Dark Star

by Roslyn Holcomb

“Oh for crying out loud, I don’t have a public. I’m a mid-list mystery writer,” Tonya said, sipping her iced tea. Cecilia had come to town shortly after her return to help her reschedule her book tour and work out these type problems. They were having lunch at a restaurant that had only recently opened. The patio area was all but deserted. Even for Alabamians the early September temperatures were a bit much for outdoor dining, but Tonya enjoyed the heat. The small patio was wedged between two buildings and might have been claustrophobic were it not for the profusion of plants that covered the high arching trellises and drew the eye upward to the clear blue sky. The air was redolent with the aroma of Confederate jasmine and other plants she didn’t recognize. Tonya studied her publicist whose nervous mannerisms always made her a bit jittery. Like many high-strung people, Cecilia was too thin and reminded Tonya of a greyhound. Her short bobbed hair was dyed raven’s wing black which matched her all black attire. Tonya wondered if she realized that she personified the cliché of a high-powered New York City woman, or if that was her intention.

  “Not anymore. Covered made all the best sellers lists. Even Amazon’s having a time keeping up with the demand.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t have jack to do with my writing. People are only buying it because of what happened,” Tonya said.

  “What do you care? I’ve got a dozen other authors who would kill and eat their grandmothers for this kind of publicity and you’re acting like somebody died,” Cecilia said.

  Tonya inhaled deeply at the sting of that comment. Delicacy wasn’t Cecilia’s strong suit. Of course she had no idea that Tonya had lost someone so close to her. “For God’s sake, Cecilia, don’t you get it? I’m a writer, not some reality star.” She held up a hand when the other woman opened her mouth to interrupt. “Nor do I have any desire to be on television.” Much to her horror she’d discovered that her agent had fielded more than one inquiry from a reality show. She’d put paid to that immediately upon her return.

  “You’re a mystery writer, there are lots of mystery writers, but opportunities like this are a once in a lifetime deal,” Cecilia said.

  Tonya pressed her lips shut over what she wanted to say. “I know that. I’m not Tolstoy and I’m not trying to be. I write mysteries and I’m comfortable with that, but my books are designed to entertain people, not my personal life.”

  “Speaking of your personal life, what exactly do you plan to tell people? You’ve been back for three days. Law enforcement was involved. Have you talked to the cops yet?” Cecilia returned to the original subject having apparently given up on the philosophical issues.

  “Yeah, briefly. The New York cops asked the sheriff’s department here to talk to me. I went to high school with the sheriff. He’s a jerk, but he’s protective of me as a local girl being picked on by the big city cops, so he bought me some time. My first thought was to tell the truth. That I was kidnapped by persons unknown,” Tonya said.

  Cecilia shrugged. “They might buy that. A kidnapping for ransom gone wrong. I can spin it. Maybe even get a movie deal -- ”

  “Unfortunately that would mean the cops would still be looking for the perpetrators...”

  “And that’s bad because...”

  Tonya hadn’t told her publicist the whole story. Nate had never asked her to keep his identity a secret but he knew she wasn’t stupid. Popping off at the mouth about secret government agencies was never a good idea. Either they’d believe her, which was bad, or they wouldn’t believe her and that was worse. As things stood she didn’t really know what was going on with the people who had been hunting her. Deringer assured her that she was safe now that Nate was dead. She took a deep breath. Nate. Dead. Funny, she could almost think about that without dissolving into a pool of tears. Almost. But it didn’t seem wise to reveal the machinations of such ruthless characters.

  “They let me go and I promised not to sic the cops on them. I’d like to keep my word if possible. They’re long gone and I don’t want them coming back.” She frowned. This really was a dilemma, and in her despair over Nate she hadn’t given it much thought. It was very difficult to muster up interest in much of anything of late. She simply wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep for at least a month. Or at least she would want to do that if the nightmares would stop. Not knowing how Nate had died left it to her subconscious to play out scenarios in her dreams, each one more horrifying than the last. For once in her life she hated the vivid imagination that lent such color to her stories, it gave her far too much material to work with.

