Act Two

by Denise Grover Swank

  “If you like, I’ll invite you over for dinner so you can see my new place.”

  She laughed. “If that’s your way of showing your appreciation, I think I’ll take it back.”

  I could have been offended, but I knew it had been said in love. I laughed and gave her a hug. “Maybe we’ll order out.”

  She grinned. “There we go.”

  I stuffed the check into the pocket of my purse before I drove to the event with Colt. They had me help out in the back, where the risk factor had been deemed the lowest. Several hours later, we brought everything back and washed the pots and pans so we could work on another event the next evening. And I was utterly exhausted.

  Colt offered to take me home to get my already packed suitcases and then on to the apartment. It was a good thing too—Momma still wasn’t speaking to me. She got home just ahead of us and went straight to her room and shut the door. I gave her closed door a long look, tempted to knock on it and insist that she tell me what had really happened with Daddy, but I knew from personal experience that now was not the time. There was a cycle to her anger. I needed to wait her out, so leaving was actually the best thing I could do.

  I carried my luggage downstairs with a heavy heart.

  Colt, who was waiting by the door, gave me a reassuring look as he took the bags from me. “She’ll get over it, Mags. I’ve seen her like this before. Just give her time.”

  “But she doesn’t have time,” I said as we walked to his truck.

  He put the bags into the back of his truck, then pulled me into a hug. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  I leaned into him for a moment, realizing how good he smelled. I pulled away and grinned up at him. “How come I smell like cocktail sauce and you smell good?”

  “Noticin’ how I smell, huh? I knew I’d win you over.” He winked, then swatted my bottom. “I don’t have time to be seduced, woman. I have to drop you off and head to rehearsal.”

  I laughed and walked around the truck, thankful that he was teasing and things weren’t awkward between us. I suspected Colt would be on board should I decide to start something, but it felt like a breath of fresh air to just be friends with an attractive guy and not worry that he was trying to get into my pants.

  “Are you playing at the Embassy again?” I asked once he’d pulled out of the driveway.

  “Nah. I’m filling in as guitarist for a band on Sunday night, so we’re gonna run through the set.”

  “How often do you play in bars?” I asked.

  “Plenty enough to know if this was gonna happen, it probably would have by now,” he said, sounding more serious than I’d ever heard him.

  “You’re good, Colt,” I said. But we both knew Nashville was chock-full of talented musicians. Sometimes it boiled down to luck.

  “You interested in singing anywhere?” he asked, draping his hand over the wheel.

  I laughed. “I’m not a singer. I’m an actress.”

  “Could have fooled me last night. You were a natural.”

  I shrugged. “I was performing. I guess it’s all the same. Convincing the audience you’re sincere with what you’re saying or singing.”

  “I’m playing at the Kincaid in Nashville Friday night,” he said, casting a sideways glance at me. “You should sing with me.”

  “What are you talking about?” I laughed. “Last night was a one-time thing.”

  “Performin’ is in your blood, Mags. You loved bein’ on the stage.”

  I had to admit he was right.

  “There’s money in it.”

  That perked me up. “How much?”

  “Tips.”

  “You mean like street musicians?” I asked in disgust. I knew it was a common practice, but considered it the equivalent of begging.

  “Don’t be such a snob. You don’t even have to sing the entire set. How about a few songs? I’ll even let you pick them. We’ll split whatever we pull in.”

  I was tempted. I definitely needed the money, even with Tilly’s extravagant gift. But if we were playing for tips, we’d definitely have to put on a show to earn them.

  “What else are you doing Friday night?”

  “I think Belinda wants me to go to Bunco.”

  The last time I’d gone with her had been a disaster, and Colt knew it. We both looked at each other and grinned.

  “So what do you want to sing?” he asked.

  We settled on repeating “Need You Now,” a few other songs, and one of my solos from Fireflies at Dawn. He told me he could pick up the accompaniment as long as we practiced a few times before the gig, and we agreed to meet up late Friday after I got off work.

