You’re screwed. You’re screwed. You’re screwed.
Chapter 8
Hide behind your dark sunglasses
While your son is taking classes
Don’t think you’re fooling anyone
You’re one drink past the danger zone.
Eddie hesitated on the steps as two others walked in and splashed in the shallow end.
“These are your new pool buddies, Jason and Rick,” Shelly explained.
Eddie stomped his feet a couple of times before plunging into the water waist-high. He pointed to the newcomers. “Out.” He beat the water with his fists, splashing everybody. Jason and Rick mimicked his splashing and laughed.
Maybe this was a mistake. Shelly had thought Eddie was ready for a group session. She cast a quick glance in the bleachers. Portia Angier was tough to read behind sunglasses. She sat stiffly and swayed slightly, as if in time to some internal music. Jason’s and Rick’s moms were talking companionably. Their sons were part of a large Down syndrome class she held. She’d offered them free extra sessions as an experiment to help Eddie with his socialization skills.
Shelly quickly tossed a ball to Jason and Rick and instructed them to play. She drew Eddie’s attention, handing him a bright orange foam board. He grabbed it and kicked up a storm, occasionally casting backward glances at Jason and Rick.
Shelly moved on to a game of water basketball, Eddie’s favorite. As the session wore on, Eddie started ignoring the others. Plenty good for the first group session, as he learned to either tolerate or accept their close proximity. Gradually, she would integrate their activities and draw Eddie into social play.
At precisely 3:00 p.m. she ended the session. Jason’s and Rick’s mothers collected their children, thanking Shelly for the free workout and promising to return the following week.
“You’re welcome. Your sons were great,” Shelly said, wrapping a towel around Eddie.
Two sets of hands clasped around her legs in a hug. “Thank you, Miss Shelly,” they said in unison. Shelly rubbed the tops of their wet scalps, feeling a fierce tenderness for the boys.
Shelly ushered Eddie toward the locker room as Portia weaved her way over, clutching a Coach handbag in front of her body like a shield.
Shelly smiled. “Eddie did a good job in his first group session.”
“His what?” Portia’s trembling fingers pushed the sunglasses atop her coiffed hair.
“His first group session. Remember I told you about his long-term therapy goals?”
“Um, yes, of course. His goals.”
A cloud of bourbon assaulted Shelly’s nose.
“Thanks, Miss...?” Portia waved a hand, evidently trying to pull her name out of the air.
“Shelly.”
“Shelleee. Pretty name. Shelleee.” The words slurred.
A chill of dread ran up Shelly’s spine. The woman was stinking drunk. Three in the afternoon, about to drive her son home, and she was smashed. She remembered Tillman’s cryptic words—she can’t cope, I had to help out my mom, the many afternoons Tillman fetched Eddie because his mom had a headache.
Portia was an alcoholic.
“Is Tillman coming to pick y’all up?” Shelly asked hopefully.
“No.” She fumbled through the oversize purse, dropping her keys and wallet on the wet cement. Coins scattered everywhere. “Oh, dear. Look what I’ve done.” She dropped to her knees and began picking up the spilled contents.
Shelly’s mind whirled. She pictured the crashed shell of her parents’ car after being hit by a drunk driver and the state trooper who’d shown up at her college dorm one perfectly normal fall afternoon with the news that they were both dead. No way she would stand by and let this woman jeopardize Eddie’s life.
“Let me help you.” Shelly leaned over, scooped up the keys and hurried to her tote bag that held the cell.
“Hey, Shelleee, help me get this up.”
“Just a minute,” she called over her shoulder. Retrieving her cell, Shelly speed-dialed Tillman’s private number, which he’d entered for her on their first date, hoping he’d take her call even after the scene last night. Jet’s revelation had nothing to do with her and Tillman had simply lashed out because of hurt and surprise. Now that she’d cooled off from the heat of the moment, she could hardly blame him for being upset.
