Everybody was still watching us. Zach slowly twirled a dart through his fingers like a baton. I briefly fantasized about him throwing it at Ricky Ray.
"You know, Ricky, I used to think you were a pretty good songwriter," I said. "But, now all you do is churn out stupid little ditties with catchy titles. You've sold out."
He laughed again. "Sold out? Yeah, babe, I guess you could say that I've sold out. Every single off the album hit number one and every concert has been standing room only. You don't need to worry that pretty little head of yours one bit, sweet thing. I'm laughing all the way to the bank."
"One of these days, somebody prettier than you, somebody who can actually sing and who writes better songs, is going to come along, and you're going to be out of luck,” I said. I hoped. Prayed. "What are you going to do then?"
He shrugged. "Ain't gonna happen any time soon, babe. I got me a whole pile of advisors. Every one of them working their butts off to make sure that the Ricky Ray Riley Reign rolls along."
I snorted. Now I knew who had written all that alliterative graffiti on the table over at the park.
He gave me his smile again. "Yes siree, darlin', I'm a genuine phenomenon. But that's enough about me, sugar. How's your folks doin'?"
“They're all doing just fine and nobody misses you."
"What about my old pal, Delbert? I'll bet he misses me."
"I wouldn't count on it. I'll bet if he saw you, he'd scratch your eyes out." That image made me smile. "In fact, when one of your songs comes on the radio, he runs and hides under the bed until I turn it off."
"I sure miss that kitty. Maybe we can go over to your place so I can see him." He reached over and took my hand, rubbing it suggestively between his.
I snatched my hand away and took a step backwards. "Like I'd let you anywhere near him! He'd probably bite you." Especially if I smeared some tuna juice on Ricky Ray’s hand.
He took a step closer to me. "Sweet, sweet Marty, I really do miss you, ya' know."
"What about Miss Bikini, over there?" I ducked my head toward the blonde, who was watching us intently. She flashed me the perfect beauty contestant smile: all teeth, no eyes.
"Who? Oh, you mean Tiffany?" Ricky Ray glanced over his shoulder at her. "Just friends."
"Really? I saw her with you on TV at that awards show the other night. She must be some kind of friend, the way she was hanging all over you. It was pretty disgusting. Weren't you embarrassed? I mean, good grief, your grandma was probably watching!"
"Ah ha! You're jealous." He reached over and pulled my hair loose from its ponytail. "There, you look much prettier with your hair down."
The blonde's smile faded to a steely glare.
“And you know, darlin', that dress doesn't show off your assets too good. We go to your place, you can change into something more comfortable. And sexier.” He looked back up into my eyes and entwined his fingers in my hair.
Zach threw the darts down and started toward us. Steve grabbed his arm and held him back.
Ricky Ray leaned so close to me that I could feel his breath on my face. "Let's go get reacquainted, catch up on old times," he whispered, his voice pure sex.
Tiffany stomped into the ladies room.
Ricky put his finger on my nose and tapped it gently, trailing it down to my lips, then began to caress my face. "Marty, sweet baby, I miss you so dad blamed much."
Zach jerked his arm away from Steve and grabbed a chair, bouncing its legs hard against the floor.
I slapped Ricky's hand away and backed up against the wall. "Stop it, Ricky! Geez, I'm not one of your little groupies, you know! I'm not your honey, baby, sweetie, darlin', sugar, or punkin' anymore! It's me, Marty, remember? The one you dumped after six years together. Three days -- three days! -- before our wedding. The one who was there through all the hard times, helping you, supporting you, loving you!
"And for what? So you could run off to Nashville with Paula Dombroski and become a big superstar, leaving me here all alone, with a seven hundred dollar wedding dress and a four-tier marble cake!" I gave him a little shove backwards.
I swiped the tears out of my eyes, angry at myself for letting them show. "Don't forget, Ricky, I know you! And I know your pathetic little games!
He stepped closer, so close that I couldn't breathe. "Marty, oh baby, you'll never know how sorry I am about all that. I love you so much, baby. C'mon, let's get out of here, go someplace where we can talk it over." He nuzzled my neck. "I'll show you how much I care."
