Finally, what about Little Tee Pee? So far, it seemed like he was our biggest contender. If he was running a fake charity and pocketing the money, he had a lot to lose. Besides being illegal, his scheme was something that could irreparably destroy his career. After America confronted him on the plane, Tee Pee had to know it was only a moment of time before she told someone. How far would the burgeoning rapper go to keep his unethical behavior a secret?
“I think he’s handsome in a rugged sort of way.”
My ears perked at the appreciative female voice behind me. I’d grown used to overhearing women talk about Beau or not so discreetly ogle him in my presence. I couldn’t blame anyone for appreciating the way Beau made Sugar Creek a prettier place.
“I hear he’s a total womanizer.”
Whoa. Definitely not talking about Beau.
I turned around, making a show of appearing to study the back wall, then glanced at the table near me as my eyes swept back to my own table. Sitting at a four-top was choreographer Alaina Scott, along with two women on Jaz’s team who’d kindly agreed to work the festival.
“He’s never been anything but respectful to me, but I can’t say the same for his son,” said Alaina
“Ugh, don’t even mention him. I don’t want to lose my appetite.” I recognized that voice as Nicole Everson, one of Jaz’s favorite hairstylists.
“You too?” The hushed words were whispered by Yvette Walker, Jaz’s personal stylist.
“Last month, I had an appointment at Johnny’s office to trim his hair. He was predictably fifteen minutes late, so his assistant sent me on in with a Diet Coke and a pat on the head. I was checking emails on my phone when who walks inside? Johnny’s son. He thought he’d keep me company, but I told him where he could stick that idea. Johnny showed up in the nick of time.”
I leaned back to get a better listen. I needed Sylvie and Frannie’s eavesdropping equipment.
“You know his son got a demotion at the company,” Yvette said. “What does he even do there?”
“Chase skirts.”
“I heard he put the moves on America, and that’s when Daddy moved him from the creative side to sales. Like Blaze Pikes has any experience or skill to do any of it.”
I couldn’t stand it any longer. Easing from my chair, I returned my napkin to my table and slowly approached the women. “Hi.” Nothing like butting into a sensational conversation you weren’t invited to. “I couldn’t help but overhear part of your chat.”
Yvette Walker colored slightly, while Alaina just gave a wan smile.
“You know Johnny Pikes’s son?”
“Blaze,” Alaina said. “Thinks he’s God’s greatest gift to women and can take what he wants without saying please or thank you.”
Without invitation, I took the empty seat and made myself at home. “What can you tell me about him?”
“He’s a world-class creep.” Nicole Everson emptied a sugar packet into her coffee cup. “I’m surprised Blaze didn’t finagle his way into this trip. Probably would’ve if he hadn’t got in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Alaina checked on either side of her for listening ears before responding. “Back in early May Johnny threw Jaz a party when a song went triple-platinum. Every A-lister was there, and Johnny had invited all his clients. I heard Blaze followed America into a room, blocked her in, and put the moves on her. Little Johnny Junior didn’t know America was a red belt in karate and took Blaze to the floor. Rumor has it that she pressed charges, but when Johnny Pikes got wind of it, he convinced her to drop them.”
Yvette gave a mirthless laugh. “Or she convinced him, more like it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My friend Sara works in Johnny’s office,” Yvette said. “She told me America paid Johnny a visit. The next day the charges were dropped, and three weeks later, America was added to Jaz’s tour. Coincidence? I doubt it.”
I watched Beau turn around from the line at the cash register and lift a questioning brow. “So you think America let it go in exchange for the help?”
“America was a take-charge kind of person,” Alaina said. “My guess is America went to Johnny with a proposition—she’d drop the charges on some conditions. One condition was clearly the concert tour.”
“You think there were more?”
“She got me as a choreographer, didn’t she? Plus, it’s well known in the business Johnny would do anything to protect his son, so why stop there?”