  “Hey guys, mind if we join you?” Tonya looked up, welcoming the distraction with a smile when she saw Callie and Bryan. Callie had stayed in Maple Fork since Tonya’s return. Bryan had flown in yesterday when his wife stubbornly refused to return to L.A. The way he hovered over her was really cute, but Tonya was glad to see him because the strain was telling on her friend.

  “Where are those sweet little babies?” Tonya asked.

  Callie laughed. “You mean our demon-possessed offspring? For some reason Mama insisted we leave them with her. We escaped before she could come to her senses.” Callie and Bryan’s two-year-old twins Rory and Brodie were as sweet as they were over-indulged -- mainly by Bryan.

  Tonya signaled their server to bring more iced tea. When her two new guests were settled she resumed the conversation, bringing them up to speed on the problem presented by her return.

  Callie shook her head in consternation. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that. Actually I’m surprised the police haven’t grilled you more thoroughly. Scooter’s an idiot, but even he should know something’s up.”

  “He came by a few times, but he’s really annoyed with the big-city boys picking on little ole me,” she simpered while Callie rolled her eyes. “I even managed to squeeze out a tear or two.”

  Cecilia raised a brow.

  “Hey, it has been a stressful time for me, and if playing the swooning miss will get them to leave me alone I’m all in.” Tonya said and then pursed her lips at Callie’s knowing look.

  “Oh well, that’s not going to work much longer,” Callie said. Turning to Bryan she continued, “Sweetie, do you think B.T. could help?” she asked, referring to Bryan’s notoriously Machiavellian manager.

  “Probably, but we don’t really need him for this one, I already have an idea.” He paused as everyone turned to look at him. “I think you should say you went to rehab.”

  “Rehab!” Tonya said, stunned. “Rehab for what?”

  “Pick one. It doesn’t really matter. Drugs. Alcohol. Food. Being an asshole. They pretty much have a rehab facility for any dysfunctional behavior you could name. It’s become so commonplace, the media, and most importantly, the cops will quickly lose interest,” Bryan said pushing back a lock of his sleek black hair. He’d cut it to shoulder length recently and Tonya was always a little shocked to see him without the ponytail.

  “Yeah,” Callie said, almost on top of Bryan’s words. “And no one would be surprised that you’re an addict. You are a writer. It’s practically a job requirement.”

  Cecilia tapped on the table, her multiple bangle bracelets rattling like shackles as she fired off sentences in rapid succession. “It might be a good idea to let the story leak before you talk to the cops. I know someone at a rehab place who will leak ‘off the record.’ Probably better to say prescription meds rather than alcohol. That way if you’re seen having a beer there won’t be any stories about you going off the wagon.”

  “Oh, there will be stories,” Callie said with a wry twist of her mouth. “You’re tabloid gold right now. You could enter a convent and they’ll still be all over you.”

  Tonya raised a hand. “Y’all are forgetting one thing...what about my mama? Nobody’s going to believe that I went to rehab without telling her. And what about you, Callie? You were on television and everything.”

  Callie sighed. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that,” she said, chewing her bottom lip as she sat back in thought.

&nb
sp; Cecilia interrupted before Callie could speak again. “Wait who’s to say you knew anything was wrong? I mean you were supposed to be on the book tour anyway, so you would’ve been out of pocket. They don’t let you have contact with the outside world in rehab and they won’t officially tell anyone you’re there, so maybe you didn’t know that people thought something had happened to you. Besides, everyone knows you were angry with your mother -- ”

  “Everyone knows?” Tonya asked. Cecilia’s perception of the universe was a bit skewed. Anything outside Manhattan was irrelevant.

  “Well, everybody in publishing,” she said as though her own world was the only one that mattered.

  “I wasn’t angry with my mama, and how did “everyone” find out about our little disagreement?” Tonya said glaring at her publicist. Really, this crap was getting out of control.

