“Hey,” Charlie said. “That’s not—”
“That’s what it looks like. And Mark has noticed. Probably mentioned it to Allie by now, too.”
Allie came into the booth. “Here’s the stuff you wanted,” she told Charlie, handing him a stack of notes. “I got the—”
“You busy tomorrow night?” Charlie asked her.
“Uh, no.” She blinked up at him.
“Let’s get a video and some Chinese,” he said. “Tell Joe.”
“Joe’s got a date. It’d be just us.”
“Oh.” Charlie shrugged. “Okay. Fine.”
“Okay.” Allie looked at him strangely again and left the booth.
“Good move,” Harry told him.
“Right,” Charlie said, but he thought, Allie and me and Chinese food at her apartment. Oh, hell.
HARRY CAME OUT of the booth, and Allie looked at him with suspicion. “What are you up to?”
“Me? Nothing.” Harry grinned at her. “Have a good time tomorrow night.”
“Did you put him up to that?”
“Nope. Thought of it on his own. ’Bout time, too, don’t you think?”
Allie narrowed her eyes at him. “Harry, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Nope.” Harry went off down the hall whistling.
Well, he was up to something. But she was going to see Charlie, outside the radio station, for an entire evening, so it really didn’t matter.
For the first time in a long while, she began to look forward to the next day.
“YOU KNOW, Mark’s up to something,” Allie told Charlie during the news break.
“Oh, there’s a surprise,” Charlie said. “Of course he’s up to something. He wants you back.”
Allie blinked. “I don’t think so. But I do think he’s trying to ruin your show. I think he’s the one—”
“Our show,” Charlie corrected her. “It’s our show. I know he’s trying to ruin it. I found our missing promo tapes in his office. But he’s also trying to get you back. I may have to hit him, after all.”
“Why?” Allie looked at him in exasperation. “You’re leaving next week. Why should you care?”
“Because I’d hate to think any woman could go from me to Mark,” he said.
“Well, since you won’t be here to watch, I don’t see what difference it makes.” Allie turned away from him in disgust. “You think I’m going to give up men just because you’re leaving?”
Charlie watched through the booth windows as she stomped away. Yeah, he thought. That’s exactly what I want. Then he picked up the headset and waited for the news to end while he mentally kicked himself for ever coming to Tuttle in the first place.
SATURDAY NIGHT, Charlie brought her American Dreamer because she’d said that was her favorite movie, and sat with her on the couch and laughed and felt better than he had since he’d moved out.
“I miss this.” Charlie took her hand when the movie was over. “I miss watching videos and arguing with you over the Chinese food and waking up with you. I miss the physical stuff, too, but I miss this the most.”
“I know.” Allie tightened her hand on his, and he paid attention to the warmth of her grip and the softness of her skin pressed against his. “I want you here so I can tell you things, and so you can listen to Joe’s jokes.”
“Joe’s jokes are the worst.” Charlie grinned at her and watched her smile in response, watched the light in her eyes, and the way her cheeks bloomed with the smile, and the way her head tilted, just a little, toward him. “I miss Joe’s jokes a lot.”
“Mostly, I just miss having you here.” She brushed her cheek against his shoulder, and he closed his eyes with pleasure. “You don’t even have to watch the movie or listen to Joe’s jokes. Just be here.”
He opened his eyes then, and she was so right, so everything he wanted forever, and he wanted to say, “I love you, Allie,” but it wasn’t fair. He was leaving in a week. It wasn’t fair.
It was true, but it wasn’t fair.
Maybe Allie would like traveling. Maybe Allie would love him enough to leave with him in November.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly and he bent to hear her, and that brought him to her mouth and he kissed her, moving his lips gently against hers, feeling the surge in his throat and chest and groin, but feeling the swell in his heart more. Her hand came up to his cheek, and when the kiss was done she let her lips travel there and then kissed his eyelids and then his lips again, and he ached with love for her. “Why is it,” he whispered against her cheek, “that we didn’t start making love until we stopped sleeping together?”
