by Moody, Diane
As he left, Laura pulled out a chair and took a seat. “Kylie, we have to talk.”
Kylie shrugged. She slowly sat down on the other side of the table. “Hannah told me how nice you’ve been to her. She really thinks the world of you, Mrs. McKenzie.”
“Laura. Call me Laura,” she insisted. “You and Hannah are close friends, aren’t you?”
Kylie drummed her fingers on the table. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve known each other forever. We’ve been best friends since we were midgets.”
“And she’s told you all about—”
“Yes. I was out of town over the holidays. By the time I got back, well, by then Jennifer had come back. See, the thing is, I hadn’t even known that Hannah was seeing Jason,”
“I know.”
Kylie continued. “Mrs. McKen—Laura—she’s been really upset about all of this. I’ve never seen her like this before. She’s usually pretty strong, but this has torn her apart.” She paused. “And I—” She stopped again, looking Laura in the eye.
“What?” Laura waited. “What is it, Kylie?”
“I don’t know. I just suddenly had the feeling I was betraying her by speaking so openly with you. What with you being Jason’s mom and all.”
Laura reached across the table and patted her hand. “I realize this is awkward for you. You don’t even know me. But if we’re going to help Hannah get through this, then you are going to have to trust me.”
Kylie stared at their hands. “I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“Nor would I. You have to believe me, Kylie. I only want to help her. If she told you how this whole thing started, then you know why I feel personally responsible for all of it.”
Kylie laughed quietly. “Yeah, she told me. You rescued her from a crazy old man on Christmas Eve. Something about cranberries, I think. But she was crazy about you from the start. Both you and your husband. And Jason, of course.”
Laura patted her hand again. “Then you must tell me how I can reach her. Is she at your place?”
Kylie’s eyes grew wide. “Uh, no. Not exactly . . .”
“Well, I’m sure she’s not at her apartment. The press has been disgraceful. I knew she would be smart enough to hide somewhere.”
“Uh . . . yeah.”
“Where is she, Kylie?”
Kylie looked away. Laura noticed the reddening of her face. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell a soul.”
“Please. You must tell me. I have to talk to her.”
“I can’t! I promised her. What kind of friend would I be if I broke my promise to the first person who asked?”
“But surely you can see why I need to talk to her!”
Kylie jumped up, feeling cornered. “I don’t want to be rude. You have to believe that. But she’s my best friend. And she’s really upset . . . and . . . well, to be honest, she’d kill me. I’m pretty sure of it.”
Laura laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Have you ever seen Hannah when she’s mad?”
Laura leaned head back. “I haven’t. But come to think of it, she did tell us about some big football player who—”
“Tommy Joe! Oh, don’t you love that story?” Kylie laughed. “You should see him on campus. That big ol’ ox is the biggest wimp when he sees Hannah coming anywhere near him. It’s too funny!”
Laura laughed along with her. “No, I guess I wouldn’t want to see her really angry. But let’s be honest—you know she won’t be that mad. Please. I’m begging you to tell me where I can find her.”
Kylie grew quiet, looking at Laura. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just can’t. I’m really sorry.”
Laura lowered her head and closed her eyes. She nodded her head, her lips moving as she uttered the silent prayer.
“Laura, I’m really sorry.”
She finished her prayer then looked up at the quizzical face across from her. She smiled and answered. “No, honey, I’m the one who’s sorry. I have no business asking you to betray your confidence with Hannah. Trust is something to be taken very seriously, and I admire your loyalty. It’s rare these days. But there’s a promise I’m going to ask of you as well.”
“Geez, all this pressure!” Kylie teased.
“You promise me if she is in trouble or needs help or anything, you’ll call me.” She pulled a pen out of her purse and wrote her cell phone number on a piece of paper. “Obviously this is a private number, so I know you’ll keep it to yourself.”
“Oh, of course. Here, let me give you my number too. In case you need to get a hold of me. That way you won’t have to come by here if you don’t have to.” She scribbled her number and handed it to Laura.
Laura stood up, heading for the door. “Kylie, call me. Anytime. Please keep in touch with me. And if you talk to Hannah, give her my love, okay? And please ask her to call me. Will you do that for me?”
“Sure. It was nice to meet you, even if it’s kind of a strange situation.”
Laura smiled over her shoulder. “When we get all this behind us, I want you to come to the house. We’ll get acquainted. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Laura hurried through the store, tossing a quick wave at Jim as she passed the customer service counter. As she pulled her coat tighter around her, she walked through the automatic doors and out to the parking lot. A mischievous smile curled her lip. “Miss Kylie, you are a faithful friend,” she said to herself. “But you are no match for my secret weapon . . .”
Chapter 22
“Just the man I was looking for.”
Still stomping snow off his boots on the McKenzie’s front porch, Sergio Cruz turned at the sound of Laura’s voice. “Hi Mrs. M. You were looking for me?”
Her eyes trekked to his luggage on the porch. “Sergio? What are you doing?”
