The Lightning's Kiss: Wylie Westerhouse Book 3

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The Lightning's Kiss: Wylie Westerhouse Book 3 Page 14

by Nathan Roden


  “Angel tears,” Nate said. “That’s my guess.”

  “You may be right. The last time we were there, I was in the restroom when one of the cooks came in. His name tag said, ‘Angel’.”

  “You’re lying,” Nate said.

  “Big, hairy guy,” I said. “Unfamiliar with deodorant.”

  “I hate you,” Nate said.

  “I know. I’m gonna take Toby out for a whee, and call Skyler.”

  I grabbed a doggie mitt and led Toby to the designated potty area. I reached for my phone and looked up to see Skyler run around the corner.

  “Gracie’s gone! I just looked—!”

  I threw up my hands.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Gracie’s in our room. She and Toby stayed over. And guess who made their grand entrance last night?”

  Skyler’s eyes bulged.

  “The puppies?”

  I nodded.

  “When I woke up—”

  Skyler wasn’t listening. She was running flat out toward our door. She threw it open. I heard Nate scream.

  Toby barked.

  “It’s okay, Boy,” I said. “I guess Uncle Nate was a little too slow getting his pants on.”

  I received a call at four-thirty that afternoon. The call was to remind me about my five-thirty appointment with “hair and makeup”.

  I showed up a little early. Skyler sat in the chair, with three people flitting around her like hummingbirds. I still thought it was fascinating—watching a big star getting ready for the lights and cameras.

  Skyler was as beautiful as ever, but there was something about her that was just a little off. She blinks a lot—and I don’t just mean when she’s in the makeup chair. She has also developed a little twitch; at the left corner of her mouth.

  I didn’t think that she would be particularly nervous about the press conference. She’s been doing this kind of thing her whole life.

  But, if I had to guess, I think Skyler might have lost a little confidence. That might sound silly, but no one on the planet is immune to it. It can happen to anyone. I’ve heard the stories—like the one about Henry Fonda throwing up before every performance in his life.

  Maybe this press conference was the best thing that could happen for Skyler. It sounded to me like more of a high school pep rally than anything else. The room would be full of people who loved her, celebrating yet another big moment in the life of Skyler KwyK: The World’s Sweetheart.

  I was looking forward to seeing that. I sure didn’t like the idea of Skyler being depressed, or angry, or anxious. Especially if I was one of the reasons.

  The makeup lady finished with Skyler and held up a mirror for her to see the results.

  Skyler stared into the mirror, expressionless. She nodded and stood.

  “Are you ready for this?”

  I shrugged.

  “I guess so. All I have to do is keep from falling down or passing out, right?”

  “That would be a plus,” Skyler said.

  “I didn’t get a script or anything. So, I’m assuming that I don’t have a speaking part.”

  “Don’t pout about it,” she said. “I have about four lines, myself—and they’re about as plain-vanilla as you can get.”

  “So the whole thing is going to last like—three minutes?”

  Skyler laughed.

  “Not exactly. Chris and Skip are handling most of it. Mother is supposed to speak—but the last time I saw her, she was slamming the door on her way out of the studio.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “I’m sure that she’ll put on her professional face and do what she does,” Skyler said.

  “It sounds like you and I are just going to be there to smile and wave and be good dancing monkeys,” I said.

  “Pretty much,” Skyler said. “Are you disappointed?”

  “No way. That’s right up my alley. Smile, wave, and shut the front door.”

  Skyler laughed. She almost put her hand to her mouth.

  “Stop making me laugh and get in the chair. You’re going to make me mess up my makeup.”

  “I just looked in on Gracie and the kids,” I said.

  “Aren’t they just adorable?” Skyler squealed.

  “They sure are. I noticed that the biggest one keeps pushing some of the others out of his way. He seems to have a favorite nipple.”

  Skyler frowned.

  “Are you being serious? We don’t need any bullies.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m calling that one ‘Apollo’.”

  Skyler’s expression didn’t change.

  “Please, don’t do that, Wylie,” she said softly. Her good mood disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.

  Great job, Wylie, I thought.

  “We really, really, need for everything to work smoothly,” Skyler said. “Our first show is a week from tomorrow!”

  “I’m sorry. I was just kidding around. I’m all about the smooth. Smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

  Celeste, the makeup artist, was growing impatient.

  “You need to get your baby’s bottom in the chair, or you’re going to be late,” she said.

  I had been in the chair for about ten minutes when Chris and Skip walked in.

  “Do you know where Skyler is?” Chris asked.

  “She just left,” Celeste said. “About ten minutes ago.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing is really wrong,” Chris said. “This event was supposed to be ‘by invitation only’. We’ve been telling the press that for weeks, but I think we underestimated the effect that the singles would have. There’s a log jam out at the front gate, and it’s beginning to get out of hand. We don’t have the security staff to handle this. We’ve had to call in the police.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  “Uh-oh is right,” Skip said. “We don’t need this. Tonight was supposed to be as smooth as silk. We’re supposed to be in complete control.”

