You Dropped a Blonde on Me

by Dakota Cassidy

  Campbell let out a breath, too. One he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

  “You sound relieved,” she commented.

  He was. The notion had bothered him since his father had brought it up a couple of weeks ago. It was what had kept him from seeking her out and pushing the issue of coffee, because he didn’t want to frighten her with an aggressive pursuit. If Max’d been physically abused, the dynamics would have changed dramatically, and he wanted to respect that. “I am. It means I won’t serve time for manslaughter.”

  Her dark eyebrow rose. “So you like my friend?”

  There was no hiding the return of his silly-ass grin. “Yep. I like your friend.”

  Len stopped separating rolls once more to look him square in the eye. Her hand went to the curve of her jean-clad hip. “Then pay heed. I’m not one for treading lightly. If you’re offended easily, you might want to close your ears.”

  Campbell made a point of capturing her gaze and holding it. “I like straight shooting. Have at it.”

  Her assessment of him was only momentary, but he saw the doubt her brown eyes flashed. When they cleared, she’d obviously made the choice to let ’er rip. “Maxine’s my best friend. I don’t ever want to see her slaughtered like this again. What’s happening to her with this divorce isn’t something that’s never happened before. It’s time-honored amongst those who travel in our circles. I’m guessing you know some of the details because the folks here love a good gossip. Younger gorgeous woman marries older, rich man, lives her life solely for him while reaping the bennies of mondo moolah only to end up dumped by older rich man for newer, younger model. She’s pretty beaten down, especially if that outfit she’s got on is any indication. The old Maxine, outwardly anyway, was a much different ball of wax than she is today. So if you want in, then play it straight, and even then I think you’re going to have a hard time getting her to play, too. She’s got a lot to figure out. She needs the space to do it without complications. At this point in her pending divorce, even though it’s gone on longer than War and Peace, she hasn’t come to terms with what most would have already at least attempted to begin to deal with.”

  He wasn’t sure he understood what Len was getting at. “Are you saying she’s not over him?” Not a good sign, if that was the case. She was a lot further behind in the healing process if that was what Len was alluding to.

  “No, I’m saying she’s not over what he’s done to her. She led a very sheltered life until eight months ago. And that’s all I’m saying. I’ve already said too much as it is.” With a shift from one foot to the other, Len clucked her tongue. “Look, she really has no business getting involved with anyone until she’s right with herself, but if you’re determined . . .”

  She’d left the door open for him to wander in or not with proof of his determination. So he did. With ridiculous haste. “I’m determined.” His answer was quiet and steady.

  Her clear brown eyes held a moment of admiration. “Okay then, with that said, if you still want in, don’t muck it up or I can promise you I won’t be nearly as restrained as I have been with that good-for-nothing Fin. I’ll kill you in your sleep. End rant.” Len tacked on an affable smile for good measure.

  “Forewarned is forearmed,” he murmured.

  She placed a hand on his forearm and locked eyes with him. “Oh, I promise. There’ll be no warning. You got me?”

  Campbell returned her gaze, dead-on and sure. “I think we’re golden.”

  Len’s nod was brisk and no-nonsense. “Good. Now, pick up the pace with those hot dogs.”

  With a roll of his tongue in his cheek, Campbell fought another grin. He’d been cleared for takeoff. Reluctantly, but cleared.

  One small step for man.

  Now, on to one giant leap for mankind.

  On her fifteen-minute break, Maxine tried not to gaze longingly in the direction of the kitchen where Campbell and her best friend looked as though they weren’t exactly struggling for conversation. Len’s laughter tinkled, drifting to her ears followed thereafter by Campbell’s husky growl of a chuckle.

  How nice that two lonely people in the world had clearly made a connection.

  Now there’d be two less lonely people in the world.

  Very Air Supply.

  Her teeth clenched. She’d sent Len in with the express purpose of foisting her off on Campbell. That she’d gotten her wish and her best friend was giggling over pork products and carbs while looking like a runway model should make her happy-clappy.

  Yes, she nodded to herself, cupping her chin in her hand. She was happy. Len had been mourning a man who was four years gone. A wonderful man she’d loved and tragically lost. She was young and vibrant. It was time to move on. Seeing her smile and chat with Campbell was good.

