by Hornsby, Kim
“No, it’s not okay.” She didn’t want Elvis fraternizing with this guy.
“He’s just protecting you when he barks.” Pete stood and they stared awkwardly at each other. “Thanks for the buns and jam.”
“Yes, well…” Nikki stumbled for something, anything. “We...I hope...”
Pete cut her off. “I have to get something from the truck.” He walked her down the road like a goddamned magpie or whatever those birds were who led predators away from the nest.
She took the hint, thinking that Pete had to have enough social skills to know this was rude. Was being rude the lesser of two evils? If so, what was the other one—revealing he had a wife?
“Goodbye.” Nikki walked away, chin higher than usual, trying to pretend she hadn’t been rebuffed for the second time.
“Come on, boy,” she whispered under her breath. “He’s a major weirdo. He’s probably going inside to tell his wife that the nosey neighbor was spying again.” She mentally snipped the thin thread that connected the two houses, and once inside her house, she set the security alarm to the highest setting.
Chapter 7
Connie hadn’t been particularly impressed at the thought of having a rock star next door when Pete told her.
“I’m telling you this in case you see her. Don’t talk to her, if you can help it,” he’d advised. There was no reason for those two to meet. “And Tony, you stay away from the windows. She’s not dangerous, but neither of you need to make a friend.”
When he and the kid first met, Tony was resentful of Pete, but that was normal. The boy had big problems and was just trying to protect his mom. Too bad he was so strong-willed. Being a buddy didn’t interest Pete, but everything would go a lot easier if Tony didn’t oppose everything Pete said.
Tony ran over to see what was in the basket and hadn’t been disappointed it was food. After all, he was an eleven-year-old-boy.
“I love these,” he said.
“They’re hot cross buns from the neighbor, but let me eat half of one first, to make sure they’re yummy.”
Connie shot him a look of concern as Pete popped a hunk into his mouth and dipped another piece into the jam jar.
“Hey, give me those.” Tony grabbed at the basket while Pete held it high enough to make a game of it.
“Say please.”
Tony laughed. “You’re not so tough. You like jam too.”
Pete didn’t have time to wonder what Tony thought of him. He had to avoid these bonding moments with the kid. If the boy got in the way and jeopardized everything, he’d have to be removed from the situation. Pete was so close now. Screwing it up would be idiotic. After this one, he’d be done. He had to be. His number would be up soon. Luck had followed him over the years, but he couldn’t ask much more from fate. Soon he’d walk away and never look back. A free man.
****
The movie score was almost complete, and Nikki rewarded herself with a moment of solitude on the dock. Twirling her tanned legs in the water, she called Quinn for her daily check-in. Her daughter had been attending regular AA meetings with Julie, her sponsor, and all was well with her boyfriend and at school.
“The guy next door is a little weird, turns out,” she said to Quinn.
“Why? What?”
“Mr. Fixit has a child over there and probably a wife, but they never come outside.” She went into more detail but didn’t mention the kiss.
“They sound creepy, Mom. Don’t try to befriend them, okay? They could be hiding something or someone over there in that old house.”
Nikki laughed at Quinn. “Okay. That was my last attempt to be neighborly.” She wouldn’t call them creepy but agreed to stop snooping. Why would a family rent an old log house at the end of summer and never go outside?
Earlier Nikki had found a site online that sold amulet necklaces and had located the symbol she’d seen around Pete’s neck. “I bought you a necklace online.”
“Thanks!” Quinn loved jewelry—like her mother.
“It’s an amulet that provides protection. The Yoruba luck symbol from Nairobi is known for its protective properties,” she said. “It’s one of the oldest amulets on the African continent.”
“Nice. What do I need protection from?” Quinn asked innocently.
“I don’t know, sweetie. Bad marks?” They laughed.
“Just wear it to appease your mother, will you?” It was impossible to not continually worry about Quinn’s safety, but she was trying to let her daughter lead a normal life, just like Quinn was trying to not worry about her mother alone at the lake. A thought jumped into Nikki’s head to make her blood quicken. “Quinn, please tell me that Pete Bayer is not someone hired by you or Merilee or anyone else on my staff.”
“Not that I know. Besides, Merilee doesn’t know where you are.”
“That’s right,” she said. No one knew but Quinn. Merilee wouldn’t go behind Nikki’s back to hire a security guard. She was loyal, like Elvis. And Security Steve had assured her that Pete wasn’t on his payroll. She’d already searched the name Pete Bayer online and came up empty. Nothing. She had another call coming in. “Have a wonderful day, my sweet girl, and call me if you need me.” This had always been their sign-off.
“Mrs. Crossland? It’s P.I. Services in Seattle.”
Nikki had been waiting for this call. “Did you find anything?”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been unable to come up with anything for the name Pete Bayer with that description and the license plate number isn’t registered.”
“What do you mean that plate isn’t registered?”
“The number doesn’t exist.”
“He’s got a plate and it’s not made out of cardboard.”
“It probably means it’s an old plate. I’m guessing his name is an alias.” He said it so casually that Nikki wondered if a lot of people went around telling neighbors fake names and making their own license plates. If so, she had a lot to learn about how normal people functioned in the real world. No one knew who this guy was. It was like he didn’t exist. At least not under that name.
