“Is that allowed?” Ivy asked, flicking her eyes to Simone as the woman passed.
“Is what allowed?” Simone was confused.
“That.” Ivy pointed toward Miley. “She’s dancing like a … stripper.”
Simone watched Miley for a long beat and then shrugged. “That’s simply how the girls dance these days. You would know that if you didn’t lock yourself away in your house constantly. I mean … I get it. You snagged the new guy. You don’t want him spending too much time around other women in case he decides he wants to trade up. You should still get out once every other day or so.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes until they were nothing but glittery blue slits and glared as Simone sauntered away. That’s how Jack found her two minutes later.
“Oh, you look happy, my love.” Jack grinned at the way Ivy snarled. “Did you miss me that much?”
“This is pure torture, Jack,” Ivy admitted, frowning when Jack turned his attention to Miley and widened his eyes. “You see it, too, right?”
“She’s going to poke her eye out with that stick.”
His simple delivery of the line was enough to cause some of the tension in Ivy’s shoulders to lessen. “That’s exactly what I was talking about.”
Jack extended a hand to help Ivy stand and then planted a firm kiss on her mouth. “Why is she dancing with a stick?”
“It’s a baton and that’s her talent routine.”
Jack gave the dance another once over. “I’ve seen dances like that before. They usually come accompanied with full frontal nudity and a happy surprise at the end.”
Ivy snorted, amused, and then the full meaning of Jack’s words washed over her. “How much time have you spent in strip clubs?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Jack tapped the end of her nose. “What do you care anyway? That was before I met you. I’m a reformed man.”
“You’d better be careful, or I’m not going to massage you later,” Ivy warned. “I made a fresh batch of oil before heading in this direction and everything.”
“I take back everything that I said.”
“That’s what I thought.” Ivy took a moment to give Jack a lingering hug and then pulled back. “I’m sorry if I’m grouchy. These girls are wearing on me.”
“I can see why.” Jack smoothed Ivy’s hair. “How about a break for lunch?”
“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” Ivy quickly collected her coat and boots. By the time she was bundled up, she turned to find that Jack was the center of attention in the middle of the barn. It seemed some of the teenagers – and a few of their mothers, for that matter – had discovered him and were eager to talk.
“Is Aubrey still alive?” Joslyn Dalton asked, her brown eyes wide. “Did she die?”
“Last time I knew, she was still in the hospital,” Jack replied. “I’m not at liberty to release her prognosis. She hasn’t died, though.”
“It must be so gratifying to be a police officer,” Jennifer Dalton, Joslyn’s mother, intoned as her eyes wandered to Jack’s wide shoulders. “You protect and serve. I mean … you’re a real hero.”
“I … well … I like being a police officer.” Jack shifted from one foot to the other, clearly nervous. He was penned in and uncomfortable. “I don’t consider myself a hero, though.”
“Oh, he’s just being modest,” Ivy interjected, earning a few sets of curious eyes. “He loves being a hero. He really likes it when people fawn all over him and call him a hero, although he’s too shy to admit it.”
Jack scorched Ivy with a dark look. “Don’t make this worse.”
Ivy’s grin was mischievous. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Are you two really getting married?” Anna Buckley asked, her eyes darting to Ivy before returning to Jack’s handsome face. “My mother says that Ms. Morgan put a spell on you because she’s a witch – you know that, right? – and that you’ve been caught even though you don’t want to be caught.”
Fury lanced through Ivy’s stomach, but she managed to contain it. “Did you hear that, Jack? I put a spell on you.”
“You certainly did,” Jack agreed, forcing a smile. “As for what your mother said … you might want to tell her to cut back on the liquor.” Jack was done being polite and he forcefully cut through the girls so he could join Ivy. “Are you ready for lunch?”
Ivy spared a glance for the disappointed girls – and their suspicious-looking mothers. “You have no idea.”
