Once a Charmer

by Sharla Lovelace

  Slap.

  “Mr. Anderson!” Lange said, chuckling, bringing everyone’s attention to where Bash stood, wiping his feet on the doormat, mine and Angel’s included. My stomach came up in my throat, and I thanked every entity there was that I’d told him last night. “I was just coming to see you. Why don’t we go out to your new shop, it’s a little melodramatic in here. Allie’s offspring needs a leash.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, my feet propelling me forward.

  I saw Bash’s eyes glaze over and I felt like I couldn’t get there fast enough.

  “No thanks,” he said quietly. “Allie’s offspring might not have the best approach,” he said through his teeth, glancing at Angel with a hard glare. “But her point is spot on. Are you going to talk to Allie privately like she asked?”

  “Ah,” Lange said, oblivious to the raging lion he’d just provoked. “That’s right. You’re her guard dog. Maybe I was wrong about you being a professional, Bash,” he said. “Maybe you need a leash, too.”

  The move was so fast, I never saw it. Bash had Lange by the stupid sweater vest and was up in his face.

  “You need to remember that you are a guest in this house,” Bash seethed. “That applies to this town, this establishment, and mine.”

  Lange’s expression changed to fear before the sarcasm replaced it. “This guest pays the bills—”

  I was between them, chest to chest with Bash before his other hand could come up and do real damage.

  “He’s not worth it, Bash,” I said softly. “He’s a weasel.” I spread my fingers across his chest and pushed gently. He was as tight and hard as a boulder. “Hey.” I reached up to touch his face and that broke the intensity. His eyes dropped to take me in, the glaze lifting as he saw me. “Hey,” I repeated in a whisper. “He’s not worth it.”

  Bash inhaled slowly through his nose and let go of Lange, who straightened his vest and looked at us both like we were beneath him.

  I was boiling and I felt every set of eyes in the room. I didn’t want all this crap publicized, our dirty laundry out there for everyone to speculate on. I’d had enough of that in my life. I needed a trap door. A large vacuum cleaner. Something to beam me up after I helped Bash shove Lange through the plate glass window.

  “Please leave,” I said quietly, turning to Lange with as much dignity as I could. “I can pay you what you’re owed. Please just take it and leave us alone. All of us.” I walked back to the counter, moving around it so that I had something to hold on to.

  “No need,” Lange said pleasantly. “I’m not interested.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “What does that mean?” Angel asked, looking around in embarrassment as if she just that moment realized there were other people in the room.

  “It means no,” I said in a monotone, shooting as much hatred as I could at Lange.

  Lange shrugged. “Money’s easy,” he said. “I can get that anytime. Ownership is much more challenging.” He smiled at me and ignored Angel. “Think I’ll stick around. Sticky buns on the house, everyone!” he called out. “If you haven’t tried them, I recommend it. I have a great chef, here.”

  He walked outside to answer a call, and Angel turned on her heel and glared at me before bolting out from behind the counter and out the front door the opposite way.

  I turned my back to the room, staring at the coffeepot like it might save me. I was so angry, I was shaking, but I wasn’t even sure at who. At Angel for putting us under a spotlight? At Lange for being so smug? Or at myself for being such a dupe.

  I heard Kerri and the others start to ask for orders and drinks to get things headed to normal again, and I was grateful, but I’d been in Charmed long enough to know that nothing was going to be normal for some time. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that sales would survive it. No one wanted to go eat somewhere full of drama, and if they thought that my family was in trouble in addition to the Blue Banana, that was even more fodder.

  I already heard the whispers. That guy’s the owner now? What was that about money? Yeah, I heard the old man gambled their home away. That’s why—

  Strong hands landed on my shoulders, squaring my back solidly against the body they were attached to. Blocking me from the world. Protecting me.

  Protecting me.

  Hot tears burned my eyes as I sucked in a breath. I was always the one looking out for someone, taking care of them, putting up the shield. Angel, my dad… There was only one person who consistently looked after me.

  “Thank you,” Bash said into my hair. “For talking me down.”

  “Hey, it was my turn,” I said, hating the shake in my voice.

  “Just breathe,” he whispered. “Get your game face together. You’ve got this.”

  I snorted and swiped under my eyes, grabbing a napkin off a stack.

  “You gonna tell me it’s about perspective next?”

  I felt a small chuckle roll through him. “I might.”

  I shut my eyes tightly as my fists clenched on the countertop. “Do you know how hard I worked to not give people a reason to talk about me?”

  “I know,” he said.

  I took a deep breath and blew it out very slowly. He was right. I had to pull it together. I had to be the face of my business, even when someone threw a pie in it. I rolled my head back, met with solid chest, and he squeezed my shoulders.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ve got this.”

  “You’ve got this.”

  I turned around, taking a chance on looking up into those eyes, knowing how dangerous it could be at that proximity.

  “Keep holding your head up,” he said softly. “Look people in the eye like you are right now. You have nothing to hide from.”

  “Do you think I sold out my family?” I asked on a whisper.

