Pretty Jane (The Browning Series Book 3)

by Dorothy Barrett

  Nevertheless, Mel had slipped her arm through his, leaned in even closer, and proceeded to gush over how amazing his son was. Which was very nice. And very true.

  “Wow! That’s amazing,” she’d screamed in his ear. “Your son is amazing! He sounds just like them!”

  “I know! It's one of his hidden talents,” Beau had hollered back between whoops. “He’s always been good at imitating sounds—”

  “Awesome! Does he like music? I could play him some notes sometime—”

  “Oh my gosh! That’s annoying!” Tyler had interrupted, the kid’s hands covering the largest set of ears Beau had ever seen on a third grader. “Can you tell him to be quiet?”

  Mel had reddened, her smile immediately flat-lining as she’d pulled the kid aside.

  Beau hadn’t needed giant ears to discern the general thrust of their conversation. And when the ruckus all around them had abruptly died down, he’d caught the tail end of it.

  “—should apologize. He’s got special needs. Be nice, Ty—” Mel, suddenly having realized how audible her lecture was, had jerked back around, flushing even more noticeably as Beau stiffened.

  A part of him had wanted to lay into her right then and there, to give her a lecture of his own. Because that shit was annoying. People shouldn’t be nice to people with “special needs” because they had special needs. They should be nice to them because they were people. And Melinda, the super nice keyboardist from Heartbeat Studios, should know this.

  PJ did. The thought had come to him in a flash as Mel stammered out an awkward apology that Beau hadn’t really listened to. He’d been thinking about PJ curled up next to his son on the ride home the night before. The natural way she had of connecting with him. PJ had told Beau she was going to be good at her job.

  He believed it.

  He also believed that Mel had been genuinely remorseful about her foot-in-mouth moment at the zoo, so he’d let her off the hook with an easy smile as he scooped up his kid.

  The sulky “sorry, Max” from her nephew, however, Beau didn’t buy for a second. So when the kid proceeded to drag his aunt towards the rear of the park, chattering about how the elephants were “so much cooler than the stupid little monkeys anyways,” Beau had trailed behind throwing some serious shade at the appendages sticking out of the boy’s head. Which was, of course, a bad parenting moment.

  “It’s really no wonder he’s into elephants,” Beau had mused, strolling down the sidewalk with Max on his shoulders. “Ain’t no way that boy evolved from an ape, if you know what I’m saying.”

  Max hadn’t known what he was saying.

  “One word, Maximilian.” Beau had pointed toward the obnoxious boy’s retreating form. “Pachyderm.”

  “Pachyderm,” his son had repeated, perfectly replicating Beau’s smooth sarcastic drawl.

  And for the remainder of the outing, every time Mel’s nephew so much as sneezed in Max’s direction, Max would give him the finger and chortle “Pachyderm” with as much relish as he’d bellowed the mating calls of the spider monkeys earlier. Beau hadn’t done much to stop this because it wasn’t like Max had been using the middle finger, and it really was Tyler’s fault for sneezing so goddamn much. And coughing too. By the end of things, the kid might as well have grown a trunk and started spraying them all down with the germs spewing out of his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” Mel had cried with the kid hacking all over her blouse. “Maybe we can get together next week. I can call you later and maybe we can sort something out, but I better take off. I think Ty’s allergies are bothering him.”

  That had been the “no shit” moment of the day. Beau must have muttered this out loud as Mel rushed Tyler through the revolving gates at the zoo’s exit because Max had started chanting “no shit, no shit, no shit” over and over like a parrot. (This, of course, being another bad parenting moment.)

  Beau had really had to tell his kid to be quiet at that point because most of the good parents around them were staring. He’d also told Max that if his mom asked him where he’d heard the ‘S’ bomb, he was to tell her one word: Aa-ron.

  Definitely a bad parenting moment.

  On the way home he’d picked up Eataburger because he’d been too wiped to cook the healthier stir fry option in his fridge. The burgers and fries hadn’t been all that bad on their own, but paired with sodas and chocolate chip cookies, the meal was one big carb-fest of bad parenting. He’d also forgotten to sterilize Max’s entire body before consuming it, so that B.P.M. was surely gonna come back to bite him in the ass when his boy came down with Tyler’s brand of Ebola in a few days.

