Finding Shayla

by M C Wilson

  “Mm, mm, mm,” Linda said.

  “I’m glad to hear that. She struck me as having potential. I’m just sorry I couldn’t find out for sure.”

  “Potential and then some,” said Karen. “And then some, and then some, and then some.”

  They laughed. Cayenne smiled, feeling like a total loser.

  ***

  Saturday evening, Shayla packed an overnight bag with several changes of clothes so she wouldn’t have to wear Jazz’s sweats all the time. And it would save them stopping by her hotel every day. Which would mean more time at Jazz’s place which would thrill Shayla no end.

  Jazz’s car picked her up and took her to the penthouse. They ate dinner there and after, Jazz blindfolded Shayla.

  “What’s this?” Shayla felt a little panicked.

  “Do you trust me?” Jazz said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good because I’ll never betray your trust, Shayla. I just have a surprise for you. And I don’t want it to be spoiled.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you guide me but know it won’t be easy.”

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” said Jazz.

  She and the chauffeur guided Shayla to the elevator and out to the car. Jazz sat close, arm around Shayla with a hand on hers.

  “You doing okay?” Jazz said.

  “So far. How much longer?”

  “Not far. I promise you.”

  The car stopped and the chauffeur eased Shayla out. Jazz joined her and guided her across a long concrete walk. Shayla stopped.

  “Am I walking through downtown with a blindfold on?”

  “No.” Jazz laughed. “We’re almost to our goal. Hang in there.”

  They went inside a building and took an elevator up. When the elevator opened, Jazz walked her a couple of yards then stopped her.

  “Are you ready?” Jazz said.

  “Yes. Do I finally get to take this off?”

  “Yep.”

  Jazz unblindfolded Shayla and let her look around.

  “Where am I?” Shayla said. “Oh, wow. Is this the set for Wit’s End?”

  “It is indeed. And it’s where you’ll be working in a couple of weeks.”

  “A couple of weeks? I will? What?”

  “You got the job, babe. You got the job.”

  “Oh, my God,” Shayla exclaimed. “I did?”

  “You did.” Jazz picked Shayla up and spun her around.

  “Oh, my God,” Shayla repeated. “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my God. I’m so excited.”

  “Come on.” Jazz took her hand and dragged her through the set. “Let’s look around.”

  Shayla and Jazz wandered around the set, checking out different character’s apartments. They checked out every inch of the place. And then Shayla spotted the chair. The director’s chair.

  “Is that where you sit?” Shayla was more than a little excited.

  Jazz laughed.

  “Yep. That’s where the magic happens.”

  Shayla sat in the chair.

  “You’re the only one of my actors who’s allowed to sit in it. But you can’t while others are around, okay?”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Jazz. I would never disrespect you.’

  “You’re the best.” Jazz kissed her then. It was a powerful kiss that made Shayla’s head spin.

  “That was… unbelievable,” Shayla said when they finally came up for air.

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  Jazz excused herself and made a quick phone call. A few minutes later, the chauffeur was with them, bearing a bottle of champagne and two flutes. Shayla thought how she could really get used to all this champagne. She liked living the high life.

  But she didn’t deserve it. She should be rotting in some cell right now. She’d killed a man. In cold blood. She felt nauseous at the thought. She needed to get out of her head. She realized Jazz was looking at her funny. She took a deep breath and tried to shake the foreboding feeling that had washed over her.

  “Babe? Are you okay? You look pale. Do you need to sit down? Here. Sit in my chair again.”

  She eased Shayla into her chair where Shayla trembled with the reality of what she’d done. She sat silently, trying to climb out of the dark despair she’d sunken into.

  “Where did you go?” Jazz said. “Come back to me. Whatever you’re thinking, let it go. The only thing that matters now is you and me. And Wit’s End.”

  “I’m sorry.” Shayla began to cry. She furiously wiped away the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

  “Don’t be sorry. Talk to me. What are you thinking?”

  Shayla shook her head.