  “I needed to give the story legs if I could. When the cops asked if you had any reason to leave on your own I told them you might have had a problem with your mom.” She held up a hand when Tonya opened her mouth to speak. “No, I didn’t tell them what the disagreement was about.”

  Tonya shook her head, but decided not to pursue it further. Really, what would be the point? After all she’d hired the woman for her legendary persistence but damn it was annoying when that pit bull mentality was turned on her. “That’s weak. Anyone who knows me will know better, but that’s all we’ve got so I suppose we have to go with it.”

  “Yeah,” Deringer said from behind her. Tonya whirled around. The man was so goddamned quiet she always forgot he was there. “That sounds like a good plan, but there’s something else you guys forgot. The gunshots.”

  Callie tilted her head to one side as though in deep thought. Then she shrugged. “Tonya didn’t know anything about it. It’s just a coincidence that something else went down at the same time that Tonya was leaving.”

  Bryan snorted. “You think they’ll believe that, babe?”

  Deringer spoke again. “Why wouldn’t they? Most people will believe a complicated story before they’ll believe a simple one, even if the simple one is the truth. So give them a convoluted tale. Tonya decided to go off to rehab. Meanwhile unknown assailants attacked an unknown victim behind her hotel. The cops won’t believe it, but as there are no bodies and no blood I doubt they really care.”

  It took a while, but eventually the conspirators worked out a story that was as bare and as strong as possible. Then Cecilia left on a mission to leak it to all the right sources. Bryan left to take some phone calls from L.A., leaving Callie and Tonya alone while Deringer wandered off to parts unknown.

  “Hey, isn’t he supposed to be your bodyguard, or something?” Callie said.

  “Or something is right. He assures me that with Nate...gone...the bad guys have no reason to come after me, so I don’t really need a bodyguard,” Tonya said.

  Callie leaned back in her chair and paused steepling her hands over her belly. “That being the case then why is he here?”

  “I have no idea. I mean, he and Nate were really close. I think he’s mourning and just doesn’t have anything else to do, but I’m not sure. It’s not like he talks to me or anything.” She looked around, but didn’t see Deringer lurking about. She changed the subject anyway. The man was like smoke and could appear in the blink of an eye. “How in God’s name do you stand this?”

  “Stand what?” Callie asked, apparently still preoccupied with the puzzle that was Deringer.

  “This whole celebrity thing. People caring where you are and what you’re doing. It sucks.”

  “Don’t you remember what it was like when Bryan and I went through our changes?” Callie asked.

  “Of course I do. What do you think I’m talking about?”

  “Well I’d think you’d be used to it.”

  “Callie, I’m not married to an international celebrity,” Tonya said.

  “Nope. You just became one.”

  “But not for being a writer. This really had nothing to do with me.”

  Callie shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I think it’s so horrible for you because it’s so new. And this is not nearly as crazy as it was back then. Remember the photographer in our closet?”

  Tonya shuddered and touched her stomach in response to a slight queasiness. “How could I ever forget? Still I don’t know how you can say this is no big deal. You know I don’t do people. I can’t live this way.”

  “You already have,” Callie said. Tonya rolled her eyes. Not this again. “I don’t know why you don’t see the similarity.”

  “Probably because there isn’t any,” Tonya returned dryly.

  “Really? We’ve been in a fish bowl all our lives. What do you think Maple Fork is? Everybody knows your business. Everybody knows who you are. Who your family is. Celebrity just gives you a bigger bowl, but it’s pretty much the same.”

  “Well, yeah it’s just the same except that it isn’t. Millions of people all up in my business is not the same as a few dozen.”

