“Yes.” His wife smiled. “He always said you were like Janis Joplin and Johnny Cash’s love child.”
Haley laughed. “I’ve never been called that before…but I like it.”
Shane smiled and nodded in agreement.
“He loved you like a daughter; he loved music; and he loved being on the open road. He died doing what he loved, Haley. It melts my heart to know you will continue to honor him for the rest of your tour. I know he’ll be with you in spirit,” his wife said.
“Oh, I believe she now has a guardian angel looking out for her,” his mother added.
“Thank you both. That means so much to me,” Haley replied, wiping away more tears. “I’ll be at the cemetery service, but I want to stay in the back. Today is for honoring Fizzy and his life. We were just a small part of it.”
His mother and wife both smiled and hugged her.
***
The procession to the cemetery took about five minutes, and the graveside service hadn’t taken much longer. As soon as it was over, Haley and Shane made their way back to the waiting SUV, and were the first ones to leave. They’d briefly spoke about how nice the service was during the ride back out to Haley’s house in Brentwood, but other than that, the drive was quiet.
Both women went to their separate rooms to change clothes once they arrived. Not wanting to crowd Haley’s space, Shane pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and padded back down the stairs after a brief conversation with Dennis over the phone to see if he had any updates. She wanted to see the music room again since the night before she’d been captivated by Haley, so full of sadness, singing and playing the piano, she’d neglected the fully decorated walls. She wished she’d taken a few extra minutes to look around that morning when she’d woken, but the reality of the night before came crashing down on her like a ton of bricks. She’d dressed quickly and high-tailed it out of the room. There was also another room on the front of the house that she hadn’t been privy too. Foregoing the idea of snooping around, Shane settled on the formal living room, as well as the kitchen behind it, where she’d spotted a fresh basket of plump peaches.
As she reached for one, she heard Haley’s voice echoing through the house. Someone was obviously on the other end of a phone call that definitely was not going their way. She was sure the ornate cross hanging on the wall near the pictures of her family members, was rattling and would fly off at any moment due to the expletives racing out of Haley’s mouth.
Shrugging, happy she wasn’t on the brunt end this time, Shane grabbed a napkin and sat down on a stool, biting into the juicy peach and catching the sweet nectar as it rolled down her chin.
***
“Now listen, Haley. Tucker is only playing a few shows…until you’re ready to get back on the tour. Then, you’ll play a couple of shows together, and go your separate ways.”
“This is bullshit, and you know it, Rich! The fucking label can’t make me date Tucker Miller! I don’t care what they want! I’ve made millions for those bastards. They should be kissing my ass, not the other way around.”
“Maybe if you’re seen out a few times with Tucker, they’ll leave it alone. You know…get the press interested in what they think is a love story. The label will probably buy into it and forget about making you play together on the tour.”
“Are you serious right now?” she yelled. “Have you heard of the ‘Me Too Movement,’ Rich? Or perhaps, ‘Times Up?’ I suggest you familiarize yourself with it if you want to continue being my manager, and advise the label to get caught up on current events as well. I am not going to be forced to perform with a man on my headliner tour, or go out on a date with him because my label wants me to! The days of the man telling women what to do while dangling their careers over their heads is over! It’s my tour, and I’ll be back on it as soon as you get me a god damn bus! Fix this shit, Rich, or so help me, I’ll be on the phone with my lawyer so fast the suits at that label will look like bobble heads!” she growled sharply, then ended the call and tossed the phone into the couch instead of the wall where it would’ve shattered to pieces.
“Of all the lowlife, piece of shit things to do, and on the day we bury Fizzy to boot,” she grumbled to herself as she walked from the den into the kitchen. She came to a sudden stop, raising a brow as she watched Shane carelessly chewing on a peach. The wet napkin in front of her with a large brown seed in the middle of it indicated she was on her second piece of the succulent fruit. “Emma Jean is going to be pissed if you eat all of her cobbler peaches,” she said.
Shane nearly choked as she turned her head. She hadn’t heard Haley come into the room. “I didn’t want to bother you, and its impolite to rummage through someone else’s kitchen, so—”
“But, it’s okay to eat their freshly picked fruit?” Haley questioned. “You’re bothering me anyway, so you might as well make yourself at home. You’ll starve to death if you wait on me to host meals. I eat when I feel like it. You should know that by now,” she said, walking past her, through the living room and into the music room.
Shane finished the peach and tossed the remnants into the trash and walked outside onto the covered patio. The pool deck, surrounding the large, rectangle pool was just outside of it. A cool, woodsy scented breeze blew over the bare skin on her arms, causing the hair to stand on end. It was nothing like sitting outside at her apartment along the muddy Mississippi River in Memphis, which smelled like a sunbathing wet rat, especially in the heart of the summer.
She thought back to Haley’s conversation, something she wasn’t supposed to hear, and wished she hadn’t. It was hard enough on Haley having her there, in her private home. She didn’t want to make things worse by getting involved in her personal business. She was there to do one thing…keep her safe. Until there was another bus, or Haley decided to venture out, there wasn’t much of a threat to her. Shane doubted whoever was writing the letters would actually appear on her property, but she couldn’t be certain, so she’d taken all of the precautions by staying there with her. Although, she seemed to be failing at her job with the mysterious Emma Jean coming and going without being seen or heard. Is she a damn ghost?
