A slow smile broke across the innkeeper’s face. “Maybe it’s because he’s noticed how Ms. Grant can’t seem to keep her eyes off of you,” she said slyly, watching the color rise in the Marine’s face until it reached the tips of his ears.
“Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered, moving across the kitchen to pick up the basket.
“Have fun,” she teased, when he turned back around, heading for the door.
He rolled his eyes and kept moving.
Chapter 4
“Oh, thank you, Spencer, that looks lovely,” Gingham peered into the basket that he’d set next to her lounger.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy,” he said, turning to go, as she checked a text that had come in on her phone.
“Oh no,” she exclaimed.
Knowing better, the Marine turned around at her exclamation. “Bad news?”
The lovely young woman sighed. “I’m afraid so. My bus isn’t going to be ready until next week, and I have a concert scheduled in Miami tomorrow. The crew and equipment are already there, but I don’t know what I’m going to do about getting the rest of us to the venue,” she worried.
“I’d be happy to use the shuttle bus and give you a ride,” Spencer offered without hesitation, knowing that that’s what Missy would want him to do.
“That’s a great idea,” she enthused. “You could come in and watch us do a sound check, stick around for the show, and bring us back here afterwards.”
“Or I could just sit in the shuttle and stay out of your way. I’m not really into country music,” he shrugged, dreading the thought of being in Carter Rife’s company all day.
“Not a chance,” Gingham grinned. “Not only are you going to watch the show, but you’re getting a VIP badge so that you’ll have access to the stage and backstage as well. It’ll be fun,” she encouraged, sitting up in her lounger as he desperately tried to keep his eyes on hers.
“I don’t know…” he hesitated.
“Oh come on, Spencer, live a little. Please?” she looked up at him with enormous chocolate-brown eyes, and it was his undoing.
“Okay, sure. I’ll watch the show,” he agreed. The thought of staring at her, on stage for an hour or so, suddenly seemed very appealing.
“What’s going on?” Carter jogged up from where he and the band had been playing Frisbee on the edge of the water. He looked suspiciously from Spencer to Gingham and back again.
“I just got a text from the mechanic. The bus won’t be ready until next week, so Spencer is going to take us to Miami tomorrow. We need to get him a VIP badge.”
“That’s not necessary, I’ll call around to get a charter for us,” Carter dismissed the idea.
“Seriously? Don’t be silly, we can ride with Spencer,” Gingham put her sunglasses on and lay back on the lounger.
“If you don’t want a charter, I’ll call for some limos then,” he persisted, while Spencer watched the interaction, eyes narrowed.
“Carter, stop it. We’re taking the shuttle with Spencer and that’s the end of it,” she peered at him over the top of the sunglasses with a look that shut him up.
“Fine,” he bit out, casting a scathing glance at the Marine. He stomped back down the beach and dove into the water, swimming powerfully away from shore.
Noticing that Spencer was watching him, Gingham spoke up quietly. “Don’t mind him. He thinks that he can control everything and everyone, and sometimes I have to remind him that that’s not the case,” she smiled wryly.
“So it’s not just me that he hates?” the Marine raised an eyebrow.
“Well, he might hate that you have the most amazing thick, shiny, black hair, or eyes like the ocean, or that incredible ink,” she said, admiring his tattoos. “But I don’t think he hates you, personally,” she flirted without shame or reservation.
Spencer swallowed hard, recovering for a moment before answering. “Maggie pay you to say that?” he teased.
“Nope, that one was free,” she shot back, relaxing in her lounger and closing her eyes. “When do you get off for the day?”
“I don’t actually have set hours,” he shrugged, wondering what she was getting at.
“Then you should stay and keep me company.”
“Actually, I have to get going,” the Marine replied, seeing Carter swimming back toward the shore. “If I’m going to be in Miami all day tomorrow, there are some things that I need to do before we leave.”
“I’ll be here if you change your mind.”
