A Charmed Life

by Jenny B. Jones

  “Yeah. Fine. Great.” His mouth is grim as he glances back at Lindy, absorbed in her own world with Bo. “I guess I just miss my best friend.”

  chapter eleven

  The sight of Dolly’s house never fails to make me smile. As a side-hobby, my mom’s friend works at Sugar’s Diner downtown by day. But in her off-time she’s a champion horse breeder, which has paid for the giant sprawl of a home and her many acres.

  “Come on in before you get wet!” Dolly’s big eighties bangs blow in the warm breeze as she holds open the door. “Cherry’s in the kitchen.” Dolly leans close to my ear. “She’s a little nervous about not really knowing everyone that well, so anything you can do to perk her up would be appreciated.”

  “No problem. The food smells good.” I follow the scent into the kitchen and give Cherry a side hug. “What are we having?”

  “Whatever Mickey Patrick is fixing,” she says, gesturing to the back door with a carrot stick. “He’s grilling.”

  My mom stands next to the sink, and I kiss her on the cheek and begin putting ice in cups.

  I turn my curious stare to Dolly. She and her ex-husband have been hanging out some in the last few months. Maybe more than I thought. “Mickey’s here?”

  “Yeah.” Dolly shrugs it off. “Now that Jake’s made the big time, Mickey’s not training as much. He’s focusing more on managing.”

  “I wish Jake could’ve been here tonight. His plane got delayed in

  Kansas City.” My mom drops some flowers into a vase, then carries it into the giant dining room.

  “Anyway,” Dolly says, “I had a problem with the grill, so Mickey came over to help.”

  I bump my hip into Dolly’s. “Lighting your grill—is that what you kids call it these days?”

  She laughs and swats me with a towel. “I have to go check on the burgers.”

  “So, Cherry, are you having a good birthday?” I ask.

  Her smile almost meets her eyes. “Yeah. The carnival family gave me a party earlier today. So it’s just Dolly and you guys tonight.”

  “I know you’re missing Betty today—and your parents.” I hug her again. “I’ll introduce you to some people. If you’re going to be staying in Truman, you need some friends.” Heaven knows I did.

  “What I wish I had is Peg.”

  “Who?”

  “Betty’s dog.” Her eyes tear up. “I just think about her out there alone without me or Betty.” She sniffs. “I mean, what if she’s hurt? Or hungry? What if someone took her?”

  “I’m sure she’s okay.” I pat her arm and try not to twirl my hair.

  “Why hasn’t she come back, then?”

  I don’t know, but it’s a good thing she hasn’t. How do I tell the girl that her uncle and cousin want to kill her dog? “Are you doing okay out here at Dolly’s?”

  “Yes.” Cherry pours herself a Dr Pepper and takes a long drink. “It’s been nice. Dolly’s so cool—it’s like we’ve known each other forever. She—she makes me miss my mom. But I also feel bad for imposing on her like this because we haven’t known each other forever. I’m a distant cousin. She’s even taken over my homeschooling. And now she says she’s taking a leave of absence from Sugar’s.”

  “The diner is just her social time. Something to do to fill her hours.” Dolly makes a small fortune with her horse farm. “Cherry, you know Dolly and Mickey had two girls a long time ago. They were killed in a wreck.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  I refill her cup. “So you being here—it’s not an imposition to her.

  In fact, I’d say it was God helping her out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s been so lonely. I know she loves having you here.”

  Cherry looks around, then grins. “I have the best bedroom. It’s huge! And it’s all mine.”

  I laugh. “And don’t forget the pool!”

  “You’ll have to come over one day and swim with me. When we’re not working, that is.”

  “Um, speaking of work.” A thousand questions rush through my mind. “What did you think about Alfredo?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I thought I liked him. At first I didn’t—at least not for Betty. It was all so sudden, and they just jumped into this relationship. I couldn’t believe how fast they moved. But then he really grew on me when I saw how happy Betty was. She told me Alfredo was talking marriage.”

  “Did you ever hear Alfredo mention it?”