She shook her head wordlessly and settled into his arms, and he held her and memorized the weight and the feel of her, and the scent of her hair, and soft rhythm of her heart against his, and he felt something break away inside him, the tension and the guardedness and everything that had kept him away from her.
A few minutes later, for the first time in almost three weeks, he fell dreamlessly asleep.
ON MONDAY, the Tuttle Tribune began a series on the history of the city building, killing forever any hopes the mayor might have had of building a new one, and making Charlie a household word once again.
“That’s our boy,” Joe said when he saw the first article, and Allie, remembering a warm, if platonic, weekend, said, “We can only hope.”
Later that afternoon, Lisa came to see her. “It’s awful, Allie,” Lisa moaned to her in her office. “I can’t do anything right. I hate it. No matter what I do, Mark thinks it isn’t enough or it isn’t done right or something.”
“So quit.” Allie stacked the notes she’d gathered for the drug legalization show and put them in a folder for Charlie who would actually read them on his own instead of insisting she explain them to him the way Mark had. Thank God, she wasn’t stuck with Mark anymore. She felt positively sympathetic toward Lisa. “Leave him. You don’t have to take that.”
“But it’s the drive-time show,” Lisa wailed, and Allie was about to say, “So what?” when she remembered why that was important. At least, it had been important to her a month before. And if Lisa quit, Mark would offer her the producing spot again. He’d made that very clear. In fact, knowing Mark as she did, Allie had a sneaking suspicion he might be forcing Lisa to quit. Then Bill would ask her to step in to save the prime-time show.
She shook her head at the thought. Not in a million years. The hell with drive time. She was doing better in the middle of the night with the weirdos and Charlie, a redundant thought if there ever was one.
“The drive-time show isn’t everything,” she said to Lisa. “If you’re this unhappy, leave. Ask Marcia to take you. She’s not happy with her producer.”
“And lose the drive-time show?” Lisa stood up. “Oh, no. I’m sticking it out.” Lisa stomped out of the office, and Allie let her go. She had enough problems without counseling career-obsessed radio producers.
She had Charlie.
“YOU KNOW, I’ve been thinking,” Harry said Tuesday afternoon in front of the TV. “You’re still leaving in November, right?”
“Right,” Charlie said with a lot more conviction than he felt.
“Well, then, I’m gonna make my move on Allie.”
Charlie spilled his beer. “What?”
Harry held up his hand. “Not until you’re gone, of course. Wouldn’t dream of it. But once you’re out of the picture…well, wouldn’t you rather she was with me than with Mark?”
Charlie scowled at him. “That’s Allie’s business.”
Harry nodded. “Exactly. So I thought I’d ask her to produce my show and then just see what developed. It’s time I started thinking about getting married again. I’ve been thinking about it and you’re right. I don’t think Sheila’s coming back.”
Charlie took a deep breath. “Well, you never know—”
“Nope.” Harry shook his head. “You were right. It’s time I moved on with my life, got a contingency plan. I’d have never th
ought of it if it wasn’t for you.” He gave Charlie a serious nod. “Thanks, buddy.”
“No problem,” Charlie snarled and got up to get another beer, wondering why the hell he hadn’t kept his mouth shut.
Back in the living room, Harry grinned and finished his beer.
WEDNESDAY MORNING, Allie met Joe in the kitchen for breakfast, stopping in her tracks when she saw the look on his face.
“This is bad,” he said, and handed her the paper.
“Local DJ Former Drug Dealer,” the headline flared at her. “Charlie ‘Ten’ Tenniel arrested for drug trafficking in Lawrenceville, disappears for months before arriving in Tuttle as the WBBB wonder boy. Do we want this element in our town?”
Allie looked up at Joe and shook her head. “No. Charlie did not deal drugs. He lived with us. He doesn’t even smoke. His limit is two beers. He’s not a druggie.”
