellet ricocheted off the Hummer leaving chinks in Roxy’s nerves. Not a big fan of storms, she’d rather be hiding under a big ‘ole blanket until it passed.
And she’d certainly never driven in a meteorological event of this magnitude. Hell, she didn’t own a car until she’d left Manhattan. She’d never needed one. For as long as she could remember, she’d had an assigned driver from the car service her father employed. Probably not a bad idea in this kind of weather, but Roxy was no longer into smooth sailing. In fact, she almost had the hang of living on the edge.
As she neared the exit taking her through the county to the McDonald Farm, the hail stopped. But the rain hurtled through the night in torrential downpours. The Hummer’s wiper speed was maxed. Any harder and Roxy would be forced to pull over.
C’mon baby. She coached the SUV, patting the dashboard for good measure. Just take us six more miles. We’ve got to get to Zayne.
The thought of him in the middle of a field, unaware of the brutal storms brewing, chilled her. He was her everything. She refused to consider life without him. If she’d waited out the storm at the saloon and Zayne got hurt, she’d never have forgiven herself.