Lucky and the Axed Accountant

by Emmy Grace

  I snatch the shovel and crouch at the corner of the porch to wait. I’m breathing heavy, but I still hear the frantic patter of David’s feet on the ground just before he gets to me. I bide my time until I think he’s close enough, then I spring around and swing the shovel, hoping for the best.

  With one dull thwack, I hit David right across the chest. It’s forceful enough to send aftershocks all the way up my arms to my shoulders. It stings, but I don’t really notice. All I care about is seeing David’s feet come off the ground and hearing the air leave his lungs when he lands flat on his back.

  It’s not enough to completely subdue him, though, and David’s bigger than me. That leaves me with one choice, so I do the only thing I can. I take a few steps toward him and slam my foot down in his nether region. Hard.

  I’m gratified by the painful puking sounds as David folds like the cheap suit he probably showed up wearing. I take the opportunity to grab Regina’s purse off his arm and sling it over my shoulder. I step back slowly, wielding the shovel like a light saber.

  “I would say good to see you, David, but we both know it’s not. You’re the same lowlife you always were, and I’m only gonna tell you this once. Stay away from Regina. I won’t be this nice next time.”

  He’s rolling from side to side on the ground. He seems to be in quite a bit of pain. I guess that happens when someone like me stomps on your bits and pieces like she was killing a rattlesnake. Makes me feel kind of bad. I mean, what if I made him sterile?

  But that only lasts for about twenty-two seconds. Then common sense and my best friend’s battered heart remind me that, if I sterilized him, I probably did the world a favor.

  I’m smugly watching David cradle his crotch when I hear Beebee’s voice from the grass a few feet away. I must’ve dropped the phone when I picked up the shovel.

  “Lucky? Chère, are you a’right?”

  I grab the phone and hold it up so Beebee can see that I am. “I’m fine, Beebee. Sorry about that.”

  “Did you kick his man parts?”

  “Heck yeah, I did.”

  Her face splits into a joyful grin. “Atta girl.”

  13

  As we sit on the end of her bed, Regina’s tears finally start to dry up. “Why do I let him do this to me?”

  “You had strong feelings for him. Those don’t just go away over night.”

  “But he’s so awful to me. Why would I do that to myself?”

  “Your heart is big, Regina. You’re the most forgiving person I know. No one else on the planet could put up with me the way you do. The difference is, I would never hurt you. David is just a self-involved butthole. He knows how to take advantage of your Cajun awesomeness.”

  At that, she grins. “Cajun awesomeness is pretty awesome.”

  “It’s the best.”

  She leans forward to hug me. “Thank you for always having my back.”

  “I’ve got your back. Your front. Your sides. The bottoms of your feet. You name it, I’ve got it.”

  “I hope David walks bow-legged for a week.”

  “Oh, he will. There was a good reason Coach Trembly always wanted me to try out for the soccer team.”

  “She shoots, she scores.”

  “David definitely won’t be scoring for a while.”

  We both relish that thought for a few seconds before Regina asks, “So, what are you doing here? You never said.”

  “I came to borrow a dress. Something nice.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m going to a fancy restaurant tonight. Reservation only.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “Wow. Must not be in Salty Springs then.” I tell her about the restaurant and why I’m going. “I should’ve known it wasn’t an actual date.”

  “You know good and well that it’ll ruin what we’ve got going here in South Carolina if I date. Liam or anybody else.”

  “Just don’t let him kiss you. That seems to be when the worst of the trouble starts.”

  “I wish Beebee had been more specific when she blessed me. If that’s why I come out of all my messes with life and limb intact, which I still don’t really believe, the least she could’ve done was made me lucky in love, too. My life would be a whole lot simpler.”

  “I guess you can’t have everything. Besides, the way men react to you isn’t exactly unlucky.”

  “It is when we kiss and they slip into full-on stalker mode.”

  “I’d love it if men went wild over me that way.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Not really.”

  “I don’t know. It sounds good to me to be adored that way. I just want to be loved.”

  “But then how would you ever know if he loved you for you rather than just some weird lucky blessing? How would you know he wasn’t sort of drugged by it?” She just stares at me. “That’s right. You wouldn’t. You’d never know if the man you love loves you back, for real, or if it’s just some freaky attraction.”

  “Is that how you feel? Like no man will ever love you for you?”

  “I don’t know if one will or not. But how will I ever know?”

  “Oh, you’ll know.” She pauses. “Is that what you want? For someone to be able to prove he loves you for you?”

  I shrug, suddenly uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. “I don’t know. I don’t ever think about it.”