“Enjoy your beach time,” Spencer smiled and headed toward the Inn.
Chapter 5
For probably the first time in his life, Spencer Bengal felt like the most useless person on the planet as he trailed into the giant concert venue in Miami, behind Gingham, Carter and the band. He was there early enough before the show, that he felt ridiculous wearing a VIP badge on a lanyard, so he tucked it inside his shirt, feeling less conspicuous. He leaned against the stage and watched the setup, trying to disappear.
“Hey man,” a burly, black-bearded dude in work boots, jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt called down to him from the stage. “We ain’t got time for nobody to be leaning. Grab that roll of gaffer’s tape and get up here,” he demanded.
Spencer knew immediately that he’d been mistaken for a roadie, and he was fine with that. He grabbed the tape, hopped up onto the stage, and did whatever manual labor he was told to do for the next couple of hours. He was repositioning a stack of lights by the drum set when Gingham found him.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t sit around and do nothing when there was work to be done,” that sweet voice said from behind him, taking in the moist glow on the Marine’s muscular form.
Spencer turned around with a grin, wiping his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt.
“Just trying to help, ma’am.”
She swatted at him playfully. “I told you, don’t call me ma’am, silly.”
“Then don’t call me silly, ma’am,” he teased right back, both of them laughing.
“What are you doing up here?” Carter demanded, surprising Spencer from behind.
The Marine raised an eyebrow in annoyance, and Gingham answered for him.
“He’s up here because he can be, Carter. I gave him an all-access pass, and for your information, he’s been doing the work of at least three of your guys, so you need to just back off,” she said, hands on her hips.
“Fine,” Carter threw up his hands dramatically. “Don’t come crying to me if he gets hurt,” he tossed over his shoulder as he stalked away.
Gingham looked at Spencer and noticed a strange look on his face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, placing a hand lightly on his arm.
He shook his head. “It’s none of my business, but…you really shouldn’t let your boyfriend treat you like he does. You deserve better than that.”
Fearing that he’d get slapped, yelled at, or worse, Spencer was surprised to hear the music star’s musical laugh.
“Carter? Oh my, he’s definitely not my boyfriend,” she said, squeezing his arm. “He’s my manager, so he’s part Rottweiler, part mother hen,” she laughed again. “That’s why he’s so mean to you sometimes. He thinks he’s protecting me from the big, bad wolf or something.”
The short-haired guy from the band approached, and looked around in every direction before leaning in to speak to Gingham.
“Hey boss lady, I just thought you should know. We found Waldo again. He’s staying at the same hotel as the road crew – they think he probably followed the big rig that had all of the equipment in it.”
“Oh no, really? I was hoping we could go at least a couple of shows without having to deal with him. Thanks for letting me know, Joey,” she sighed.
“Yeah, we’re all keeping our eyes peeled, and we’ve alerted security here in the venue, so I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he reassured the diminutive country star.
Spencer’s senses were on high alert, and as soon as the bass guitarist left, he look intently at Gin
gham.
“Waldo?” he asked, his voice low.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I have a fan who’s a stalker. He follows me, and gets really angry when I or one of the guys tells him that I’m not going to marry him. We call him Waldo because we have to look for him in the crowd all the time to make sure that he keeps his distance. He’s threatened to kill me if I don’t marry him. It’s ugly,” she shivered.
“Why hasn’t he been arrested?” Spencer’s jaw tightened.
“Because, so far, he’s stayed far enough away that he’s technically not breaking the law. I’m sure that I’ll be fine, we just don’t want to take any chances. But, enough doom and gloom,” she deliberately changed the subject. “I’m going to do my sound check in about an hour, then we’ll all be hanging out in the green room. There’ll be drinks and snacks, so I’d better see you back there,” she said in a mock-warning tone, poking her finger in the middle of his chest.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” he grinned.
