Текст книги "Mama Sees Stars"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I was still shaking, not from fear but from anger. Hicksville? Who the hell did Greg Tilton think he was?

I was on my way back to base camp, to warn Mama and my sisters about him. I didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if he’d tried the same thing on Marty, who is as sweet, and about as fragile, as a child’s heirloom doll. Passing by where Tilton had been sitting, I noticed a raccoon had jumped onto the table. He’d gotten past the plastic wrap on the sandwich Tilton left, and was feasting on half of it. I must have been right about the tuna fish. Raccoons can’t resist the strong smell.

Paul’s wife, Savannah, was talking with my family. She was animated, gesturing with those graceful hands. Sal had left, probably to have that word that Carlos wanted. But my sisters and Mama leaned forward, listening eagerly. Savannah noticed me first, and waved me over. As I got closer, her smile changed into a worried frown.

“Where’s Greg?’’ she asked.

All eyes were on me, expectant.

“Gone, thankfully.’’

“What did you do, Mace?’’ Mama tsk-tsked. “Don’t tell me you managed to scare him away, too.’’

“Oh, I scared him all right; but only after he scared me first.’’

Savannah nodded. “I told you so,’’ she said to my sisters. “Did he force himself on you, Mace?’’

Mama’s eyes got round. Marty gasped. Maddie reached out a hand to touch my cheek. “Did he hurt you?’’ my big sister asked.

I shook my head, uncomfortable now with all the attention on me. “He did try something, but he didn’t get very far. I’m fine.’’

Maddie patted my face with relief. “He’s not nearly as big as he looks in the movies. If anything, you probably hurt him.’’

“Well, not permanently,’’ I said with a smile.

“I’m just happy to hear you took care of it,’’ Savannah said. “Just so long as it wasn’t his face. Paul’s shooting Greg’s close-up scenes this afternoon.’’

“Oh, it wasn’t his face.’’ I told them what Tilton had done, and how certain he’d seemed that I’d be willing to play along. “I kicked his butt, and left him sprawled in a patch of poison ivy.’’

“Well, I’d say that’s right where he belongs, honey. Not that I approve of violence, but you had every right,’’ Mama said. “See if I ever ask him for his autograph!’’

Savannah reached into her purse. She slid a wrapped candy across the table. “I was saving this for later, but you need a treat from ‘Savannah City Confections’ more than I do. The pralines are good, but this chocolate’s to die for. They’re from my hometown.’’

I thanked her, and then asked, “When I first walked up, you said ‘I told you so.’ What did you mean?’’

She brushed back a thick lock of her graying hair. She really was pretty. She had Meryl Streep’s dignity, crossed with the perky Southern charm of Reese Witherspoon.

“Your mama had gone off to the little girl’s room when I sat down, but your sisters told me Greg followed you off into the woods. I had a bad feeling …’’

Marty said, “… and you were right.’’

Savannah’s nod was grim. “He fancies himself a ladies’ man. When a lady doesn’t agree, he’s been known to get really ugly, really fast.’’

“Is that personal experience talking?’’ I asked.

She cast her eyes down, her long lashes feathery against milky skin. Her voice was a whisper. “I’m not the only one.’’

Mama put a hand on Savannah’s arm. “Now, I’m doubly glad Mace gave him what for.’’

Maddie said, “How come we’ve never read about this side of Greg Tilton in People magazine?’’

Savannah lifted her shoulders. “There have never been formal charges, as far as I can tell. Women know if they come forward against a famous star like Greg, their whole lives become open for examination. Nobody wants to be hounded by paparazzi, or become the lead story in the National Enquirer.’’

Marty shook her head. “That’s not right. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’’

Savannah waved a hand. “Everyone makes excuses for him. And he did have a terrible childhood. His mom was an abusive drug addict who abandoned him, basically selling him for a pipe full of crack. He lived in a whole series of foster homes; most every one of them was worse than the last.’’

“How old was he?’’ Mama asked.