“I’m waiting for George. He’s taking me to the airport.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“I have some business down in Orlando. And to be honest, I was getting kind of restless so I thought I’d head down there and—”
“Well, you just call George back and tell him you changed your plans. I have a favor to ask.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts,’ Sergio. I need your help.”
“But—” He stopped, alarmed at her stern tone. He followed her into the house and into the kitchen.
She took off her coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll make us some tea.”
He wasn’t use to this side of Jason’s mom. She was ordering him around in a tone bordering on belligerent.
She filled the teapot, then slammed it on the stove’s burner. Sergio jumped, then quietly pulled out a chair and took a seat at the kitchen table.
Laura turned around, crossing her arms across her chest. “Here’s the deal. I have to find out where Hannah is. Her best friend knows, but she’s promised Hannah not to tell a soul. And, of course, I can appreciate that.” She spoke in short, clipped sentences. “But I have to talk to her. We have to talk to her.”
“We?”
“We.” She stared him down. “Kylie wouldn’t tell me, but she’ll tell you.”
“Who’s Kylie?”
“Hannah’s best friend.”
Sergio rolled his eyes and avoided hers. “Laura, come on—”
“Sergio?”
He snapped to face her. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“But—”
“Sergio?”
He let out a groan. “You sound just like my mother.”
The teapot squealed and she turned for it. “I’m not surprised. I’ve had lots of people call me ‘Mama Blue’ so I’m entitled.”
A lopsided grin tugged at the side of his mouth. “‘Mama Blue?’ Sweet.” He laughed until she turned around. She was not smiling.
She poured the hot water over teabags in two large mugs. “I have Kylie’s number. I need you to call her. Wi
th your charm, she’ll spill the beans in no time.”
“Now you sound like a Mafia Mama. You’re quite the versatile little woman today, aren’t you?” he teased.
No smile.
“Laura, come on. What am I supposed to say to this girl? ‘Hola, this is Sergio. Where’s Hannah?’”
“I’d expect a little more charisma, but sure . . . whatever it takes.” She took a seat across from him. “I want you to call her, tell her who you are and insist on coming over to see her.”
“What?!”
“There’s a chance Hannah might be hiding out at her friend’s apartment. If she is, she’ll talk to you. I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah, and chances are if she is, my call will only scare her off somewhere else.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
“We?”
“You.”
He nodded his head in resignation, studying her. Laura was like a second mother to him. She’d always been there for all the guys, but after the shooting, he felt a stronger bond to her than he’d ever known. Laura McKenzie was a saint. She and Frank had literally saved his soul last week. And there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. He melted at the gentleness hiding in her eyes behind the serious guise. “Jason never told me how stubborn you could be.”
“This isn’t stubborn. This is determined.”
“Where’s her number? And what’s her name again?”
“Kylie. And she’s adorable, Sergio. You’ll love her.”
Now it was his turn to level a stare at her. “AS IF I’m looking for ‘adorable’ right now?” He shook his head. “Thanks, but just for the record, I’m giving up women forever. I may become a priest.”
Finally Laura laughed. “Oh Sergio, if you become a priest, church membership will skyrocket.”
“Kylie, huh? I’ll call her but I refuse to be charming.”
She slid the piece of paper across the table, her smile lingering. “Don’t sell yourself short. One look at that smile of yours and she’ll tell us everything we want to know.”
“We?” He folded the paper and stood up, stuffing it in his pocket.
She walked around the table then gave him a hug. “Love you, Sergio.”
He hugged her back. “You drive a hard bargain, ‘Mama Blue.’”
“Call me after you’ve talked to Kylie. I’ll be waiting.”
The sun dropped slowly in the winter sky. Jason parked his Escalade in one of the garages and scuffed his way toward the house. “Anybody home?” he yelled, walking through the back door. No one answered. He assumed they were upstairs or gone. Just as well. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone.
He threw his coat on the couch and headed downstairs. As he turned the corner of the staircase, he heard the clink of billiard balls below. Hannah? His heart pounded as he descended the stairs two at a time.
“Jennifer.”
She looked up at him, a polite smile passing across her face. “Hi.” She walked to the other side of the pool table and lined up a shot.
“I looked everywhere for you. I’ve been all over town, called your cell phone . . . I’ve been by here twice. Where were you?”
She took her shot, a striped ball in the side pocket. She didn’t answer.
“Jennifer?”
“I was around.” She continued her game.
He watched her. All afternoon he’d struggled with what to say once he found her. His stomach had been in knots for days. He headed for the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Clink. Four ball in the corner pocket. “Water.”
Jason grabbed a bottle for her and one for himself from the small refrigerator. He approached her, handing the chilled bottle to her. She turned slowly, reaching for it but not meeting his eyes. He leaned against the back of the sofa and took a long drink.
Clink. Another ball dropped in the side pocket. She was good. He’d forgotten.
He prayed for wisdom. Draining his bottle, Jason took it to the trash can and headed for the rack of cue sticks. He chalked the tip of one and passed her as she took another shot. She missed.
“Mind if I play?”
No response.
She shot again. Seven ball in the corner pocket. It was her last.
He racked the balls. “You break.”
