Fanatically in Trouble

by Jenny B. Jones

  Beau scratched Mugsy under the chin, clearly interested.

  “Sounds like a great dog,” Beau said.

  “I’ll be surprised if he isn’t adopted by the end of the day,” Lois said. “He’s a dream.” After a few more minutes of fawning, she returned the terrier to the cage. He walked a few laps before settling down on his blanket and closing his eyes for an afternoon siesta.

  “Here’s the source of all the noise.” I pointed to the cage beside Mugsy where a small, frou-frou mix dog stood in the back, his back pressed to the wall, desperate to get away from the humans. The dog yipped and howled in a decibel somewhere between painful and torture.

  “This baby boy is Dinky,” Lois said as the dog bared his teeth, looking like a tiny vampire. “He’s been here two years, not including the three times he was adopted and brought back. He’s a nervous little nelly, aren’t you, boy?” Lois made kissy noises toward the cage, which seemed to please Dinky about as much as a cattle prod. “Not the kind of dog you two are looking for, so let’s move on, shall we?” The chipper volunteer proceeded, her sneakers squishing with each step. I followed her for a few paces before I realized Beau wasn’t with me.

  I turned to find him staring into Dinky’s cage, his forehead wrinkled in a frown.

  “Beau?”

  He shook his head and pushed away, leaving the yipping dog behind.

  “It must be intimidating to date a rock star.” Lois sailed right by a trio of kittens. “Where does one take a celebrity on a night out?”

  Beau’s feet carried him toward a German Shepherd with dark eyes that glowed with intelligence and curiosity. “We actually haven’t had many proper dates, have we?”

  We hadn’t. Life and work had simply gotten in the way. Which made this morning’s declaration of love completely ridiculous.

  “The Sugar Creek Inn is swanky.” Opening the cage for the German Shepherd, Lois reached for his collar. “Not sure if you’re the steak and lobster kind of girl.”

  I watched Beau drop to his knees and pet the dog. “I’m more of a picnic in the moonlight with the crickets and whippoorwills kind of girl now.”

  Beau looked up and smiled. “Since when?”

  I joined him next to the dog. “Since I reconnected with the boy who gave me my first kiss.”

  Beau’s eyes dipped to my lips, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. I wanted Lois to disappear so I could throw myself into his strong arms and kiss him ’til we were both breathless. You knew you had it bad when you got romantic feelings from an animal shelter.

  “You celebrities have all the fun.” Lois shook her head and laughed. “My Stanley thinks a hot date is a frozen pizza and a ballgame on TV. Now this beauty here is Ginger. She’s an absolute dream. Great guard dog, smart as a whip, knows some basic commands, good disposition, but sheds like there’s no tomorrow.”

  Beau held out his hand, and Ginger put her paw into his palm. My heart burst into a thousand pieces as this picture—this scarred man and this dog. If Beau didn’t get her, I would come back for her myself. Or find a home for her. For all of them. For each and every—oh, geez. I really needed to get out of here. Digging into my purse, I found a second water bottle and chugged it like cheap liquor.

  “Do you think you’ve found the one?” Lois asked.

  Beau’s sea glass blue eyes met mine and held. “I think I have.”

  My pulse stopped and stuttered.

  “She’s beautiful,” I whispered.

  “She always has been,” Beau said.

  “Are we still talking about the same thing here?” Lois’s voice pinged off the concrete walls. “My Stanley says I don’t do subtext well.”

  In this den of howls and yips, a spell wove around Beau and me, and I didn’t know what to do with it. So I simply smiled and squeezed his hand. “Beauregard Junior’s gonna love her.”

  “Would you like to take Ginger out back and throw a frisbee around?” Lois’s penciled eyebrows rose in expectation. “She’s quite a runner.”

  Beau gave the dog a final pat on the head. “I need to think about this, but thank you.”

  Think about it? I thought we had a thing going there! He fell in love with the dog, and I fell in love with the dog, and together we were in love . . . with the dog.

  Lois offered a gentle smile. “Commitments are hard. But they’re worth it.”

  Beau slipped his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The volunteer beamed at the two of us. “I can tell when a love connection is solid just by how the animals respond. And you two? You’re gonna make it.”