“Four or five when his mom sold him.’’

“Old enough to realize what happened,’’ I said.

“I can see how he might want to feel loved,’’ Marty said.

Maddie balled her fists and rubbed pretend tears from her eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. None of that gives him the right to go forcing himself on women who aren’t interested in ‘loving’ him. He’s not the only person in the world who had it tough as a kid. A troubled childhood excuses nothing.’’

Savannah nodded. “You’re right, Maddie. There is no excuse. But it does help explain why he’s the way he is. And living in the bubble of Hollywood has just amplified it. When you’re a big star, you come to expect special treatment. No one ever says no.’’

When it comes to the word no, I was finding out that Hollywood people are a lot like spoiled toddlers, screaming for more in the checkout line at Toys “R’’ Us.

_____

Nerves always stimulate my bladder, so it was time for me to make a visit to the honey wagon.

Dispensing a butt-kicking, though, gooses my appetite. So, I made a detour on my way back by the craft services truck to check out the snacks. I grabbed an oversized brownie for myself, and two more, plus a cookie for the table.

I ducked my head into the catering tent, which was nearly empty between meals. I noticed Jesse in a corner, talking to Paul. I wondered if she was looking for praise from him about how she handled her scene. Unlike their aversion to hearing “no,’’ these people loved to hear about how great they were. Big egos and a lack of self-control seemed like a dangerous combination.

Toby and Johnny Jaybird sat at another table. Johnny, leaning in toward the younger man, was doing most of the talking. Though Toby’s eyes were aimed at the ground, his head was inclined toward Johnny. He seemed to be listening intently.

Mama’s husband was bonding over a cup of coffee with a tall, red-headed Teamster. The man had a New Yawk accent to rival Sal’s. I’d seen the teamster earlier in the week, radioing instructions to a driver arriving with an 18-wheeler filled with movie-making equipment. I had a fleeting urge to stop at their table and ask Sal if he’d spoken with Carlos. I didn’t want to seem so desperately female in front of two tough guys, though.

Excuse me, does my boyfriend still like me?

Outside, the raccoon had finished off the first half of Tilton’s sandwich, and was now working on the second. The animal seemed to be having some trouble with the plastic wrap, though. Raccoons are extraordinarily clever and dexterous, so I was confident it would prevail.

Back at our table, Mama’s face brightened when she saw the sweet treats.

“Just what we need!’’ She clapped her hands. “Eating chocolate is much better than talking about Greg Tilton. What a disappointment. I still remember him, guns blazing against the bad guys, in the first Western I saw him do. What a hero he was.’’

“Acting, Mama,’’ Maddie said.

As I sat, my gaze returned to the raccoon. It had dropped the sandwich, without managing to peel free the wrapping. In fact, the animal’s behavior was strange. It tumbled from the bench seat, and then had trouble righting itself on the ground. The coon zigzagged toward the woods, like a drunk trying to follow a straight line at a DUI checkpoint.

“Mace?’’ Mama’s voice sliced through the air.

“Hmm?’’ I said, turning to her.

“Pay attention! Maddie and I asked which brownie you wanted. What is so darned interesting over there that you can’t answer your mama?’’

“The big brownie is mine.’’ I turned back toward the animal, now walking in circles. “There’s something wrong with that raccoon.’’

“It’s a pest; that’s what’s wrong with it,’’ Maddie grumbled. “I’m cutting this biggest brownie in half for Mama and me. I left you the second-biggest one.’’

The raccoon seemed dizzy, off-balance. As I got up for a closer look, convulsions started racking the poor thing’s body. Then it stiffened, and plopped over on its side. By the time I got there, the raccoon was dead.

Kneeling next to the raccoon, I brushed at my eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Jesse stood over me. “You warned us over and over to stay away from them. You said they can carry disease. You called them beggars, no better than thieves.’’

“Yeah, I know what I said; but I think this raccoon was poisoned. None of God’s creatures should have to suffer like that.’’

