“Where do you want this casserole?” the petite brunette asked Casey.
“Right over here. Just squeeze it in. Where’s Mikey?”
“Working late. He’ll be along eventually.”
“Make yourself at home. There’s soda, beer, coffee, iced tea…you know the drill.”
The woman moved easily among the family group, pausing for a hug here, a word or two there, like a queen wending her royal way among her subjects. She stopped at the open ice chest next to the pool, bent and chose a drink from the chest. Straightening, her eyes met Paige’s. She did a double-take and began marching determinedly in Paige’s direction. “Paige MacKenzie!” she said. “I’m Amy Tardiff. It’s so nice to meet you!”
Her handshake was brisk and strong. Maybe a little too aggressive, but Paige couldn’t fault her for that. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you ever since I heard you were in town,” Amy continued, brown eyes studying her with an unsettling familiarity, considering that this was the first time they’d met. “I was so psyched when I heard you were Mike’s cousin. I’m such a big fan.”
Mike? Who the hell was Mike? It didn’t matter how many years passed. It didn’t matter that he was a grown man who’d spent a decade as a U.S. Marine. As far as Paige was concerned, Michael J. Lindstrom would be Mikey for as long as he drew breath. She took a step backward and said, “Thanks.”
“Seriously. I think I wore out your first two albums, I played them so much. Your music speaks to a whole generation of young women. I always recommend you to my students.”
Never comfortable with compliments, Paige crossed her arms and, casting about frantically for some topic of conversation, landed on the most obvious. “So you’re a teacher,” she said.
Amy beamed. “I am.” She took a sip of ginger ale. “I teach public speaking classes, and I’m the chair of the Drama Department.” She crossed her arms in unconscious imitation of Paige’s body language. “I saw you in concert a few years ago in Boston. You have such stage presence.” She eyed Paige shrewdly. “You should come talk to my drama students sometime. Tell them what it’s really like to be up there in front of all those people. They could learn so much from you.”
Paige crossed her ankles. “I’m sure they could. I’m pretty busy, but maybe we could work something out. Sometime.”
Maybe it was the fact that the woman was overly familiar and a little too aggressive that made Paige want to shove her, fully clothed, into the swimming pool. Or maybe it was the way she acted as though she was already a favored member of the family. It might be either of those things. Then again, it might be simply that she was dating Mikey Lindstrom, who’d proven himself to be a major dick, and if Princess Amy thought there was something special about him, the woman was clearly deranged.
“Of course, the end of the school year is just about here,” Amy continued. “But if you’re going to be in the area at any point during the fall semester, I’d be thrilled to have you—wait a minute.” She opened her purse, rummaged around, and came out with a glossy black business card. Handing it to Paige, she said, “Here’s my contact info. Call me. Or e-mail me. Whatever works best for you. I can work around your schedule, no matter how tight it is. The kids will be so excited!”
Gobsmacked. Was that a real word? It was the first one that came to mind. The woman was a steamroller. Paige had never been one to mince words, but did she dare to say what she was thinking? For some reason, the entire family seemed to think that Amy fell somewhere north of Mother Theresa on the sainthood scale. She opened her mouth to respond, uncertain of what she would say until the words spilled out.
And then, miraculously, her cell phone rang.
Saved by the bell. “Excuse me,” she said, checked the screen and told Amy, “I have to take this.”
Weaving her way through assorted relatives, Paige strode away from Amy Tardiff as quickly as possible while trying not to look like she was running for her life. She pushed a button and, into the phone, she said, “I owe you one, Luce. You are a goddess. You just saved my ass.”
“How did I do that?”
“Long story. What’s up?”
“You sound more…chipper than you did the last time I talked to you.”
Anybody who didn’t know Lucy the way she did wouldn’t have noticed her hesitation. But they’d been friends for years. Something was up. Something Lucy was reluctant to tell her.
More bad news.
Paige’s insides knotted in anticipation. “Hang on.” She let herself into the house, closed the door behind her. The kitchen was cool and quiet compared to the heat and noise outside. She automatically turned right, toward the rear staircase. It had been her secret hideout, first as a teenager, and later as a college student, a safe place from which she could observe the goings-on in the household without having to take part in them. Even now, the familiarity of those ivory-painted walls, the softly carpeted stairs, comforted her. Perched on the fourth step from the bottom, just out of sight of the kitchen, she said into the phone, “What’s wrong?”
Lucy sighed. “You know me too well.”
“And?”
“I have news. It’s going to be released to the media tomorrow. I wanted you to hear it from me first. Vanessa’s pregnant.”
She’d thought nothing more could shock her, nothing more could hurt her, but the stab of pain that drove through her abdomen took her breath away. It should have been me. The thought came from out of nowhere. It was supposed to be me.
“Paige?” Lucy said. “Are you okay?”
Of course she wasn’t okay. Who would be okay after learning that the man she loved had impregnated another woman? “I didn’t expect this,” she said. “I probably should’ve, shouldn’t I? Now I understand why they were in such a hurry to get married.”
She hated the bitterness she heard in her own voice. But some things were just too much to take. “Thanks for the warning,” she said, “but I have to—”
“Wait. There’s more.”