  At that, Beau walked out, not even acknowledging Lois’s fortune teller prediction. He passed through the exit door, leading back to the lobby, dragging me with him. I tossed goodbyes and more appreciation in Lois’s direction.

  Beau and I had known each other since grade school, and I knew when he had a head full of thoughts. I wanted to pester him about the German Shepherd, but I held back as he opened the passenger door of his truck and waited for me to climb in.

  “Don’t say it.”

  I pulled my short legs inside and reached for my seatbelt. “Say what?”

  “That I’m flaking out on a commitment.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “But you want to.”

  “No. I don’t.” I truly wanted him to be all about some commitment.

  He shut my door a little too loudly, then lumbered to his side, getting in. “I know she’s perfect.”

  “Perfect is overrated.” Like Jaz. Like my mom’s expectations for her daughter.

  He shoved the keys in the ignition. “The dog’s gorgeous, she’s smart, and she’s everything on the list, minus all that shedding.”

  “A tornado of hair.”

  “She was probably on her best behavior today.” Beau started the truck.

  “Probably a total spastic, psycho of a mutt.”

  “Right.”

  With a huff of breath, Beau put the truck into reverse and backed out of his parking spot.

  Only to wheel right back in.

  He flung open his door and hopped out. “If I’m not out in ten, leave. Save yourself.”

  “The cupcakes and I will remember you fondly.”

  Leaning back inside, Beau kissed me soundly, then straightened.

  “Godspeed, soldier.”

  I watched him walk back inside, his steps slow and measured.

  My goodness, that was a good man right there. Saver of dogs and breaker of hearts.

  Exactly twelve minutes later, as I was mid-call with Henry, the truck door opened yet again.

  In jumped Ginger, the German Shepherd.

  Beau slid behind the driver’s seat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Dinky, the demonic terrier snapped and growled beneath his arm.

  “You got two?”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “The mutant dog’s been returned three times already.”

  “Paisley.” He started the truck again, then threw an arm over the back of my headrest, his eyes warrior fierce. “Once something’s mine, I don’t give it back.”

  Well, then.

  Now it was my turn to reach across the seat. I kissed Beau’s lips with a resounding smack. “You’re swell, Beau Hudson.”

  “Not in front of the children.” He handed me Ginger’s leash and navigated the truck onto the road.

  “Ginger and Dinky.” I hid my smile behind a fuzzy head. “Their names are just adorable.”

  “They’re getting new ones.”

  “Of course they are. That will probably take care of most of Dinky’s anger issues right there.”

  Three country songs later, Beau’s truck parked in the front of Enchanted Events.

  He turned the radio down and stared at his steering wheel for three pants of a dog. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I brushed fur off my pants. “I got to leave work and play with puppies. I feel better alread
y.”

  “I’d walk you to the door, but—” Beau nodded toward his new brood.

  I gave each dog a lengthy pet, then leaned in toward their new owner. “I gotta know something.”

  He pushed Ginger off his lap three times before meeting my eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Why’d you get the yippy one?”

  Beau’s gaze dropped back to the dogs, and he breathed in like his answer was a reluctant one. His right hand settled on Dinky’s head. “Because when I looked in that cage, this guy was trembling and mad, but his eyes looked into mine. And I saw zero hope. He was done.” Extracting small teeth from his arm, Beau moved the small dog again. “I couldn’t leave him.”

  My fingers sifted through Beau’s hair, and I tugged him toward me. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Don’t say that.” Beau’s lips found mine, and he kissed me over the growing barks. “It’s not sweet.”

  “Super sweet. Like you just climbed Mount Precious and scaled the summit.”

  “Please get out of the truck.”

  “You’ll be the best Dinky Dad there ever was.”

  “So sorry you have to leave now.”

  “You’re an angel among men. A champion among canines.” I knew I was seconds away from Beau tossing me to the pavement, so I opened the door and hopped out.

  “Paisley?”

  The cool air conditioning slipped past me and floated on a warm breeze. “Yes?”

  “Your mom loves you, you know.”