Joe sat down. “Look, they’ve screwed up before, but this time they have what looks like evidence. It was in the Lawrenceville paper. They have quotes from Lawrenceville reporters. There’s some truth somewhere.”
“Charlie doesn’t do drugs,” Allie said firmly. “I don’t care what the paper says.”
“All right.” Joe sat back. “I’ve got to admit, that’s my gut reaction, too. But…”
Allie met his eyes. “But nothing. He’s innocent.”
“But I wish you weren’t so involved with him,” Joe finished. “I don’t want you hurt. You’re unhappy enough because he’s leaving. I don’t want you to feel cheated, too.”
“He’s innocent.” Allie frowned. “I know he’s innocent.”
CHARLIE MET HER in her office that afternoon. “I suppose you’ve seen the paper,” he said, and she knew he was watching for her reaction.
“It’s not you.” She lifted her chin. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not you.”
He leaned in the doorway. “There’s a lot of evidence in that article, Allie. How can you be sure?”
“I know you.” She snapped it out with more force than she’d meant to. “You’re not that way. You wouldn’t do that.”
Charlie closed his eyes. “I do not deserve you, but I’m damn grateful just the same.”
“Sure you deserve me,” Allie said. “Anything you want to tell me before I start calling everybody I know in journalism to track this down?”
“No,” Charlie said. “Don’t call anyone. Just let this be.”
Allie gawked at him. “Are you nuts? We have to stop this. We have to—”
“No,” Charlie said. “I don’t want it stopped.”
Allie swallowed and tried again. “Charlie, this will be murder on the show. Drugs are not classy in Tuttle. This will kill us.”
He winced. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sorry, Al, I really am, but don’t stop the story. Don’t track it down. Let it play. It’s important to me.”
“Why?” The flatness of the question broke the mood they’d shared.
“You’ll have to trust me on this,” he told her, and her temper broke.
“I have to trust you that you’re not a dealer, and I do,” she said to him. “But you can’t trust me with the truth.”
“It’s not my secret,” Charlie said, and the only thing that kept her from screaming at him was how miserable he looked. “I’ll tell you as soon as it’s over, but it’s not my secret.”
“So I’m supposed to just sit here and let that damn article ruin us both while you keep somebody else’s secret.” Allie started to shake with rage and frustration. “What the hell is going on here?”
Charlie rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “Don’t worry about it. This will be over soon. You’ll be fine, I swear.”
“Right,” she snapped. “I’ll be fine because I’ll be breaking in a new guy in a week, and you’ll be fine because you’re leaving this mess behind you, right? We’ll all be fine. Great.”
“Allie,” Charlie began, and she cut him off.
“Go away. Just go away. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Just leave.”
“Allie, this is important.” She ignored him, but he went on, anyway. “I want us to do the show about legalizing drugs tonight. I want you to be against it so I can argue for it.”
She gaped at him. “Have you lost your mind? After this article…” Her voice trailed off. “You want people to think this is true.” She sat back in her chair. “Why?”
“Just for a little while,” he told her. “I’m almost there. This article could do it for me.”
“Almost where?” Allie’s annoyance blanked everything out. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to help you ruin this show and my own reputation without some explanation here. Either tell me what’s going on, or you’re on your own tonight.”
Charlie started to say something, and then he sighed, and said, “All right, that’s fair, I’ll do it myself,” and left the office.
Allie put her head down on the desk. The show was ruined, Charlie didn’t trust her, and he was still leaving in November.
And she couldn’t think of a damn thing to do about any of it except go home and cry in Joe’s arms.
THE NEXT MONDAY—after three polite work nights and one miserably lonely weekend, after the calls to the show had dropped off to hecklers who wanted to score off Charlie’s arrest record and outraged citizens who wanted him off the air; after Charlie had disappeared for long stretches of time and the police had dropped by to see him—things hit bottom.
Charlie’s wife showed up.