  “Yeah, but the few dozen are the only ones that matter. Besides, you’re not coming up with a cover story because you’re a celebrity. It wouldn’t hurt your career to tell the truth. It would probably even help; look at what the publicity has done to your sales. Either way you couldn’t be bothered to lie. You just don’t care about book sales that much. I assume you’re only concocting this story to protect Nate -- ”

  “How -- ”

  “I know you. And I know you’ve never loved anyone the way you loved Nate Randolph. And the way he loved you...” Callie sighed. “That was some Casablanca stuff there. I don’t believe for one second the two of you were alone for two months without getting together. What I don’t know is why you’re trying to keep it a secret.” Callie gave her a hurt look and Tonya could’ve kicked herself. Of course Callie would know what went down; she was like the other half of herself. Keeping a secret from her was impossible.

  “I can’t tell you. I know I can trust you, but it’s not my secret,” Tonya said.

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea and you’re right not to tell. Now, it’s time to feed this baby. Are you planning to eat?”

  Chapter Ten

  Tonya looked up when Roshonda came bustling through the door. What with all the excitement of her return and fielding calls from reporters and such, she hadn’t had much of an opportunity to check in with the operations manager. She’d postponed her book tour indefinitely; right now she was simply too emotionally fragile to deal with something so demanding. It seemed everybody in New York was irate over it, but her book sales were still so strong they couldn’t really complain. She’d done several satellite interviews with various morning shows and they were more or less content with that. She was still waiting for the publicity to die down, but her fifteen minutes seemed never ending. Normally she hated paperwork, but right now she was enjoying the respite.

  Soon after Callie got married they had rented a small office space not far from the bookstore. Callie was rarely in town anymore, but when she was she liked using it as a base of operations. Since Roshonda was promoted to operations manager they’d hired several more salespeople in the store as well as an accountant, a secretary and other clerical personnel so the small office in the store was simply inadequate. The office was in an old-fashioned red brick building across the square from the store. Their second floor corner office suite consisted of four offices and a foyer. Tonya liked the quaint décor in the hundred-year-old building, especially the wood floors and original molding. They’d decorated with period pieces when they could and nice reproductions when they couldn’t. Her desk was a massive oak monstrosity she’d originally purchased for her home office only to discover it wouldn’t fit up the narrow staircase. Leaning back in her antique office chair with her bare feet resting on the desk she studied a spreadsheet. She looked up when she realized she wasn’t alone.

  “That guy is kind of spooky,” Roshonda said.

  “Hmmm,” Tonya responded, still distracted by the spread
sheet in front of her. The accountant had printed the reports at Tonya’s request. While she trusted the number cruncher it paid to be prudent. She didn’t have the obsessive need to watch every sou that came through the door the way that Callie did, but she had no intention of being robbed, either. Callie did the acquisitions and supervised most of the day-to-day operation of their partnership, but Tonya was still at least nominally in charge of the store.

  “Hello? That guy Deringer, your bodyguard or whatever. He’s spooky.”

  “Spooky how?” Tonya said lowering her feet from the desk and finally giving Roshonda her full attention.

  “He just watches me. He doesn’t say anything, he just watches me.”

  Tonya tried to remember any odd behavior on the man’s part, or at least odder than his ability to move around undetected, but she’d been so busy she hadn’t really paid attention. She did remember him commenting on Roshonda’s beauty the night they’d kidnapped her. Even in the insanity of that evening the non sequitur had stood out. Of course Roshonda was gorgeous. Her silky dark skin and Bambi brown eyes left most men speechless around her. It would be more unusual for one not to notice her. But surely the girl was used to that. They’d had more than a few customers whose sudden interest in books was suspect. So why was she tripping now?

  “It is his job to watch things. I would imagine that at this point it’s just reflex. I wouldn’t read anything into it.” Tonya said, working hard to maintain an expressionless face. “Do you think he’s coming on to you?”

  “That’s just it. He doesn’t say anything. I mean he speaks, says good morning and all that, but he never flirts or makes jokes or anything. I get dudes hitting on me all the time. I have lots of experience, but with this guy I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Well I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s a good looking man,” Tonya said still fishing.

  “He’s alright,” Roshonda said confirming her interest in the man. Deringer was many things, including more than a bit spooky, but nobody could ever fail to notice that he was finer than hell. Unless of course they were fighting like the dickens to resist their attraction.