  “I think you’ve done everything under the sun to protect your family,” he said. “Including your dad’s honor. Don’t worry about Angel. She just has a mouth.”

  “You know he’s gonna be ruthless with you now, too,” I said.

  Bash didn’t blink, the same serious affection burning in his eyes.

  “Bring it on.”

  When he left—or to be exact, when he poured himself a to-go cup of coffee, grabbed a cinnamon roll, stared down exactly nine customers at the bar who were not being subtle in their whispered conversations, hit up Nick in the kitchen to keep an eye on things and let his fingers brush mine in passing—Carmen finally spoke.

  She’d been hovering in the hallway entrance since Angel’s big show, soaking it all up in her introspective way, no doubt.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “That fuckhead is lucky Angel came in when she did,” she said. “I was about to show him what we learn growing up in a barn. Seriously?”

  I chuckled in spite of nothing being funny. “I know you were.”

  “You and Bash,” she said, skipping ahead to the lighter subject, almost making me laugh as I wondered when that became the lighter subject. “When did that happen?”

  I gave her an innocent look. “Nothing has happened.”

  “So, you and Bash,” she repeated. “When did that happen?”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s—complicated.”

  “Aren’t they all,” she said drolly.

  I sat on the stool for the second time this week, and once again thought of the stern look my dad would give me for that. He wasn’t a big believer in showing weakness. Neither was I, and right now I was having a hell of a time. Especially knowing that Angel had left angry and disappointed and wasn’t answering phone calls. Not just mine. I saw Bash try her a couple of times, too.

  “You know, Bash isn’t your only friend,” Carmen said, making me meet her eyes as she leaned against the bar. “There are other people you can trust, too. That you can talk to.”

&n
bsp; “I know,” I said. “I kind of suck at that, but I know.”

  “Well, it appears that you’re back to needing an assistant tonight, possibly,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said, my gut hurting that I didn’t know where Angel went. “She will most likely refuse the job, now.”

  “What time do we need to be there?” she asked.

  I crossed the space between us and hugged her.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For agreeing to probably the dumbest job ever assisting the most ridiculous position ever.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, how can I turn that down?” she said. “I’ll bring my party shoes.” She grabbed my hand. “Allie, Angel will be okay. She’ll be back and she’ll be fine.”

  Hot, angry tears burned my eyes. The way she’d looked at me—

  Don’t show weakness.

  “Yeah,” I breathed, blinking away.

  Lange took his time coming back in, and when he did, my eyes followed him.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Carmen as I headed the same direction.

  “Something I can help you with, Allie?” he said, his back turned to me.

  I didn’t stop at my desk. I followed him all the way to his little corner, and when he turned around his expression was surprised if not a little bit afraid.

  “It doesn’t take a big man to pick on a little girl,” I said. “You can do and say what you want to Bash and I, we’re pretty tough. But if you talk to or about my daughter like that again, I will rip your head off and shit down your throat. Are we clear?”

  Lange’s eyes widened. “Classy. Is that a threat?”

  “I grew up in a trailer park, remember?” I said. “Try me.”

  * * *

  I paced our little self-claimed space behind a wooden folding screen draped with blankets. Carmen brought a large fold-out table and a basket of sodas, waters, and snacks, along with three chairs. She came prepared.

  I came a nervous wreck. I’d spent the entire afternoon on the phone, trying to find out where Angel was. I knew where she probably was, but I didn’t have that number, and no one else was spilling. Vonda wasn’t there yet, or I would have spilled plenty. Bash and his truck had hit the road looking for Angel, telling me not to worry. He’d be there before it started.

  I could care less when it started.

  “What am I doing here?” I said behind my hands, poking holes in the sod in my very spiky heels. Brilliant idea to put us back there.

  We were supposed to wear what people would associate with our jobs. I’d never in my life worn heels and slacks and such a nice blouse to work, but my sneakers and jeans and T-shirt weren’t quite the attire for this.

  The formal dress hung on the screen. I couldn’t wait to strip under the stars with the Lucky Charm teeming with people on the boardwalk behind us. That was going to be awesome.

  “You’re trying to win some money and get your picture on the town’s travel brochure at the Chamber of Commerce,” Carmen said, fiddling with my hair. She’d fixed it for me, fastening it over one shoulder with a black ribbon that went with both outfits and would show off the bare back and shoulders of the dress. Also, supposedly, the stage was being decorated with a variety of wildflowers from the florist, and that would complement me well. Like I knew anything about any of that shit.

  “God,” I muttered.

  “Anything on Angel yet?” she asked.

  “Out of my 240 calls? No,” I said. “But I’m about to pull out the big guns.”

  At the police station putting out an APB on you. Now would be a good time to answer me.

  I clicked send on the text and showed Carmen.

  She snorted. “That ought to make her shit her pants.”

  “Or make me shit mine if she doesn’t ans—” My phone dinged.

  Jesus, Mom, I’m fine.

  Relief, immediately followed by white hot anger flooded my veins.

  I jabbed at the button and it started to ring.