“The number you are trying to call is not in service at—” Crap. She hit the number for his office but he wasn’t in. She clutched Portia’s keys as the dispatcher switched her to a deputy.
“Carl Dismukes. May I help you?”
“This is Shelly Connors. I need to speak to Tillman. Immediately.”
“He’s out of the office. Is there a problem I can help you with?”
Dismukes had a soft, grandfatherly kind of voice and she was tempted to tell him. Shelly wavered but decided against it. She didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his employees. “No. Just have him call me as soon as possible.”
What to do? The Water Babes and Buoys were filing in. She didn’t want to cause a scene.
That left one option. Call Lily. Her cousin would help her out, even if it indirectly was for Tillman. Besides, when she’d returned home last night, upset, Lily and Jet assumed she had sided with them against Tillman.
Shelly was amazed that she was willing to risk her family’s wrath by continuing to see Tillman. If he would have her. Despite her best effort to guard her heart and keep their relationship confined to the physical realm, Tillman had touched more than her body last night. His tender yet passionate lovemaking had touched her heart.
Shelly reined in her errant thoughts and phoned Lily at the Mermaid’s Hair Lair and they worked out a plan. All she had to do now was stall Eddie’s mom for five minutes. Shelly dropped the car keys in her tote and returned to Portia, still fumbling with the purse spillage.
They spent a couple of minutes collecting all her paraphernalia. Portia stood, still a bit wobbly. “Where’s Eddie?” she asked.
“I’ll go check on him.” Shelly went to the lockers, glad for an excuse to get away. As she passed Lurlene Elmore, Shelly asked her to get the class started on their warm-ups.
Eddie exited the locker room and Shelly stepped in front, blocking his view of his mom. “Hey, Eddie, good job in class today.” They high-fived. “You deserve a treat.” She led him to the vending area. “Pick any drink and snack.” Shelly dug out some change and handed it to him while keeping an eye on the window for Lily’s car to pull into the parking lot. Hurry up.
A loud clank of a soda can as it dropped, and Eddie moved on to the snack machines. He frowned at the selection and looked at her questioningly. “Cap’n Crunch?”
“No. How about some potato chips?”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
Selections over, she sat on the uncomfortable wooden bench and patted the empty space next to her. “Have a seat while we wait for your mom.”
Once Eddie popped the soda lid and stuffed some chips in his mouth, Shelly got up and peeked around the corner. Portia was scanning the pool area, frowning. The Water Babes and Buoys mimicked Lurlene’s series of warm-up movements. Portia approached Lurlene and leaned over the poolside, talking. Lurlene pointed in her direction and Portia caught Shelly staring at her. She frowned and stood, tugging at her elegant silk blouse. She wobbled a bit and Shelly sighed in relief when she didn’t fall in the pool. Portia was the kind of woman who would blame the YMCA for her fall and charge them a hefty bill for ruined clothing.
“All done.” Eddie stood and searched for a trash can.
“That quick?” She pulled out more change. “Here, get something else.”
Portia was bearing down on them. Another quick glance at the parking lot showed Lily hadn’t made it. She needed to stall Portia a bit longer.
“Mrs. Angier.” She smiled brightly as Eddie’s mom halted in front of her. “We’re having a little celebration for Eddie’s good work. How about I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, th
ank you.” The bourbon breath was still strong. “We are ready to leave.” She motioned to Eddie. “Let’s go.”
“But...I thought you couldn’t find your keys?”
“I keep a spare zipped inside an inner pocket of my purse.” She swayed in her three-inch high heels. “Don’t know why I forgot about that.”
Because you are stinking drunk. At least Portia wasn’t slurring her words now. Perhaps she was coming around. But Shelly still couldn’t let her get behind the wheels of a car. Time to improvise another lie. Maybe she was as conniving as Jet and Lily. The lies came too easy.
“Guess Tillman forgot to tell you. My cousin’s giving Eddie a complimentary haircut today.”
“Now?” Portia asked uncertainly. “I don’t—”
Eddie yelled, “No cut!” and clasped his hands on top of his head, as if warding off a great evil.