  “I don’t deserve this.” She motioned at the set. “Any of this. Not the part, not you, none of this.”

  “Of course you do, sweetheart. You deserve this and so much more. Now come here and let’s get back to celebrating. If you think you can.”

  She eased Shayla out of her chair and wrapped her arms around her. She held her tight and waited until Shayla’s grip eased and she was no longer holding on for dear life. Then Jazz stepped back. She looked into Shayla’s eyes.

  “Good. I think you’re back,” she said. “When you go away like that, your eyes always have a haunted look to them. But they’re just beautiful emeralds now. I see peace and happiness in them.”

  “Oh, Jazz. I so don’t deserve you.”

  “No. It is I who doesn’t deserve you. But I never look a gift horse in the mouth. I’m in this for the long haul, Shay. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me enough is enough.”

  “I don’t think that moment will ever come.”

  “I certainly hope not.”

  They set up some props, so they had a table and some chairs and sat toasting each other and telling each other stories until the champagne was gone. They curled up on a couch that Jazz said was an integral part of the series and simply relaxed together.

  “Can I ask you something?” Jazz said.

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Have you ever watched Wit’s End?”

  “Actually, I have.”

  “Really?”

  “Honest,” Shayla said. “I watched it after Daisy told me about it. I love it. I’m hooked. I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

  “The new season airs next week. So, just you wait. And soon we’ll start shooting next season, which is one you’ll be in. It’s only supposed to be a temporary bit part, but if you play your cards right, you could parlay it into a full-time gig.”

  “I feel like Cinderella and you’re making all my dreams come true.”

  “Name a dream. Any dream. And if it’s in my power to make it come true, then believe me, your wish is my command.”

  “Oh Jazz,” Shayla said. “What on earth would I do without you?”

  “That, my dear, is something we never have to find out. I want to always be with you and always take care of you. You just relax and enjoy the ride.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Monday brought a whole new set of headaches to Cayenne. Sunday night, a group of citizens took sledgehammers, baseball bats, rocks, and sticks to what was left of Rick Nemeyer’s car.

  And the group, arrested by Cayenne’s deputies, numbered ten and were yelling in the holding cell, claiming to not understand what they’d done wrong. They’d been yelling and screaming at her since she came in and her patience was wearing thin. She marched down the hall and addressed the group at nine thirty when she’d had enough.

  “Calm down,” she yelled to be heard over them. “Quit your bellyaching. You knew what you were doing was wrong and you did it anyway. And what you did is called malicious mischief. And it’s a felony. Now, make yourselves comfortable. We’re working on getting you lawyers. You brought this on yourselves. Now, shut the fuck up.”

  Cayenne went back to her desk and flipped through the pile of paperwork that had resulted from the arrests. Damn. She didn’t want to do it. Besides, what harm was there in what they’d done? It was something everyb
ody wanted to do. Public outcry after Rick’s release had been unbearable. Imagine what it would be like if she charged these guys.

  She walked back down the hall and motioned to the cell.

  “Let ’em go,” she told the guard then turned to the guilty parties. “If you do anything like this again, I’ll throw the book at you. And I’ll make it stick.”

  They left quietly and Cayenne shredded the reports. It never happened, though she was dying to see what Rick’s car looked like now. But she wasn’t motivated enough to go look at it. So she sat there pondering what to do with the rest of the day.

  She checked for Shayla sightings, but there weren’t any. She emailed Chief Bremer to see if they’d seen Shayla. After she’d sent it she realized if he had, he would have let her know. So then she felt stupid.

  Maybe what she needed was a vacation. A chance to get away from this small town and see a city. She’d get her mind off Shayla once and for all. But that wasn’t going to happen. Nothing could take Cayenne’s mind off her. Nothing. And traveling wouldn’t help.

  However, she could go to New York herself. Ask around. Maybe someone had seen her. The idea was growing on her. She was looking at tickets for a plane when her phone rang.

  “O’Leary.”