Shane hoped the tour picked back up soon, or the guy made a mistake for her to catch him. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure who was going to go stir crazy first being cooped up in that big house, her or Haley, and from the sound of yelling once again, Haley had a head start.
***
“Tucker is available to headline as many shows as you need if you want to take a little time to get everyone back on their feet, and there is no mandate that you have any contact with each other unless you wish to do so on your own.”
“It sounds like they got smart real fast,” she huffed.
“Let him play for a couple of weeks. Take some time to get back in the grove of things. I agree with the label on this one.”
“Damn it!” she yelled. “I’m not taking any more time off the tour. We’ve already missed three shows. I don’t need to go play in a honky tonk to get my mojo back. My fucking mojo never left. Just get me a bus, Rich. That’s what I pay you to do!”
“I found one. It’ll be there in the morning around nine.”
“See. How hard was that?”
Rich ignored her jab. “I’ll get the crew on the road tonight. St. Louis, then Chicago and Atlanta are the next three cities on the tour.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready.” Haley hung up the phone. She needed to go through her wardrobe and pack for the road. She’d lost everything in the fire, including her favorite acoustic guitar. However, she had enough clothes to fill a small store, and a handful of different guitars in her music room.
Chapter 24
Shane was watching two birds, apparently playing tag in the air, either that or doing some kind of mating ritual she wasn’t familiar with, when Haley burst through the doors. Shane raised a brow. Haley looked like she’d gone mad. “What are you doing?” she asked cautiously.
“Packing,” Haley squeaked as she rushed past.
Packing? What? “Wait!” Shane called as Haley entered a door to the garage from the pool deck. “Where you going?” Where are we going?
Haley appeared a minute later with a guitar case in her hand. “What are you doing out here?” she questioned as she stepped back inside the enclosed patio.
“Bird watching,” Shane muttered, still confused.
Haley lifted her chin in a slow nod, then half shrugged and went into the house.
Realizing she still didn’t have an answer, Shane got up and went after her. “What are you packing for?” she asked, walking across the formal living room and through the doorway to the music room. She ignored the feelings stirring inside of her as she spotted the old, worn leather couch against the wall. Glancing around the room, Shane saw a shelf on one wall with several different awards sitting on it, and platinum and gold albums displayed around it. Another wall had three vintage guitars hanging on it, surrounded by large, framed album covers. She also noticed another couch adjacent to the one she’d slept on.
Haley was kneeling near her acoustic guitars, trying to decide which one to take. Her favorite travel guitar, a Taylor Mini, was lost in the fire. The others, sitting on the triple stand in front of her, were all concert size, which was bigger and the same size she played on stage. Two Telecasters and one Les Paul guitar were also on a stand on the other side of the piano.
“The tour,” she mumbled, choosing to take her Breedlove Pursuit, which had a beautiful dark wood finish. She placed it in the black, hard case that was lined with black plush material, and closed the lid. As she stood up, she looked over at Shane, who was staring around the room. She watched her as she moved closer to the awards on the shelf.
Shane knew Haley was popular. The amount of people selling out arenas to see her was proof of that, but she had no idea how big of a star she really was because she’d never been a fan of country music. “Is this a Grammy?”
“Yes,” she replied, adding, “and that one is a CMA,” as she walked up beside her. “This one here is an ACM, and those two are CMTs,” she added, naming off the other music awards on the shelf.
Shane nodded slowly, looking at each of them before turning her eyes to Haley, who was standing nearby with her guitar case leaning against her. “I take it Rich found you a bus, if you’re frantically packing for the tour,” she said.
“That would be correct,” Haley replied, picking up the case.
“Wonderful,” Shane said with a half-smile, before walking out of the room behind her. The sooner the tour was over, the sooner she could get out of Haley’s personal space and back into her own. Although, getting back into the tight confines of a tour bus wasn’t exactly ideal either.
***
An eclectic mix of music blasted from an iPod speaker in Haley’s room as she rushed around, packing for the road. Five pairs of threadbare jeans were laid out on the bed, along with several different tops, ranging from tanks to worn, tight-fighting rock and roll band tees. Two pairs of pointed toe, cowgirl boots were on the floor at the side of the bed, and various undergarments were tossed into a pile beside a couple pairs of cutoff jean shorts.
Haley walked out of the closet, singing along to Freeway of Love by Aretha Franklin as she tossed a wide black leather belt onto the bed, along with a dozen pairs of socks. She also added a few pairs of short, athletic shorts and baggy t-shirts.
***
Curious as to what was going on, Shane walked down the hall to the other side of the house after tidying up her suitcase. She crossed her arms and legs, leaning against the open doorway with her head cocked to the side and a smirk on her face. She watched as Haley danced and sang her way in and out of the large walk-in closet, adding more clothes to the growing pile as the song changed to Twist and Shout by the Beatles. She adored this playful, easygoing side of her. She’d only seen a few glimpses of it, but Haley had seemed much more carefree on their road trip from Memphis and at home than she had on her tour. Shane had a feeling this was the real Haley, not the person up on the stage or barking orders to her manager. She also realized the astronomical amount of pressure on her to perform at her best each and every night, and the toll it took on her. However, as demanding as it was, Haley seemed to live for it, as the excitement of getting back on the road was overly apparent.
