In Plain Sight

by Sherryl Hancock

  “I don’t understand the problem,” she said, doing her best to remain calm, though she was ready to wring the man’s neck.

  “We’re working on it,” the sergeant said. “That’s all I can tell you.”

  Remington looked over at Quinn. “Call BJ,” she said, and pulled out her own phone to call Wynter and tell her they were going to be without their sound engineer for the show.

  It was another six hours before Memphis was released. Quinn just about came unglued when she saw that the girl had a bruise on her face.

  “What the fuck happened there?” she asked the desk sergeant, her green eyes blazing.

  “She must have tripped,” the sergeant said, all but sneering.

  “I’m gonna fuckin’ trip ya…” Quinn began as she started toward the man.

  Memphis and Remington moved to intercept her.

  “Let’s not have any more arrests tonight, okay?” Memphis said. “Let’s just go.”

  Quinn gave the sergeant a pointed look. “I hope you big strong men are proud of yourselves, beating up on a kid like this. Big men—no wonder your wives and girlfriends are turning to women like us.” She turned, put her arm around Memphis, and walked her out of the station.

  Outside, she turned to Memphis, reaching out to touch her cheek. She had a pained expression.

  “You okay?” she asked, her Irish accent clear.

  Memphis nodded, suddenly feeling emotionally overwhelmed. Remington stepped in, hugging the smaller girl and reaching out to clasp Quinn on the shoulder. The three of them stood outside the station for a little while, but finally decided they’d better move on. Remington led them out to the street where she had already arranged for one of the guys to come get them.

  Memphis was silent on the drive back to the hotel. Quinn and Remington exchanged a look. They knew something had happened, but also that they couldn’t yet ask what. It worried them though. They made a silent agreement to keep an eye on their young friend.

  Remington made a point of walking Memphis to her room and checking on her an hour later. She found her lying on the bed, wearing different clothes, her hair still damp from a shower. She was on her side, her arms wrapped around her, almost like a shield. Remington winced.

  “Hey,” she said, keeping her tone casual.

  Memphis’ eyes shifted up to her, her lips twitching.

  Remington knelt next to the bed, putting herself at a level with Memphis, her eyes searching the younger girl’s. “Are you okay?”

  Memphis nodded, her expression somber.

  “What happened? I mean, to get you arrested in the first place.”

  Memphis lips curled into a nasty grin. “I was accosted by a Bible banger who wanted to save me. I slugged him,” she said derisively, gesturing to the tattoo on her arm.

  “Bondye…” Remington breathed, her Creole coming out—God. She’d been afraid it had been something like that.

  She grimaced. “I’m sorry. These people are so backwards, and you were out there alone…”

  Memphis shrugged. “My choice. I walked out.”

  “Yeah, about that. Please don’t do that again, okay? I completely understand Billy being a pain in the ass and getting to you, but it took us forever to figure out you’d left the premises.”

  Memphis looked back at Remington, her eyes narrowing slightly, but then she nodded.

  “At the jail,” Remington said, “did they do that?” She gestured to the bruise on Memphis’ face.

  Memphis didn’t answer, but her expression told Remington that the answer was yes.

  “Is that the only injury?” Remington asked, her tone making it clear what she meant.

  Memphis swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat, but then shook her head. “If they’d tried that, you’d have been hearing about a dead cop or two,” she said, her voice low and quite serious.

  Remington looked back at the girl, surprised. “Good to know,” she said, her eyes slightly wide.

  She watched Memphis for a long minute, seeing that the girl was still deeply affected by what had happened. Remington understood that; being the target of a hate crime was a jarring experience. She imagined that for someone like Memphis, who was very open and comfortable with who she was, being attacked for that would scare her. Remington put her hand to Memphis’ head, her touch light; but the look in her eyes was serious.