  “Wylie, Honey,” Celeste whispered in my ear. “You need to be still, or you’re going to look like a rodeo clown.”

  “We can’t find Veronica, either,” Chris said. “Hopefully, she’s with Skyler—patching things up. That’s one more headache we don’t need.”

  “Thanks for dropping by and cheering us all up,” Celeste said. “We’re a little busy here.”

  Chris and Skip left the room.

  The door opened again. Chris stuck his head in.

  “Wylie,” he said. “Don’t leave this room until you hear from me. I don’t know what we’re going to do about letting the press in. I need to know where everyone is. We need to start this thing on time.”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “Lord,” Celeste said. “And I thought this place was crazy before.”

  “I spread little seeds of sunshine wherever I go,” I said.

  Celeste dropped her hands and stood up straight. She blew out a long breath and began snatching tissues from a box on her table.

  “I should just let you go on TV looking like the Joker, Mister Sunshine. I told you to be still.”

  “I’m not going to get my lollipop, am I?”

  “Oh, you’re going to get one,” Celeste said. “But you’re not going to like where I put it.”

  “Ah, Celeste. If I was only a couple of years older…”

  “Ha! You wiggle around more than my three-year-old grandson. What difference is a couple more years gonna make? Besides, it wouldn’t do much for my career to do the Boss Lady like that.”

  I didn’t know what that meant.

  Chris and Skip showed up thirty minutes later, with Veronica and Skyler.

  Chris pointed to the rear exit door.

  “We’ll have to go that way.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “We let everyone in,” Chris said. “We didn’t have much choice. We’re setting up an overflow media room in the gym. We’ll be standing room only and wall-to-wall in the main room. I’m asking everyone not to film the
back of the room—we’re hoping that the Fire Marshall isn’t watching tonight.

  “Let’s go,” Skip said.

  We met a solid wall of flashbulbs. The roar rose to a deafening level when Skyler and I entered the room. Skyler smiled and waved and pointed to almost every single person in the room, individually. I waved like a robot monkey. The only people that I recognized were the ones from my first press conference. I had no intention of even making eye contact with them.

  The room was warm, and getting even warmer by the minute. The heater had been on in the room until minutes before the room began to fill with people. The air conditioning kicked in, but it was not compensating for the warm bodies quickly enough.

  The first thing I did was to scan the room to make sure that there were no ghosts in the room. There were none. I had only seen one ghost in the time I had spent on the KwyK ranch.

  Chris stood at the podium and got the crowd’s attention.

  “All right, everyone,” he said. “Let’s get this thing under way, before we all melt.”

  There was a wave of polite laughter. Some members of the crowd had rolled up their sleeves. Some were fanning themselves.

  Chris went on to announce the release dates for our albums, and the talked some about the initial tour dates. When he brought up the chart positions of our singles, the people went nuts again.

  Chris started my introduction. This was going to be my only participation. Stand up, wave some more, convey my heartfelt appreciation for the support of the press with my facial expressions, and look like there was no place in the world I would rather be.

  I think I pulled it off. I stood up without stumbling. The applause was so loud that I started to get a little choked up. I yelled at myself, inside of my head, and complete my mission without passing out.

  The applause died down, and it was finally time to sit down. But Skyler was holding onto my chair. She wasn’t letting me sit down.

  Chris began Skyler’s introduction. As he went on, he had to speak louder—over the growing noise of the crowd. When Chris finally shouted Skyler’s name, she shot to her feet to join me. A few seconds into the people’s adulation, Skyler grabbed my hand. She lifted our hands over our heads. That was pretty cool. The crowd roared even louder, and the applause lasted for several seconds. We finally lowered our hands, and I reached to pull out my chair.

  But Skyler was not letting go of my hand. I pull away, gently. I was sweating, and I knew that my arm and hand were slick.

  I felt Skyler grip my hand tighter. She didn’t look at me.

  I didn’t know what to do. Skyler slid into her chair. I slid into mine.

  Our hands were on top of the table. My left. Skyler’s right. Our fingers—interlaced. I pulled again and felt Skyler grip my hand even tighter.

  My eyes scanned the room. There were so any whispers happening that it sounded like the ocean. It seemed that every single person in the room had their lips to someone else’s ear.

  I caught a glimpse of Veronica’s face. All the blood seemed to have drained from it. She looked ill.

  Chris and Skip looked like they had just discovered that they were passengers on the Titanic—and the lifeboats were all gone.

  Suddenly, I realized what else was happening at the same moment.

  Back in Branson, Missouri, in the great room of the Castle McIntyre, this scene was on the television.

  Holly, Duncan, Quentin, and the rest, were watching.

  Skip was speaking now, but I wasn’t listening.

  A drop of sweat rolled off of my forehead and landed on the table. My face felt like it was on fire. Flashbulbs continued to explode in my vision. Pictures were being taken by the hundreds. Video recordings were committing the present to an infinite future.

  My hearing went fuzzy and the sounds in the room lost all definition—it was like I was underwater. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted out of that room more than I had ever wanted anything in my whole life.