“What could possibly be left?”
“I hate this. I really, really hate this.”
“Just hit me with it. Pretend you’re ripping off a Band-Aid.”
“She’s six months along. The baby’s due in September.”
Heat rushed to her face as the significance of Lucy’s words sank in. “Six months? Six frigging months? He was carrying on with her for half a year?” She closed her eyes against the headache that hadn’t been there a second ago. Rubbing her forehead, she said, “You’re telling me that he was sleeping with both of us at the same time?”
“Well, you’re the only one who can confirm that he was sleeping with you, but I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet that he and Vanessa were doing the deed six months ago.”
Dead silence as she tried to process the news.
“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t let you see this on Entertainment Tonight.”
Oh, Ry. How could you do this? She struggled to hold back the hot tears that tickled her eyelids. She would not cry. She would not cry!
Swiping a single tear from her cheek, she said hoarsely, “Tell me one thing. And be honest with me. Did you know? Did you know about them? About this baby?”
“I swear to God, Paige, I had no idea. I’m not exactly privy to Ryan’s comings and goings. To tell you the truth, I never had much use for the guy. He’s spoiled, vain, too damn smooth. A player. I always knew he was a player. But you seemed happy with him, so I wasn’t about to rock the boat.”
“How did you find out?”
“You won’t like this.”
“I don’t like any of this. I—oh, no. It was Tim, wasn’t it?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Tim was her head of security, but he was more than an employee. He was her friend. Someone she’d confided in. When she wasn’t on the road, she and Ry had spent time with Tim and his wife, Margo. They’d eaten dinner at each other’s houses. Gone swimming in Tim’s backyard pool, and on sunset cruises to Catalina Island. She’d
been at his daughter’s damn birthday party. She’d bought the kid a bicycle. Good old Auntie Paige.
He’d been her friend, yes, but the truth was that he’d been Ryan’s friend first. He and Ry had been college roommates. Ry was the one who’d introduced them.
Ryan’s betrayal had been bad enough. This was somehow worse. “I have to go,” she said abruptly.
“Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“I already did. I made a mistake in judgment. Now I’m going to rectify it.”
* * *
“ABOUT TIME YOU called,” Tim said. “I’ve been worried about you, up there in the wilderness without so much as a bodyguard. Everything okay, Chief?”
He sounded like the same old Tim, always lecturing her on the safety procedures she had a bad habit of ignoring. The nickname, the one he’d christened her with during their first international tour together, twisted the knife a little harder. She thought about Margo, his smiling, beautiful wife. About Madison, their pretty blond daughter.
And hardened her heart.
“How long have you known?”
“Known what?” The cheerfulness left his voice. It was replaced by caution.
“Come on, Tim, don’t dick me around. How long have you known about Ryan and Vanessa? How long have you been keeping it from me?”
He let out a huge sigh. “Paige, listen to me—”
“I asked you a question. Please answer it. When did you find out about Ryan and Vanessa?”
Silence. Then he said quietly, “Last March.”
“March of this year?” she asked, confused.
“No. March of last year.”
The walls began to revolve around her, in slow, wild undulations. “Wait. They were carrying on more than a year ago?”
“Remember those two weeks Ryan spent in Vegas?”
She remembered them well. He’d had some kind of work-related thing. A series of public appearances. He’d told Paige that she’d be bored to tears if she went with him. She hadn’t needed much convincing. Spending two weeks at home alone with the dogs sounded so much more appealing than anything Vegas had to offer. So Ry had gone without her. And because she was always nervous when he made public appearances, she’d loaned him her security detail for those two weeks.
“Vanessa was with him? In Vegas? How could you not tell me?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do? It wasn’t my place to rat him out. I let him know that I didn’t approve. I told him he was nuts to cheat on a woman like you. He wasn’t interested in listening. So I let it go.”
Her body began to tremble, as truths she’d always held to be self-evident began to crumble and fall around her. “You were my friend,” she said, hearing the past tense only after the words had spilled out. “I trusted you. I trusted you with my life! Yet you thought so little of me that you couldn’t be bothered to tell me he was cheating on me?”
“Don’t try to make this my fault. I’m not the one who cheated on you. I’m not the one who betrayed you.”
“No? What would you call it?”
He let out a harsh, crude oath. “I already told you, it wasn’t my place.”
“Of course not. I was nothing more to you than a paycheck. It was Ry who was your friend, and friends don’t rat on friends, do they? The old boys’ club is still alive and well.”
“That’s not fair, Paige. My team and I have taken damn good care of you for the last four years!”
“Yes, you have. Which is what makes this so hard. You’re fired, Tim. Pack your shit and get out.”
“Are you crazy? I have a family to support. You can’t just—”
“I just did. Take your team with you. All of them. Smitty, Angel, Shaughnessey. Go see Lucy. You’ll each get a severance check. One month’s pay for each year you’ve worked for me. You’re lucky to get anything at all. I’m only doing it because I love Margo and Madison. If you go quietly, I might consider giving you a job reference.”
“Paige, wait!”
“I don’t think so. Goodbye, Tim.”
