Herb sported one of his trademark western suits, this one in avocado green polyester with a rhinestone design of a guitar on the back of the jacket and rhinestone music notes running up and down the jacket sleeves and pants legs. A string tie with a rhinestone guitar as the slide hung loosely around his neck. His hair was in its usual deluxe comb-over, and he clutched a bottle of Bud in his chubby hand.
He immediately zeroed in on me. “Hey there, Marty, what you been up to? Ain’t found an effing job yet, have you? Hoo doggie, but that there is one sexy dress you’re almost wearin’. You and Miz Dicey trolling tonight or what? Hey, that reminds me, you hear the one about the pimp and the ho?”
His long-suffering wife, Georgina, a sweet-faced, soft-spoken gal, who was actually a hard-nosed business woman, walked up just then and nudged him in the side. “Daddy,” she whispered and shook her head. She was dressed in a gown that matched Herb’s suit, her hair piled ‘high-and-yeller’ and anchored with guitar shaped rhinestone clips.
Herb immediately turned red and shut up. “Yes, Mother,” he said in a wimpy little voice, not his booming, sexy radio voice or his obnoxious, jerk voice. We didn’t hear another word from him until Georgina excused herself ten minutes later to go powder her nose.
Just as she left the table, Herb started trying to tell his joke again, but this time he was interrupted by a shrewish voice that sent shudders down my back.
“You honestly don’t expect me to sit next to her, do you?” Giselle asked. “What’s she doing here anyway?”
I turned and grinned at her. “Hello, Giselle. Would you like a jug of wine? Or perhaps a rack of lamb? I’ve heard they serve great melons here, too.”
“Shut up, Marty!” She stamped her foot, not an easy task considering that her shoes had four-inch stiletto heels. I admit that I felt a twinge of envy that she could manage so well in them. If I’d tried stomping my foot in my two-and-a-half inch heels, I most likely would have flattened my fanny.
Kyle winked at me and said in a low voice. “I don’t know why, but for some reason I get the feeling that the two of you aren’t exactly friends.”
I answered him loud enough so that everyone could hear. No use depriving them of my wit. “Oh no, Giselle and I are bosom buddies. Isn’t that right, Giselle?”
She slammed her purse down on the table. “Will somebody shut her the heck up? Otherwise, I’m going to switch tables. In fact, that’s just what I’m going to do. Who’s coming with me? Robby? Sam? Herb?”
Robby was too busy laughing his head off. For some reason Herb looked over at Kyle and then an odd expression crossed his face. “Nope,” he said. “Georgina wouldn’t like that. She’s wanting to chat up Zagle.”
Sam leered at Giselle’s breasts and licked his lips. Evidently the impending implants weren’t entirely necessary in his eyes. “Why certainly, darling. I’d simply adore the opportunity to join you. Dicetta, Roberto, Martina, Kyle, please excuse me. I hate to go. I was so looking forward to finally hearing all the details about who came up with that simply decadent inspiration to plant pink flamingos all over our neighborhood.”
Sam chuckled when he said that, but his eyes were cold and hard. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, none too gently, before he went off with Giselle. “I’ll bet it was you, wasn’t it, Martina? I’ve always known that you were the clever one in the Sheffield clan.”
I was about to answer him, but the master of ceremonies called for the invocation. Sam and Giselle scurried off toward the back where I noticed Art Danner sitting at a table with Frank Billingham. I vowed to keep far, far away from that particular table and bowed my head. When the non-denominational prayer was over, the salads were served and I spent most of the rest of the meal talking to Kyle.
I found out that he was thirty-two, from Denver, that he worked for a company that had ‘wide-ranging’ interests, and that he ‘wasn’t at liberty at this time’ to say exactly what those interests were and why he was living in Glenvar. I wasn’t born yesterday. Besides, Charli used to work for a fiber optic manufacturing company that made top-secret devices for the intelligence community. I knew code talk for the CIA when I heard it.