Jack grabbed her hand and pointed her toward the door. “Let’s get out of here. I told Brian earlier that this pageant sounded like a freak show. I think I might’ve been underestimating just how bad it really was.”
“Wait until I tell you how I spent my morning.”
“I’m almost frightened to hear the details.”
“WAIT … SIMONE IS DOING WHAT?”
It only took Jack and Ivy about twenty minutes to catch each other up on their days. They were already settled across from each other in a booth at the diner, orders placed, when Jack explained about the pageant culling.
“You have the same look on your face that Brian did,” Jack noted. “What’s up with that? Why is it such a big deal?”
“Because the pageant was set up so no one was ever cut out,” Ivy explained. “If Simone is unilaterally picking kids to keep out of the pageant – with no one there to stop her – that’s not fair.”
“It’s just a pageant, though.”
“It’s just a pageant to you and me,” Ivy clarified. “It’s important to the girls who participate. I don’t really agree with the sentiment – heck, I don’t understand the sentiment – but what Simone is doing isn’t fair.”
“I take it she hasn’t told anyone what she’s doing.”
“No, and it makes sense in a weird way.” Ivy sipped her tea. “I wondered why I didn’t see Peyton. I thought maybe she was guilty and was trying to keep a low profile. Now we find out she didn’t even have access to the barn. Do you have a list of the other girls who were kept out?”
“Brian has it.”
“Make a copy so I can look at it tonight,” Ivy ordered. “I don’t know all of the girls in that age group, but I know quite a few of them.”
“The thing is, we’re dealing with girls in two different groups now,” Jack pointed out. “You have the group who never even got to compete and the other group who were going to get to compete even though Aubrey is the frontrunner. They all have massively different motives.”
“And Aubrey?” Ivy asked. “I know you couldn’t say anything in front of the girls but … has she said anything?”
“She hasn’t regained consciousness yet,” Jack replied. “The doctors are still working to correct organ damage. Apparently her kidneys were compromised.”
Ivy felt sick to her stomach. “All because of a pageant.”
Jack grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s a mess, but we’ll figure it out.”
“I know.”
The bell over the diner door jangled and Jack glanced in that direction, frowning when he recognized the two figures walking through the door. “Uh-oh.”
Ivy instinctively shifted so she could look in that direction. “What?” When she caught sight of the couple in question, she almost growled. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Well, let’s wait and see what they say,” Jack prodded. “It might be an innocent thing.”
“Or I might have to kill my brother,” Ivy muttered.
Max forced a sheepish smile when he realized Ivy and Jack were staring at him. He reluctantly touched Simone’s elbow to direct her toward the booth, although his expression said that was the last thing he wanted. He would’ve avoided his sister and her fiancé at all costs if the diner had open seats. They had no choice but to join Ivy and Jack if they wanted to get lunch.
“Hey, guys.” Max’s voice sounded unnaturally bright as he approached the table. “It’s busy today.”
“It certainly is,�
� Jack agreed.
“Can we join you?”
“Sure.” Jack wrapped his hand around Ivy’s wrist, forcing her to look at him before she said something snide. “Honey, why don’t you come over here and sit next to me, huh?”
Ivy opened her mouth to argue, but the look on Jack’s face told her that was a bad idea. “Fine,” she gritted out, sliding out of her seat and brushing against Simone as she crossed over to Jack. “We’ll all have lunch together and pretend this isn’t weird. That sounds like a great idea.”
“It definitely does,” Jack agreed. He grabbed Ivy’s tea mug and slid it in front of her as she settled in the spot next to him. Max looked decidedly uncomfortable as he took the spot across from Jack. Simone, on the other hand, looked almost triumphant as she stared across the table at Ivy. “Isn’t this cozy?”
Ivy scalded Jack with a dark look. “I can think of a few other words to use.”