  That’s a lie. I just try not to think about it much now. There was a time when I wanted love and a soul mate just as much as Regina, but all my romantic involvements went from sparks to obsession, and that’s just not normal.

  The expression on my best friend’s face is sad and full of pity, which wasn’t my intention. That’s why I change the subject to something I know will take her mind completely off me and my love life.

  “I can’t worry about it now anyway. First, I need a dress. And I guess someone willing to do my hair and makeup.”

  Regina’s face lights up like a pumpkin at Halloween. She’s always loved dressing me up when I give her free reign, which isn’t often. To her, I’m like a human Barbie doll.

  “I know you’d better be talking about me.”

  “Who else?”

  She claps her hands in glee. “Yay! I could use the distraction.”

  She jumps off the bed and races to her closet, flinging open the doors. She’s mumbling to herself as she rifles through hangers, pulling out one thing and then stuffing it back into the fold. Finally, she selects something and turns toward me, holding it up against her front. “This. It’s perfect.”

  The dress she’s holding is a royal blue number with a plunging neckline and flared skirt. The top ties behind the neck and has gathers along the bodice. It reminds me of a blue version of Marilyn Monroe’s famous dress. It makes my palms sweat just to think of wearing it. But Regina’s need for this far outweighs my discomfort, so I plaster on a smile and nod my agreement.

  “Whatever you say, queenie.” That’s what I call her when she’s in this mode. She reminds me of a queen, making everyone and everything around her beautiful and perfect for the “ball of the century.”

  I watch as Regina darts from place to place in her room, grabbing shoes and jewelry and this and that. It’s a good thing we are the same size, although I tend to fill out her clothes a little more in the bust and rear.

  I know she won’t rest until every detail is perfect. In previous instances, she’s even tried to tell me what underwear to put on, but I draw the line at drawers.

  An hour later, she sends me back to my place with instructions to soak in a hot bath with rose oil in it for one hour. She gave me more bottles and vials with more instructions, like dab this here and smear that there. Finally, I’m to call her when I’m robed. Not that I’ll need to do that. I happen to know she won’t be waiting by the phone; she’ll show up at my door ten minutes before I could possibly be done.

  Which is exactly what happens. I’m just taking the compress off my eyes when I hear the knock at my front door. Knowing my best friend the w
ay I do is why I left it unlocked.

  Before I can think better of it, I yell for her to come in. Mr. Jingles barks and, seconds later, Gumbo snorts. I cringe, waiting for the rest of the zoo to chime in, but it doesn’t come. My guess is that Lucy-fur is outside, which is good. Separating animals is one less thing I have to worry about right now. My main concern is that Regina doesn’t make me up like a hooker on her first big night on the town. There was some mention of body glitter that’s got me a bit concerned.

  “Out of the water!” she demands with a flourish when the opens the bathroom door to find me neck deep in rose-scented water and bubbles.

  I don’t bother to argue. I just take the towel she’s blindly holding out to me and haul myself out of the tub.

  For the next half hour, I take what Regina hands me and do what she tells me to do with it. Even the body glitter. She only made me put it on my chest and a tad on my shoulders, which actually looks kind of nice.

  Once I’m dressed, she takes over. She slathers and paints and pats every inch of my face. Then, when she nods in satisfaction, she turns her attention to my hair, curling and pulling and spraying until I almost gag on the fumes.

  “Are you almost done?” I hate to complain, but I will if I have to.

  She spins me around in front of the full-length mirror. “Tada! What do you think?”

  I have to give her credit for being able to work some magic when she puts her mind to it. Or maybe it’s just when I let her. Either way, she’s made me look like a better, classier, prettier version of myself, and, better yet, she’s made me feel like a movie star.

  My eyes are done up in smoky grays and dark blue, and she gave me a pale, glossy lip. My cheeks are just the right amount of pink and my hair is artfully arranged in a low, loose bun with tendrils poking out here and there. Not a bad effect, if I do say so myself.

  With a pouty mouth, I bend at the waist and put my hands between my knees like I’m holding my dress in place. “Oh, no! My dress is blowing up around my ears,” I say in a thick, flighty Southern drawl. “What will he think of my knickers?”

  “Knickers?” Regina snorts. “How did I not know that Marilyn Monroe was born in 1800s Georgia?”

  “For my purposes, she was.” I bat my eyes at her in the mirror. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  Admittedly, the last came out sounding like I used to be the star of a very different kind of film.

  “You’d better not do that in front of Liam. He’s liable to hit you over the head and drag you off to his cave.”

  It’s my turn to snort. “Not likely. This is business.”