“You’re upsetting him. We’re going now.”
Shelly followed behind them helplessly.
“Where are you going, Shelly?” Lurlene called from the pool.
Portia quickened her steps, Eddie in tow.
Shelly willed her cell to ring. C’mon, Tillman, where are you? They were out the door now. Portia’s high heels sank in the pebbled surface of the parking lot. Shelly didn’t have on sunglasses and the sun felt like a laser on her pupils. Although not as sensitive to sunlight as her cousins, her mermaid eyes were designed more for the dark, murky sea than the midday sun.
Lily’s red Audi S4 roared into the lot before coming to a screeching halt beside them.
“Here’s Lily now for Eddie,” Shelly said with brittle brightness.
Eddie dropped his gym bag and slapped his hands on top of his head again. “No cut,” he said firmly.
Lily exited the Audi, hair blowing in the breeze, looking angelic as usual. She went straight to Eddie, humming a little tune.
His eyes widened, as fascinated with Lily as every other man in this town. Slowly, he lowered his hands to his sides.
Shelly was relieved Lily didn’t try to shake his hand. Eddie cringed at contact from strangers.
Lily hummed again, slowly circling Eddie. “No major haircut, Eddie. I’m just going to snip a few of the scraggly ends off.”
“Now wait a minute—” Portia began.
“Did you know the ice cream store is next to my shop?” Lily continued, as if Portia hadn’t spoken. “What kind of ice cream do you like?”
“’Nilla.”
Lily hummed a few more notes. “Tell you what, Eddie. I’m going to take you to my shop for a little cut and then you and I will get us some ’nilla ice cream. That sound good?” Lily opened the car door and Eddie hopped in.
Beneath her dark shades, Lily winked at Shelly and climbed into the car beside Eddie.
Lily was going to leave Portia behind. Shelly eyed Eddie’s mom, dressed in a peach linen pantsuit and blond hair coifed in a precise shoulder-length bob. But instead of the regal effect she sought, Portia looked vulnerable and awkward, like a child playing dress-up. They had to stop her from hurting herself or others. This was Tillman and Eddie’s mother after all.
“Wait.”
Lily paused.
“Don’t you think Mrs. Angier could benefit from a trim?”
Lily sighed. “I’m really busy right now. I left Jet with two of my customers waiting for their color to develop.”
“Please.” Shelly pleaded with her eyes.
Lily sighed again. “Hop in, Mrs. Angier.”
Portia stiffened beside Shelly. “I will not. I don’t know who you girls think you are, but—”
Shelly gently laid a hand on Portia’s shoulder. “Tillman will be so disappointed if you don’t,” she lied. “He arranged this as a surprise for both of you.”
A flash of uncertainty danced in Portia’s dark gray eyes, so like Tillman’s. “Then I guess I should.” She opened the back door and got in, her back ramrod-straight, eyes staring straight ahead, purse in her lap.
Shelly had a feeling Portia knew she was being bamboozled. Lily turned on the radio and started singing.
“Be there as soon as this class is over,” Shelly promised. She headed back to the pool with a sinking heart, wondering how upset Tillman was going to be when he found out what she’d done. First, Jet had probably destroyed the illusion of the father he admired and now Shelly had exposed his mom’s drinking. As maddening as he was, she cared about him.
More than she wanted to admit.
* * *
As soon as Tillman crossed over the county line, his cell went off. He checked his messages and saw Shelly’s call. His breath quickened. Had she met her stalker again? Surely, if that was it, she’d call the police. He grimaced. This was probably about last night and he had no idea what to say except that he wanted—no, needed—to see her again. Damn those irritating cousins of Shelly’s. He’d always imagined his family would be the one to screw up a relationship and not the other way around.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about Jet’s accusation, other than confused. Later today, he planned to examine his father’s records and see if he could find anything to substantiate Jet’s claim.
