“Blackmail?” Max’s eyes sparked and he straightened in the chair.
“You get a little too excited at the mention of blackmail for my tastes,” I said. “It just sounds like plain ol’ bullying to me. I hate bullies and will be glad to ferret this one out.”
“You also like to involve yourself in the suspicious business that is not yours. There must be purpose to the bullying. An exertion over the weak to prove strength. For power or money. Maybe revenge. Or in spite, due to envy or resentment. Perhaps it is a student who is the bully.”
I dropped my spoon in the empty bowl and propped my hip against his dresser. “You seem to know an awful lot about bullies. Have you been the bully or the bullied?”
“Where I am from you are surrounded by the bullies. You must stand up to them or find yourself paying the extortion. It is not just annoying harassment. It is dangerous and sometimes deadly.”
“No wonder you like it here in America.”
“You will need my help.” Max drug his leg off the stool, pushed out of his small chair, and grabbed the back to steady himself. “For weeks you have been smothering me with your friendship. I seek the balance in your need to aid me with my disability.”
“Smothering? I think your English is off. You mean supporting.” I wrinkled my nose. “You refuse to leave the house. How are you planning on helping me?”
Max released the chair and balanced on one leg. “I know you, Artist. You will do your best in hunting this verbal assassin, but your methods will be instinctual and reactive. You need guidance.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That sounded vaguely insulting. And if I need guidance, I’ll get help from Uncle Will or the Line Creek police. They’re already investigating Maranda Pringle’s death as suspicious.”
“Bah, police.” The Bear waved a hand, sending his balance to the braced leg. He grabbed for the chair, but the slight frame slipped under his weight. Max followed, slamming into the soft carpet with a low moan.
“Are you okay?” I fell to my knees beside him. “This is why you need me checking in on you. What would happen if I wasn’t here? Maybe you need one of those emergency call bracelets.”
“Stop treating me like I am the elderly infirm. I am not even middle-aged.” Max opened his glacier blue eyes and exposed his pain. “Just help me up. Please.”
The bedroom door slammed against the wall. “Hey, boss. I heard a loud noise,” called Nik. His footsteps padded into the room and stopped. “What’s happening? What did you do, Cherry?”
“I did nothing. Max fell.” I glanced over my shoulder at the newest member of my family. “Get over here and help me. The Bear’s too heavy for me to lift.”
Nik strode to Max’s prone body, then squatted beneath one brawny shoulder and pushed. I grabbed Max’s other hand and pulled. Sweat broke across the Bear’s brow, and I internalized my wince at the thought of his pain. Once Max had his good leg balanced, he wobbled, then sunk onto the footstool to glare at the floor.
“Cherry, you stop bothering my boss. He needs to work on his business.” Nik folded his arms and rocked back on his heels.
I whirled toward Max. “Why is he calling you boss? Do you have something going on in your basement? Even with me checking on you every day?” I referred to the Vegas themed casino room where the Bear played house banker for groups of Atlanta tycoons for a nominally outrageous fee.
All illegal, of course.
The Bear held up a hand. “Don’t worry yourself. Nik needed a job. I hired him to help me with my many legitimate businesses.”
“I don’t want my family mixed up with any dirty business. Not even Nik.”
“You are not to worry about me,” said Nik.
“You are my family now,” I said. “That’s what we do. You may not like it much, but you’ll learn.”
“Nikolai.” Max jutted his chin to the door. “Out.”
Nik glanced from Max to me. “Sure, boss. You want me to remove Cherry from your premises?”
Max studied me for a long moment. “No. She needs my help. We are going to talk about her new position and read the blog of Tinsley.”
It looked like I would receive the Bear’s advice whether I wanted it or not. More than likely, the Bear looked for a challenge to break the boredom of his infirmary.
But it felt a teeny bit like payback. I rolled my eyes at him just in case.