  Memphis saw Remington’s expression, and felt the tears well up in her then. She wasn’t used to people caring about her this much. And suddenly the day all came back on her. She lay with silent tears dropping on her arms. Remington put her forehead to Memphis’, both hands on the girl’s head now.

  “I promise you, Quinn and I will never let anyone hurt you again,” she whispered. “You just gotta stick with us, okay? Not go running off on your own again. Okay?”

  Memphis nodded, not trusting herself to speak at that point.

  Remington tilted Memphis’ face up to hers. “You promise me?”

  Memphis nodded again. “Promise,” she whispered.

  “Okay.” Remington smiled softly.

  “I’m okay, Remi,” Memphis said after a few minutes. “Go back to Wynter.”

  “Wynter knows where I am and why.”

  Memphis smiled, doing her best to look less morose. “I’m okay, really.”

  Remington looked back at her, her eyes searching Memphis’. “I don’t know if I believe you, but if you want me to go, I will.”

  Memphis took a deep breath, blowing it out as she nodded slowly. “Please?” she said apologetically. “I just kind of need to process.”

  Remington nodded, understanding that. “Okay. You call me or Quinn if you need anything, alright? Tomorrow we’ll get the fuck out of this town.” She said the last with a wink.

  “Sounds good.”

  After Remington left, Memphis got a text from Oliver—the news had reported her arrest. He asked her if she was okay. She texted back that she was fine. He didn’t believe her and called a few minutes later.

  “I said I’m fine,” she said.

  “So I’m calling to check in person, okay?”

  “Okay,” Memphis said, feeling beaten down by that point.

  “What happened?”

  “What did the news say?”

  “That you assaulted some guy,” Oliver said cynically.

  “I punched him in the mouth. It wasn’t a beat down or anything.”

  “Well, that’s how they’re playing it up.”

  “Great.” Memphis felt sick. “Look, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

  “Memph—” Oliver started to say, but she hung up.

  She climbed off the bed and ran to the bathroom, where she threw up repeatedly until she lay exhausted on the floor. She heard her phone chime and figured Oliver had texted her. She ignored it. After a few minutes she got up and walked back into the room. She lay down on the bed. Her phone chimed again; she ignored it, and then it chimed a third time.

  “Holy Christ, Oliver…” she muttered. She picked up the phone, intending to turn it off. Then she saw the name on the text—Kieran.

  “What the fuck?”

  She started to set the phone aside, not in the mood to deal with whatever was going on there. But then the phone chimed again, and her curiosity got the better of her. She picked it up and opened the texts.

  Kieran: Memphis?

  Kieran: Memphis?

  Kieran: Are you there?

  Kieran: Please answer… Oliver and I are worried.

  “Great,” Memphis muttered. “They’re worried as a couple. How fucking cute.”

  Memphis: Nothing to worry about.

  Kieran: I’m sorry, I don’t believe that.

  Memphis: I can’t control what you believe.

  There was a long pause. Memphis was hoping she’d put the girl off enough that she’d backed off. No such luck.

  Kieran: Oliver said that something was strange when he talked to you.

  Memphis: Sorry babe, Oliver is strange,
so that’s probably what it was.

  Kieran: LOL! That’s terrible! Probably true, but terrible all the same.

  “Don’t be fucking cute with me right now, Kieran…” Memphis muttered, but she felt a chink opening in her armor all the same.

  Kieran: He said you weren’t listening to music.

  Memphis: So?

  Kieran: He says you ALWAYS listen to music.

  Memphis: He says a lot, doesn’t he?

  Kieran: About you? Yes, he does.

  Memphis: Boy needs to get his own life and a new hero.

  Kieran: Well that’s quite possibly true, but the fact remains that I think he’s right about the music, isn’t he?

  Memphis curled her lips. Leave it to her notorious music fetish to screw her up. She debated lying, but she knew if Kieran went back to Oliver, he’d just call again too. Finally she sighed and texted back.

  Memphis: Yeah

  Kieran: Do you want to talk about it?

