I took the extended mug from her hands. “Thank you.”
“Busy day planned?”
I sipped from the warm cup and let the liquid glide over my tongue, wondering how hot it would have to be to scald away any unkind words. “Very busy. Would you like to join me? Kind of a take-your-mother-to-work day?” She’d yet to see me in action.
“I’d love to, but Jaz invited me to a planning meeting with her manager, then a Skype session with her new life coach. She wants me to evaluate the person to make sure they’re not a total charlatan. You know what a good instinct I have for people.”
Unless those people were her family, specifically her oldest daughter, who she never quite understood. “Yeah, sure, you go do that.”
“But maybe we can do dinner tonight?” Hope lightened Mom’s voice as she curved her arm around my waist. “Perhaps I could cook your favorite. I could whip up my famous homemade pizza you always liked.”
She remembered. My heart swelled a little and my lips curved in a smile. There was nothing better than some comfort food prepared by the hands of your mother.
“Unless you’re avoiding carbs.” Her eyes dipped to my leopard print pants. “It’s your call.”
My sweet moment burst like a sudsy bubble at a carwash. “I better go. Lots to do today.”
“Maybe you could invite that handsome young man sitting on your front porch.”
My next sip burned my tongue. “Beau?”
“He chased away Jaz’s security guard. Told him to get off his porch and not come back for an hour.”
Was he waiting for me? We probably did need to talk, but what did I say? I was all raging feelings and no logical words.
Mom went to the coffee pot and poured another cup. “Why don’t you take this to him. I think he’s waiting on you.”
I kissed my mother’s cheek, the skin smooth from expensive and painful swan dives into the fountain of youth. “Have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Oh, wait!” Mom rushed to the entry where I gathered my stuff. “I almost forgot. I made your lunch.” She handed me a paper bag with no small amount of pride. “Just like old times, eh?”
I smiled at the kind gesture, remembering the sweet notes she used to pack in my school lunch box. “Wow. Thank you.” Besides being incredibly thoughtful, it was a huge help. Yesterday’s lunch had been a Slim Jim and a pack of Rolaids.
Slipping outside, I stepped onto the porch and found Beau sitting in the glider, his legs pushing the antique seat slowly back and forth. “Hey.” I handed him the cup of coffee and sat down beside him, uncertain if anything between us had changed. “Morning brew courtesy of Ellen Sutton.”
Surprised, he took a drink. “Is that so?”
“Has she been ogling you from the window?
“She was discreet.” Beau rested his arm across my shoulders. “Been watching me for about an hour.”
“She wants me to invite you for dinner tonight.”
Beau angled his body toward me, so close I could almost feel the scrape of the stubble on his tanned cheek. “And what do you want?”
I wanted to know if I was in a different car than he was in this relationship roller coaster. “A vacation and eight hours of sleep would be nice. I’m not sure you’re up for the Ellen Sutton dining experience.”
His fingers twined in the curls hanging over my shoulder. “Does that mean you don’t want me to go?”
This sounded familiar. Were we having irony with our coffees this morning?
“It means I don’t want some dinner disaster to be the thing that makes you realize you’re dating a high maintenance girl.”
Beau laughed. “You think I didn’t know from the first moment we met you were high maintenance?”
“A proper gentleman would act like it was a gradual revelation.”
“You’re a pop star who wears high heels to chase murderers.”
“Nobody wants to face the Grim Reaper in yoga pants and flip-flops.” I held the hand dangling over my shoulder and ran my fingers across the rough skin of his knuckles. Half of me felt like I had a right to be mad this morning, but the other side of me just wanted to lean against his shoulder and enjoy whatever part of Beau he was willing to share.
He angled his head, his gaze locked on mine. “Are we gonna talk about last night?”
I sighed at the inevitable question. “Do you have something you’d like to say about it?”
“I’d just received the invitation, okay? It wasn’t like it had been sitting on my desk for weeks. And you know how I feel about formal events.”