Hanging up, she saw the Dickerson’s side door open. The woman and boy made circles around the garbage can area, hunting for something on the ground until a whoop sounded from them like a cry of victory. Whatever they’d been looking for must have been found. Nikki saw the mother try to hug the boy as he jumped up and down.
Nikki stood at the end of the dock watching until the boy stopped jumping. The mother glanced over to see her staring at them. “Hi!” Nikki called before she could stop herself.
Without a wave or hello, they ran inside the house and slammed the door to leave Nikki frozen in confusion. That was the second time the boy ran away from her. And now the wife did it too. She’d baked them buns, for crying out loud.
The pickup truck sped back to the house, stirring up dust from several weeks of sunshine. Keeping one eye on the house, she sat down on the dock again and dipped her feet in the water. Pete flew out of the truck and bounded into the house. He’d only been gone a few minutes, no time for groceries.
The lake was getting colder. She watched the watery ripples fan out from her immersed legs. The tune she hummed was the melody from the movie. Singing it over and over she let it unravel as she continued on to a new part she hadn’t known was needed. Excited, she ran into the house to record the newest addition to the melody. She played and wrote, rewinding the movie over and over again to get the music to fit the track perfectly.
Nikki lost track of time until a knock on the door broke her concentration. Looking through the peephole, she saw Pete Bayer. Her heart flipped at the sight of him, and, taking a deep breath, she disarmed the system and swung open the door. She waited for him to speak. After all, he’d been rude the last time she attempted conversation.
“Returning your basket.” He twirled it between them. “Thank you.”
She took the basket from him, making sure their fingers didn’t touch. “You’re welcome.”
She waited.
“My wife said she saw you and didn’t wave.
Hearing him say the word “wife,” her heart sank fully to the bottom of where it hovered. She’d been hoping they were something less until this confirmation.
He waited.
“I scared them.” Why did you kiss me if you’re married?
“They were looking for Connie’s wedding ring that fell off. She’s lost weight and it’s too big now.”
This seemed like far too much information, but Nikki nodded. “Looked like they found it.”
He nodded.
“Wedding rings are important,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, to reveal the absence of one.
He started to say something then stopped.
“Did your wife like the buns?” She emphasized the word “wife.”
“Yes, thanks and so did…the boy. The jam was a big hit too.” She and Pete Bayer were pathetically struggling for conversation, and Nikki was embarrassed for them. Still she waited for him to say more, almost enjoying his squirminess.
“Anyways…I’d better be going,” he said.
“Maybe your wife would like the recipe for the buns.” Nikki stared hard into Pete’s face.
“No, she doesn’t cook. She would’ve come but she’s helping Tony with homework.”
Nikki nodded, seriously doubting the wife would’ve walked down the road for a neighborly visit. Maybe she knew Pete kissed her and was purposely avoiding the temptress next door. That would be a shame when it was her husband she should be avoiding.
“I’d better get back to work.” He nodded.
The conversation pained her with its need for honesty, and she couldn’t wait to put the door between her and Pete. Still, she said nothing.
“Bye.” He turned on his heel and with the athleticism of someone who’d played sports all his life, descended the back porch stairs and walked away.
“Let me know if your son wants to go for a boat ride.” The words were out of her mouth before she could censor them. “I go every day.”
Pete was thirty feet from the porch when he turned around and walked backward. “Thanks, but he’s not much for the water.” He turned and disappeared down the road, leaving Nikki wondering about the family—a wife who doesn’t leave the house, a boy who wasn’t fond of water, and a father who rents them a cabin on a lake in the wilderness and kisses other women.
****
All hell had broken loose in Los Angeles. According to Quinn, Burn was accusing Nikki of hiding in Birch House, avoiding her duty, and leaving him with a colossal press mess.
“Dad’s not handling the negative publicity very well,” Quinn said, during their morning phone call.
The tone of Quinn’s voice made Nikki want to shield her daughter from Burn’s belly-aching and throttle her ex-husband. Of course he wasn’t doing well. She’d recommended he go somewhere to lie low until the media frenzy died down. He’d refused. Burn was an alarmist, and it had been his decision to stay in L.A.
“I’ll call and see what I can do.” Nikki sat in a front deck chair in a pair of shorts and T-shirt with her bare feet on the railing. She dialed Burn’s cell phone. “What’s going on, Burn?”
“Hi, baby. How ya doin’?” He didn’t sound upset.
“Fine. I hear you’re being hounded.” Concern did not leak through into her voice.
“Yeah. It’s bad here. The fucking press is everywhere.”
“I heard that you phoned Quinn to tell her.” You’re complaining to our child, you dumb ass!
“They won’t leave me alone.”
Someone spoke in the background. Then in true Burn form, he said, “Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something.”
He couldn’t be running from the press as they spoke. “Okay.”
“Ten minutes.”
Thirty minutes later, she gave up waiting, knowing that Burn was not immediately in need of her help. She called Phyllis to see how things were going. Phyllis rarely initiated a call to Nikki, which was golden in a publicist.