A thrill of excitement zipped through me. I’d never gone out with a spy before. At least not that I knew of. While the speaker for the evening was being introduced I drifted off into a fun little James Bond type fantasy with me, of course, being the heroine.
I wondered if the CIA paid well and was thinking about asking Kyle how to apply, but then I remembered that the Bond girls usually end up getting the short end of the deal, so I kept my mouth shut. Besides, I was afraid that if he knew I was on to him, he’d have to kill me since Charli told me the CIA has a rule about that.
Other than being secretive about his work, Kyle was charming, interesting, and we had a lot in common. I wasn’t quite picturing myself with three little Kyle-faced kids, what with him being a spy and all, but there was definitely a spark or two flying between us.
After the speaker finished his boring talk about the latest economic development activities being initiated in the Glenvar Valley, the Master of Ceremonies announced a few awards. No one at our table won anything, not that they seemed to care one way or the other. Once the awards had all been handed out we heard the band, The Parnell Project, (named for their lead singer, Charli’s neighbor, Sue) start playing out on the deck by the pool.
“So, would you like to dance?” Kyle asked.
I was more than a little worried about the shoe situation, but I’ve always been a good sport. Not to mention a glutton for punishment. “Sure, why not,” I said.
We scooted back our chairs and joined the exodus toward the French doors that led out to the pool area. They’d set the band up on a riser overlooking a wooden deck that stood to one side of the pool. The deck ‘dance floor’ was packed.
“Looks like we might be able to squeeze in over there.” I pointed to an empty spot about three inches from one of the band’s gargantuan speakers.
“That’s okay,” Kyle said, “I’d rather talk to you than dance anyway. Let’s sit over by the pool.”
I was so giddy about not having to dance that I could have kissed him. “Great,” I said. Of course, looking like he did, kissing him wouldn’t have been the most painful thing I’d ever done.
He led me through a low gate toward a couple of chairs that were off to themselves.
“Marty Sheffield, stop right this minute.” Giselle came up behind us. Her dress was a skimpy orange halter number that didn’t do a thing in the world for her, color-wise, shape-wise, or in any other way that I could see. “I want to talk to you.”
I stopped and faced her. ““Jugular vein. Jug band. Mother, Jugs, and Speed.”
She turned crimson and gritted her teeth. “That’s not going to work, Marty. Not this time.” She focused in on Kyle. “Would you excuse us, please? I’d like to have a word with Marty in private.”
Kyle arched his brows at me. “Marty?”
“I’ll be okay,” I told him. A firefly flittered in front of me so I caught it, made a wish, and then let it go again. “Be with you in a sec.”
When he was out of earshot Giselle lit into me. “I have had it, HAD it up to here with you, you little slut! Stop going around making boob jokes. I mean it. And another thing, I want you to stop stealing my boyfriends! Do you understand me? I want you to stay far, far away from that man. He’s mine. Mine! I saw him first and I’m not going to let you have him! Not this time, I won’t.”
I was fuming, but managed to keep my voice low. “Gee, Giselle, that’s funny, but, if I’m not mistaken, Kyle likes me better. And what makes me think that, you might ask? Could it be the fact that he asked me to be his date, not you? Why, yes, I do believe that’s it. Now get out of my face, you moron.”
I turned to leave but she grabbed my right wrist. “I don’t care. You are not to see him anymore. Got it? If you do, I’ll see to it that you never work in this town again.”
“Like t
hat really scares me. Geez, Giselle, get over yourself.” I jerked my arm away from her and as I did my shoes betrayed me and I tumbled backwards.
My left heel caught between two of the cobblestones in the walkway and I grabbed at Giselle to keep from toppling over. Startled, she spun around, her feet hit a slick spot and then we were sort of flying through the air and SPLASH, she hit the water. It would have been hilarious except for the fact that I landed on top of her.
7
I found the pool bottom and almost managed to stand, but Giselle was still trying to get her footing and she kept clawing at me, pulling me back under the water. I yanked her hair a couple of times and it came out of its upsweep. Finally, somehow, we both managed to stand up in the waist-deep water.