  “No. But he seemed to really like her—toward the end. So it was pretty shocking when . . . well, when—”

  I finish the thought. “He killed her.”

  “Yeah. I still can’t believe it.”

  “What if he didn’t do it?” I ask, moving closer.

  “It was his sword. His fingerprints. People heard them fighting. Still, it doesn’t seem like him at all . . . I don’t want to believe he did it.”

  “Had you noticed Betty not getting along with anyone else lately? You mentioned that she didn’t exactly see eye to eye with Red.”

  “Yeah, but that sums up everyone. Nobody gets along with Red.” Cherry sputters on her drink. “Do you think Red did it?”

  “No!” I say quickly. “I mean, I don’t know. Right now everyone seems kind of suspect to me. I just don’t think Alfredo and Betty’s story adds up.”

  “It’s true no one trusts Red—or Stewart.” Cherry’s voice dips to a whisper. “Including me.”

  “Was there anything special about Betty’s dog?”

  She shakes her head at my weird question. “Peg was the best. She jumped through hoops and learned all of Betty’s routines really quickly. A really smart dog. I guess she knew a lot of commands. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. But if you see anything weird, let me know.”

  “Bella, I’m thirteen and I work in a circus. All I know is weird.”

  Cherry and I walk to the living room together, just in time to see the front door swing open and a herd of giants stampede the foyer.

  “We heard there was a party here!” Jake breaks through the pack, his eyes landing on my mom. “Thought we’d stop by.”

  Mom squeals as he picks her up and twirls her around. “What are you doing here?” She looks beyond Jake’s shoulder to his friends. “All of you.”

  Jake sets Mom down, his large hands remaining on her shoulders. “I was missing you. There were all these traffic delays due to the weather, and our flight got cancelled. The next one to Dallas was tomorrow morning, so we just got a car and drove here.”

  Mom laughs as Jake kisses her cheek. “So where is everyone staying?”

  Robbie comes bolting through in his red Superman cape and hugs his dad’s leg. “With us! Can they stay with us?”

  “We shouldn’t be too much of a problem, Mrs. Finley. The Truman Inn is booked.” A man taller than the doorway holds out a hand. “Vicious Viper—but you can just call me Larry.”

  The other six men introduce themselves.

  “Of course you can stay with us.” Mom hugs Jake. “I’d hate to disappoint Robbie.”

  Jake hoists his son into his arms.

  “Daddy, I taped this great documentary we can watch together.

  It’s called Commodities and Stocks in a Bear Market.”

  “Maybe next week, Robbie. I’m only in for tonight, okay?”

  “Oh.” Robbie’s smile melts. “Yeah, okay. I guess Jillian can watch it with me.”

  Mom sweeps his hair from his eyes. “I’d love to, sweetie.” She glances at her husband once more. “I have work to do.” And she walks away.

  The doorbell rings again, and I run to answer it.

  “Luke.”

  “Hello, Bella.” He has the nerve to stand there smiling with Ashley Timmons by his side.

  “Sorry we’re late,” she gushes. “We got to talking and lost track of time.”

  Shoot me now. I cannot watch her drape herself all over him the entire night. “I hope Luke didn’t bore you with his favorite
topic of ballet. That boy can talk pirouettes and tutus all night. Or his other favorite pastime—mud wrestling.”

  “Nice.” Luke’s jaw is taut as he pulls an uncertain Ashley past me to join the crowd.

  “Have a good time now!”

  An hour and a half later I’m sitting in a lounge chair by the pool with everyone else. I’m stuffed with cake and amazed at the princess theme my mom threw together at the last minute. There are lily pads floating in the pool, tiny pink lights in every visible shrub, and I can see Cherry’s tiara sparkling from here. I’d say the birthday party was a success.

  At least for Cherry.

  As for me, I’ve spent the entire evening watching couples— Budge and Ruthie, Lindy and Bo, and now Ashley and Luke. Seriously, if that girl scoots any closer to him, they’ll be Siamese twins. Even Mickey Patrick hasn’t left Dolly’s side. I don’t know if they’re seeing each other again, but the war seems to be over. I’ve also been working overtime keeping Ashley away from Cherry. I’ve intercepted her, like, five times. This is Cherry’s birthday. She doesn’t need to be hassled by an obnoxious reporter. Unless it’s me.