He was still sputtering when she hung up the phone.
MIKEY
WHEN HE WHEELED into Aunt Casey’s driveway, the party was already in swing. The weekly Saturday night family gathering had begun when he was a teenager, after Dad married Rose MacKenzie and Aunt Casey married Rose’s twin brother, Rob. In the intervening years, it had become an institution. The gathering migrated from house to house, attended by multiple generations of Bradleys, Lindstroms, MacKenzies, and Atkinses. He’d never been a big fan of large gatherings. When they were in high school, he and his stepbrother Luke used to make an appearance, wolf down something one of the aunts had cooked (Casey was the world’s greatest cook, and Trish wasn’t far behind), and then escape to some place more in keeping with their adolescent interests.
A decade of military life, with its lack of privacy and individuality, had taught him how to live in a large group of men, but he still preferred solitude. He’d take a night at home with a good movie over a party any day of the week.
These days, he attended the family gathering because it was the only way he could keep his parents off his back. As long as he showed up every Saturday night, Dad and Rose could contain their parental concern and stop worrying that he was either starving or suicidal. He liked all the members of his extended family as individuals. It was when you put them all in one place that they became The Family, also known as an unstoppable force of nature. As a result, he kept conversation to a minimum and seldom talked about anything personal. Sports were an acceptable topic, as were the weather, local politics, and popular music.
Paige would be here tonight. Unless, of course, she’d gone into hiding in order to avoid him. But that didn’t sound like the Paige MacKenzie he remembered. She’d been a brash, in-your-face, straightforward kind of teenage girl, and he’d seen no evidence to indicate that anything had changed in the intervening years. Sooner or later, he would have to apologize for his uncalled-for and vicious verbal assault. It might as well be tonight.
Amy was already here, her Hyundai parked on the side of the road, probably so she could make a rapid getaway. The kids were splashing and yelling in the backyard pool. He spied Amy on the opposite side of the pool, talking with his father. She saw him and smiled. His dad looked up, eyed him at length, and nodded before turning back to his conversation.
His sister climbed out of the pool. Wet and shivering, plastered with goose bumps, Beth ran to him and gave him a damp hug. “You’re late! Have you eaten? There’s still plenty of food left.”
“Wrap a towel around yourself. You’re turning blue. And you’re showing way too much skin. Don’t worry about me. I’ll eat something when I’m ready.”
Aunt Casey heard his voice and spun around. “Hello, my love,” she said, and wrapped him in a bear hug.
“Hi, Auntie,” he said, and planted a kiss on the top of her head. He adored this aunt, his mother’s sister.
She stepped back and smiled up at him. “You heard your sister. There’s plenty of food left. Help yourself.” Lowering her voice, she added, “I bought you a six-pack of Sam Adams.” She patted his arm with maternal fondness. Casey mothered everyone. It was just her way of doing things. “It’s chilling in the fridge.”
It was quieter in the house, the hum of the air conditioner muffling the music and the frolicking outside. Outside, a young female voice—could have been his sister, could have been his cousin—yelled, “Watch this!” A moment later, a huge splash signaled a slender young body hitting the surface of the pool.
Mikey opened the fridge, found the six-pack, and took one out. He turned to leave, and that was when he heard a sound coming from the rear staircase.
Beer in hand, he went to investigate. There, perched on the fourth stair from the bottom, sat Paige MacKenzie. Her cell phone resting on the stair tread, her head lowered into her hands and all that crazy hair falling about her shoulders, she wept silently, streaks of black mascara tracking down her c
heeks.
Something shifted inside him as the tight knot in his stomach loosened, replaced by an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch her, to thread his fingers through that wild, wild hair, to wipe the tears from her face. Squelching the urge, he said gruffly, “You okay?”
She started, glanced up, swiped furiously at a tear. “Great,” she muttered. “Could my day get any worse?”
“Having a bad day, are we?”
“Like you’d give a shit. Go away, Lindstrom. The last thing I need is you sticking your nose in my business. Shoo!”
Instead of shooing, he said, “Hold this,” handed her the Sam Adams, and went in search of a box of tissues. He found them in the downstairs powder room, brought the box back with him. Pulling out a fistful of tissues, he held them out to her, trading them for the beer. While she mopped up, he sat down beside her.
Not looking at him, she said, “I hope you don’t think this makes up for anything.”
He took a sip of Sam Adams. Wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Point taken.”
“Because you’re a rotten, despicable dick. Just in case you wondered.”
Wordlessly, he handed the beer back to her. She hesitated for an instant before taking it. Tilting her head, she took a long, healthy swig and passed it back to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for being an ass. I was having a bad day, and none of it had anything to do with you. Sometimes the crap just builds up inside me, and something small will send it blowing sky-high.”
She said nothing.
“The thing is—” He rolled the bottle between his palms. “They’re all determined to treat me like an invalid. The whole damn family. I can’t stand the smothering. I’ve tried to get through to Dad, but he’s a jackass when it comes to certain things. I’m not suicidal, and I’m not headed down the rocky road to hell. They just need to leave me alone and let me work my way through this.”
Face the Music: Beyond Jackson Falls Book 1 Page 9