“I know you look smashing in a tux.”
“I hate that kind of thing, Paisley.”
It was true. Beau would always be more at home wading in a creek than stuffed ever-so-handsomely in a suit. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to go.”
“I wanted to wait until I was certain I was going.”
His words didn’t ring true to my ears, and I wondered if he bought it himself. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
My indifferent shrug was a thing of beauty. If there were a Hall of Indifference at the Smithsonian, it would’ve been the exhibit show-stopper.
The reality was, I didn’t want to push it. Last night I’d realized I was crazy about Beau, and if he clearly wasn’t there yet, I didn’t want to do anything to push him away. “I’m proud of you for the award and definitely think you should attend. I bet your sister would love to go with you.” I changed topics like a race car driver shifted gears. “My mom was supposed to stop by Enchanted Events the last few days but has yet to make it. Today she canceled on me so she could help Jaz.”
A moment rolled by before Beau responded, and I could all but hear the fancy mountain bike gears turning in his head. “We could punish her tonight by making out at the dinner table.”
I smiled and inhaled the clean, shampoo-scented air near his damp hair. “Don’t put ideas in my head. You’ll awaken the old teenage rebellion.”
“Oh, yeah?” Beau leaned his head down slowly and slid his lips across mine. “How about we ditch dinner and go back-roading?”
I knew he was teasing, but the offer still held a strong appeal. “Does this mean you’ll join us?”
Beau straightened and reached for his coffee again. “Do you want me there?”
I salted my voice with casual and peppered it with cool. “Sure.”
“So you can stare adoringly at my face across the table or so I can run interference between you and your mom?”
“A strong man could handle both of those.”
“Need I remind you I was Army Special Forces?”
I matched Beau’s twang. “They ain’t got nothin’ on my mom.”
He laughed and pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I rested my head against his chest and tried to calm myself to the cadence of his heartbeat.
“I’ll agree to join you tonight,” he said. “You just have to run interference every time your mom makes me cry.”
“Fair enough.” I patted his leg. “Pray up. Do some personal affirmations. Down a few shots of whiskey.”
Beau stood and pulled me with him. “I’m thinking about getting a dog.”
I blinked at his unexpected topic change. “For tonight? I guess a therapy animal might help us deal.”
“No.” He studied his coffee cup. “To have as a pet.”
I’d only suggested a dog for months. “That’s a great idea.” Wished I would’ve thought of it.
Beau nodded. “I’m not sure when I’ll do it. It’ll be a shelter dog, of course.”
“Of course.” Also, one of my suggestions. “Maybe get a whole pack of them, and we could run Jaz out of my house.”
“She’ll be gone soon enough.”
But the days were dragging on forever. “Maybe I should get back out to the pawnshop and see if Sarge’s cousin in LA can find out more.”
“Let it go, Paisley. Nothing good can be gained from Sarge but cheap minnows a
nd bulk raincoats. We don’t even know if his information is accurate.”
He had a point. But strange as Sarge was, he’d never led me astray. That went for dehydrated beef products and info. “If it is true, it gives Trina motive.” The thought settled like a weight on my spirit. “With America out of the way, maybe Pop Sensation would give Trina her job back.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh, and frustration slowed his reluctant. “You know your bandmate. Do you see Trina killing someone?”
“No.” I recalled Trina mentioning she now had care and custody of her sister. That definitely required steady income. “But Beau . . . what if I’m wrong?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Alice, I’m going to need five more pallets of water out here.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.” My devoted event planner surveyed the hundreds of fans gathered on the downtown square for the Picnic with Jaz and Friends. “We’re still waiting on the caterer to bring the gluten-free and vegan meals.”
“Make sure everyone stays hydrated,” I said. “Some of these folks aren’t used to the Southern heat.” Though it was September, the days were often still in the ’90s. “Yesterday we had a woman pass out at the dance-off.”
“I guess unconsciousness was a disqualifier?” Alice consulted the to-do list on her phone then nodded toward the sack beneath my arm. “Brown bagging it today?”