It happened before I could even think about it. One second he was standing there nuzzling me, and the next, he was lying on the ground, holding his crotch and moaning. Mom would have been so proud of me.
20
I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and was out the door, in my car, and on the way to my apartment before anybody in Pilazzo's even had a chance to reach Ricky Ray.
I stopped at Kroger to get some milk, cat food, root beer, and a salad from the deli. I'd finally stopped shaking and was feeling pretty pleased with myself by the time I reached the checkout stand. I grabbed a handful of chocolate bars and scanned the headlines of the tabloids. Some woman in Alabama had given birth to an alien. And I thought my life was exciting.
Back in the car, I turned on the radio and listened to WRRR. "Bye-Bye, Baby…" was playing. Fitting. I flicked to the local rock station, pulled out of the grocery store parking lot, turned left, and drove toward my street. I was singing at the top of my lungs, sipping on a root beer, having a heck of a good time.
My road was dark because some kids thought it would be a lot of fun to shoot the street lights out with BBs. It was like being out in the country since it was so dark and quiet; I could hear the crickets singing. I was only about a mile from my apartment when I noticed the large dark car. It had pulled out of the grocery store lot right behind me and now it was following a little too close for comfort. I sped up. The other car sped up.
Uh, oh. It was right on my tail. I hate for people to play games like that.
I stuck my arm out and motioned for it to pass me. It rammed into my rear end, lurching me forward, and scaring the bejeebers out of me. I hit the accelerator and cursed. My poor little Mustang hesitated for a second. The other car hit me again, harder this time.
I gripped the steering wheel as hard as I could and floored it, trying to get away. The other car kept right on my tail, forcing me to drive faster and faster. Panic shot through me. I swung into a curve, going way too fast. I stomped down hard on the brake and steered into the slide, but lost control anyway.
The Mustang crashed into a tree. The front end crumpled in a sickening jolt. The seatbelt jerked me back, keeping me from slamming through the windshield. The radiator hissed and plumes of steam poured from the engine. I beat on the steering wheel and screamed.
Then I remembered the other car. What if they'd stopped and were coming after me? I peeled my hands off the steering wheel, unbuckled the seatbelt, and forced the door open. I shot out of the car, prepared to run. Whoever had hit me was long gone. My hands shook and I felt jittery, like I was going to faint. I sucked in some air and tried to stop trembling.
A vehicle appeared from the direction of the apartments. I whimpered, afraid that the person who had hit me was coming back to finish me off. Absolutely terrified, I hid in some bushes and waited. The car stopped on the other side of the street and the driver ran over to my car.
"Marty? Marty? Where are you? Are you all right?" He called out.
It was Zach. I almost fainted with relief. "Here, Zach, I'm over here. And I'm okay."
He came over to the bush. I was stooped down behind it, hanging onto it for dear life.
He looked puzzled. "What are you doing back there?"
I told him about the car running me off the road.
"Are you hurt?"
I shook my head. "No. I think I'm okay. Maybe a little bruised."
We went to check out my poor battered car. It was bad. I started to blubber. Za
ch put his arms around me and hugged me to him. I felt safe. Comfortable. Like I was home.
"It's okay, it's going to be fine," he whispered, stroking my hair. "I'll fix your car up good as new."
A car went by, its lights almost blinding me. "I guess we better call the police," I said. I'd almost stopped crying. Once we were inside Zach's car, he reached over and pulled me close to him, kissing me
The police officer pulled up a couple of minutes later. After I'd filled out the accident report and watched the tow-truck cart off the Mustang, Zach drove me up to my apartment.
Delbert was mad. Fortunately, Zach had rescued my groceries. I fed Delbert a can of Tuna-Liver Delight, then went in the bathroom to clean myself up a little. I almost cried again when I saw myself in the mirror.
My hair was a frizzy mess. My dress was streaked with dirt and other, unidentifiable, stains. And the worst thing —I smelt almost as bad as the dumpster had.
I cleaned myself up as best I could and changed into a pair of shorts and a Glenvar Police Department t-shirt I’d stolen from Tim. Zach handed me a sandwich and a glass of milk when I walked back into the living room.