“Poisoned?’’ Her eyes went wide.

I glanced over my shoulder at the bench. “We need to call the police over here to take a look at that sandwich. Meanwhile, we can’t let anybody get near enough to touch it, or take it.’’

I quietly asked her to sit at the table, so she could guard it from the curious, or maybe the nefarious. Before she went, Jesse pulled aside a production assistant. “You better let Barbara know about this.’’

The PA hurried off toward the production trailer.

Meanwhile, my sisters and Mama had joined me by the raccoon’s body. Murmurs moved in waves through the gathering crowd. I looked around, searching in vain for Tilton. In fact, I didn’t see any of the stars, aside from Jesse. Savannah had disappeared, too. If it was Tilton’s sandwich that killed the raccoon, I hoped he hadn’t eaten any. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t want him dead.

“What makes you think it was poison?’’ Mama asked.

“Remember when that pack of wild dogs got into the strychnine at our cousin Bubba’s?’’

“The Bubba in jail, or the other Bubba?’’ Maddie asked.

“The good Bubba.’’

“Right,’’ Marty said. “He had it for the ranch where he was working; for the rats.’’

I nodded. “This animal showed the same symptoms those dogs did.’’

We all redirected our gaze to the dead raccoon. It had vomited. A bit of white foam still clung to its mouth.

A breathless voice came from the edge of the crowd. “Barbara sent for the detective. She wants him to examine the raccoon.’’

I looked up to see the same production assistant. While I was glad Carlos was being summoned, I was surprised Barbara hadn’t come back with the PA. I fully expected her to push me out of the way so she could take over. Even if the dead raccoon would likely be the first raccoon she’d ever seen up close, Barbara didn’t seem like the type to miss a chance to be in charge.

Soon, a stir in the crowd signaled Carlos’s arrival. People moved aside to make way. He wore his authority like a suit of armor. Was his armor also to keep me out? His face was steel; not even a flicker of recognition when he saw me. I felt the chill like an icy wind. Mama and my sisters must have felt it, too.

“Mace is the one who noticed the raccoon acting like it was poisoned,’’ Marty told him.

“She’s made sure no one has come near it,’’ Maddie added.

“And she made Jesse stay over there with what’s left of the sandwich until the crime scene folks can come collect it and test it for what might have killed the coon,’’ Mama said.

He glanced toward Jesse. She sat at the table, faithfully guarding the sandwich. He gave me a curt nod, like I was a helpful stranger. “Everybody move back, please. This is police business. Just go back to whatever you were doing.’’

The crowd started to shuffle this way and that. Sal arrived, adding his voice as high-volume backup to Carlos’s order. “Dat means go, people. Move along. Nuttin’ to see here.’’

Sal physically pushed against some of the more reluctant looky-loos. Between his natural Bronx megaphone, and his broad chest, he was a one-man crowd deterrent. When Mama, my sisters, and I made no move to leave, Carlos focused those black lasers on me.

“You and your family go away, too. Please.’’ His voice was drained of emotion. “We need to clear this area.’’

I tried to fight the resentful remark making its way up my throat. I lost the battle.

“If I hadn’t noticed the way the raccoon died, you wouldn’t even know to suspect poison,’’ I said.

“Yes, your powers of observation are quite keen, when it comes to animals.’’

That didn’t sound like a thank-you to me.

Marty tugged at my arm. Sucking the Apricot Ice off her bottom lip, Mama regarded Carlos and me with worry in her eyes. Maddie said, “C’mon, honey. Let’s go back and finish our brownies. I saved the last cookie for you.’’

Carlos turned his back, dismissing me. He squatted down to examine the raccoon. I started away. “Thank you, Mace,’’ he said coolly.

“You’re welcome.’’ Relief flooded my body. I turned to him. “I figured it was best to keep people away from the raccoon and the sand …’’

“No,’’ he interrupted. “I meant thank you for leaving.’’

A knife twisted in my heart.