“Johnny clearly was favoring America lately,” Nicole said. “We all saw it. Jaz definitely saw it.”
But did it push Jaz to kill America?
“Why is Johnny so protective of Blaze?” My mom and dad had always let me fall on my face and deal with the fallout of my own decisions, so I didn’t understand this mode of parenting.
“Johnny was widowed when his kids were pretty young.” Yvette took a fortifying sip of coffee. “Probably left the parenting to the servants and did what he could from the sidelines. Blaze is your stereotypical, filthy rich kid who’s always gotten what he wants and never had to grow up. He’s nothing but trouble, and his dad’s paid to get him out of a lot of scrapes. He was kicked out of boarding school, got arrested in a hazing incident in college, and ran off countless women at the office. You name it, Blaze has done it. And never had to suffer any consequences.”
“So he just keeps at it.” Alaina dipped a spoon into her smoothie bowl. “But when he attempted to assault America, he picked the wrong girl.”
Had he?
Maybe America picked the wrong family to threaten. Even though America dropped the charges, people were still clearly talking. Maybe Johnny wanted to stop that gossip completely. Perhaps he wanted America and her accusations never to be heard again.
One more thing niggled at my conscience. “How did Johnny’s wife die?”
“Officially, she died from complications from minor surgery,” Alaina said.
“And unofficially?”
The choreographer swallowed her last bite before steadily meeting my gaze. “Unofficially, she died of a drug overdose.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Trading Pages bookstore sat downtown on the corner of Main and Cherry. During the Civil War, Sugar Creek’s Inetha Mae Miller, an unmarried school teacher, would drive a team of horses all the way to Missouri and back, pulling a jostling wagon of books. She made hundreds of stops each week, taking her large collection to families in the hills. She taught many a child and adult to read and earned a medal of honor from the Confederate governor in 1863. It wasn’t until after Ms. Miller’s death that her sister revealed Inetha had used her traveling library as a way to not only get books to runaway slaves, but she carried messages to the Yankees, sticking secret correspondences between the pages of her books. Moby Dick had never been more of a thrill to read.
Inetha Mae’s great-great-great niece, Miller Colvine, proudly opened her bookstore 150 years after Inetha hitched up her horses and set out on her maiden ride to deliver books and hope to children and adults alike, no matter their race, religion, or color of uniform.
“Paisley, have I mentioned how out-of-my-mind thrilled I am to be the bookstore launching Jaz’s new book?” Miller twirled in her marigold-yellow dress, a stunning contrast to her mahogany skin.
“Only twenty times.” I unpacked another box of hardback books, careful not to smudge the glossy image of Jaz’s face on the cover. “I hope the press puts your bookstore on the map.”
The store was filled with Jaz’s latest memoir, Who Says Jaz Isn’t For Everyone? There were so many boxes of books, you could hardly maneuver through the small shop, and though the signing wasn’t to begin for another half hour, there was already a line that slinked around the building, down the street, and all the way to city hall.
Jaz’s book wasn’t set to debut until next week, but somehow she’d arranged for early copies to be released just for this event. I guess when you were Jaz, anything was possi
ble.
A bell over the door jingled as Officer Matt Quincy stepped inside the store. “Good morning, ladies.”
“I take it you’re not here for the latest James Patterson novel?” Miller sent a saucy grin to the man who was young enough to be her son.
“No, ma’am, not today. I thought I might have a word with Paisley.” Oozing all sorts of adorableness, Matt sauntered to the book table. “Ballantine would like an update.”
“I’ve called almost every day.” I retrieved a stack of books from a nearby box. “And how many updates has the detective given me? That would be zero.”
Matt grabbed the rest of the books. “He’s a little out of practice on the whole ‘work together’ thing. Updates have been slow. I can tell you we now know none of the other coffee services in the mansion were tampered with. Just America’s.”