  Okay, it wouldn’t upset her if she was smiling and laughing with someone else entirely—in another state—wearing a baggy floral housecoat and open-toed slippers—but she had dangled Len in front of Campbell like a shiny carrot of testosterone. Len was just being Len.

  A sting of jealous envy hit her hard in the gut. Totally unfair to Len, but there it was. It settled like a lump in her stomach, leaving her feeling strangely empty.

  “What’s your boyfriend doing with her?”

  Maxine lifted her eyes to find Mr. Hodge, unshaven and scruffy, eyeballing her.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, Mr. Hodge.”

  “That’s not what you said the first night you walked Jake,” he reminded her.

  Maxine frowned. “How did you hear—”

  “The village has eyes and ears, and you weren’t exactly using your indoor voice when you pissed on your tree.” Mr. Hodge winked, his face scrunching upward into the fine lines and folds of his leathered skin.

  Ah, yes. The night she’d hurled Campbell at Fin like he was a pair of nunchakus. Maxine cringed at the memory. “Well, he’s not my boyfriend. That makes him fair game.”

  “Sure seemed like he was your boyfriend from the way you two were lookin’ at each other.”

  He’d come to the conclusion that intimacy and love had sprung from the offer of an ice pack and a troll doll incident? “Then I guess him flirting with her makes him a cheating loser, huh?”

  Mr. Hodge smacked his lips in appreciation. “She’s a looker.”

  Yes. Len was a looker. Maxine? Just a mess. “That she is.”

  He rocked back on his heels, slipping one thumb under his striped suspenders. “You want me to take her out? I brought my cane with me. Cut her off right at those pretty knees.” He mimicked a golf swing.

  Maxine snorted, putting a hand to her aching nose. “No! She’s my best friend, for gravy’s sake.”

  He snorted back and leaned into her. “Huh. Some best friend, stealing your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend!” She yelped in protest, then lowered her voice when some of the seniors turned to stare at her with guarded gazes. “He’s not my boyfriend. Period.”

  She waved her hands at him, shooing him off in the direction of food. “So be a pal, and stop drawing more attention to me. Wasn’t it enough that Mrs. Griswald nearly knocked my nose off my face? Add a boyfriend denial in there and I’ll be the talk of the village for weeks. Now go on. Go get a hot dog before they’re all gone. I hear Ms. Douglas made her special turkey chili. Very heart friendly. Besides, my break’s almost over, and I have one more game to call. A girl’s gotta make a living, right?” She gave a surreptitious glance around the room to see if everyone had gone back to the business of bingo. There’d been enough drama involving her for one night.

  “Maxine!” a female voice, young and untouched by liposuction, called from the entrance, making her head swivel and her nose throb from turning too quickly.

  Shit.

  Woo to the hoo.

  More drama.

  In stilettos and chic size-two clothing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Note to all ex-trophy wives from Maxine Cambridge: Tip on dating. Should a man ask you to jo
in him for coffee even though your nose is the size of the Ukraine and you’re clearly not being all you can be fashion-wise—just suck it up and say yes. First, the coffee’s free. Second, if you suspect he only wants to sleep with you, reevaluate. Looking the way you do in your growth process, either he must really like you, or he’s certifiable. Both of which shouldn’t be ruled out. Beggars can’t be choosers.

  Maxine wanted to duck under the table or maybe fight her way through the crowd to hide in the bathroom until this newest drama went back to her sloppy seconds of a mini-mansion. Bright spots of red adorned her cheeks, leaving her flushed and hot.

  Unfortunately, she just wasn’t a quick enough thinker to find an escape route faster than Lacey could skid across the room on her ridiculously high heels to come to a halt in front of her and Mr. Hodge.

  Mr. Hodge jammed his fingers under his suspenders and puckered his lips. His gaze caught Maxine’s when he whispered, “The boy’s girlfriend?”

  Maxine fought a snicker. There wasn’t much separating Lacey from Connor but a few measly years and a little thing called a law against dating underage minors. “No. She’s my husband’s girlfriend, um, fiancée.”