"Thought you could probably use this," he said.
I smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks. For everything."
He smiled back. We stood there, grinning at each other while I ate my sandwich. "I'm so glad you came along when you did. I don't think I could have walked up here," I said.
"I'm glad too. I was worried about you after you kneed Ricky Ray and stormed out of Pilazzo's. When you weren't home, I got even more worried. And when I heard the squealing brakes and the wreck, I panicked."
"I stopped at Kroger to get some cat food and stuff. I'm glad you decided to check out the accident."
"I had such a bad feeling when I heard all that racket. And when I saw your car up against that tree, it scared me half to death. Thank God you weren't hurt."
"By the way, how is the creep?"
"Ricky Ray?" He chuckled. "Well, let's put it this way -- I don't expect he'll be doing all that jumping around he usually does on stage for quite awhile and he'll definitely be able to hit those high notes."
His eyes were twinkling away. "Guess what else? After you left, that bimbo he was with dumped a beer over his head and left with some other guy. Ol' Ricky Ray looked like he was about to cry. He slunk out of there pretty quick."
I suddenly felt much better. I finished my sandwich and stuck the plate and glass back in the kitchen.
Zach was on couch, scanning through his phone. I grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and took them in to him.
"Can I play this?" Zach held up his phone.
"Sure." I took a sip of my beer and showed him my speaker dock. Billy Johnson’s latest song, “Living’, Lying, Leaving” came on.
Delbert finished his supper and came out to visit. He eyed Zach suspiciously. Zach bent down and scratched him behind the ears.
"Hey there, Kitty," he said, "aren't you a handsome looking fella. What's your name?"
"That's Delbert McClinton Sheffield. Ricky Ray gave him to me for a Christmas present a couple of years ago. He's my best buddy."
Zach evidently passed Delbert's test. When we sat down on my skuzzy sofa Delbert hopped up into Zach's lap and settled himself down. I reached over and scratched Delbert's neck. His motor was revving.
"This has been the worst week of my life," I said. "I can't imagine what else could possibly go wrong. First the thing with Wart, then Ricky Ray, and finally, someone made me wreck my car! I think I'm just gonna stay in bed until Monday."
"I can't say I blame you. Do you know what kind of car it was?"
"No. Like I told the policeman, I wasn't paying much attention when I pulled out of Kroger's and our streetlights are out. All I know is that it was big. Dark colored. Maybe brown."
"Does anybody have a grudge against you?"
"Not that I know of. I guess it could have been Ricky Ray's bimbo or some deranged fan or something. Or maybe just some crazy who gets his kicks out of ramming into people and running them off the road."
Zach was looking at Delbert. "Or Ricky Ray himself," he said quietly.
"No way. Ricky Ray might get mad at me, but he'd never try and hurt me. Least-ways not physically. He goes in for the mental pain."
Zach put his arm around me and bent down to kiss the top of my head. "Okay. You know him better than I do."
He sat back up, pulling away from me. "Uh, Marty, I hate to ask this, but, um, well, did you by any chance get some of Delbert's cat food in your hair?"
I jumped up. "Oh God! Does my hair stink?"
He made a face. "Just a little."
"I bumped up against that nasty dumpster at Pilazzo's. I must have got some crud in my hair. Listen, you sit here, enjoy the music or watch TV, and I'll be right back. I'm gonna take a quick shower and wash my hair. It'll only take ten minutes. Fifteen tops, okay?"
The shower felt great. When I'd finished, I slipped my clothes back on and went into the living room. Something smelled delicious. Zach was in the kitchen talking on his cell. He hung up quickly, looking guilty.
"I hope you don't mind. I called to check on Mom. Dad wasn't there when I dropped her off from the funeral home and I worry about her. She gets real upset if she's alone for too long. She said to tell you hi."
"I don't mind a bit. What is that delicious smell?"
"I made some omelets. My specialty. I figured we could both use something else to eat." He handed me a plate filled with a huge omelet and two pieces of toast.