  Memphis: No

  Kieran: I’d like to help if I can…

  Memphis: Why?

  Kieran: Because you’re important to Oliver and because I think we girls need to stick

  together.

  Memphis: I don’t need help. But thanks for asking.

  With that, Memphis closed the chat window and left the conversation. She set her phone aside and lay back down on the bed. Her mind wandered over the day and everything that had happened. She knew she’d overreacted to the church guy, but she didn’t like to be grabbed, and she definitely didn’t like to be treated like there was something wrong with her. Her anger at Billy and this guy grabbing her had made her lose control. It had cost her. It always did.

  It had been about an hour since she’d closed the conversation with Kieran when her phone started ringing.

  “Goddamn it, Oliver, get the fucking hint,” she growled.

  The phone went to voicemail. It rang again a minute later. Turning over, she snatched it up and hit the answer button immediately.

  “What part about ‘I don’t fucking want to talk’ do you not get, Oliver?”

  There was silence on the other end for a long few seconds. Memphis pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the display. She closed her eyes. It was Kieran.

  “I’m sorry,” Memphis said softly.

  “It’s alright,” Kieran said. Her English accent was so proper and her voice so sweet that Memphis felt ten times worse.

  The silence stretched. Memphis was forcing back the feeling of needing to be sick again. Kieran was trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make Memphis mad.

  “Are you still there?” Kieran asked softly.

  “I’m here,” Memphis said quietly.

  “Your voice sounds different than I thought it would.”

  Memphis was surprised. “What did you think it would sound like?”

  “I guess with a name like Memphis, I figured it would have an accent,” Kieran said, smiling.

  “Why?”

  “Well, isn’t Memphis in Tennessee? Don’t they have accents there?”

  “The city of Memphis is in Tennessee, yes.” Memphis grinned in spite of herself. “But people in America name their kids weird shit that doesn’t make sense all the time. I’m not from Tennessee.”

  “Oh. I guess that’s what I get for making an assumption,” Kieran said, her tone humorously self-effacing.

  “I guess.” Memphis closed her eyes and settled more comfortably against the pillows as she put the phone under her ear.

  “So why aren’t you listening to music?” Kieran asked.

  “Just not up for it tonight.”

  “Doesn’t it usually make you happy?”

  “What makes you say that?” Memphis said, being purposefully difficult.

  “Well, if you do something all the time, it would usually mean you like it, right?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Oliver talks about you so much, I feel like I know you, and I think you’re being difficult right now to put me off. Right?”

  “Trust me, Kieran, you don’t know me.”

  “Okay,” Kieran said, her voice still soft. “Tell me about you then.”

  “No.”

  Kieran narrowed her eyes. This woman was definitely not easy to talk to; she had walls up that were miles high. Oliver had been so worried about her, and Kieran had been determined to help because of that. Talking to her now, though, hearing how down she sounded, Kieran felt her heart go out to the other woman. Now she wanted to help for Memphis’ sake.

  “Memphis…” Kieran said, her voice so tender Memphis had to squeeze her eyes shut to try and block the feelings that slid through her heart.

  “What?” she said, her voice rough with emotion.

  “Please let me help.” There was a quiet plea in Kieran’s voice.

  “You can’t help,” Memphis said, her words tinged with defensiveness.

  “How do you know?”

  Memphis breathed slowly, trying to force back the sudden desire to yell and remind the girl that she was dating her best friend and she should be using this sweet voice on him.

  “I just know,” she said, once again swallowing against the desire to be sick.

  She hated all these emotions, all this anger, all this tenderness; it was all mixed up in a cauldron of confusion and turmoil.

  “I have to go.” Memphis got off the bed and strode toward the bathroom. “Please don’t call me again.” She meant to hang up, but dropped the phone as she abruptly threw up.