  Mr. Hodge grunted his disapproval. “Can I use my cane on her?”

  Placing a hand at her temple, Maxine rubbed gingerly so as not to touch the area near the bridge of her nose, which had ballooned. “Go have a hot dog, Mr. Hodge. Please. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for Jake’s walk. Okay?” She gave his arm a warm rub to encourage him to let it be.

  Her eyes must have said it all. Joe left, but not before he glared at Lacey, edging past her with a defensive stride then turning his back on her with an indignant huff.

  Maxine would smile at how endearing it was to be so silently, vehemently defended if not for the fact that it was, simply put, pathetic that she wasn’t doing it for herself.

  Not helping matters was the idea that she really should have listened to her mother when she’d expressed her displeasure about Maxine’s chosen attire. She looked just like the frumpy, hot mess everyone expected a soon to be ex-trophy wife would look.

  On the other hand, Lacey was ethereal.

  Fabulous.

  Lacey gave her a tentative smile, the amber glow of her youthful skin, fresh from Tiny’s Tanning Hut, soft and smooth even in the harsh lighting of the rec center. Maxine found herself trying to ignore the tight mid-thigh length white skirt and figure-hugging green silk shirt Lacey wore with the collar turned up to frame her face. Her black heels clattered with purpose. “Hi, Maxine.” The long sway of her buttery blonde hair caught the light. Someone had been seeing her old hairdresser, Enrique. Those were her old highlights.

  Maxine’s chest tightened. “Lacey.”

  Lacey gasped when Maxine met her eyes. “What happened to your nose?”

  “I beat up Fin’s other girlfriend. If you think I look bad, you should see her,” she quipped, sadly enjoying the look of horror that crossed Lacey’s face.

  But then she let out a nervous giggle. “Oh. I get it. That was a joke. You were always funny, Maxine.”

  Yeah. Funny. Maxine didn’t respond. Instead, she stared Lacey down with blank eyes, the impulsive urge to run far and wide gripping her.

  “Can we go outside?” Lacey waved a hand, motioning toward the door, the flash of her ungodly enormous diamond engagement ring momentarily blocking out everyone and everything.

  “Why? So we can duke it out by the swings on the playground?” Maxine managed to ask, pleased her tone was cool and dry as a bone when her legs felt quite the opposite.

  Lacey’s beautiful face flashed confusion. “Huh? There’s no playground here, Maxine. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a senior citizens’ village.”

  “Which you’re now more than eligible to live in with your new fiancé.”

  Lacey’s eyes glittered angry and cold, finally catching Maxine’s sarcasm. “Could we please be adults here?”

  Nope. As petty and low blow as it was, she needed a pound of flesh. It might as well be Lacey’s perky soft tissue. “You’re only what, a year or three past the legal age of adulthood? I’m not sure you have as much adult under your belt as I do. Means we’re not exactly on equal footing.”

  Lacey’s aggravated sigh lifted her slender shoulders. “I’d really like to talk to you.”

  About what? Finger painting and glitter glue? “I’m busy here. Working.”

  She flashed a coquettish smile, one Maxine was sure had led many a man to whip out his wallet and shower her with hundred-dollar bills. “I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

  Maxine’s fingers traced the outline of the ball cage, the whirring of it somehow soothing beneath her fingertips. Standing here in front of the woman-child she’d once attended school plays and dance recitals for never failed to leave her reeling. “We have nothing to talk about, Lacey. Go home to my house where you live with my husband and sleep in my California King.”

  “Maxine, please!”

  The high-pitched tone of her request and the all but stomp of her expensively shod foot made Maxine blanch and, to her mortification, once more had everyone gawking at her.

  Midge Carter was going to give her the ax for sure. She let her head drop to her chest, finding it only made her nose hurt more. Turning on her heel, Maxine made an acquiescent beeline for the door with Lacey in tow.

  Once outside with the door securely shut, she spun around to glare at Lacey, who looked angelic under the soft glow of the lantern lights. “What could we possibly have to talk about, Lacey?”

  Crickets chirped in the unseasonably humid evening, the thrum of Maxine’s anger intensified by the heat and the fact that Lacey looked so coolly unfazed by it. “I’d like to talk to you about Connor.”