  And if all that wasn’t entirely bad enough, he’d let Max stay up way later than normal, even for a Saturday, glued to The Lego Movie while he’d finished off some financials for the Colonel. The Lego Movie was absolutely the wrong kind of flick to let a kid all hopped up on sugar and caffeine watch right before bed.

  “Everything is awesome!” Max sang at the top of his lungs as Beau chased him down the hall with a container of dental floss. They’d just finished brushing his teeth, and the current state of affairs didn’t look too promising for his son’s continued oral hygiene. Beau caught up to him in his room, grabbing him as he made a move for the miniature trampoline in the corner.

  “No way, pal. It’s bedtime.” Beau tossed Max onto his twin-sized captain’s bed, and popped the lid on the floss.

  “Erythin’ es rawesom,” Max garbled as Beau picked at his teeth.

  “Everything is bedtime,” Beau sang back.

  Max stilled for a second, processing the change in lyrics with a sudden dimply smile that gave Beau about two seconds to pry the cookie bits from his mouth. Then, just like that, he was rolling over with laughter and Beau was giving up on his molars. “Good enough. The rest are gonna fall out in a few years anyways.”

  Max, fortunately, didn’t notice this B.P.M. as he was back to belting out the Lego jam in between giggles. “Everything is awesome. Everything is awesome—”

  Beau yanked the boy’s Ninjago blanket over his shaking body and plopped a kiss on his forehead. “Everything is awesome, buddy. I love you.”

  Max pointed an imperious finger, his expression suddenly stern. “No. You say the other words again. I say ‘everything is awesome’ and you say—”

  “Everything is quiet,” Beau sang as he slipped from the room. “Everything is calm like some chamomile tea…” Max didn’t sound calm as Beau closed the door behind him. It sounded like he’d fallen out laughing again. It was going to be a long night.

  Beau headed for the kitchen, opting for a tall glass of milk over the tea. He’d just grabbed a gallon from the fridge when his cell rang on the counter. Beau frowned as he eyed the clock on the stove. It was late, pushing 10:30. Mel had said she might call. Was it wrong that he kinda wanted to let it go to voice mail? She was really nice… even if her nephew was a bit of a punk. Maybe Beau should take her out next week. Max would be with Janelle and Aaron. Tyler would be with whatever demons had spawned him. He and Mel could have a nice evening alone without interruption—

  Riiiing.

  “Daddy, your phone is ringing,” Max said, peeking out of his bedroom with an impish grin.

  “Yeah, got it. Get back to bed.” Beau snatched up the phone, shooing Max away with one hand while thumbing the accept button with the other. Immediately, the distant sound of a rock song caught his attention, the familiar jam from some pop band his cousin loved listening to. It definitely wasn’t “Everything is Awesome,” and the voice on the other end of the line definitely wasn’t Lily’s. Or Mel’s.

  “Uhm… Hello?”

  It was PJ.

  All Beau’s senses went immediately to some heightened state of awareness, the milk he’d pulled out forgotten as he moved to the living room as though the increased space could somehow help him decipher the ambient noises filtering into his ear. There was the sound of car doors opening and closing, raucous bursts of laughter, the occasional blare of a hor
n over the steady pounding bass of the music.

  “Prudence?”

  “’S me.”

  More laughter proceeded this revelation, the unmistakable sound of a party in full swing.

  “Where are you?” Beau demanded, his blood pressure rising as he paced the length of hardwood flooring in front of his TV. The screen was still frozen on a giant image of Lego Emmet. He looked pretty happy.

  “Parked right in front of Cleo’s house.”

  Beau was not happy. “What! Why? I thought you weren’t going to that stupid mixer.”

  “It’s a loooooong fuckin’ story—”

  “Wait a minute. Have you been drinking?” Beau stopped pacing to rake a hand through his hair.

  “Oh my god. Seriously—”

  “Are you drunk-dialing me right now?”

  “Okay, you need to stop talking and listen ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once.” PJ sounded really lucid and really pissed.