“How are we looking in the press?” She’d avoided the entertainment news online for the last few days.
“Not bad, not bad at all. Burn, a little worse than you, seeing he’s openly dating. They’re speculating that he might have played around while he was married to you.”
Nikki almost laughed, to think about how much Burn had played around.
Phyllis continued. “I’m going to let them speculate. Burn fired me last week, and now I’m only working for you.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Well, I hope he’s got a good substitute. He might be groveling soon.”
“The press is saying that he drove you away with his affairs. You’re still America’s rock sweetheart.”
Nikki frowned. “I really don’t want Burn to look bad, Phyllis. For Quinny’s sake.” She felt the need to mention her daughter, whom Phyllis loved. “Can we make a statement or something? Maybe say that Burn and I had a wonderful marriage and, like every couple in the world, we had our challenges.”
“How about ‘Goldy would like to remind her fans that she and Burn are still dear friends and that their marriage had trials like any other, but that they loved each other deeply. Their divorce was private and shall remain so, and it hurts Goldy to have her marriage judged and dissected in the press.’ Something like that?
“Yes, just like that. Thanks, Phyllis.”
But when the press heard the statement from Goldy, instead of being appeased, they grew more desperate. “Goldy Speaks from Seclusion” and “The Search for Goldy” were the immediate reactions. The Goldy web site broke all records for hits that day and soon no one was convinced that the woman in Nassau was Goldy.
Nikki had no intention of continuing with this dialogue. It was never enough. She could give interviews and they’d still want more of her. Regardless, she spent the whole day on the phone to staff—Phyllis, Merilee, her manager Grant, security staff, even Burn.
Then things took a turn for the worse when the press involved Quinn. Reporters camped out on the lawn of the apartment building where Quinn and Julie lived, watching and waiting to get a statement.
Action had to be taken. Nikki called Steve and he notified the local police as well as sending a bodyguard from L.A. whose job was to stay by Quinn’s side until this blew over. Even though Quinn ranted about the injustice of having someone hover over her while her mother went without, Nikki insisted. “No bargaining on this one, kiddo,” she said.
“Steve is sending Dwayne.” He’d been one of Quinn’s favorite guards on tour, always happy, a reformed alcoholic who took Quinn’s abstinence seriously. She hoped Quinn would appreciate his familiar face instead of working to avoid him.
Dwayne’s report the first night indicated that the press were local, no pestering paparazzi that he could see, and everything seemed to be under control. No one was breaking the law, at least. “We’re just sitting here at Pepe’s pizza, having dinner, Ms. Burnside. I’m watching Quinn and her friend Julie eat while reporters watch them through the window.”
“Keep my baby safe, Dwayne.” Nikki clicked the cell phone shut and headed for the dock. A light shone from behind a front curtain at the Dickerson house. As she stood studying the house, the idea that the Bayer family might have been hired to watch her seemed silly now.
****
A blanket of low clouds hung over the lake, threatening rain. It was perfect timing to make a pot of chili. Nikki had been craving savory foods lately and wanted to honor what her body craved and ultimately what her baby needed.
The bodyguard was doing his job in Seattle but also driving a college girl crazy with his presence. Not much had been written about Goldy in the last few days, and there’d been no new letters from Shakespeare in nearly four weeks. Nikki considered the possibility of letting Dwayne return to Los Angeles. He had a messy custody battle with his ex-wife on the cour
t dockets soon.
Rain bounced off the deck as Nikki snuggled into the couch with a novel. She’d just gotten settled when her cell phone rang.
“Nicole Crossland?” Gateman always asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Agent Ted Gateman of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Hi, Ted.”
“How are things where you are?”
This helped verify her identity. “Louisa Lake, Ted. I’m at my house at Louisa Lake.” She gave him her social security number. “Now what’s going on?”
“We got another letter.”
A jolt shot through her like she’d been slapped in the face with a wet towel. “Was it a goodbye letter?”
“Not exactly.”
“You’d better send it on.” She glanced fearfully at the computer monitor.
“My better judgment tells me to ignore your request to see all letters.”
Her hand went immediately to her belly, and her face muscles clenched. “Why do you think I shouldn’t see this one?”
“You’re alone out there.”
“Ted, I feel safer here than in Los Angeles.”
“The letter mentions Quinn in Seattle.”
The blood drained from Nikki’s face.
“Not a threat to her. It just mentions her name. And remember it’s common knowledge she’s at school in Seattle.”
“Oh, God.”
“We sent an agent to Quinn. She’s with her right now.”
“Quinn has a bodyguard, too.”
“Do you have a bodyguard, Nikki?”
“No. Did he mention my location?”
“No.”
“You know how isolated I am, and this state-of-the-art security system tells me when every chipmunk runs across my deck.”
Gateman hesitated. “You have your dog, right?”
Nikki would’ve laughed if it had been funny. “He’s a small pug mix, you know that.” She looked down at Elvis who was wagging his tail like everyone’s friend.
“The letter was mailed from Los Angeles.”
“What did he say about Quinn?”
“Not much, and the letter sounds like he’s still in L.A.”