  “She does.” I nudged Ginger back inside and grabbed my purse. “But maybe it’s time she gave me more.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  My car choked and sputtered as I pulled into a parking spot Sunday night, a block away from the Sugar Creek Cinema. Formerly an old theater, the 1930s era building had once been home to plays and productions from Oscar Wilde to Jesus Christ Superstar (the Ozark edition). During one season in the early ’40s, the theater put on a production of Romeo and Juliet. Due to so many fellows serving overseas, it was an all-female show. The director, Minnie Lou Tapper, thought the ending was too stupid for words and let the ill-fated couple live happily ever after. The theater had been renovated a handful of times and was now the home of a small, but adorable two-screen cinema. And the location for Jaz’s latest movie to make its digital release debut. It had been a box-office smash, and next Tuesday it would be reborn into DVD and streaming income heaven.

  I looked at the Sugar Creek Cinema now and saw it through Jaz’s eyes. She’d never appreciate the art deco front facade or the vintage, bulb-lit marquee. As her two-thousand dollar shoes carried her over the entry floor, she wouldn’t even notice the original black and cream honeycomb tile or give a second glance to the seventy-five-year-old wooden counter at the snack bar.

  Tonight I wore wedges, dressy shorts, and an off-the-shoulder sweater that I’d bought the first time the Electric Femmes made the cover of Rolling Stone. As I walked toward the event, I watched hundreds of people already milling about. The excitement of Jaz’s fans was palpable, and I smiled at the sight of success. We had happy festival attendees, a happy town reaping the financial profits, and we were bringing more exposure to Sugar Creek. As paparazzi circled the event—some taking photos of fans and some waiting for the big payoff of Jaz’s arrival, I knew this fan fest was also a success for Jaz’s PR. Sure, a dead celebrity was a blow, but it had only made her fans come to Jaz’s defense even more. Someone had already created a hit of a podcast that unpacked the case and detailed all the reasons Jaz couldn’t be guilty.

  No matter how smooth things currently looked for Jaz, she was still a suspect, and I would do well to remember that. Nobody had more to gain from America’s death than Jaz.

  “The queen has arrived,” Henry said as I reached his impeccably dressed side.

  “Why, thank you. I’m so glad we finally agree on my status.” I waggled my blinged-out fingers. “I’m pretty busy right now, but you can kiss my ring later.”

  He shot me Eyeroll Number Forty-Seven, a mix of excessive lid flutter and an artful curl of the upper lip. “I meant Jaz.”

  I glanced at my watch. “She’s on time? I might need to sit down for this revelation.”

  “She’s not that bad, Paisley.”

  I explained the living room remodel. “And last night I came home to my entire refrigerator cleaned out.”

  “How thoughtful.”

  “She threw out all my stuff and replaced it with her dairy-free, vegan, rabbit food. How can one person eat that much celery and arugula?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt you to eat a few more vegetables.”

  “I had leftover fajitas in that fridge. She might as well have slashed my tires and killed my cat.”

  “You don’t have a cat.”

  “Whose side are you on here?”

  My partner looked longingly toward the entrance. “That depends how likely that goddess is to marry me.”

  “About as likely as you are to win the lottery or even get a date with her.”

  He ignored that. “Detective Ballantine showed up. He’s been asking a lot of questions—talking to Jaz’s fans.”

  “It’s almost like he’s one of us. Should we put him on the letterhead?” I checked a text that pinged my phone and read a message from Sylvie, who was obviously on the premises. “My grandmother says one of the paparazzi has Reese cornered. I better go intervene.” I patted Henry’s shoulder. “If you see Jaz, try not to offer your firstborn this time.”

  I had to admit, screening Jaz’s movie was a total coup. It had taken a lot of arm-twisting to convince her to add an autograph party afterward, but she’d finally relented. Food trucks lined the streets, giving revelers a place to mingle, as well as grab a bite before the show. Some ambitious locals had set up booths, from the local Baptist church offering prayer, hugs, and free water to a woman selling pottery, all inspired by Jaz. I wanted to enjoy tonight because tomorrow, things got real. Tomorrow was the dreaded reunion concert cruise on Beaver Lake. Jaz had somehow brought in a super-sized riverboat from Branson, Missouri, large enough to accommodate hundreds of fans as we sang our old hits. Or as Jaz and Trina sang, and I lip-synced with all the enthusiasm I wouldn’t feel.