“Don’t,” Jack warned, rolling his neck. “We’ve already ordered, but I’m sure you guys can add what you want to our bill. Lunch is on me.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” Simone gushed, grinning. “You’re far too sweet for the likes of Ivy.”
“Hey!” Ivy’s eyes flashed. “You don’t have to sit with us.”
“She’s with me,” Max said. “We’re having lunch together.”
“You don’t have to sit with us either,” Ivy snapped, her temper clearly on display.
“You don’t mean that,” Jack chided. “Now … chill.” He leaned closer and whispered so only Ivy could hear. “He’s your brother and you love him. Don’t make things more difficult. Besides, now we can question Simone about her new pageant protocol.”
Ivy brightened considerably. “Good idea.”
Jack squeezed her knee under the table before she could open her mouth. “I’ll be the one doing it.”
“Whatever.”
Max was understandably suspicious about the shift in Ivy’s mood. “What were you two whispering about?”
“Your sister made some fresh massage oil this morning and we have big plans for tonight,” Jack lied. He knew the pointed sexual innuendo would be enough to discourage Max from probing further.
“You’re so disgusting,” Max groused.
“I think he’s delightful,” Simone argued. “So, tell me, how did you find yourself hitched to Ivy’s wagon? Are you regretting it yet?”
Ivy ran her tongue over her teeth to calm herself, but Max was the one who surprisingly stepped in to admonish Simone for her attitude.
“If you’re going to insult my sister the entire meal, you can just go,” Max said. “We already talked about this and you said that you had nothing against Ivy. That’s not how it sounds to me.”
Simone immediately adjusted her tone. “I was just messing around. That’s how Ivy and I communicate.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s how she wants to communicate,” Max said.
“I don’t want to communicate at all,” Ivy muttered under her breath.
“Let’s put it behind us,” Jack suggested. “As for Ivy and I getting married, I will never regret that. I feel as if I’ve won the lottery.”
Ivy arched an eyebrow. “That was laying it on a bit thick.”
Jack was firm. “That’s how I feel.”
“Yes, well … .” Ivy pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She didn’t want to encourage Jack, especially in front of Simone. “So, Simone, what’s up with you kicking half the girls out of the pageant before it even starts?”
Jack groaned as he slapped a hand to his forehead and Max widened his eyes.
“Honey, I thought we agreed that you were going to let me ask the questions?” Jack probed.
“I changed my mind.” Ivy rested her hands on the table top and stared at Simone. “You’re not supposed to be able to cut girls out of the pageant before it even starts. That’s one of the pageant rules. Everyone who wants to compete can compete.”
Simone was uncomfortable with the question. “Who told you that?”
“Peyton Miller,” Jack replied. “I would think – especially since she was the runner-up last year – that she would be a frontrunner this year. Since she’s not even being allowed to compete, that seems … suspicious.”
“We had too many girls sign up,” Simone argued. “The pageant would’ve gone on for five hours if I didn’t cut people.”
“And how did you decide who was cut?” Max was interested in the conversation despite himself. “I mean … Peyton did really well last year. How come she was cut?”
“Because her talent routine wasn’t up to snuff.”
“Yeah, I just saw a girl swinging around a stick with a ribbon attached to it while she mimed a routine from a Triple-X show in Las Vegas,” Jack said. “That doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense to me.”
Simone’s frustration was evident. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“I want to know why Peyton was cut out of the show,” Jack pressed.
“I … she just was.”
“I notice your daughter is still in the show,” Ivy interjected. “I think it’s a bit odd that you’re allowed to unilaterally keep and cut people when your daughter is a contestant.”
“What exactly are you insinuating?” Simone hissed, making a face. “Are you saying that you believe I’m trying to rig the system for my daughter?”
“I’m saying that you’re clearly playing fast and loose with the rules,” Ivy replied. “Do the festival organizers know about this?”
Simone balked. “Why would you possibly tell them?”
“I guess that’s a no.” Ivy switched her attention to Jack. “This changes things a bit.”