I smiled. “My mom made my lunch.”
“PB&J with no crusts?”
The bag crunched as I opened it. My happiness turned as stale as week-old bread. “Celery, hummus, olives, carrots, and ten almonds.”
“So she’s into the Mediterranean eating plan.”
“What she is, is into sending me messages about improving my life.” I pulled a heart-shaped notecard from the depths and read it aloud. “Paisley, remember big results come from small daily choices.” One of her often-quoted phrases from her last book tour.
Alice shrugged. “It would make for a really long tattoo. But still, nice of her to do that and show up for the event.”
“My mom’s here?”
“I think so.” Alice gestured toward a mob near the stage where security was holding the masses at a comfortable distance. “Isn’t that her with Jaz?”
Sure enough, there she was. Was this part of her consulting for Jaz? Mom smiled at the flashing cameras and posed with Jaz like she was her doting mother. Jealousy whispered taunts in my ear, but I shook my head and ignored the familiar refrain. Maybe my own mother was continuously ditching me for dignitaries, charities, and the number one pop star in the universe, but I knew she loved me.
At least I was fairly certain.
What I didn’t get was why Mom didn’t want to spend any time with me. Hadn’t she come to Sugar Creek just to see her daughter?
“Paisley! Hello!”
I was pulled from my pitiful thoughts at the sight of Trina. She stepped from her shiny sedan, and not for the first time, I wondered why she’d turned down the offer of a chauffeur. But so had Little Tee Pee. Was anyone safe right now? There was still a murderer on the loose. Didn’t they fear some crazy lunatic coming after them? It certainly had crossed my mind a few times. I was now constantly looking over my shoulder and checking every lock three and four times. Last night I propped a chair in front of my front door.
But what if Trina was the murderer? Maybe she’d hired someone to tamper with the coffee service before she’d arrived.
I’d yet to talk to Trina about Sarge’s news that she’d been fired from her show, and though now wasn’t an ideal time, it would have to do.
“Hi, Trina,” I said as Alice scurried off. “Ready for your picnic?”
“You bet.” She smiled wide, her mulberry lipstick a perfect complement to her violet tank top and black skinny pants. Like me, she was forever in heels, a habit from our stage days we just couldn’t break. “Are you sure you don’t want to be on the panel? I can add you to the list of folks I’m introducing.” Trina had declined to be on the panel herself, instead offering to introduce our esteemed guests. I wondered if she regretted that now.
“I’ll keep my event planner hat on until the final concert.” Today the fans would have lunch on the lawn, sitting on the many quilts donated from the community. Jaz had agreed to sign each one so the handmade creations could be auctioned off for the school’s summer book bus. Calling in favors, Jaz had somehow convinced two popular pop stars and a country music queen to fly in for the event. With Johnny Pikes acting as emcee, he’d take questions from the audience on the music business and on life in the spotlight. Security had been beefed up considerably, but I still meticulously studied the crowd, wondering if the killer was among us now. The alibis were plentiful, but the clues were not. We were no closer to discovering who had killed America.
“I’m sorry I blew up at Jaz yesterday.” Trina retrieved a compact mirror from her purse and checked her face. “It really doesn’t bother me much anymore, but this week seems to have brought it all back.”
“I get it,” I said. “Especially when she’s in diva mode. I’m glad you took up for Reese. Jaz needed to hear that.”
“I get the feeling she’s surrounded by so many ‘yes’ people, she rarely hears the truth.” She threw back her head and laughed. “I took care of that!”
I couldn’t help but laugh too. “It’s why we love you.”
“I promise I’m done with fits.” Her jovial smile faded. “And here comes Jaz’s biggest enabler.”
“Hello, ladies,” Johnny said as he approached. He wore a navy gingham oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms and jeans from a label too pricey for average working humans.
Trina nodded. “Johnny.”