  “It’s Mayor Stewart. I need to see you ASAP.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  She hated Mayor Stewart and didn’t want to spend a second with hm, but at least it gave her something to do. After cooling her heels for fifteen minutes in his waiting room he came out and ushered her in.

  “Turns out I didn’t need to see you after all, O’Leary. I was going to apply a little pressure to get you to release your newest prisoners, but I just heard you already did that.”

  “So this was a waste of my time then?”

  Stewart’s expression didn’t change.

  “Not necessarily. I can’t stress enough that you and your deputies need to keep what’s best for this town in the forefront. Look the other way once in a while.”

  “I did that this morning. And we could have had this conversation over the phone.”

  “I honestly didn’t expect you to realize on your own what a public relations nightmare keeping those men in jail would have been,” Stewart said.

  Cayenne weighed her next words carefully. She wanted to tell him what he could do with his public relations nightmare, but she didn’t.

  “I simply didn’t think it was worth the time and effort and money it would have taken to prosecute all of them. If I catch any of them involved in malicious mischief again, I’ll arrest them and won’t let them go.”

  “See? You just don’t understand. You’re a woman. Boys will be boys.”

  Cayenne seethed.

  “Not in my town,” she said.

  “You need to lighten up. Although, you’ll only be around for what? Another year or so? You won’t win another election. I’ll see to that.”

  “If there’s nothing more?” Cayenne said.

  “You’re dismissed.”

  She got back to the station and thought about Stewart’s words. It was time to start thinking about re-election. She’d need to get a team together who supported her and start the busy process of running a campaign. The thought made her stomach churn. She hated politics but loved her job. And she’d need to campaign to keep it.

  Cayenne spent the rest of the day reaching out to supporters and trying to get her campaign at least organized if not off the ground yet. Nothing monumental happened the rest of the day and she left at five to go home.

  She stopped at the burger joint for some dinner, then hit the liquor store, and finally got home a little after seven. With nothing to do and no one to do it with, she turned on the TV. The new season of Wit’s End was on, so she started watching that, happy to watch other people’s problems and forget her own.

  ***

  Shayla met Daisy for dinner Tuesday evening. She showed up at the restaurant and found Daisy accompanied by a tall, striking brunette with deep brown eyes. Daisy jumped up and hugged Shayla.

  “Thank you so much for meeting us,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought Mica.”

  But Shayla did mind. She could have brought Jazz. They could have double dated. It would have been more fun. She was sure she’d feel like a third wheel now.

  “I wish I’d have known,” she said. “I’d have brought Jazz.”

  “Don’t think like that. Besides, this is your chance to get to know Mica. That’s important to me. Very. I want the two most important women in my life to get along.”

  Shayla smiled but still wasn’t feeling it.

  “Sounds good,” she lied. “Now, let’s look over the menu. I’m famished.”

  They ordered dinner and sipped wine.

  “What do you do, Mica?” Shayla said.

  “I’m a welder.”

  Shayla tried to look interested. She told herself to get over it. Mica wasn’t an interloper. She was hopefully soon to become Daisy’s significant other. She needed to keep an open mind and make an effort.

  “Really? Does that mean you work in a shop?”

  “No.” Mica laughed. “I work on buildings. I work on new construction as well as helping to preserve old buildings.”

  “That sounds exciting.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Daisy said.

  Shayla smiled at her.

  “Not as exciting as Daisy,” Mica said. “She’s a movie star.”

  Daisy laughed then grew serious.

  “Speaking of movie stars, when do you find out if you got the part?”

  “I got it,” Shayla said. “I actually got it.”

  “That’s great,” Mica said. “Daisy has told me how great of an actress you were in college. Sounds like you’ve still got it.”

  Okay. That sealed it. Shayla loved Mica.

  “I hope so. I just hope I can do the part justice and maybe become a regular.”

  “Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Mica said.