  Deciding I’m about ready to call it a night, I gather up some plates and make my way across the yard toward the back door of the kitchen.

  “Jake, you saw your son’s face.”

  I stop at my mom’s voice. She and Jake stand on the deck, the porch light spilling over her worried features.

  “I’m here tonight, aren’t I? Instead of sitting in that airport, I came here to be with you and the kids. This is overwhelming to me too. Do you think I like being gone this much?”

  “Whether you like it or not doesn’t change the fact that this family is suffering. I don’t enjoy being the mother and father here. How do you think your sons feel when I have to be the disciplinarian? Just like last weekend—Budge stayed up for forty-eight hours straight playing some stupid video game that had just come out. Guess who had to pull the plug on that and be the bad guy?”

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “When?”

  “When I have time to deal with it.”

  My mom shakes her head. “This family deserves more than visits between layovers. Your later might be too late.”

  chapter twelve

  Where else would any fun-loving American teenage girl be on a Friday night? Probably at the mall or the movies. But me? I’m poised over a dunk tank.

  “Nobody’s knocked you down yet, boss. How awesome is that?”

  Ruthie tosses a baseball in the air and catches it. “Plus we’re getting some extra dough working a few additional hours before the show.”

  “Yeah, a brilliant idea.”

  “Dude, I need all the money I can get. I’m graduating next month, you know.”

  I swing my legs and look on with dread as I see Luke Sullivan getting out of his 4Runner in the parking lot. Of course he would be here early. “And why is it I’m up here instead of you?” I ask my friend.

  “Because I have to be all ready for my unicycling debut tonight.”

  “Your what?” I watch as Luke stops to talk to the roller-coaster operator, making his way closer to us.

  Ruthie clutches the ball to her chest. “I just wasn’t feeling personally fulfilled with our basic clown work. I needed more. I wanted to feel challenged, alive, and—”

  “In the spotlight?”

  “I happen to have a gift to share with the world.” She stuffs a piece of stray hair back into her wild updo. Gone is the neon blue, replaced with an eye-blinking shade of violet.

  “So you’re going to ride your unicycle around for a few minutes?”

  “Ride it around?” Ruthie harrumphs. “What I do is called art. I will be performing a unicycle ballet I choreographed myself. I call it ‘Love Is Squishy.’”

  I’m spared the chance to comment as Luke appears. “Hello, ladies.”

  His casual tone sends Ruthie to chatting. But when he glances at me, I see something lurking beneath that’s about as friendly as a derailed coaster.

  “Ruthie, will you give me a minute with Bella?” His steel eyes find mine. “I need to talk to her about some homework.”

  Homework? Not unless the assignment is wringing my neck.

  “Sure thing.” Ruthie sets the ball down. “I have some important performance preparations to tend to anyway.” She takes off in the direction of the nearest funnel cake trailer.

  “Dunk tank?” Luke steps closer until he’s standing right in front of me. “Anything for the job, huh, Bella?”

  “That’s your motto—hanging out with Ashley. It’s all about the job, right?” I swing my legs, shrug, and study my nails.

  Luke reaches through the fence between us and captures a foot. “Want to tell me why you blew off her attempts to talk to Cherry Wednesday night?”

  “I don’t believe I like your surly tone. So no.” I jerk my foot back. “I don’t think I do.”

  “The Tribune is still my paper, and I’m still your editor.”

  “You know, I was going to get that tattooed on my butt, but you say it so many times, I’ve decided to go with something more original.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticks. “It’s one thing to disrespect me. But it’s another to get in the way of one of my staff members’ work.”

  “Disrespect you?” I toss my head back and laugh. “If anyone’s been disrespected here, buddy, it’s me. That girl kisses you, you protest your innocence, but yet you’re with her all the time—as friends. Then you rip the carnival feature from me—something I was totally wrapped up in—only to hand over part of it to your new girlfriend!”