“Beautiful day for a picnic,” he said with stale enthusiasm. “Paisley, the fan fest is going splendidly. You and your team have done an incredible job, especially on such short notice.”
“Thank you.”
“Maybe I could talk you into moving back to Los Angeles and taking over some of our events at Blitz.”
My lips tipped up in a smile, but I couldn’t imagine moving back. “My life is in Sugar Creek now. You manage the singers, and I’ll manage weddings and birthdays.”
“It suits you.” His words rolled with soft sincerity. “And I appreciate your putting up with Jaz. She can be a bit . . .what does my son say? Oh, yes. Extra.”
Calling Jaz extra was like calling Mount Vesuvius a little warm and bubbly. “Her fest has been a boon for the town. I’m glad we could help.” I mostly meant that. “Hey, Johnny, I wanted to ask you about your decision to add America to Jaz’s tour. Do you have time to chat?”
His phone trilled from his back pocket, and he checked the display. “Can I push pause on that topic? I better take this. Good day to you, ladies.”
I watched him walk away, wondering what hold America had held over her manager. He’d moved mountains for her, so it must’ve been big. Turning back to Trina, I noted her frown as she followed Johnny’s departure. “Is there a reason you don’t like him?”
She startled, immediately composing her expression. “I like Johnny. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m assuming you’ve had a falling out or a run-in with him at some point?”
“Not at all.” Trina touched a hand to her hair as the wind picked up. “He’s made it clear over the years that I’m beneath his level of association, so I simply honor his wishes and stay out of his way.”
For being the big deal that he was, I’d found Johnny to be approachable and kind.
“I see the others are taking their places.” Trina gazed toward the stage. “I should probably join them.”
“Trina, wait.” We still had ten minutes ’til the program began, and I couldn’t put this conversation off any longer. “I know Pop Sensation let you go.” Judging by my friend’s face, I was pretty sure that had sounded as artless as I’d imagined. “Through Six Degrees of Sugar Creek, I have a connection to the show.” I didn’t bother mentioning that
connection came by way of a man who sold off-brand SPAM and believed the vice-president was a native of the planet Mars.
Trina released a hollow chuckle. “You always were on top of the gossip.”
“I’m really sorry. If anyone knows what it’s like to be knocked down in the occupational department, it’s me.”
“The new season wasn’t going to start ’til January. I guess I held out hope they’d change their minds.”
“I’m sure you weren’t happy that America was going to be your replacement.”
Her dark eyes widened in surprise before she quickly recovered. “Wow, you do have good sources. Yeah, the show wanted to go with a younger, hipper vibe. I haven’t had an album out in three years, so that’s definitely not me. Did I understand the change? Yes. Was I happy about it? No. I’m still not. I have a sister to support. She’s a senior at a private school in Los Angeles, and life is expensive with two of us. But we’ll get by. We always do.”
“Did you talk to America about the job?”
“No,” Trina said. “Why would I? I know it looks bad that she got my job and now she’s dead, but this is show business. And you and I know the entertainment industry is cutthroat, but it’s rarely personal. I would’ve taken the gig if I’d been her too. I can’t blame her for that. Paisley, from the moment we begin this line of work, we were on borrowed time. I’m lucky I’ve had the run I’ve had, and I’ll land somewhere.”
Trina had certainly made it longer than I had in the business. “Now that America’s gone, will you get your job back?”
She shrugged. “Nobody’s contacted me. Can I be honest and say I’m holding out some hope? Probably unrealistic hope. But the odds are not great that they’ll want me back. I know you’re looking at all the angles for America’s murder, but you’re wasting your time considering me. What am I gonna do—kill every person Pop Sensation replaces me with? Now that America’s gone, they’ll find some other young, beautiful thing. Murdering America would solve absolutely nothing.” Trina patted her cheeks and gave a rueful laugh. “Only thing that can help me is to turn back the clock and get a younger face.” A fan approached Trina, and she signed an autograph before letting the crowd swallow her as she made her way to the stage.
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