  They ate their dinners and finished off three bottles of wine. Shayla was feeling no pain when Jazz’s car took her home. Home. She truly did think of Jazz’s place as her home. Jazz kept pushing Shayla to get rid of her hotel room, but Shayla dragged her feet. She wasn’t sure. It seemed like such a big step.

  She let herself into the penthouse and found Jazz sitting at the bar eating something that looked delicious.

  “What’s that?” she said.

  Jazz scooped up a forkful and fed it to her. It was delicious.

  “It’s a crepe with strawberries and whipped cream. Would you like one?” Jazz said.

  “No thank you. I’m full. I wouldn’t mind a hot tub soak when you finish that though.”

  “A hot tub sounds wonderful. Sit. Tell me. How’s Daisy?”

  “She’s wonderful. But dinner was mostly a chance for me to meet her heartthrob, Mica.”

  “Mica? Why wasn’t I invited?”

  “That’s what I wanted to know. But Daisy just really wanted Mica and me to get to know each other. We’ll do a double date soon.”

  “Excellent. Okay. I’m through, let’s hit the hot tub.”

  They went into Jazz’s bedroom where they stripped and put on fluffy robes. Then they went down to the hot tub and climbed in. The water felt amazing. As did Jazz, who kissed Shayla possessively as soon as they were sitting.

  The kiss morphed into something more. Something Shayla had never experienced. Every nerve ending was on fire. She held Jazz tight as their tongues frolicked. Their chests were pressed together, and Shayla was very aware of Jazz’s nipples poking against her. The feeling sent shivers through her body.

  “You’re shaking,” Jazz said. “Is the water not hot enough?”

  “It’s fine. Perfect. Everything is perfect. Please, kiss me again.”

  Jazz obliged and Shayla ran her fingers through Jazz’s hair. Jazz ran her hands up and down Shayla’s back, leaving burns everywhere she touched. Shayla was so lost in the ki
ss she didn’t notice when Jazz brought her hand around to Shayla’s side. Until Shayla felt the heel of Jazz’s hand caressing the side of her breast.

  Heat coursed through her body and made the area between her legs throb. She wanted Jazz. Could it be tonight? Was she ready?

  Jazz must have been emboldened by Shayla’s response as she brought her hand around and cupped one of Shayla’s breasts. Shayla’s breath caught. She loved how Jazz touched her. And she needed more. So very much more.

  Jazz pinched a nipple and Shayla was thrown back in time. Robin had ripped her clothes off and had looked at her with a disgusted look on his face.

  “I’m your husband. I’ll take you when I want. Don’t look at me like that.”

  He’d slapped her hard across her face. Then he’d pulled and twisted her nipples, which wouldn’t stay hard for obvious reasons.

  “Don’t you dare move.”

  He left and came back with clothespins. He tugged on her nipples and put the clothespins on her. It hurt so bad. She was sobbing. He didn’t care. He’d claimed her then. And the pain was multiplied.

  She moved Jazz’s hand.

  “I’m sorry.” She fought tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sh.” Jazz pulled her close and held her tight. “It’s okay.”

  Later in bed, Shayla backed up against Jazz and felt the comfort and security of her arms around her.

  “You want to talk about it?” Jazz said.

  “Hm?”

  “The hot tub. What happened, babe?”

  Shayla told her the story. She didn’t leave anything out and was sobbing when she finished.

  “And when I felt you tugging on them, it felt so good. So very good. Until I had a stupid flashback. And then the mood was gone.”

  “There’ll be more moods,” Jazz said. “I swear I’m going to find your ex and castrate him.”

  “No need. He’s out of my life for good.”

  “How do you know that though?” Jazz said. “How do you know he won’t come after you?”

  “He left me. He’s gone. He got tired of me. He’s moved on to some other poor, unsuspecting woman. I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m going to try to find him,” Jazz said. “I’ll find him before he finds you. I promise.”

  Sheer panic washed over Shayla.

  “No need.” She tried to sound calm. “I mean I appreciate it, but it’s really not necessary.”