The omelet was wonderful. We cleaned up the dishes and went back in the living room. Zach fiddled with his phone, found a playlist he liked, and we sat on the couch again. He leaned back with one leg up and pulled me in so that I was leaning back against him. We sat like that for a long time, talking about our hopes, dreams, and fears. It was very nice.
At two o'clock, I woke up. I covered Zach with a quilt, kissed him gently on the cheek, and went to bed.
21
Tuna breath. Inches from my nose. Not the most pleasant thing to wake up to. Especially at six forty-five in the morning.
"Ugh, Delbert! Your breath smells terrible." I pushed him off my chest and sat up.
Was that thunder I heard?
I peeked out the window. It was thunder. The sky was a dismal gray and looked like it was going to open up any minute. Lovely. Twenty-seven days without a drop of rain, and now, the day of Warren's funeral, it seemed as though we were in for a deluge. Obviously, another one of Destiny's little pranks. I pressed my fingers under my eyes, trying to ward off the sinus headache that was promising to start.
Why was my shower running? Oh, yeah. Zach. Zach! I scrambled out of the bed and into my robe before venturing a peek in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight. My hair stuck up every-which-way. Sort of like the Christmas Angel Mom still hangs on her tree every year, even though I shampooed its hair, clipped its wings, and gave it a mustache when I was six.
I yanked a brush through my hair and tucked it up into a ponytail. Other than wipe the sleep out of my eyes, I couldn't do anything to repair the rest of the damage.
What I needed was coffee. That always helped. I headed for the kitchen to make some. My phone rang.
"Hi, Mom," I said.
"Hi, sweetie. How are you?" she said.
I didn't tell her about the accident. Some things sound a lot better in person. "I'm okay. A little tired. And, I feel like I'm getting a sinus headache. I sure wish I didn't have to go to this funeral. It's all rainy and yucky outside. I'll probably catch pneumonia."
I was hoping she would tell me to go back to bed and that she'd be over later to bring me grape juice and soup. She didn't.
"I know how you feel, but you're absolutely obligated to go. No matter how you felt about Warren, his parents are good people and it just wouldn't look right if you weren't there."
"I know, I know." Lord knows, I wouldn't want to do anything that didn't look right. I kept that
last part to myself. I'm not totally stupid.
"I just called to see what you planned to wear to the funeral. Charli said you wore your gray dress to the funeral home last night. Does that mean you plan to wear that yellow dress you wore to church last week? I sure hope not. It just doesn't do a thing for you."
I sighed and sat down on the bed. Mom was on a roll. I didn't say anything, just grunted.
"You need to wear rich colors, dear. Wine. Emerald green. That yellow makes you look all washed out. Of course, it would help if you'd wear a little makeup. And do something about your hair. I know. Why don't you come on over here and I'll help you with your hair and makeup. We won't be able to do much with that hair of yours, but at least we can fix it some way other than that ponytail you always stick it in."
I looked up. Zach stood in the bedroom door, freshly scrubbed. He had on his Dockers and no shirt. I sucked in my breath and almost dropped the phone. We're talking major hormonal overdrive. I smiled at him and winked. He came over and sat on the bed, handing me a mug full of coffee. He smelled incredible. Did I mention hormonal overdrive?
"Martina? Hello? Are you still there?" asked Mom. "Are you listening to me?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm listening. What did you say?"
"I said why don't you come over here and I'll help you with your hair and makeup."
"That's okay."
Delbert jumped up on Zach's lap, and rubbed against his chest. I wouldn't have minded trading places with Delbert right then. Zach noticed me looking at him and smiled. I smiled back. He leaned over and lightly ran his finger across my lips
Mom asked me something. I have absolutely no idea what.
I faked a clicking sound. "Uh, Mom, that's, uh, that’s another call waiting. Might be important. Gotta run. See you at the funeral." I didn't wait for her answer.
With the phone safely out of the way and Delbert removed from Zach's lap, we went to work on satisfying those hormones. Suddenly, Zach looked at the clock and groaned.
"Marty," he said, gently pushing me away from him, "I'd love to stay and continue this, but I gotta get to work by seven-thirty or Dad's gonna shoot me."
The Doom Diva Mysteries Books 1 Page 12