  Colt drove around Miss Ava’s house and parked in a bay to the side of the garage. “I’m sure this is where Miss Ava will have you park once we get your car running.”

  “You know, I shouldn’t let you be seen here. She counts you as a gentleman caller,” I teased. “I only get one every few weeks lest I turn my apartment into a brothel, and I’m not sure I want to waste it on you.”

  “So you got the speech?” He laughed, then added an air of sophistication to his voice. “So you plan on entertainin’ gentleman callers, Miss Steele? I didn’t know you were pursuing a suitor.”

  I shook my head as we got out. Colt grabbed my suitcases and followed me up the stairs.

  When I opened the door, he set the bags inside, then looked over his shoulder. “I know you’re stuck out here without a car, so call if you need anything, okay? I’m not far away.”

  “I still have to pay Miss Ava, only I still have a check I need to deposit before there’s enough money in my account.”

  He winked. “I’ll stop by and talk to her. Just give her a check in the morning and deposit your money into the bank on the way to your first job tomorrow. She’ll agree to it.”

  I had to wonder what he had on Ava Milton to wrap her around his finger like that, but part of me was scared to ask. Especially since it was working in my favor.

  Then he left and shut the door behind him. I stood in the middle of the room and spun in a circle, amazed that this apartment was all mine.

  I put my clothes away, which didn’t take long since so many were dirty. I tossed those onto the floor of the closet. I realized I needed things for the apartment—like laundry detergent and a host of other toiletries and household supplies, so I found a pen and pad of paper in a drawer in the kitchen to make a list. But my stomach growled as I sat down at the kitchen island to compose my list, reminding me that while I’d been around food all evening, I hadn’t eaten much of anything. I looked up the number for Marcos Pizza and placed an order for delivery, making sure to tell them I was in the apartment over the garage, figuring I had plenty to do during the thirty-minute wait.

  About ten minutes later, I had finished the list and was on my laptop searching for additional songs for my set with Colt. If I was going to sing with him, I might as well do my part to earn tip money. I’d already written down several possibilities when a hard knock landed on the door. At first I was surprised the pizza had already arrived. But I realized my mistake as soon as I opened the door. It wasn’t my dinner.

  I was face to face with my very pissed brother.

  Chapter 11

  “Roy,” I gasped. How did he know where I lived? A surge of fear filled my head, but I pushed it aside, pissed to give him any control over me.

  He pushed me aside, barged into my apartment, and shut the door behind him before he looked around. “Who are you sleeping with to get a place like this?”

  I’d been caught off guard, but I quickly regained control. “What do you want, Roy?”

  He walked into the kitchen, then pushed open the bedroom door to peek inside. “I bet this place is quite the fall from living with that director in New York City.”

  “What do you want, Roy?” I repeated with more force. My anger had kicked in, but I still felt a healthy amount of fear. A few weeks ago, he’d physically hurt me, and I was certain he beat Belinda. I had no
idea what he’d do here with the two of us alone, especially since I could see he was pissed. The question was why?

  “I know it’s not that loser Momma insists on keeping as her employee.” He opened a cabinet door, closed it, and circled the island back toward me, holding my gaze. “Colt Austin’s broke.”

  I remained silent. He obviously had an agenda, and I’d only be playing into his hands if I begged him to explain. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

  He rested his palm on the island counter next to my laptop. “Guess who came by my office today, Magnolia?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea, nor do I care unless it was the FCC there to arrest you for insider trading.”

  “Very funny,” he said with deadly calm. “You’ve always considered yourself to be so clever.” He shoved my laptop off the island and sent it crashing to the wood floor.

  I resisted the urge to try to save it. One, I would never reach it in time, and two, my brother had begun to slowly advance toward me.