_____

I pushed my untouched cookie in a circle around a paper plate. My appetite was gone.

“Mace, don’t play with your food, honey. Someone else could still want that cookie, if you’d keep your dirty fingers off it.’’

I didn’t even snap at Mama to stop treating me like a six-year-old. When she got no rise out of me, Mama furrowed her brow at Maddie and Marty. “We have to fix things, girls. Mace and Carlos are meant to be together. They just happen to be the two most stubborn people on God’s green earth.’’

“You better take things into your own hands.’’ Maddie’s voice was soft. “You do not want Mama trying to fix things.’’

She tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. Such unaccustomed tenderness from my big sister made my eyes sting with tears.

“Oh, honey!’’ Marty offered me a tissue. “Swallow your pride and tell him you’re sorry about Jeb.’’

Running my knuckles under my eyes, I waved away Marty’s tissue. “No. There’s nothing between Jeb and me. I don’t have anything to be sorry for. Carlos is the one who should apologize to me, for being such an overly sensitive wuss.’’

Maddie gazed across the way at Carlos—his chest broad, his jaw firm, his black eyes smoldering with intensity as he considered where the dead raccoon fit into his puzzle. “You can call Carlos a lot of things, Mace, but no one in their right mind would ever use the word ‘wuss’ to describe that manly specimen.’’

Shaking her head, Mama rose from the table. She walked over to Sal, who was still doing crowd duty. Pointing toward me, she stood on tiptoes and whispered in his ear. Oh no, what was she cooking up?

As she returned, Sal dutifully did her bidding. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he approached Carlos. They had a short conversation, and then Sal looked at me with an expression that seemed pitying.

The big man shuffled back, looking like a child heading to the doctor for a shot. In his most blaring voice, he reported to us, and to anyone else within a fifty-yard radius, what Carlos had said.

“He said he’s too busy right now to worry about some on-again, off-again relationship. He’s got more important things on his mind, what with a murder investigation, a poisoned raccoon, and an army of Hollywood reporters breathing down his neck.’’

“That’s fine, Sal. Thank you.’’ Mama patted his hand, glancing nervously at me. “You can tell us the rest later.’’

Sal plowed ahead, a rookie officer undeterred from finishing his first verbal report. “Carlos said, and I quote: ‘Mace is going to have to get her head on straight without my help. I’m sick of trying to deal with a woman with the emotional maturity of a seventh grade girl.’’’

Sal looked at me. The expression was pitying, with a bit of apologetic thrown in.

“That part about the seventh grade was his words, not mine. Sorry, Mace.’’

I winced. The truth hurt.

“I’d say you’re at least as mature as a high school girl,’’ Marty said.

Maddie nodded loyally, and then narrowed her eyes to a spot over my shoulder. “What are you doing here?’’

I turned my head. I’d been so focused on what Sal was saying, I hadn’t noticed Jeb Ennis come up. How much had he heard?

“Howdy, Maddie.’’ He tipped his hat to my sister. “Always a pleasure. You know, that Carlos fellow must have left half his mind in Miamuh. He doesn’t know what he’s turning his back on.’’

I guess Jeb had heard enough.

“Any man in his right mind would be happy to have Mace, hang-ups and all.’’

As I sat there, surely blushing with embarrassment, Jeb put a hand on my shoulder. It seemed like a friendly gesture, but I could feel him caressing my skin through the fabric of my blouse. He looked at me, desire sparking in his blue eyes. The fire must have been catching, because I began to think along those same lines.

Maybe I needed something more simple than what I had with Carlos. What did I have with Carlos, anyway? Hadn’t he just dismissed me without a backward glance, and then disrespected me on top of that?

Jeb had some problems, no doubt about that. With him, though, all his hang-ups and shortcomings were out in the open. Jeb wasn’t complicated. He wasn’t moody. He wasn’t Carlos.