“Walking into a girl’s bedroom uninvited won’t get you very far,” Haley said, catching a glimpse of Shane out of the corner of her eye.
“I’m not trying to impose,” Shane said, holding her position.
“You never mean to invade my space, but somehow you always do.”
“It’s the singing.”
“Uh huh. Isn’t that what drew you to my music room last night?”
“So, we’re going to talk about that?” Shane asked casually.
“I have better things to do. Emma Jean should be here soon with dinner. She knows I’m headed back out, so she insists on making sure I eat a good meal before I go. She thinks I don’t eat on tour.”
Shane shrugged, half in agreement. “Good. I’d like to know how she is coming and going without me noticing.”
“Yep. Some bodyguard you are,” Haley muttered teasingly.
Shane raised a brow as if she were about to challenge her, but she turned and walked away. Haley paused her packing to watch Shane until she reached the staircase.
***
Shane stared at the large horse painting over the fireplace. She was sitting on the couch in the formal living room with her laptop balanced on her thighs, going through her notes on the letter writer. She needed to do something productive, thus taking her mind off the sphinx upstairs.
As she began reading the profile she’d put together, the door between the garage and kitchen suddenly opened, scaring her half to death. Shane nearly tossed her laptop to the floor as she reached for the gun that wasn’t strapped to her. She’d gotten somewhat comfortable and hadn’t been wearing it in the house.
“Whoa!” an older woman shrieked, dropping the two hot bags she was holding as Shane leapt out of the living room like a cat ready to pounce on prey. “Oh, my word! You scared the dickens out of me,” she mumbled in a thick southern drawl, holding her hand to her chest.
“I apologize, ma’am,” Shane said, clearing her throat.
“What’s wrong?!” Haley yelled, rushing down the stairs like a herd of elephants. She shook her head when she saw the two women. “I see you’ve met Emma Jean. I told you she wasn’t a ghost.”
“What?” the woman questioned as Shane bent to pick up the bags of food.
“Emma Jean, this is Shane Crowley. She’s a U.S. Marshal, and my bodyguard for the tour. She’s been puzzled by you coming and going without her noticing.”
“Heavens,” Emma Jean laughed. “I do my best not to disturb Haley Jo. I never know if she’s sleeping or working, so I come in quietly, do what I need to do and leave.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Shane said. “I really am sorry.”
“Oh, it’s no bother. My ticker needs a good boost every now and then.” She smiled. “So, you’re a U.S. Marshal.”
“Former,” Shane corrected, bending down to retrieve her bags.
“Thank you. That was sweet of you.”
Shane nodded and smiled.
“I’m glad you have someone looking out for you, and a U.S. Marshal at that. It’s about time. I feel safer already. There are crazy people in this world you know,” Emma Jean said, shaking her head as she opened the bags, pulling out the food she’d made. It was still piping hot and smelled delicious. “I made chicken and vegetable spaghetti, and cinnamon spiced apple crumb pie.” She glanced at the basket on the counter. “It looks like I need more peaches,” she muttered. “I’m going to jar them when I get a big enough batch, so I can make cobbler when you get home.”
Haley looked at Shane and smirked. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, hugging Emma Jean. “
You’re too good to me, you know that?”
“Oh, nonsense, child.” Emma Jean shook her head. “So, Shane…is it agent or special agent with the Marshals?”
“Actually, they’re called Deputy U.S. Marshal. Then, Supervisory Deputy U.S. Marshal and so on.”
“Sounds like a mouthful. Tell me more about yourself, Deputy Shane. Where are you from? Do you have any brothers and sisters? What’s it like being a U.S. Marshal? That must be so exciting. What made you want to do that? I love getting to know someone new, and for Haley Jo to invite you into her home, you must be someone special.”
“I’m just here working, ma’am,” Shane muttered.
“Uh huh,” Emma Jean mumbled, waiting for her to go into her life’s story.
“I live in Memphis, but I’m from Arizona originally. I graduated from the University of Arizona, and I’m an only child. I’m not in the Marshal Service anymore, but being a Deputy Marshal is nothing like you see on TV, and certainly different from the days of Wyatt Earp. I’m afraid it’s a lot of red tape and bureaucracy,” Shane said. “I also think you are an amazing cook.”
Emma Jean smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Shane replied.
“What made you want to be a U.S. Marshal?”
“Actually, my plan was to go into the Army after college. My ambition was to become a general someday. A good friend of mine who I met at the university, her father was a retired U.S. Marshal. During our senior year, he heavily recruited me. I think he thought if I did it, his daughter would too, but she decided to become a school teacher,” Shane laughed. “Anyway, that’s how I wound up in the Marshal Service.”
“Why did you stop?” Emma Jean asked.
Haley sat on a stool, completely enthralled in the conversation, despite knowing the real answer.
Rebel Sweetheart Page 13