  Beau was getting there fast. “I’m all ears,” he drawled sarcastically.

  “Pachyderm,” Max chirped from down the hall.

  “Ass,” PJ hissed from the phone.

  “Spill it, Prudence.” Beau was losing patience fast.

  “Fine. The only reason I’m calling is because you asked me before to tell you if Wade Hollis was being a weaselly little bitch again, so that’s what I’m doing. This is basically a courtesy call since we’re friends. Although, I wasn’t so sure for a minute, since you’ve been so mean to me the whole fucking day—”

  “What? I haven’t even seen you today—”

  “Exactly.” PJ snorted.

  Beau gritted his teeth. This girl was maddening. She was totally fucking insane. And if Wade so much as laid a finger on her, Beau was gonna break the fucker’s jaw.

  “So anyhow,” PJ drawled, oblivious to the rising tension coming from his side of the line. “I probably should have told y’all last night at the Colonel’s. Really… I probably should have told y’all before we made that trip to Sac.” PJ swallowed. “That friend of mine I told you Wade was talking trash about…”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Lily.”

  “What?!—”

  “But don’t worry. I’m about to handle that fool just like I did back at the academy. He won’t get anywhere near her tonight—”

  “WHAT?!” Beau repeated, his anger growing exponentially with every word she uttered. “Lily’s there with Wade?”

  “Well, I can see Penny’s ride, so yeah, Lily’s probably here. But I don’t know for sure about Wade, ‘cause his Jag was impounded after a DUI or some shit. Troy’s been hauling him around for weeks. He’s home of course. His douchey Mustang’s in the drive—”

  “PJ!”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m really gonna need you to stay in the car.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line, another long intake of air, then a sad little sigh. “Sorry, Double A, but that’s one thing I can’t promise you.”

  The line went dead in his hands. Beau squeezed his phone so hard, he was surprised its screen didn’t crack. He couldn’t believe this shit was happening right now.

  “Fuuuudge!” he exploded after a couple seconds of stewing. Then he turned back to the hall where Max was lying on the floor, his feet kicked up on a wall full of collage frames as he hummed his favorite tune.

  Beau looked at his son. Then he looked at his wallet and keys lying on the kitchen counter. Then he looked back at his boy again. “Max, are you even remotely tired right now?”

  “No way.”

  “Me neither. You want to go over to Papa Finn’s house tonight?”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Max rolled over onto all fours and let out a trumpeting bellow that was eerily similar to an actual pachyderm as he crawled back to his room.

  Beau pocketed the necessities, shoved the milk back into the fridge, and contemplated the best way to deal with the situation. His apartment was a good twenty minutes away from Cleo’s house. He could call Grayson. The Colonel was only a few minutes away from the Latimoore estate. But then Beau would have to reveal to the man that Lily had defied him by going to Cleo’s cursed party, and even worse, that Whip Hollis’s weaselly little bitch of a son was apparently at said party and looking to screw around with her. That shit would not go over well. More than likely, it would result in Grayson getting arrested for murder nine months before retiring.

  Beau settled on sending Eli a text. His friend still lived with his parents in the Hills, and with any luck the guy might actually be home on a Saturday night. He needed someone to get to PJ before he got there. Because if Wade hurt her, or Lily, Beau was probably gonna be the one thrown in jail tonight.

  And that would be one helluva bad parenting moment.

  Chapter 17

  There was no way in hell PJ was staying in the car. For one thing, she wasn’t actually in a car. She was in a truck. More accurately, she was crouched in the back of one, unlocking a large aluminum toolbox with the key she’d found on Johnny’s ring. For another, she wasn’t about to just sit on her ass with Wade prowling after Lily’s, ‘cause if the bastard actually did lay a hand on the chick, it would be all PJ’s fault for not warning her. And that kind of guilt sucked ass.

  Ignoring the rowdy teens passing by, PJ sifted through Johnny’s box until she found a small multi-tool with a decent blade. If she did have to throw down tonight, it might come in handy. After securing the rest of the tools, PJ pocketed the keys and the knife in the pouch at the bottom of her sweatshirt and hopped from the back of the truck.