Eight
Tinsley Talks made no sense to me or to the Bear, as neither of us were schooled in the world of high school theater. However, the gist I understood made me worried for Tinsley. Without “dropping names,” he slapped or hugged folks with a mixed bag of snark and praise. Which, ironically, sounded like cyberbullying to me. Max agreed that this sort of public whipping could come back to bite Tinsley in his theatrical hiney, perhaps in the form of the anonymous texter. I had promised to watch over said hiney, but hoped to talk Tinsley into reforming his blog. And hoped to see my name, thinly disguised or otherwise, out of it.
Put off by Tinsley Talks, Max seemed intent on spending his evening researching Tinsley. Or as Max called him, “the peevish little critic.” I left the Bear to it. As it was Monday night and I had nothing to do, I headed to Red’s County Line Tap, my home away from home, conveniently located a few blocks from my actual home.
I pushed through the foyer doors and into the alley shaped room that served chicken fingers to Halo’s families and beer to everyone else. A small stage sat at one end where my roommate Todd’s drum set rested during the week. Flatscreen TVs, softball trophies, and the mirrored wall behind the wooden bar provided the old roadhouse’s decoration. Gossip provided most of the entertainment.
Red’s auburn-self manned the long bar. My sister supposedly worked the room with a tray and a server’s pad, although worked was a term best used loosely. The chatter of the Braves coming from flatscreens and the heavy strum of Southern Rock covered the sounds of the few families eating. I scanned the restaurant and didn’t see Casey, but did spot Todd and Leah at the bar. I waved and sauntered over to grab a nearby stool.
I eyed the odd pairing as I said my hellos. Leah had the dark sensualness of a Jazz Age singer, although her personality ran more to Gospel. Todd McIntosh’s blond-gold mane, wide Cerulean eyes, and winsome smile disguised a sharp cunning used on the poker tables. Leah hid her soft, bodacious curves in a tent of colorful cotton/rayon blend. Whereas Todd’s tight t-shirt and cargo shorts emphasized the solid, packed muscle he formed by lifting boxes for a living. Together their appearance on stage in the band Sticks made for a yin and yang that pleased both the men and women of Forks County.
Except for Leah’s mother, who would only be pleased by the plagues of the Second Coming, particularly when they smited all the bad seeds like me.
After giving Todd a quick hug, I hopped on a stool next to Leah. Todd pushed his beer down the bar and switched stools, placing me between my friends.
As he shifted onto his seat, the slot machine cherries permanently inked on his calf flashed into view. Those cherries marked him as another ghost-of-ex’s-past. I slid my gaze off the tattoo and toward Leah. As she wasn’t six three and a hard body, my eyes felt much safer there.
“Hey Cherry,” said Red. He wiped the scarred bar top before I could lower my elbows. “You want a draft?”
“Why not? I start work at Peerless Day Academy tomorrow. I have a feeling they’re going to keep me busy. Order me up a pimento burger and sweet potato fries, please.”
The freckles and hazel eyes stretched with his grin. “Glad to hear you got a teaching job.”
“She’s not teaching, Red.” Leah shook her head, causing a cascade of dark spirals to fall across her shoulder. “Cherry’s doing art work for the drama department. They’ve got a big production of Romeo and Juliet this winter.”
“That’s nice.” Red pushed a frosty mug tow
ard me, which I accepted graciously. And a little greedily, I’ll admit.
“So I guess your meeting went well.” Todd drummed his hands on the bar top.
I stretched my hand over Todd’s to stop the drumming. “Get this, y’all. This teacher, Terry Tinsley, is rewriting Romeo and Juliet as some alien musical. And he’s hiring me to figure out who’s behind all the cyberbullying at the school.”
Leah and Red exchanged a long glance.
“What?” I darted looks. “What’s with the crickets?”
“Hon’, why does the teacher want your help with cyberbullying? Isn’t that something for the police?” Leah toyed with the straw in her Dr Pepper, keeping her eyes off me.
“Sure it is, particularly since Miss Pringle, the principal’s secretary, killed herself because of it.”
“No shit?” Red blanched.