The sinking feeling of dread in his stomach told him it might be true. He knew the sheriff’s salary. A decent amount, but hardly enough to keep up the kind of lifestyle of his youth. He’d always assumed Mom’s rich relatives brought money into the family to supplement Dad’s income.
He returned Shelly’s call. It took almost five rings before she answered, out of breath. He heard the echo of splashing water in the background.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She hesitated a beat. “Just wanted to let you know your mom and Eddie are at the shop with Lily. Eddie’s getting a cut, and your mom’s getting a complimentary one, too.”
Irritation snapped through his temples—he’d been worried Shelly was in serious trouble. “I thought there was something wrong, you calling in the middle of the day like this.”
“Well...the thing is, you need to get down there. Your mom isn’t in any condition to drive. I...um...created a stalling tactic, hoping you could give them a lift home. Her town car is still in the parking lot at the Y.”
Shit. “I’m on my way,” he said tersely. “How long have they been over there?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Good deal. I’ll let you get back to work.” Tillman hung up and pounded the steering wheel. Mom was getting worse. He glanced at his watch. Christ, it was only 3:25 p.m. It was one thing if she wanted to drink herself to death, but damn if he’d let anything happen to Eddie.
He hit the accelerator. Less than ten minutes later, he entered the beauty salon.
The smell of ammonia hit him. A crowd of old ladies, pink perm rods covering their heads like helmets, dropped their magazines and stared at him, a foreigner in a strange land. Mom was under one of the dryers, eyes closed. Eddie was spinning in a beauty chair, ice cream dribbling down his shirt. Tillman headed toward him.
“Nice haircut,” he said.
“All done,” Eddie informed him.
Tillman turned to Lily. “He give you any trouble?”
“He’s been a doll,” Lily assured him.
He had to know. “How did you get him to keep still? I cut his hair at home with barber scissors and he has a fit whenever a single piece of hair gets on him. Then he has to head straight to the shower and rinse it off.”
“Shower,” Eddie said, stuffing the last of the ice cream cone in his mouth.
“I washed him in the sink area. He took off his shirt and I gave him a good rinsing down.”
Lily hummed. Eddie stopped twirling and listened.
It was pretty damn captivating somehow.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tillman saw Jet rinsing someone’s hair. She gave him a frosty glare.
Fine. He wasn’t looking to make conversation either. At least not until he’d checked out her allegation.
“You ready to go, Eddie?”
; He jumped from the chair and gathered his backpack. Tillman went to his mom and turned off the dryer switch. “Time to go,” he announced curtly.
“But my hair is still damp.”
“Don’t care.” Tillman fought to keep his voice civil. No sense creating a scene, if she hadn’t caused one already.
Lily began taking out the foam rollers in his mother’s hair, pocketing them in a pink apron. “Dry enough. All you needed were some soft waves.” She removed the last roller and ran her fingers through Portia’s hair.
Portia crooked her neck to the side. “It’s different,” she said, as if trying to decide if she liked it. “It’s...looser.”
Tillman thought it looked better than the stiff way she usually wore it. But he was in no mood to bestow compliments on her today.
Jet sauntered past him with a basket of white towels, a challenging glint in her dark eyes. Tillman’s hands fisted by his sides. He supposed he should thank them for the interference, but his throat closed up. Damn Mom for putting him in this humiliating position. He stiffly nodded to Jet and Lily on the way out.
* * *
Tillman leaned back in his desk, staring hard at the evidence before him. Last night he’d collected IRS income tax forms from previous years and gone through them today with a critical eye. For nearly five years, Dad had claimed over fifty thousand dollars in “consulting” fees.
Much as he didn’t want to drag anybody else into it, he had to know. He rang his deputy.
Carl meandered in a good ten minutes later. “What’s up, son?” His hands, scarred with nicks and knife cuts, held a small wooden carving, which he set on the desk’s blotter. Tillman picked it up and dropped it into a collection of several dozen others in a plastic bag. Next time he was in Mobile, he’d drop off the donation.
Siren's Secret Page 12