“I hate you, Marty Sheffield,” Giselle screamed. “You did this on purpose.” She grabbed Dicey’s necklace, pulling on it so hard that it cut into my skin.
I chomped down on her hand. She screamed, but let go of the chain, going for my nose instead. I grabbed for hers, giving it a fierce twist. No way was I going to let her get the best of me. I’d had too many years of practice on Charli.
Somehow, during the ensuing scratching and clawing, Giselle’s halter-top came undone. She let out a shriek that could have peeled paint and grabbed at the top of her dress. Two rubbery falsies came unstuck from her breasts and floated in front of me.
I snorted and pointed to them. “I believe these belong to you, Giselle.” Just being helpful.
She screamed again and then started clawing at me with her left hand while she held her top up with her right. I fought back, venting all the pent up frustration of having had her make me look like a fool for the past few months. Before we could kill each other, though, Kyle and Robby had us apart, Robby holding Giselle and Kyle holding me.
“Let me go,” Giselle screamed. “I’m going to kill her.”
“Not if I kill you first,” I yelled.
Kyle pulled me toward the steps. “That’s enough,” he said. “Please, both of you, just stop this thing right now. This isn’t the place for it.”
I realized right away that he was right. People were staring. About a million of them, from the looks of things. Including the two women who’d told me how grown up I looked. Oh, God. My mother. No doubt that she was going to hear about this.
In fact, as fast as gossip flows over the Glenvar grapevine, she probably already had. I figured the best thing to do was just to go ahead and drown myself. At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to her patented sighs and a lecture on how she just couldn’t understand where she’d gone wrong with me, because, Lord knows, she’d tried to raise me right, and I must have inherited it from the Sheffield side, probably from that rabble-rousing Aunt Flo whose behavior was so scandalous that Great-Gramma had to up and leave Charleston to avoid being tarnished by her younger sister’s reputation.
Even though I dreaded Mom’s wrath, I managed to let go long enough to follow Kyle up the pool steps. When I reached the top, someone handed me a thick towel, which I threw over my head. I’ve never been so humiliated in my whole life. Well, except for when Ricky Ray dumped me right before the wedding and took off to St. Maarten with Paula Dombroski on what should have been our honeymoon trip.
“Are you ready to go?” Kyle asked.
He seemed awfully calm for someone who was sopping wet and whose date had just totally embarrassed him by falling into a swimming pool and getting into a catfight. I couldn’t believe that he was being so nice to me. He actually laughed about the whole thing on the drive home, and when we arrived at his house, he invited me inside to dry off.
“I’ll loan you a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt while your dress dries,” he said. “That way we can finally have time to talk.”
His house was very tastefully decorated. Nothing spectacular, but manly and comfortable looking. He gave me the promised clothes and I changed into them in the bathroom.
I pulled a comb through my snarled hair and studied myself in the mirror. I never wear makeup, but Charli had convinced me to let her ‘fix my face’ before I went to the ill-fated dinner. I used a tissue to clean the last dribs of it off and that’s when I realized that I was no longer wearing Dicey’s necklace.
I dashed out of the bathroom and found Kyle sitting in the family room, wearing dry things, and pouring two Heinekens into glasses.
“I have to go back over to the country club,” I said. “I’ve lost Dicey’s black pearl necklace. I just knew something like this was going to happen! I told her I shouldn’t wear it.”
Kyle placed the glasses of beer on the coffee table. “Okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. The first thing you need to do is calm down so you can think. Do you remember when you saw it last?”
I squinched up my eyes and fast-forwarded through the night’s events. “I remember Giselle pulling on it during our fight. After that, nothing. I’ll bet it’s in the pool.”
“You’re probably right. Why don’t I call over there and have the manager search for it? If they find it, they’ll put it in the safe and you can pick it up tomorrow.” He hesitated, as if trying to think how to say the rest. “I think, uh, considering the, uh, circumstances, that calling would be the best way to handle it. You probably shouldn’t go back over there tonight.”