  The dead look in his eyes scared the hell out of me. He was twice as big as me, and while I knew self-defense, it still wouldn’t be a fair fight, especially considering most of my maneuvers ended with me running for my life. As much as I liked my new apartment, there wasn’t much room for me to run.

  I had a can of pepper spray in my purse. If only I could get to the other side of the room . . .

  I took several steps in that direction, away from him, and a spark lit up his eyes. He saw my move as a challenge. A predator with his prey.

  “Guess again, Magnolia.”

  I lifted my chin and gave him a haughty stare. “Since my guess was wrong, why don’t you save us both time and just tell me?”

  His eyes darkened, and I took another step. My purse was on the bookcase, five feet away.

  “The police, Magnolia. The police came by my office.”

  “So I wasn’t too far off after all,” I said in a snotty tone.

  His jaw tensed. “They wanted to know about our father. The night he ran off with Shannon Morrissey. The night he ran off with my client’s money.”

  Which made absolutely no sense. If Daddy had helped steal Mr. Morrissey’s million dollars, why would Mr. Morrissey want my brother as his funds manager? The whole thing smelled more rotten than a fish out in the noon sun. But I had more immediate concerns. Like the fact that the police had been to his office.

  “They questioned you?”

  “Yes, and Bill James.”

  I wasn’t surprised. It stood to reason Brady would question Daddy’s partner. “So?”

  “What have you done, Magnolia?”

  “I know you like to blame me for everything, but really, Roy . . .”

  “I know about Walter Frey.”

  I gave him a look that told him he was being ridiculous. “I didn’t kill him.”

  A vein on his temple began to throb. “But you had something to do with it.”

  Of that I was sure, but I’d done a pretty good job of ignoring it for most of the day. If I was going to admit my guilt to anyone, it wasn’t my brother. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “There was no drama before you came back. No one had mentioned Dad for years. But you’ve been back three weeks, and all hell’s broken loose.”

  “Aww . . .” I said, knowing it was like poking a sleeping bear, yet I couldn’t stop myself. “You missed me.”

  He lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “You don’t belong here.”

  I forced myself to remain still, even though his fingers dug into my arm. “I hate to break it to you, Roy, but I lived here before you were even born. I have just as much of a right to be here as you do.”

  His grip tightened, pinching my skin. “I’m not playing around.”

  “And neither am I,” I said in a firm voice, looking into his angry eyes.

  He pulled me closer. “I gave you every opportunity to leave. I offered to pay you. You should have taken the money, Magnolia.”

  “We all should have done things we didn’t. You should have done a better job of mowing the lawn when we were kids, and I should have gone out with Billy Peeler—who knew he’d become People’s hottest man alive?—yet here we are. A little bit older and a whole lot wiser. Well. I’m wiser, you . . . not so much.”

  I never saw his hand coming, so it caught me by surprise when his palm connected with my cheek. He hit me hard enough to make it sting, but not hard enough to leave a bruise.

  Just like I’d thought, he was obviously an experienced abuser.

  I tried to pull back, but his hand tightened on my arm. “Oh, no, Magnolia. We’re not done yet.”

  “Wrong, Roy. We’re completely done.” I hadn’t taken off my shoes, and thankfully I’d had fashion in mind earlier that morning. I’d worn flats, but they had a bit of a pointed toe, so I kicked him as hard as I could in the shin.

  He grunted and dropped his hold.

  I stumbled back and lunged for my purse, but he quickly recovered and shoved my stomach against the bookcase.

  My chest and stomach hit the shelves with a loud thud, and I cried out as he grabbed my left forearm and twisted it around my back.

  He leaned his mouth next to my ear. “I’m not finished, Magnolia.”

  “You’re hurting me, Roy,” I forced out through gritted teeth, wrapping my free hand around one of the shelves to keep him from pushing me harder. “You get off on that? Hurting people physically weaker than you?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but you left me no choice. You will listen to me.”