“I’ve got a cooler in my truck. What say you and me go grab a few beers and sit by a cow pond?’’ A devilish smile lit Jeb’s face. “I’ll even collect some rocks so you can toss ’em into the water.’’

Why not, I thought. Why the hell not?

Standing, I ignored Mama’s disapproving glare, Marty’s worried frown, and Maddie’s loud tsking. I didn’t even try to scoot away as Jeb tossed a casual arm around my shoulder.

As we left, I turned my head ever so slightly to steal a glance at Carlos. He seemed completely unaware of my presence … or absence. Instead, he glowered at the poor raccoon, as if he blamed it for being poisoned and complicating his homicide investigation.

Carlos was so intensely focused on the problem at hand, I doubted if he realized I was granting him his wish. I was walking out of his life.

The cab of Jeb’s pickup smelled like a vat of mosquito repellent. With dusk coming on, the insects were ravenous. We’d fled the banks of the cattle pond for the relative shelter of his truck. But it was hot, so we had to crack the windows. We’d both bathed in the stuff to ward off the biting swarms.

The bugs buzzed at us in frustration, seemingly determined to find a patch of unprotected skin. They wouldn’t find it on me. Even my earlobes were coated with the spray.

Jeb leaned in and gave me a kiss. I stiffened. He sat back against the bench seat, wiping his sleeve across his mouth to get rid of what must have been the acrid taste of repellent. He slapped his neck, where one of the insects landed on a spot he must have missed.

He lifted a lock of my hair, and then ran his finger down my neck and into the V of my blouse. I wanted to feel a shiver of desire for Jeb. Instead, I got a picture in my mind of the last time Carlos’s fingers had traveled that same trail. A deep longing for what Carlos and I had shared hit me like a kick in the gut.

I pulled away, snapping the top button closed on my Western-style blouse. Jeb and I shifted, each edging as far as possible toward our respective doors on the truck.

“Late in the year for the mosquitoes to be so bad,’’ he said.

“Rain didn’t help,’’ I answered.

Despite our long history, an uncomfortable strain hung in the air between us like a thick fog. Maybe it was the close quarters of the truck. Or maybe it was the fact that Carlos’s scowling image slid in front of my eyes every time I looked at Jeb.

“How’s the ranch doing?’’

“Okay, but it’s been hard to get ahead,’’ he said. “I’m still paying off debts from that trouble I had a while back. The movie people hired a cattleman out of Osceola County to supply the stock, but he had a family emergency. Bad for him; lucky for me. I can sure use the extra cash.’’

“Still gambling?’’

He traced a pattern on the steering wheel. “No way. That bad habit of mine about ruined my life.’’

Neither of us spoke. The truck was so quiet, I could hear him breathing. I watched the second hand of his wristwatch jumping away the seconds on a luminous dial. Finally, I took a breath and said, “This isn’t going to work, Jeb.’’

He sighed, and it sounded more like relief than disappointment.

“I was wondering which of us would be first to say it.’’ He patted my knee, friendly like. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Of course, I might still be game for a little somethin.’ Truth is, I think your mind is on someone else.’’

I stared out the window. It would be dark in an hour or so. The woods around the parking area were already filled with deep shadows.

When I didn’t respond, Jeb said, “Why don’t you try to make it right with Miamuh? It’s as plain as the balls on a bull that you’re in love with the guy.’’

“It’s complicated.’’

“Hell girl, love usually is.’’ Laughing, he brushed a hand through his hair. “And speaking of that, I thought I was going to be Dr. Love tonight. Looks like I turned into Dr. Phil instead.’’

When I looked over at him, he gave me a wink. “I know a lot about love, see. I’m usually the one to ‘complicate’ things up.’’

“How is that girlfriend of yours, anyway?’’

“She left me. Again. I’ve been thinking maybe a fling with Kelly Conover would make her jealous enough to come running back.’’

I snorted. “Good plan. Why don’t you try something for a change that doesn’t involve you cheating on your girlfriend? Besides, do you really think you’ve got a shot with every man’s Hollywood fantasy woman?”