  Kieran heard Memphis retching horribly, and a few moments later the line disconnected. She sat in her room with tears in her eyes. There had been so much pain in Memphis’ voice when she’d asked her not to call again it had almost physically hurt to hear it. She called Oliver back and told him what had happened, and apologized for not being more help.

  “It’s not your fault,” Oliver said. “Memphis is not very good at letting people in.”

  “I wish I could be more help.” Kieran felt so powerless.

  “Well…” Oliver said. “You could move your trip up…”

  “Come earlier?”

  “Yeah. She’ll be back here in about a week. I just know she’s not going to open up to me, she doesn’t trust guys. Maybe if you were here…”

  “If you think it would be okay,” Kieran said hesitantly.

  She was thinking that she hadn’t really done what she’d been planning to do before she met Oliver in person, which was to lose weight. But she knew he was worried about Memphis, and she honestly did want to help.

  “It’ll be okay,” Oliver said. “I’ll let Memphis know.”

  Kieran smiled. “Okay.”

  “Let me know when you can make it, okay?”

  “Okay.” Kieran grinned. “Now I’m kind of excited.”

  “Me too. If you know what I mean…” He trailed off suggestively.

  Kieran rolled her eyes, wondering whether the man ever thought about anything else. But she reminded herself that he was worried about his best friend, and that made him a good man.

  She grinned. “Well, why don’t you tell me about it?”

  Chapter 3

  The night of the incident with Memphis, Billy Montague received a fiery phone call from one very angry Brenden James Sparks. She’d just come off stage when Skyler handed her the phone, looking at her pointedly.

  “It’s BJ,” he said, then turned and walked away.

  “What the fuck were you thinking, Billy!” BJ said the moment she took the phone.

  “Hi, BJ,” she said, her tone overly sweet. “I’m fine, how are you?”

  “Don’t fuck with me right now, Billy,” BJ snapped, his English accent clipped. “Do you have any idea what your theatrics caused? Do you even care?”

  Billy blew her breath out. “Yes, I heard what happened.”

  “And you know that it’s your fault, right?”

  “I can’t control the girl going around hitting people, BJ!”
/>
  “If she hadn’t been out there because of your shit, she wouldn’t have gotten into that,” BJ said, his words measured as he gritted his teeth. “Now, I’m going to say this nice and slow, and you’d better be listening to me, Billy. If you ever talk to one of my staff that way again, I will personally cancel Billy and the Kid’s contract with Badlands Records. Do you get that?”

  Billy’s eyes widened. BJ Sparks didn’t make threats he didn’t have any intention of following through.

  “You’d cancel our contract over some sound engineer?” Billy asked, her anger coming to bear now.

  “I’m so sick of your shit right now, Billy, I’d cancel your contract over an unpaid parking ticket! If there is another incident with Memphis McQueen on this tour, I will yank you off it. Do you understand me?”

  Billy gritted her teeth. “Yes,” she said, forcing the word out of her mouth.

  “Good!” BJ snapped, and then hung up.

  Billy turned to go to her dressing room. Jerith was standing a couple of feet away, his eyes narrowed.

  “What!” she snapped.

  He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes further. “Don’t bring it here, Billy. You brought this on yourself this time.”

  She regarded him for a long moment, then blew her breath out and nodded. “I know,” she said, then walked away to her dressing room.

  The next morning, Billy knocked on the door to Memphis’ room. It took a few minutes, but the door finally opened. Remington stood there, her expression menacing.

  “What do you want?” Remington said, her hazel eyes unfriendly.

  “I want to talk to her,” Billy said evenly.

  Remington looked like she was considering the request. She pursed her lips, her expression openly hostile by that point.

  “Hold on.” She closed the door in Billy’s face.

  Remington had come into Memphis’ room that morning and found her asleep on the bathroom floor, the smell of bile pungent in the room. She’d helped the girl up and put her back into bed, then spent the next two hours watching over her as she slept. Walking over to the bed now, she saw that Memphis’ eyes were open.