“Mr. Tinsley is worried about his rep. Someone is dragging skeletons out of the faculty’s closets via text. He thinks while I work as art director for the theater, I have a good chance to observe as an outsider and find who’s sending the texts.”
“This is the same guy who wants Romeo and Juliet as aliens?” Red leaned a beefy arm on the bar. “I dunno, hon’. Sounds to me like you should stick with the art work. You don’t need some teenager with a spleen full of hate spreading rumors about you, too. You’ve already dealt with that.”
“Which is exactly why I want to help Mr. Tinsley.” I was glad I didn’t tell them about his Phantom of the Opera obsession. Tinsley’s explanation for hiring me had sounded saner coming from his lips than mine. And I thought he sounded nuts.
“How is Mr. Max?” Leah asked, using her role as diplomatic subject changer. “Is his knee recovering?”
“Not as fast as he’d like. But Max wants to help me investigate Tinsley’s anonymous texter. I think he’s bored.”
“I’ll help you, baby,” said Todd. “I love doing that stuff with you. Especially when you interrogate witnesses.”
“Is interrogating witnesses the same as drinking beer and gossiping?” Red chuckled.
I hesitated before answering.
In the past, I had enjoyed Todd’s enthusiastic participation in my amateur investigations. However, now Todd also enthusiastically participated in my daily living, and I didn’t know if I should encourage his involvement in my new job as well.
We had made the transition from dating to a Vegas wedding, to exes, and on to friends and roommates within a ten month period. That’s a lot of transitioning. And I got the feeling Todd might like to transition back to our original stage. I liked the friends and roommates stage. Much less scary than the Vegas wedding stage.
Although that stage had been pretty short.
I decided to try one of Leah’s tactics and change the subject. “Nik’s working for Max. But he didn’t tell Casey.”
Red slapped the bar with his rag. “Nik married her for a green card, I just know it. Poor Casey.”
“Nik’s not a bad guy. He loves Casey.” I cast a quick glance toward the kitchen where Casey loitered to escape her tables. In my haste to cover my tracks, I had broken the unwritten rule of badmouthing family.
“Maybe Mr. Max wants a personal mechanic for his vehicle collection,” said Leah, who never had these backpedalling problems because she had been raised right.
“Then he should hire Cody,” said Todd.
I swung my gaze where it stopped on Todd’s beatific features. “Why would Max hire my brother? Cody has a job.”
Todd found interest in his beer glass.
“Don’t even tell me he lost his job.”
Leah patted my arm. “Cherry, you need to start talking to your brother again. It’s not right for y’all to be on the outs like this.”
“Cody’s pushed me over the line this time.”
“What’d he do?” Red reached to replace Todd’s empty beer mug.
I shook my head, unable to spill. That dang family rule still applied. And it would mean explaining the photos which were one peek away from spewing a Pandora’s Box worth of crap against my family’s name. I needed to keep that lid on until I had a plan.
“You’re holding back on us tonight,” said Red. “That’s no fair.”
“Would you like to discuss the social media hit Shawna Branson has placed on me? She’s trying to stir up issues between me and Luke Harper that I’ve put to bed.”
“I thought you weren’t sleeping in that particular bed.” Red squinted at me.
“She’s not.” Todd tapped a quick staccato against his fresh mug. “But Harper doesn’t seem to get it. I wish that guy’d leave Cherry alone.”
“I can handle myself, thank you kindly.”
“I thought Luke was with little Tara Mayfield,” said Leah. “I love that girl. She helped me organize the children’s choir last Christmas.”
“He broke up with her,” I said. “But she’s hanging on for dear life. Sweet as pecan pie, though.”
“You’re not over him,” said Red. “That’s why Luke keeps coming back. He thinks there’s more to plunder.”
“Jiminy Christmas, Red. Plunder? I’m not pirate’s booty.” I shot Todd a look before he remarked on the word booty. “Luke and I have history. That’s hard to shake off.”