“So she was the only target.” I added a few more gold and black Sharpies to the table. “This morning, I learned that not only did Johnny Pikes’s son assault America, but Johnny has a history of covering for his son.” I filled him in on my diner conversation. “Johnny seems more like the type to throw more money at a problem to make it go away—not kill.”
Matt’s eyes scanned the store. “I’ll see what I can dig up on Pikes’s son.”
“Have you found America’s necklace?”
“Not yet.”
“I haven’t heard anyone mention it.”
“Jaz said she thinks a sweater of hers is missing, but she’s not sure. Other than that, nobody else reported anything gone from their rooms at the mansion.”
“Why would someone take America’s necklace?” It still didn’t make sense. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask around about it?”
“Definitely not,” Matt said. “Besides, Ballantine thinks it’s probably a rabbit trail we don’t need to pursue. Maybe he’s right.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I’m not ready to write anything off at this point.” Matt rested a hand on my shoulder and frowned at my bruised face. “Be careful out there. Some people will do anything to keep the truth hidden.” He picked up a book. “Hey, can you get Jaz to sign this?”
“Seriously?”
“It’s for my mom.”
“Sure it is.”
He laughed and walked away. “Miller,” he called, “I need to do a quick tour of the place for security purposes. Boss’s orders.”
Miller reappeared with a pitcher of lemonade. “You got it, hon.”
The Sugar Creek police had been working overtime for the fan fest, even borrowing officers from nearby towns. Miller took Officer Matt to the back, leading him through the store.
A black SUV pulled up to the door, and I stepped to the window to watch the arrival of Jaz’s entourage. First, two security men stepped out, then Reese, who heaved a bag of supplies over her shoulder and texted as she walked. Next came Jaz’s makeup artist, because book signings were such high-intensity events, she’d surely need multiple touch-ups. Johnny Pikes exited, then held out a hand for Trina, who had no events scheduled herself today and probably wanted to soak up some time with the press. Finally, long legs appeared, then Jaz slowly lifted herself from the car with the grace of a prima ballerina. With a practiced smile, she waved at her adoring fans and posed for flashing cameras. I did occasionally miss fans, those people who beamed with joy just to see you. But not for a second did I miss my entire life captured on camera. Privacy was a currency more valuable than any amount of fame.
A stocky man in head-to-toe black stepped into the bookstore, just as Officer Matt reappeared and gave it the all-clear.
Jaz sashayed inside like she was walking the runway and not as if she was about to sit at a table for two hours and sign her name until her hand cramped and lost all feeling.
“Hello!” Jaz called. “What a lovely shop.”
Miller’s mouth fell open, and she clutched her heart. “I . . .I . . .”
“She says thank you, and she’s excited about the signing.” I maneuvered Jaz toward her table as her posse filed inside. “You have markers here, and you’ll sign inside the—”
“Jaz! Jaz!”
All heads turned as Little Tee Pee bypassed a security guard and headed straight for Jaz.
She planted her fists on her hips. “Go away, Little Tee Pee.”
“All I want to do is talk—face to face. Five minutes here and there on the phone isn’t cutting it. I miss you.”
Jaz leaned around Officer Matt, who now stood in front of her, ready to take a bullet. “Yeah, first you talk, then you slip me some drugs, and I’m nothing but a dead legend, and they’ll be having concerts with my hologram.”
Little Tee Pee frowned. “What?”
“I’m not sure I can trust you, Tee Pee.”
He shrugged off the grip of a security guard. “I didn’t kill America.”
Jaz waved her brute squad away, as we all watched the drama. “You act guilty,” she said.
“How would you know? I haven’t seen you in days.”
“You’ve been sneaking out of town every night.” Her head jerked with angry attitude. “Uh-huh, you think I don’t know that? This town’s crawling with my security team, and I’ve got eyes everywhere.”
Tee Pee lifted his chin and sent his dreadlocks to swaying. “I can come and go as I please.”
“You sure can. And I suggest you please go.”
“The least you can do is talk to me. I love you, my little campfire marshmallow.”