  As I searched for Reese, one vendor stopped me in my tracks.

  Beneath a small canopy illuminated with a sparkling, spinning strobe light stood Frannie. Jaz’s latest single blasted from a nearby speaker, and Frannie beckoned passersby to step inside her den of commerce.

  “Get your cupcakes! Get your t-shirts! Get your hankies sweat on by the legend Jaz herself! Guaranteed gen-u-wine Jaz perspiration!”

  “What is all this?” I held up a hand to block out a pink beam of light trying to laser out my eyeballs.

  Frannie smiled proudly. “I’m selling merch.”

  “I thought you sold cupcakes.”

  “Girl, you gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, and know when to diversify with Jaz-themed teddy bears.” She lifted a shirt with such a large image of Jaz’s face, I could see up a nostril. “Would you like a tee? I’ll give you a twenty percent discount.”

  “No, I don’t want a tee.” Not only was I mad that my aunt was selling Jaz crap, but I was mad that I was mad about it. “Can you just give me two chocolate cupcakes and a milk?”

  “Sorry. I sold out of all my chocolates. Can I interest you in red velvet?”

  “You have three boxes right behind you.”

  “Oh, those are for Jaz and her crew. What about two strawberries, and I’ll throw in a Jaz beach towel? Her hair glows in the dark.”

  “I’m not hungry anymore.” Scanning the crush of people, I finally spotted Reese. She stood beneath a maple tree, practically wilting in the presence of Sharky Cooper. “I’ll see you later. I need to save Reese.”

  “What about a Jaz water bottle?” Frannie called. “A dashboard hula Jaz? Hey, wait for me!”

  The closer I got to Reese, the angrier I got. I wanted to wipe that l
eer off Sharky’s face and shove it up his immoral keister. The pink splotches were back on Reese’s cheeks, as she shook her head vehemently holding up her hands in a desperate appeal.

  “Hello, Sharky,” I said as I reached the two. “Harassing my friend Reese?”

  Jaz’s assistant went wide-eyed as if caught taking money from the collection plate. Sharky’s lips curved, revealing a familiar gold tooth with his Wanted Poster grin.

  “I was catching up with Miss Riggins here,” Sharky said. “She and I go way back.”

  “Probably not as far back as you and I.” I gave the photographer a smile of my own. “Like as far back as some libel-worthy articles and a photo or two I could still sue for?”

  Cheeks that looked like they could use a good brush-hogging sagged. “There’s no need to get ugly. Legal action is never the answer.”

  I stepped closer to Sharky, getting a sniff of his cinnamon gum. “You need to leave Reese alone.”

  “This doesn’t concern you, Sutton.”

  Behind me, Frannie cleared her throat. “Paisley, you want me to taze him in the coconuts?”

  I held back my aunt. “That won’t be necessary. Sharky, I know what you have on Reese, and I’m asking you to drop it. If you don’t, I’m coming after you, and I’m bringing Jaz with me.” My lie was sweeter than Frannie’s frosting. “Jaz is ready to put all her money and all her influence behind me to see you finally get what you deserve.”

  The arrogance fell from his face. “Hey, I’m just a man trying to pay my mortgage and my kid’s college. I’m doing a job.”

  “You ruin lives,” I said. “And you’re free to go ruin more lives, but I want you to leave Sugar Creek.”

  “I’m not gonna just run away because—”

  “I want you out of Sugar Creek,” I continued. “And if I see one thing printed about Reese Riggins, Jaz, or anyone here at this fest, I’ll forget our old handshake agreement, and I’ll bury you in court.” Justice filled my lungs and revenge was finally mine.

  “It’s hard to pay for tuition from prison, isn’t it?” Frannie wondered aloud.

  Sharky lifted his menacing gaze from me to glare at Reese. “You lucked out here, Riggins. But understand if there’s a next time, I’ll be there. And I’ll make sure everyone knows who you really are.”