She was a little thing, dark and sort of wet with tears, and she was about seven or eight months’ pregnant. Karen called Allie to the desk and pointed to her and said, “You’re not going to like this. She’s looking for Ten Tenniel. She says she’s married to him.”
Not possible, Allie told herself, but the list of possibilities for Charlie had been growing since he’d refused to defend himself on the drug charge. She still believed in him, but it was harder.
She went toward the girl. “Hello, I’m Alice McGuffey, Mr. Tenniel’s producer and—”
“Where is he?” The girl stood up and looked at her defiantly. “He’s my husband, and I want to see him.”
“He’s not here right now, but he should be in any time,” Allie said. “Would you like to wait in my office?” She looked around to see Stewart and Lisa listening in from the hallway. “It’s more private there.”
“Where is he?” the girl demanded again, and then with his usual impeccable timing, Charlie came through the doors and stopped when he saw her. “Miranda?”
“Charlie?” She seemed as amazed as he was.
“Don’t say anything,” Charlie told her, taking her arm. “We can talk out here.”
“Charlie?” Allie said, outraged.
Charlie shoved Miranda out into the hall and pointed at Allie. “You stay here and stop thinking dumb thoughts. You know me better than this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Wait a minute!” Allie said, incensed, but he was shoving Miranda into an elevator by then and she was left with her own murderous thoughts and Karen and Stewart and Lisa staring at her with sympathy and avid curiosity.
This time she was going to kill him.
But first she was going to find out what the hell was going on.
HE CAME INTO her office half an hour before the show and caught her dialing the phone.
“I know.” He held up his hand to stop her from talking. “I’m a creep for leaving you like that. I had to call my dad and put Miranda on a bus home before I could explain. I know you’re mad at me and I deserve it, but just let me explain.”
“Oh, now you’re going to explain.” Allie slapped the phone down. “Well, that’s just great.”
“Allie, I’m not—”
“Ten Tenniel. I know. She’s your brother’s wife, right?”
Charlie sat down. “Well, sort of. They’re not actually married. How did you figure it out?”
Allie shook her head, disgusted
with him. “It wasn’t hard once I woke up. You wouldn’t let us call you Ten and that’s what the Lawrenceville station was famous for. And you may be a natural on radio, but Harry was right. You didn’t have any idea what you were doing that first night. So you came here pretending to be your brother, and since Bill knows your family, he knows that, too. So whatever secret you’re keeping is Bill’s, and this whole program thing was just a blind, and I’ve been killing myself to make you a success for nothing.”
“Well, I told you not to do it,” Charlie pointed out mildly. “Which part are you the most mad about?”
“That you didn’t trust me,” Allie said, her anger evaporating from the hurt. “You didn’t trust me at all.”
“It wasn’t that.” Charlie put his head in his hands. “I don’t know how the hell this got so complicated. I trusted you. I knew it wasn’t you from the beginning. But you go charging in on everything you do, and that was the wrong way to do this.”
Allie leaned forward. “To do what? What do you mean it wasn’t me?”
Charlie met her eyes. “Somebody’s running drugs from the station. Bill got an anonymous letter and used it as an excuse to get me down here as a favor to my dad. He wanted to know about the letter because he thought it was a smear, and my dad wanted me to get a real job, so they cooked it up between them. And I bought it, and I’ve been trying to find a link between the mayor or Roger Preston or Mark and drugs. Nothing. So for the past week I’ve been letting the drug story slide, running around pretending to be a dealer, trying to figure things out. And last night, going over your drug legalization notes, I finally did.”
“Who is it?” Allie asked when she found her voice. “I can’t believe it. Who’s dealing?”
“Grady,” Charlie said. “It has to be Grady.”
Nine
“Are you out of your mind?” Allie looked at him in horror. “Grady is the last person to push drugs. He doesn’t care about money. He—”
“He cares about his mother,” Charlie said. “And Mrs. Winthrop and Mrs. Wexman and all the rest.”
Jennifer Crusie Bundle Page 77