Jack nodded. “It certainly does.” He absently ran his hand up and down Ivy’s back as he considered the turn of events, eventually focusing on Max. “Aren’t you glad you chose the diner for lunch?”
Max shook his head. “It’s one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had … and that’s saying something.”
“It definitely is,” Ivy agreed.
“I still think it’s delightful,” Simone argued. “Now, let’s talk about why you shouldn’t tell the festival organizers what you know.”
“Oh, I wish they served liquor here,” Ivy lamented, rubbing her forehead.
Jack offered up a legitimate grin. “You and me both, honey.”
“I wish they served entire fifths of Jack Daniels,” Max said, rolling his neck until it cracked. “This is going to be a long day.”
Ivy’s eyes gleamed as they locked with his. “You have no idea.”
Eight
Jack dropped Ivy back at the barn after lunch, taking extra time to walk her through the festival area so she could cool down. He then left her at the door with an admonishment not to get into a fight because he refused to bail her out if she was arrested.
Ivy watched him go, a mixture of frustration and guilt warring for supremacy in her busy brain, and then she strode into the barn and pinned Simone with a challenging look. She was practically daring the pageant coordinator to defend what she’d done.
Instead, Simone made a big show of fixating on a set of costumes and proceeded to pretend Ivy wasn’t in the room. That was fine with Ivy, it gave her more time to glare holes into the back of Max’s head. He wisely focused on painting sets rather than his sister, allowing a pall to fall over the barn. Apparently it was a pall that the teenagers didn’t notice, though.
“Can you help me with these stupid shoes?”
Ivy tore her gaze from Max and smiled as Mackenzie Sutton sank to the ground and frowned at the ugly black leather Mary Jane shoes in her hand. Mackenzie was one of the few girls participating in the pageant who didn’t drive Ivy absolutely batty.
“Sure. What do we need to do with them?”
“I was hoping you could wave a magic wand and turn them into Converse,” Mackenzie replied. “People say you’re a witch so I figured you were my best shot.”
“They say I
’m a witch, huh?” Ivy was instantly alert. She wasn’t a fan of the distinction, although given the things that kept happening, she wasn’t sure she could argue with it. “Well, whatever they say, I don’t think I can fix these shoes.”
“I know.” Mackenzie looked miserable. “It was a shot in the dark.”
Ivy smirked. “I know why I don’t like the look of these shoes. If I had my druthers, I would walk around barefoot all the time. Since it’s Michigan, that’s not really an option for me. Why don’t you like the shoes?”
“Because they’re ugly and uncomfortable,” Mackenzie replied without hesitation. “I don’t want to wear them. I don’t want to wear the stupid dress my mother is making me wear to sing during the talent competition. I don’t want to be part of this.”
That sounded exactly like the refrain Ivy sang when Luna Morgan told her she was going to have to participate in the pageant all those years before. It still didn’t sit well. “You don’t want to be here?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“How come you are?” Mackenzie appeared legitimately curious. “You’re an adult. You don’t have to do what you don’t want to do. That’s the only reason I’m looking forward to becoming an adult.”
Ivy snickered. “You’ll find that adults have to do things they don’t want to do all the time. It’s not fun and games like you imagine.”
“Don’t ruin my dream.”
“I’m sorry.” Ivy held up her hands in mock surrender. “I am curious how you made it this far if you’re not interested in the process, though. I heard that Simone Graham cut out a bunch of girls before the pageant preparation even started.”
Ivy told herself she wasn’t digging just to annoy Simone. She was looking for information on girls who might have an honest gripe regarding the pageant. If she somehow got more information to needle Simone with, though, so much the better.
“Oh, Simone only cut people she thought would be a threat to her precious Sadie,” Mackenzie sneered. “I’m not an idiot. I know why she kept me. I’m not a threat.
Wicked Fun: An Ivy Morgan Mystery Books 7-9 Page 45