She chalked her stick and aimed at the triangle of shiny balls. Whack. Jason winced. The balls flew across the felt-covered table.
He aimed. His cue stick didn’t come near the ball. He aimed again. He missed again. He cursed under his breath then immediately prayed a silent plea for forgiveness. She still didn’t look at him. He aimed once again.
“There are rules and you’re breaking them,” she stated just as he made the shot.
It bounced across the table, nowhere close to a pocket. “Excuse me?”
“You’re cheating.” She moved to the other side of the table lining up her shot.
“Jennifer, what are—”
“You can only take one shot. If you scratch, you lose your turn.”
“Oh.” He watched her pocket the six ball.
“Sorry, I thought it was just a friendly little game of pool,” he answered, attempting humor.
“Even ‘friendly little games’ should be played fair.”
“My mistake. I’m sorry.”
“Uh huh.” She missed her shot. He noticed she clenched her jaw.
He lined up his shot and missed it. Leaving the stick on the table, he held up his hands. “Your shot.”
“You don’t have to pout.”
“I’m not pouting.” He picked up the stick again.
She lobbed the two in the side pocket. “Your shots are lousy. You used to be an excellent pool player.”
Her tone was caustic. It grated on his nerves. “So I’m a little tense. It’s been a long day.”
“Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Jennifer, stop with the games—no wait. I didn’t say that.” He hadn’t intended to use the lyrics from one of their biggest hits.
“Cute, Jason. Did you want to sing the song or just recite the words?”
“Knock it off, will ya?”
“Or what? Are you going to smack me too? That reporter at the press conference has probably lined up fifteen attorneys by now. I’m surprised you haven’t been subpoenaed yet.”
He fired his shot, the eight ball slamming into the corner pocket. “Great,” he muttered.
“Nice game. Shall we play another?” She stared at him with an expression completely devoid of feeling.
He jammed his stick back into the rack on the wall. The photographs on the wall caught his eye. There he was with Jennifer . . . a picture taken two years ago. He remembered the last time he looked at this picture. Christmas Eve. He was standing right here looking over Hannah’s shoulder as she studied it. The fresh lavender fragrance of her hair swept through his memory.
Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. He snapped out of his daydream.
“That was at the Grammys, wasn’t it?” she whispered close behind him.
He turned to face her. There was so much pain in her eyes, those eyes he had loved for so long. Her clear blue eyes seemed to study his face, as though desperate to find . . . what? He reached out to gather her into his arms. She stiffened.
He took a long, hard breath and looked away. When he looked back at her, her face crumbled. A tear broke free, rushing down her flawless cheek.
“Oh Jason . . .”
The coarse whisper broke his heart. His throat tightened as he clutched her in his arms, burying his face in her silky hair. “I know, Jen. I know.”
Chapter 23
Kylie tossed the empty bag of popcorn on the coffee table. She settled back in her rocking chair, pulling her pajama-covered legs up against her. A chill swept over her. She grabbed the quilt off the sofa and wrapped it around her then rocked, slow at first then faster.
The silent phone on the table beside her drew her attention. She shook her head and rocked faster. Sh
e snatched the remote control and surfed for a while. Tired of sitcoms. Tired of news. Tired of television. She clicked off the remote and tossed it back on the coffee table.
“Come here, Katy,” she beckoned the calico cat rubbing its back against her legs. The Persian pounced into her lap with a loud purr as Kylie rubbed her behind the ears.
She stared at the phone again. Jason McKenzie’s mom. I met Jason McKenzie’s mom. I met Laura. She told me to call her ‘Laura.’ We’re on a first-name basis. Laura, Kylie. Kylie, Laura. She grabbed the piece of paper with Laura’s number on it. Not that she needed it. She already knew it by heart now.
“Kylie, when we get all this behind us, I want you to come to the house. We’ll get acquainted. Deal?”
She could see it all in her mind . . .
They sat on expensive furniture, sipping tea from exquisite china cups. Delicate pastries rested on hand-painted plates. A butler in full dress tuxedo refilled her teacup. Laura wore a fine linen suit, tailored to fit her perfectly. Kylie was dressed—
She looked down at herself. Her navy plaid pajama bottoms clashed with the oversized orange t-shirt, the one with a big hole near the hem. She patted her wild hair, harnessed into two radical pig-tails and sticking out at crooked angles from her head. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the grease residue from her popcorn dinner.
“Yeah, me and Mrs. McKenzie having our own little tea party . . . riiiiight.”
The phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She jumped, Katy’s claws digging into her thighs. “AHHH! Katy!”
She grabbed the phone and dropped it. “Ouuuuch! Ouch ouch ouch!” Kylie picked up the receiver, grimacing as she answered it. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Kylie?”
“Yeah, that’s me. No! I mean—who wants to know?”
“This is Sergio Cruz. Laura McKenzie gave me your number and—”
Kylie froze. Her mouth fell open.
“Hello?”
She could hear his voice. Hear the accent. Sergio Cruz’s voice. On my phone. Asking for me? Then it hit her. No way. It has to be the press or someone playing a prank.
“Oh sure. Sergio Cruz. Right.”