  “She’d better pick up,” I muttered.

  “Yes, Mother,” she answered, her tone sarcastic.

  “When I call you, you’d better answer,” I seethed.

  “I just did,” she said.

  “Not the other forty-five times, you didn’t,” I said. “So I suggest you find a job to pay for that phone, because come Monday I’m not anymore.”

  “Mom!”

  Funny how the sarcasm left.

  “No. You make a scene, storm out, leave me high and dry with no help tonight, and then play me by pulling a disappearing act?” I said. “If you’re adult enough to do all that, you’re adult enough to pay your own phone bill.”

  “Mom, seriously,” she said.

  “Do you know Bash isn’t even here getting ready because he’s been driving all over town looking for your pouting little ass. All because you were upset?” I continued to pace. Thank God I wasn’t wearing the spiky shoes yet or I’d be aerating the grass. “You didn’t like what you heard? Well, guess what, baby girl. Grow up. We don’t always get things our way. I certainly didn’t get my way when you informed half of Charmed about Pop’s money and what he did. Right before a town vote where I could have actually won enough money to pay for two years of college.”

  There was silence on the other side.

  “Wherever you are, little girl,” I said. “You’d better be home when I get home.”

  I hung up and put the phone on Carmen’s table with a loud thunk as Alan Bowman sauntered by.

  “Hey, Greene Bean,” he said. “I heard about all the teenage angst at your place today. Sorry to hear about all the drama.”

  I’ll bet.

  “Yeah, Alan,” I said. “You and Katrina need to pop out one or two so you can truly appreciate the glory.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Well, no kid of mine would embarrass me like that in public, I know that. I’d control that kid like a puppet.” He winked and walked on.

  “Uh-huh,” I said to his retreating back. “Because it’s just like having a puppet. Total control.” I sighed. “Douche.”

  She winced. “You make such a strong case for having kids.”

  “Oh, my God,” I said, sinking into a chair. “I don’t have enough lives for all the heart attacks.”

  “What?” said a familiar voice to my left. I turned to see Bash frowning at me. “What’s wrong?”

  I held up a hand as I stood. “Nothing,” I said. “I just talked to Angel, she’s fine.” I closed my eyes. “Or she is until I get home and duct tape her to her bed.”

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “She didn’t say, but I can guess,” I said.

  “Damn it, where’s Vonda?” Bash said, enunciating her name like it had gone rotten.

  “I haven’t seen her.”

  “Are you two ready?” Carmen asked.

  I blinked and reminded myself why we were here. And then let my eyes see past the red haze of my blood pressure.

  Bash had on the suit without the jacket. Black slacks. Black shirt. Both looked as if celestial beings had come down to sew them perfectly around his body.

  “So unfair,” I breathed.

  “What is?”

  I licked my dry lips and almost had to do it again as his gaze dropped to watch. I cleared my throat.

  “Um, your quick change isn’t much of a change,” I said.

  “I don’t think they’ll sue me over it,” he said, smiling, letting his eyes drift over my face. “You doing okay, Al?”

  I gave him a fake perky smile. “Game face.”

  Bash chuckled. “Let’s do this.”

  “Okay guys,” Kia said, coming around back of all the dividers with a clipboard in her hand. “We’re about to begin. You should have the schedules posted on your tables—”

  “I’m here, everyone!” V
onda sang through a microphone, cutting off Kia as she jogged up from the Lucky Charm. She must have parked at the bakery. “So sorry I’m late!”

  Kia didn’t even have a microphone. I watched the look on her face as the clipboard dangled next to her side and her shoulders dropped. She handed the clipboard to Vonda as she ran up in all her glory, and turned and walked out of sight.

  “I think we just lost Kia,” Carmen said.

  “And Miss Sparkly has no idea.”

  Bash met her at the end of the tables.

  “Miss Sharp,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, looking a little flustered and harried. Possibly also wondering where her female parts melted to in his presence. “Hello Bash, don’t you look nice.”

  Any other circumstances, I would have laughed out loud.

  “Where’s your son?” he asked.

  “My—” Her expression changed from confusion to mild annoyance as it probably dawned on her what he was asking. She put a hand over her headset mic. “My son is out with a friend,” she said. “And we don’t have time for this tonight, guys. Let’s focus.” At the seriousness in Bash’s expression, she sighed and added, “I believe he’s out with a guy friend.”

  She moved on with a flourish, chattering into her mic as if we were going live to the world.

  “We’re getting an audience guys, so let’s keep the backstage chatter down to a hum, please,” she said.

  “Backstage?” Bash said. “We’re standing outside in the grass behind the pavilion.”

  We did our intros, at which time we got to see just how many people were interested enough to show up. It was a decent enough showing. Carmen kept sneaking around the pavilion to get updates, telling us the crowd was growing.

  Fabulous.

  When it was time to do the essays, we were last on the list. The backstage hum quieted as we all listened to where the others had gone with it. Being last could be a death march, if the crowd was bored and started tuning out, but if Bash could be Bash—it might be the final impression to undo the public debacle of the day.