He had a point. I wasn’t about to show my face at the country club while the party was still in full swing. I was embarrassed enough as it was. While Kyle made the call I settled down on his buttery-soft leather sofa and sipped my beer.
There was a photograph of a younger Kyle, a pretty woman, and a small round-faced boy on the table next to where I was sitting. I picked it up and admired it. When Kyle returned from the phone call I held it up.
“Your family?”
He took the picture and the saddest, sweetest smile crossed his face. “Yes. That’s my son, Vince. He’s ten now. He was two when that picture was made.”
He carefully placed the photo back on the table. “His mother, my wife, died about fifteen months after that was taken. From breast cancer.”
I was mortified. What on God’s green earth had I been thinking, making all of the breast jokes to Giselle within Kyle’s earshot? I felt like a complete jerk.
“Where is your son now?” I asked when I’d semi-recovered from my shame.
“He’s staying with my in-laws back in Denver. He has Down’s syndrome. I didn’t want to bring him here until I’d worked everything out and found someone to help me out with him while I work. He doesn’t do well with change.”
I looked at the picture again. When it was made, I’d been a kid, just hanging out at the pool with my friends without a care in the world.
“I’m so sorry. About your wife, I mean. I’ll bet that was really tough on you.”
“Tough doesn’t begin to describe it. She was an amazing woman and I miss her every single day. They say time heals all wounds, but it really doesn’t. At least not completely.”
I wiped away a tear. “I’m helping out at a Breast Cancer awareness fundraiser next Saturday. A craft fair and auction. Proceeds go to pay for mammograms for women who can’t afford them. Are you involved with anything like that?”
He opened another Heineken and poured it evenly into the two glasses. “I was back in Denver. Let me know the details and I’ll be glad to lend a hand.”
We spent the next couple of hours talking, getting to know each other. I found myself thinking more than once that, in spite of the age difference and the fact that he had a kid, he was a guy I could really fall for. I got the distinct impression that the feeling was mutual. About midnight, after watching me yawn and struggle to stay awake, he walked me across the street to Charli’s.
“I really enjoyed being with you tonight, Marty,” he said. “You’re a very interesting woman.”
I snickered. “Interesting as in ‘psycho’? Or interesting as in ‘lunatic’?”
“Interesting as in interesting.”
“Thank you. That’s a real
ly nice way of putting it. I’m very sorry about that thing with Giselle. You must think I’m crazy, what with my getting into it with Frank and then Giselle. I hope you don’t think I act like that all the time.”
“Not at all.” The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. “Well, maybe. But I’m willing to take my chances. Will you have dinner with me next week?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “And I promise that I’ll be on my very best behavior. No fights. Well, maybe just one or two little ones.”
We grinned at each other and then he put his hand under my chin and tilted my head. Our lips met in a very friendly kiss. And then another one and another one and then Charli’s front porch light flickered and I felt about fifteen. I could have killed her.
Kyle straightened and laughed. “Tell your sister I said goodnight.”
He kissed me once more, this time on the cheek, and then headed across the street, his hands jammed into his pockets, whistling as he went. I liked that. Almost as much as I liked his kissing.
“So,” Charli said, “I take it you had fun. By the way, what happened to your dress? And your shoes? Why are you wearing those?” She pointed to the borrowed shorts.
I sighed. It sounded suspiciously like Mom’s ‘not in the mood to discuss this’ sigh. I hoped that it wasn’t a sign that I was turning into my mother. Just the thought of it made me shiver.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Charli said.
“I’m sure. Very sure.”
She seemed disappointed, but that was just too darned bad. It was late, I was tired, and I wasn’t particularly anxious to relive my tussle with Giselle just yet. I didn’t want to talk about Kyle Zagle either. There were some things I needed to think about, to get sorted out in my own head, before I could discuss them with Charli.
She led me into the family room and started pulling the cushions off of her sofa. “You can sleep on the sofa bed. That way you won’t have to drive home.”
The Doom Diva Mysteries Books 1 Page 27