“Like I said before, can’t fault a guy for trying.’’

We both chuckled, our laughter like sunlight burning off the tense fog between us. Impulsively, I slid next to him, threw my arm around his neck, and pulled his face close so I could kiss his cheek. Jeb looked startled, and then gave me a sweet goodbye kiss right on the lips.

I drew away, and started to make a joke about how Dr. Phil probably wouldn’t accept a kiss as his pay. The words died in my mouth. Carlos’s car was parked on the driver’s side of Jeb’s truck. He’d chosen just the wrong moment to come retrieve something from his front seat. In the flash of his dome light, I could see him watching us. The look he shot me was pure disgust.

“Shit,’’ I said.

Jeb turned and saw him, too. “You can say that again.’’

Carlos grabbed a bag from his floorboard and slammed the car door. I was certain I’d have felt the ground shake if I’d been standing there. He stalked off, something he’d been doing a lot of lately. I resisted the urge to jump out of Jeb’s truck and follow. Really, how could I explain away what Carlos had seen with his own eyes: me and my old beau in the front seat of his pickup, kissing and hugging like high school sweethearts? I could tell him I’d just informed Jeb that things wouldn’t work between us, but Carlos wouldn’t believe it.

I was defeated before I could even try.

“Mace, I’m sorry …’’ Jeb started to speak, but I held up my hand to stop him.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let me just sit here for a minute and calm down. I need to get my head straight. I’m expected at my mama’s for pizza in a half hour or so, and want my game face on.’’

I sat there, wondering what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I get this love thing right? Even with her record of lousy marriages, Mama had managed to do it perfectly at least twice, once with my daddy and now with Sal. Both my sisters were happy, in long marriages with men who adored them. Why couldn’t I commit? Why couldn’t I find contentment like that?

Jeb picked at a cracked piece of vinyl on his dashboard. Finally, he looked at me, his face worried. “Do you want me to say something to Carlos? I can explain how you were just letting me down easy.’’

“God, no.’’ I thought of how proud Carlos was, how it would gall him to have Jeb butting in. “That’d just make it worse.’’

I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the awful gnawing in my stomach. I told Jeb goodbye, and had my hand on the door to leave when a cell phone shrilled nearby.

There was just enough light in the sky to make out Barbara Sydney. She was striding with purpose toward a fancy Jaguar, parked a couple of vehicles away from us. She barked out a hello in that harsh Boston accent. “This is Barbara,’’ she confirmed. “Hang on a minute.’’

Shifting the phone away from her mouth, she looked to the left and to the right. We must have been hidden from her view by the shadow of a tall van that was parked right next to us. We could see her, but apparently she couldn’t see us.

“Okay, I cannot be the source of this information, right?’’ She glanced over each shoulder, and continued walking. “I’ll sue your ass to Sunday and back if you quote me by name. This is strictly on background.’’

Barbara’s voice paused as she listened to the caller. Jeb raised an eyebrow at me. I put my finger to my lips.

“I wanted you to know the latest news from this nightmare of a project,’’ she said. “There’s been an attempt to poison someone in the cast.’’

She kept walking, phone to her ear.

“Nobody, so far. But a raccoon keeled over dead today. Our redneck animal wrangler says it ate a poisoned sandwich …” she paused, listening for a moment.

“How the hell would I know what kind of sandwich? My fear is Toby Wyle might be the target.’’

Toby Wyle? I mouthed the name to Jeb. He mouthed back at me: Redneck wrangler?

“The cops are looking into it, right.’’

That was the last thing we heard Barbara say as she opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat of the pearly white sedan. The interior light stayed on for a moment or two after she shut the door. It was just long enough to tell she was still talking full speed into the phone, as she gunned her engine and roared out of the lot.

As the Jaguar sped past us, I wondered: Could Barbara have been the mystery driver of the light-colored vehicle that nearly killed Toby in the parking lot?