Gingham left to talk with her costume manager, and Spencer could feel someone’s eyes boring into his back. Turning swiftly, he caught Carter giving him the death stare, to which he responded with a jaunty wave. He refused to let the over-protective manager get to him. Before he turned to walk away, he thought he caught a glimpse of someone lurking in the shadows behind some man-sized speakers, but, when he stared at the spot, the only thing that he saw moving was the stage curtain.
Spencer wanted to change out of his sweaty clothes, so he jogged outside, behind the venue, where the shuttle was parked, planning to grab an extra shirt that he kept as part of a readiness bag. It was a simple, blue button down, but should work nicely for a country music concert. As he approached the bus, he saw a man sidling around it, straining his neck as though he was trying to peep inside.
“You looking for something?” he called to the man, who jumped, acting guilty.
“I…uh…no, I just…” the man backed away from Spencer, stammering, sweaty.
“What’s your name?” the Marine continued advancing.
The pale, red-haired man with the greasy comb-over walked backwards to get away, his mouth working, but no answer forthcoming. Spencer stopped when the wide-eyed soul tripped over his own feet and went sprawling down on the blazing hot asphalt. He stood, watching, to see what the man would do, and when he lurched to his feet and sped away as fast as his threadbare running shoes would take him, the watchful Marine let him go. There had been something pathetic about the man that made it seem cruel to chase him.
On his way back into the building, wearing a clean shirt, and having spent a few seconds combing his shoulder-length waves into submission with his fingers, Spencer ran into Carter, who stood, arms crossed, as if waiting for him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he drawled, when Spencer drew near.
“What’s it to you?” the Marine challenged casually, done with the manager’s attitude.
“You may think she likes you, but she doesn’t. She gets bored and likes to flirt with any old pretty boy who comes along,” Carter sneered.
“Whatever man,” Spencer rolled his eyes and tried to brush past, but the manager made the mistake of grabbing his arm.
Before he knew what was happening to him, the Marine had him in a headlock and was easing him down to the floor as the world started to turn grey. When Carter came to, he was lying on the floor, just inside the rear entrance to the venue, and he heard the opening notes of the sound check. Glancing at his watch, he cursed.
Chapter 6
Feeling much better about having contained Carter and his bad attitude, Spencer was able to relax and enjoy himself at the green room gathering before the show. He got to know the members of the band, who were impressed by his ability to lend a hand, never having done concert set-up before. Bobby, the dude with black hair that covered one of his eyes, invited him to join up with the tour and become a permanent set-up guy. That invitation was politely, but firmly, declined. The thought of having to deal with Carter on a daily basis was not something that the Marine could stomach.
The food in the green room was outstanding and abundant, as was the selection of drinks. Knowing that he’d be driving later in the evening, Spencer chose to stay with ginger ale, rather than succumbing to the temptation of liquid courage, but helped himself heartily to the buffet. A cheer went up when Gingham came back from her personal sound check – the boys in the band had already done theirs – and everyone relaxed and hung out until just before show time.
“Spencer?” Gingham said, just as she was about to leave for the show, beckoning him to come over.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
She moved in close. “I’d love it if you stood in the wings to watch the show tonight. I think it would inspire me to be able to look over and see you there,” she whispered, catching her lower lip between her teeth in a way that made him blush all the way to his toes.
“Sure, I can do that,” he nodded, more than conscious of several pairs of eyes watching the two of them.
“Great. I’ll see you after the show,” she promised, giving him a long look.
“I’ll be here,” Spencer smiled, feeling a trickle of sweat run between his shoulder blades and down his back.
He’d encountered more than a few gorgeous and successful women, but none in recent memory had affected him the way that Gingham Grant did. He took a deep breath and watched her disappear down the hallway.
The guys in the band got to their feet and headed for the exit. Joey, the short-haired bass guitarist, inclined his head, gesturing for Spencer to follow. When the Marine caught up with them, he gave him some quick instructions.