  I pushed off from the bookshelf, trying to break free, but he shoved me back even harder this time, pushing my arm higher. I fought to keep my panic in check, but the pain in my arm brought tears to my eyes.

  “Why must you always be so stupid?” he asked in disgust.

  “Fine,” I said hatefully. “Say what you have to say and get the hell out.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m the one making the rules.” I heard the smile in his voice and felt like throwing up. How could we have grown up in the same household? How could the little boy who used to play endless games of Connect Four with me have turned into this monster?

  My purse was on the shelf to my right but slightly out of reach. Even if I broke free from Roy’s hold, I’d have to dig through my purse to find the pepper spray.

  “Do you know how hard I’ve had to work to be taken seriously at my firm?” he asked. “I had to practically beg Bill to hire me, and I’ve had to work my ass off to get him to trust me. Three years, Magnolia, three fucking years I’ve kissed that man’s ass.”

  “Go work somewhere else, you idiot. It’s not the only financial planning firm in Nashville.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I was the idiot. He was going to beat the shit out of me. But I was tired of backing down. I was tired of being a victim. I was taking charge. Even if the only thing I could do was mouth off.

  He shoved me harder, and I released another cry of pain. “I don’t want to work anywhere else. I want to work at JS Investments, and you are ruining everything, Magnolia. Just like you’ve always ruined everything.”

  He spun me around and dropped his hold on my arm, but he placed his hands on the shelves on either side of my shoulders, trapping me in front of him. The loathing in his eyes scared me.

  “Why do you hate me so much?” I whispered, my voice shaking.

  “You’re so stupid. You don’t even know.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “Everything you touch is blown to smithereens.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I had no desire for him to elaborate. “Fine. I’ll stay out of your life and you stay out of mine.”

  “If only it were that easy, but you seem incapable of it.”

  That sounded ominous, and I wasn’t going to wait to see where he was going with this. I lifted up my knee and rammed his crotch as hard as I could.

  He grunted and hunched over, no longer blocking me in. I took advantage of my
freedom to dash for my purse and then backed into the kitchen and around the island as I frantically dug for my pepper spray.

  “I’m going to kill you, Magnolia,” he sneered, stumbling into the kitchen.

  My panic increased as Roy rounded the island. Did he mean it literally? Where the hell was the spray?

  “Get out of my apartment, Roy,” I said, near hysterical. He was still bent over at the waist, and the look on his face told me I was going to pay for what I’d done.

  Just as he was about to reach me, my fingers wrapped around the metal tube. I swung my purse at his head with my left hand, but pain shot through my shoulder from the spot where he’d pinned my arm.

  He easily deflected my weak swing, but it was enough to catch him off guard as I flipped the tab on the top of the metal cylinder. I held it up and took a step back.

  “Get out,” I said, keeping my voice firm.

  He froze when he saw the can in my hand.

  “Get the hell out of my apartment,” I continued. “Or I’ll spray the shit out of your face.”

  He lifted his hands in surrender. “Calm down, Magnolia.”

  “Calm down?” I shrieked. “Calm down? You show up at my apartment and hurt me and threaten to kill me, and now you’re telling me to calm down? Get the fuck out!”

  He took several backward steps toward the door, and I followed him, keeping enough distance so that I was out of his reach.

  He grabbed the doorknob, then sneered, “Stay out of my life, Magnolia, and leave what happened to our father where it belongs. In the past. If you don’t, I’m not responsible for what happens.” Then he flung the door open and stomped out into the night.

  I ran over and shut the door and locked it before I collapsed on the sofa and burst into tears. Why did my brother hate me so? A few weeks ago, he’d implied it was because I’d gotten so much attention from our parents, but surely there was more to it. That was a matter for a different day, though, or maybe a therapist’s couch—something today had made him angry. It had undoubtedly embarrassed him to have the police show up at his office, especially if they were asking about his father, who had supposedly embezzled his client’s money, but beating the crap out of me was an excessive response. Even if he did beat his wife.