  He lifts his head. “I’m letting her do an interview with Cherry.

  Not a full-blown series on the Fritz Family Carnival.” Luke’s voice dips. “And Wednesday night you blocked every attempt Ashley made to speak to Cherry.”

  “It was the girl’s birthday. It wasn’t the time or the place to ask her twenty questions about her lonely life as a trapeze performer or how she felt about losing yet another person in her life.”

  “You know what I think?” He leans onto the chain link fence cage around me, his tan fingers curling around the wire. “I think you’re so eaten up with jealousy, you can’t even see straight.”

  “I think you’re beating a dead horse. A bloated, maggoty, dead horse. We are clearly so over. So if you want to date—”

  “Journalist Barbie.” He throws my words back at me with a slow grin.

  “If you want to date the stinking queen of England, I don’t care.

  Just don’t expect me to do her any favors. Ashley Timmons can figure out her own way to talk to Cherry.”

  “Number one, while the queen’s orthopedic shoes are a huge turn-on, she travels too much to truly be there for me.” He picks up a ball and tosses it in one hand. “And number two, I am telling you that you better figure out a way to cool it with Ashley.”

  “Or?”

  He lopes away, his dark jeans slung low over his hips. “Or I’ll cool it for you.”

  I catch the wicked gleam in his eye and go on alert. “Oh no you don’t. You wouldn’t!”

  And with lightning speed, a smiling Luke Sullivan pivots and throws a fastball right toward the bull’s-eye.

  I stand shivering outside the trailers, cursing Luke Sullivan and thanking God for the millionth time I didn’t wear a white shirt today.

  Well, maybe my luck just changed. I spy one of Alfredo’s old roommates weaving through the trailers, talking to Luigi, one of the ticket takers. It’s time to reclaim my flashlight—if it’s not too late already.

  “Hey, you’re Johnny, right?” I call out.

  The small man just grunts, but he stops.

  “You were really great last night—balancing like you did on that horse. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  His cheeks turn as pink as a cherry limeade.

  “I got roped into dunk-tank duty and really came unprepared. I wondered if I could maybe borrow your
hair dryer?” I twist my long hair into a rope and water drips onto the ground.

  “I guess my roomie has one you can use.” He steps toward his trailer when a voice stops us both.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  I turn around and find Stewart eyeing my wet form.

  No! It’s a great idea. I have got to get back into that trailer.

  Stewart runs a hand over his prickly goatee. “If you have to be in anyone’s sleeping quarters, I’d prefer it be a member of manage-ment’s.” He crooks a skinny finger. “Follow me. You can dry off in my trailer.”

  How in the world am I going to get that flashlight back? “Um . . . okay. But I think I’ll run and get Ruthie to keep me company.”

  “She’s rehearsing. Can’t bother her now.”

  Fine. Assuming Red’s not in there, this will give me a chance to search the Fritzes’ trailer. Praying for protection from sheer creepiness, I follow Stewart to his home on wheels, looking behind me for Ruthie the entire way. But no help comes.

  “After you, my lady.” He opens the door with one hand and sweeps his other before him like some sort of gallant duke.

  I step inside, my nostrils flaring at the smell of stale smoke and burnt microwave popcorn.

  “It’s not much, but it’s home.” He brushes past me, taking me through the office space into the living quarters. “Would you like something to drink? A Coke? Water? A beer?”

  “I’m seventeen.”

  Stewart’s laugh reminds me of a hyena. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  “You know, I think my hair’s dry enough. And I’ll just borrow a towel from one of the ladies.”

  “No way.” He smiles, and I try not to shudder again. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

  I wind my purse strap around my hands. In case I need to launch a good swing toward Stewart’s head.

  “Thanks,” I say as he sets a towel and blow dryer on the tiny counter of the bathroom. He moves out, so I can step in. I pick up the beige towel and blot my neck and arms, trying to ignore his lurky presence.

  “You have beautiful hair.” He stands right there, an arm braced in the doorway. “You know, Bella, circus life can be a lot of fun. I could—”