  Now.

  I pulled my hand away from Skyler’s. My hearing was instantly back to normal. I heard a collective gasp.

  I cut my eyes toward Skyler. She stared at me like I had slapped her. Or stabbed her. Her eyes filled with tears.

  Everyone else in the room appeared to be in shock.

  Why did Skyler do that?

  Why didn’t she just…..

  Let go?

  Chris nudged Skip away from the podium. He thanked everyone for coming and marched us out through the back door. I was the last one through. Everyone in front of me rushed down the long hallway and through an exit door.

  That door closed in my face. I was not to be a part of “damage control”.

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the door. I walked back to the conference room door and peeked inside. Hardly anyone had left.

  I was alone, and I was trapped.

  A few minutes ago, I was a star—listening to the cheers of a brand new group of fans.

  And now I was….what?

  Done? Unemployed?

  What do I do now?

  Was it time for Toby and me to start over—again?

  Quentin was talking about selling the Castle McIntyre back to Mr. and Mrs. McFadden. Even if they intended to continue to keep the castle open for tours, they wouldn’t need me.

  I considered the possibility of moving to Nashville, or maybe Austin. Maybe try the club scene again. But then, there was still Toby to think about. That would probably mean that I would have to have another day job. Just the thought left me feeling exhausted.

  I leaned against the wall and waited for an empty route to go back to my room and collapse into the bed. I said a little prayer.

  For a miracle.

  I prayed that the televisions were not working inside of the Castle McIntyre.

  It took thirty minutes for the conference room to empty out. Nate had left me a note. He had gone into town to see a hockey game with the guys from the band. I fell into my bed, just as planned, but I couldn’t sleep.

  I got up and drove to the nearest store. I bought a six-pack of beer. When I got back to the ranch, I grabbed a blanket and got Toby from his room. We walked to our new favorite spot—the gazebo with the fireplace.

  I was arranging some wood to start a fire when I smelled smoke. Toby barked once. I turned around to see Veronica patting Toby on the head.

  “Hi.”

  “Hello,” Veronica said. “This is a nice spot.” She sat down next to Toby.

  “The best.”

  I popped the top on a beer.

  “Can you spare one of those?” Veronica asked.

  “That depends. Can you spare one of those?”

  I pointed at her cigarette.

  “You don’t smoke,” she said.

  “I do, every once in a while. Only with beer.”

  Veronica held up her cigarette.

  “Before a week ago, I hadn’t touched one of these in ten years.”

  “Well, I do tend to bring out the best in everyone.”

  “It has nothing to do with you.”

  She handed me a cigarette and lit it for me.

  “I’m having a case of deja vu right now,” she said.

  “How so?”

  She pointed at the building behind us.

  “Hanging out behind the gym and smoking with the cool kids.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s me, all right. A cool kid.”

  “I wish I knew what was so different now,” Veronica said. “Skyler is suffering from some type of anxiety. I haven’t exactly been helping that. It’s just….sometimes you’re under so much stress and pressure that you would do almost anything to escape it. Not that I have to explain that to you—especially tonight.”

  I didn’t have anything to say.

  “Wylie,” she said. “I don’t have any idea why Skyler did what she did. I can tell you that she’s sorry. I’ve been with my daughter almost every day of her life, and I’ve never seen her this way. She’s embarrassed and humiliated.
It’s like a part of her has reverted to being six years old again. She’s been under a lot of strain lately, and I think….”

  Veronica stopped talking and just stared into space.

  “You think what?”

  “I worry if this might have become more than she can handle. I get so frustrated and angry with myself when I can’t help her. I just wish…”

  She stopped and shook her head.

  “Wish,” she whispered. “Now there’s a mature and grown-up concept.”

  “Maybe you’ve identified where all the stress comes from,” I said. “Having to be a mature grown-up all the time.

  Veronica blew out a stream of smoke, dropped the cigarette butt, and stomped it out.

  “The world is a hard place,” she said. “I’m afraid that being a grown-up is the only thing that works.”

  “I guess so. But let’s just imagine for a minute that you don’t have to be a grown-up. What do you wish?”

  Veronica surprised me by gulping down the rest of the beer.

  “I wish her father could be here.”

  Twenty-One

  Sebastian Wellmore

  Near Wellmore Village, Scotland

  The unmarked civilian car rolled to a stop in front of the line of emergency vehicles. Those vehicles lined up to block the entrance to the inn. There were three men in the car, two in front, and one very troubled man in the back. The two men in front were military investigators with the highest-level clearances. Archer Thompson drove the car. The man in the passenger seat was Ned Collins. Archer turned in his seat and spoke to the man in the back seat.

  “Let’s go over this again, Robert. You may come with us, but only to observe. Collins and I are trained investigators. We are the only military personnel with permission from Scotland Yard to assist in this investigation. We have identified you as a fingerprint specialist—placing ourselves in a dangerous position. If anyone asks, your name is David McFarlen. Do not make any unnecessary conversation. You are not to mention your daughter to anyone. Do you understand?”

 

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