  Music was blaring from some speakers she couldn’t see but deduced must be set up behind the aged brick two-story directly in front of her because a steady stream of people were headed for a set of wrought-iron gates on the west side of the property, a hyped-up mix of over-privileged teens drawn like moths to the fiery pounding beat of Panic! at the Disco’s “Say Amen.”

  PJ slipped in with the crowd, keeping her head down and the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up until the walkway under her boots gave way to an expansive courtyard and an explosion of sound and motion. Then, she couldn’t not look up, because the action going on in Cleo’s backyard was anything but holy.

  There were easily a hundred or more people pressed together on the patio, bodies moving together on a makeshift dance floor lit up by long strands of Edison-style bulbs tethered from the house to a large canopy set up on the grass beyond the courtyard. PJ recognized a couple girls sauntering away from the tent with red plastic cups in their hands and jersey-clad dudes at their backs. They were seniors from CSA, part of Jenny Ratherty’s crew, and definitely not old enough to be draining kegs and hooking up with varsity guys from State.

  PJ cast her searching gaze away from the girls, not caring what kind of STDs the idiots ended up with. The only idiot she was here to rescue was Lily, and the chick did not appear to be amongst the boozers exiting the tent, nor had PJ spotted her amongst the gyrating teens surrounding her.

  But this wasn’t surprising. Lily tended to avoid dancing as much as she did. Whether this was because the girl was as rhythmically challenged as PJ or because she was innately an introvert, PJ wasn’t exactly sure, but it was one of the few things they had in common.

  Pushing her way through the crowd, PJ headed for the east side of the grounds, where she could hear splashing. Whenever the Colonel had thrown parties at the White house, and Lily had deigned to come out of her room for more than a few hours to mingle, she’d usually just hung out in their pool. Like the rest of the Brownings, the girl had a natural affinity for the water, and PJ was really hoping she was amongst the dozen or so revelers whacking around a big inflatable globe in the Latimoore’s tricked out swimming hole right now. Only a cursory glance at the half-naked occupants of the pool proved that this was not the case.

  PJ frowned, her irritation growing as a cloud of something pungent wafted into her face, a weird mix of the chlorinated steam rising from the brightly glowing pool
and the smoke drifting from the jacuzzi beside it.

  PJ followed her nose to the stench, and found Troy and Jenny curled up in a hot tub partially concealed by fake rocks and neon blue waterfalls. He was passing her a blunt, a little ribbon of smoke snaking from his mouth as he exhaled. Stepping a bit closer, PJ noticed Jenny’s friend was there too, kneeling in the bubbling water in front of them.

  Immediately, PJ was scanning the rest of the tub for Wade. Maybe the guy had forgotten about Lily and was content to get his rocks off with Tessa. Maybe all this drama was for nothing, and the idiot had just been jawing off at the mouth that day at CSA with no real intention of ever going after the princess.

  But Wade wasn’t there. And by the looks of things, the joint Jenny was now passing Tessa wasn’t the only thing she was content to share with her friend as the ground around the spa was littered with the swimsuits the trio were clearly not wearing.

  PJ stalked away from the scene, tension fueling every stride that carried her back through the mosh pit towards the doors at the back of the house. Lily wasn’t outside, and PJ was willing to bet Wade wasn’t mixing it up in the moonlight either. Bumping into a dude from Prep exiting the house with a slice of pizza in one hand and an overflowing plastic cup in the other, PJ was doused with a solid third of the guy’s beer as she squeezed her way inside.

  “Damn, baby, that was some Bayou Teche Pale Ale!”

  “Fuck off, you craft beer motherfucker.”

  “Bitch!”

  PJ moved on, plowing through bodies on her way to a den that was larger than her whole apartment. Most of it was taken up by pieces of designer furniture shoved together like Tetris blocks. The chairs and couches nearest the corners of the room were occupied by a number of couples making out, but the ones closest the TV were taken up by the hardcore sports fans who only had eyes for college football. PJ didn’t see Lily or Wade anywhere in this mix either, so she headed for the music streaming through an arched entryway on the side of the living room.