“Okay, dude, listen up, because we don’t have much time. Gingham is left-handed, so she’ll want you to stand on the left side, that’s where she looks when she gets weirded out or overwhelmed or tired, or whatever, so she likes to have a friendly face over there, and yours is prettier than most,” he teased.
“There’s an X marked on the floor – stand on it. You’ll be off camera, and out of sight to the audience, but she’ll be able to see you. There’ll be bottles of water over there. If she nods at you, open one of them up, and someone will come over and get it for her, got it?”
“Not exactly rocket science,” Spencer reassured him.
“Right. Don’t be a distraction, but be attentive. I don’t want her to look over there and see you spacing off, dig?”
“I hear you,” the Marine nodded.
“Also, there’s a security guard who will be standing directly to your left. If you see anything weird happening, he’s your guy. Just give him a little wave and he’ll come to you, just stay on your X.”
“Like what kind of weird thing could happen?”
“Who knows? I’m just saying, man. Stuff happens sometimes, you know?”
“Yeah, sure, I get it,” Spencer nodded. “That it?”
“Yup, that’s it. You good?”
“Yep, I’m good. You?”
“Every way, every day, man. I’ll see you after the show,” Joey clapped him on the back and disappeared into a fold of the curtains.
**
Spencer took his place on the X, feeling more than a bit foolish, until Gingham looked over and flashed him a hundred-watt smile that dazzled him. He saw the bottles of water, right where Joey had said they’d be, and surveyed his immediate surroundings, while the band assembled themselves onstage, to raucous applause. The guys started playing, and, despite his aversion to the genre, Spencer found himself tapping his foot and head bobbing in time to the music.
The roar of applause became deafening as Gingham stepped onto the stage, and he watched the sweet-natured beauty command the crowd with ease and grace. When she opened her mouth to sing, his heart skipped a beat. She may not be singing his preferred style of music, but she had the voice of an angel, something that didn’t surprise him at all.
Time flew by, and Spencer drank in the sight of Gingham working the audience, making them
smile, making them cry, with her words and that voice. He had to remind himself to periodically scan the stage and area around it, wanting to make certain that the angel on stage stayed safe. It was during one such scan that his attention was captured by an unusual shock of color that seemed out of place in the monochrome backstage area.
He stared hard, and saw it again, a flash of carrot-red hair, and the glint of the lights on wire-rimmed glasses. When the man that he’d seen lurking around the bus saw that Spencer had spotted him, he stumbled backward, staggering into the light stack that the Marine had adjusted earlier, knocking it off balance. It teetered for a moment, then started to fall, heading right for the spot where Gingham was crooning a love song. Without a thought for anything other than her safety, he dashed out onto the stage, scooping her up into his arms and moving her out of the path of the light stack that crashed down so close behind him that he felt a breeze from it.
Audience members screamed, and Gingham trembled from head to foot, burying her face in the neck of her rescuer.
Carter came onto the stage and took the mike from where it was still clutched in Gingham’s hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, obviously we won’t be able to continue the show this evening, and…” he began, only to be interrupted by a sharp “No!” from Gingham. Spencer carefully set her on the floor, and the tiny, but determined singer pulled the microphone away from her well-meaning manager.
“Just hang tight everybody,” she smiled, somehow managing to keep her voice from shaking, despite her ordeal. “We’re not gonna let a little ole setback stop the music, are we?” she asked the crowd, which applauded and shouted its support.
“Gingham, I really don’t think…” Carter started to protest, his jaw clenched.
“Stop,” she said with a smile to make it look to the audience like there was nothing wrong. “These folks paid to see a show and they’re gonna get one, even if I have to sit plucking an unplugged guitar. Figure out what needs to be done to get us back on track, and do it,” she said firmly, not leaving room for argument.
Apple Crisp Murder: A Frosted Love Cozy Mystery - Book 30 (A Frosted Love Cozy Mysteries) Page 2