Jaz pointed a finger toward Tee Pee. “You love my connections, my fame, and all the ways my name helps you.”
“That’s not why I’m in this relationship, my sweet S’more.”
Ew. I was starting to feel woozy, and I wasn’t sure if it was my head injury or the melty snack talk.
Jaz sidestepped Officer Matt and walked toward Tee Pee. “You can look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t have something going on with America?”
“I promise it’s only been you, Jaz.”
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re just saying that because your last song’s fallen off the charts this week.”
“I don’t care about that. I miss you. I miss us.”
“She said to leave,” Johnny Pikes said. “You’re causing a scene, and that’s of no benefit to anyone.”
Trina quietly sidled up beside me. “I dunno. I’m kind of benefiting.”
It was somewhat entertaining.
“It’s time for the event.” Johnny glared down at Tee Pee. “Either you leave of your own volition, or Officer Matt here can escort you off the premises. Either way, you’re not staying for the book signing.”
“You’re gonna listen to him?” Tee Pee’s voice held a plea for Jaz. “This guy’s all but ignored you for months, and now that he’s decided to do his job and manage your career, he’s in, and I’m out?”
Jaz hesitated, looking between Johnny and her boyfriend.
We all waited, participants in a soap opera’s cliff-hanger.
“We’ll talk later,” Jaz finally said. “I owe you that much.”
Tee Pee slowly nodded, pounded his heart with the side of his fist, then flashed the peace sign. “Little Tee Pee out.”
“This is why I don’t date musicians,” Trina said. “Give me a dentist or accountant any day.”
Twenty minutes later, the doors opened to the public, and the signing began. Miller had extra help on hand, and books were purchased in a frenzy. I’d instructed Alice and Layla to hand out sticky notes to each person in line, letting the fans write their preferred personal message they wanted Jaz to inscribe. It made the process go faster and meant Jaz was less likely to misspell a name.
I eventually slipped outside, talking to people in line and taking pictures for our website. I’d hired a deejay to set up across the street beneath the umbrella of an oak tree. He played nothing but fun remixes of Jaz’s hits, so it was no surprise when the wait to see the pop star turned into a
dance party. It would make great video footage for our social media and website.
Johnny must’ve had the same idea, because moments later, he appeared outside, mingling with the guests and capturing the enthusiastic crowd on his phone.
“Enchanted Events has done a great job,” Johnny said as he soon joined me. “Jaz has already gained back some of the social media followers she’s lost and had many favorable news stories.”
“I’m glad the festival is helping.” I mentally rehearsed the lengthy list of questions I had for Johnny.
“She needed to get back to basics.” He surveyed the masses. “Jaz needed a reset and to see that it’s about her fans, real people with real lives who give up their hard-earned money to support her. It’s easy to forget that when you’ve spent the last few years bathing in money and living in a gilded cage.”
“Life has a way of humbling us all.” And how ironic that Johnny would cast judgment on Jaz for her detachment to the real world. “Little Tee Pee seems to think you were more into America’s career building of late than Jaz’s.”
Johnny laughed, his white veneers almost glowing in the sunshine. “That’s rich. Tee Pee can barely match a pair of shoes, and I’m supposed to care about his business opinions?”
“But they’re not just his opinions, are they?” I sidestepped a giggling trio of teenage girls nearly combusting over their autographed books. “Jaz mentioned you’d really pulled back on your presence in her career.”
“You know the business, Paisley. I have other clients. It’s cyclical how much time I can give my artists. If you’re implying I’d thrown Jaz over for America, that’s simply not true. Lately, America needed me more. She had an album coming out, so it was a season for her to get more of my attention.”
His logic would’ve been accurate—if Jaz hadn’t been on his client list. When you had giant stars, those people were never ignored—ever. “I know about the charges America filed against your son.”
His game show host smile faltered. “What charges?”
“Come on, Johnny. The music world is a small one and people talk.”
Fanatically in Trouble Page 18