“Why don’t you leave that history in the past?” Red gave me a hard stare. He played the protective brother better than my actual brother. “Every time he crooks his finger you run back. Besides, he’s a Branson and that family’s no better than pirates. They only care about power and money. JB actually used the words ‘little people of Halo’ the other day. And he wasn’t talking about folks your size, Cherry.”
“I’m not running to Luke. We’re walking toward friendship. And his mother married a Branson. That doesn’t make Luke one.”
“That’s true,” said Leah. “You shouldn’t judge the Bransons so harshly, Red.”
For some reason, that statement did not make me feel better. But the sight of Casey carrying in my pimento burger and fries did. I pulled in a deep whiff of cheesy burger and deep fried, thin cut sweet potatoes sprinkled with brown sugar and tried to forget about crazy drama teachers, Cody’s pilfering, and Branson pirates.
Before I could take a bite of ambrosial ground sirloin spread with tangy pimento and a slice of tomato, I heard the chirping voice of the Tara bird clamoring at someone. And where Tara roamed, certainly one Luke Harper must be in the vicinity. My eyes left the sesame seed bun to drift to the mirror directly across the bar and locked onto the flinty gaze of the man I once loved.
Maybe still did.
But shouldn’t.
Dammit. I dropped the burger on the plate. For the love of pimento, when was fate going to give me a break?
I swung around on my stool to face him and instead, came face to face with Tara Mayfield.
“Cherry!” Her adorableness had not lost its punch with the passage of the day. “I spoke to my brother about the school play. Laurence’s going to join the set crew to help you so he can get drama credits.”
She squealed, hopped, and clapped like I had made some sort of touchdown on her behalf. I glanced at Leah to see what she thought of the high-pitched screeching, but Leah wore the smile she reserved for babies and surgeons who cured cancer. Todd, on the other hand, had the glazed-over expression that men reserved for the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. I swallowed an eye roll and turned back to Miss Wonderful.
“Great,” I said. “I’ll be glad to meet him.”
“I’m coming to the practices, too.”
I disguised my “oh, shit” as a half-hearted “awesome.”
“Did you hear about poor Miss Pringle?”
“Sure enough. That news was all over the school.” I glanced at Luke. Like a gunslinger, he sat with his back to the wall, scanning the room w
hile sipping a beer. At my turn, his eyes zipped back to mine. I adjusted my position to block him with Tara’s head. Which didn’t work because I had finally found someone with my height limitations. “Did you chat with Luke about Miss Pringle?”
“Talk about someone’s self-inflicted death with Luke? He hears enough of that nasty stuff at work. Why would he want to talk about it when he’s off the clock?”
I laughed, then realized she was serious. “Tara, you might learn some interesting tidbit he picked up at the station. Aren’t you curious?”
She shook her head.
“Well, I’m sure as hell curious.” I hopped from my stool, then grabbed my burger. “Why don’t you speak to Leah about shoes or feeding the homeless or something?”
I wound around the tables, bumping into a family with multiple high chaired offspring, and slid my plate onto the table across from Luke. He had a basket of wings sitting untouched before him. “Mind if I take a seat?”
He pushed the chair out with his foot. “Please do. I came here hoping to see you anyway.”
“And your girl, Tara, trailed along right behind you.” I winked. “Say friend, here’s something. That school secretary who died. She committed suicide. They found her today, but the drama teacher said she killed herself last Friday. I just wondered if you’d heard anything more. The drama teacher’s all in a tizzy about this cyberbullying thing that’s going on at their school again. This time it’s the teachers being targeted, not the students.”
Luke dropped his hand to the table. “I didn’t know. Do the Line Creek police think the cyberbullying and the secretary’s suicide are related?”
“Dunno. I’m just going by Mr. Tinsley’s report, but he seems as reliable as an old Pinto. He did say that Miss Pringle received an insidious text. And sounds like Miss Pringle closeted a lot of secrets.”
“What about Tinsley? Does he have any secrets?”
DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE Page 6