  Her mouth fell open, her head cocking to the left as though she hadn’t heard Lacey right. “Connor . . .”

  Lacey’s eyes went gooey and soft. “I just think it’s awful that Fin and Connor aren’t speaking, and I thought between the two of us we could find a way to rectify that.”

  “Rectify?” someone crooned from the crack in the door. The heavy metal burst open and out poured her mother, her mother’s friend Mary, and Len. It slammed shut with a heavy groan. Mona attacked with a gnarled, arthritic finger aimed at Lacey’s petite nose. “Did you just learn that big-girl word in English class today? You go on and get the heck out of here and mind your business, you—you—”

  “Mother!” Maxine hissed a warning, taking her mother by the arm, holding her back from Lacey’s space. It was enough she herself had given Lacey a once-over and behaved like the teenager she’d earlier accused Lacey of being. Mona didn’t need to be in the mix, too.

  But Mona brushed her off with a furious snort. “Oh, no, Maxie! She has no right to interfere. None. She’s done enough of that just by spreading her—”

  “Mom! Stop. Now.” Her eyes sought Len’s, pleading with her to help, but Len’s eyes, hard and cold, flashed indifference.

  Mary, typically gentle and soft-spoken as opposed to her mother’s and Gail’s loud and proud attitudes, placed a hand on Mona’s shoulder. “Mona. Don’t go working yourself up over this piece of trash. She’s not worth your heart medication, honey.”

  Hookay. That wasn’t so soft-spoken or genteel. “Mary Delouise!” Maxine rasped, shocked by the venom in her outburst.

  Mary shook her auburn-dyed head, her gray eyes shooting flames from behind her prescription glasses. She crossed her arms over her thin chest, tugging at the white pearls clasping the front of her shoulder-draped sweater together. “Sorry, Maxine. I’m with your mother on this. This girl’s a home wrecker!” She shot a look of disdain at Lacey, and followed it with a fleetingly apologetic one to Len.

  Mona moved around her with a speed that surprised Maxine, backing Lacey up against the rickety fence lining the pathway to the door. “You stay away from my grandson! There isn’t anything he can learn from you but how to cheat and lie!”

  She couldn’t have p
revented it if she’d wanted to, Maxine told herself. She just wasn’t quick enough. Or at least that was what she soothed her guilty conscience with when she reacted too late to keep her mother from leaning in too far, sending Lacey backward with a startled yelp over the old fence and headfirst into the thorny bushes, heeled feet pointing skyward.

  Maxine tugged on her mother’s arm, moving her out of the way. “Mom! You can’t go doing things like that,” she chastised with a yelp. “It just makes everything worse. The two of you are behaving like preschoolers.”

  Mona gave her an unapologetic snort. “I never touched her, and if all she suffers is a couple of thorns in her backside, she’ll be far better off than you and that son of yours she so wants to help.” Her mother, red-faced, eyes spitting fire, reached for Mary’s hand. “Let’s go back in, Mary, before I take her over my knee and give her the spanking she deserves but never got because she’s a spoiled little girl.”

  Mary leaned over and gave Lacey the old disapproving evil eye before yanking open the door and pushing her way back inside with Mona hot on her heels.

  Len reached a hand down to Lacey amidst the mean-spirited cackles from Mona and Mary. She hauled her upward none too gently, giving her sister a scathing look before setting her away from her with a jerk of her hands to Lacey’s shoulders. “Don’t ever come back here, Lacey,” she said between tight lips. “You’re never going to be the cooling balm that soothes this mess you’ve made. Can’t you see that? Go back to Finley. Just go away.”

  Lacey’s round eyes welled with tears as she brushed haphazardly at the branches clinging to her perfectly coiffed hair. “How can you say that to me? I’m your sister! I just want everything to be okay for Fin and Connor,” she whispered.

  And oddly enough, much to her surprise, Maxine believed her. In Lacey’s immature mind, she probably did regret that her affair with Fin had torn a father and son apart.

  At that very moment, what Maxine wished more was that Fin regretted it as much as Lacey appeared to.