  Right then, there’s a heavy knock at the door. I yell for Liam to come in, because I know that’s who it is. I can tell by the grumpy knock. Regina leans around me to look out into the living room, then glances back in my direction with wide, wide eyes. “Business? Yeah, have fun remembering that.”

  I puzzle for a second over her comment, but I don’t have to wonder long. It makes perfect sense when I step out into the living room.

  Liam is standing in front of the signed Bon Jovi concert t-shirt that I framed and hung by the front door, and he looks good. Like, really good.

  He’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. While the outfit looks like he stole it from the set of Men in Black, he looks absolutely dashing in it. His dark hair is damp and wavy from his shower, and his lean cheeks are cleanly shaved. I don’t want to be impressed, but…

  Dang!

  I’m trying to figure out what to say to him when he turns toward me and stops. His mouth falls open the tiniest bit and his expression goes slack.

  His light eyes dance over me from head to toe, and when they reach my face, I grin. “I clean up nice, huh?”

  There’s a short pause before his customary face-storm rolls into place. “You’ll do.”

  “It would literally kill you to give me a compliment, wouldn’t it?” Regina hands me the clutch that matches my shoes and I snatch it from her.

  “You don’t need my compliments. You get them from every other man that crosses your path.”

  “Ha! You say that like half the women in this town aren’t vying for your attention.”

  He doesn’t argue, which means he must know he’s the most eligible bachelor in Salty Springs. And probably the surrounding twenty-five counties, too.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I turn to Regina in question. She nods. “You’re as ready as I can make you.”

  I give her cheek a kiss. “Thank you for making me purtiful.”

  “You were purtiful before I started,” she rejoins with a wink. She grabs the bag of cosmetic witchcraft that she brought with her and heads for the door. “You two kids have fun insulting each other. Liam, be sure to pull her pigtails.”

  Liam glowers at her, which makes her giggle as she walks out the door.

  “You’re such a ray of sunshine,” I tell him when she’s gone. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  He just grunts and sweeps his arm toward the door, indicating it’s time for us to go.

  “I’ll be back soon, babies,” I tell my animals and make a kissing sound. They all know what that means, even Gumbo. He’s a fast learner.

  Liam opens the door and I shoot through then spin to lock it behind us.

  “You smell nice.” He says it almost grudgingly.

  “That’s just because you spent the morning neck deep in garbage.”

  “Probably.”

  I turn toward the truck, but the truck isn’t parked in my driveway. A sleek black sedan is.

  “Where’s the truck?”

  “I know you have trouble getting into it, so I brought the car.”

  “Where have you been hiding this beauty?” I say in appreciation when he opens the door for me.

  “It’s a car from another life.” His tone tells me that I shouldn’t ask questions, even though I want to. Oh, how I want to.

  “Well, thank you for bringing it tonight.” I smile at him as I duck inside.

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” he says, slamming the door shut.

  Too late.

  14

  We spend the drive to the restaurant going over the details of Andrew Ames’ murder, which is pretty much pointless. We still don’t have any really good, solid suspects. Mayor Dunning, while having plenty of motive, feels unlikely to me. I’m not sure why, but my gut tells me that he’s not a man who would get his hands dirty. At least not this dirty. Murder dirty. Plus, the book wasn’t in his safe.

  Just then, my phone rings. When I take it out of the thin clutch, the screen reads UNKNOWN.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Boucher, this is William Dunning.”

  It’s like he knew I was thinking about him.

  “Yes, sir. How are you?”

  “I’m well, thank you. Better now that you and my son have determined that I don’t have the book.”

  My eyes widen when I glance over at Liam. “Book? I…I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Of course, you do. Did you believe that my butler wouldn’t tell me the two of you visited? Or that I wouldn’t be able to figure out why?” When I don’t reply, he continues. “While I don’t appreciate the breach of privacy, I hope that now you can focus your efforts on finding the real culprit. I’m not the only one who could be hurt by the contents of the ledger.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Do you have any other suspects?”

  “Uh, not any good ones, but I’m on my way to look into something as we speak.”

  “Well, then I’ll leave you to it. Please keep me updated.”

  “At…at this number, sir?”

  “Yes, that would be fine. This is my personal cell phone.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Mayor Dunning.”

  When I hang up, Liam glares over at me. “You’re thanking my father? For what?”

  “For not pressing charges. He knows we searched his office.”

  “He might think he�
�s above the law, but he’s not.”

  “You can say that because he wouldn’t try to have you thrown in jail. I don’t enjoy that same assurance.”

  “I wouldn’t have let him throw you in jail.”

  “Like you could stop him.”

  “I’d never let him hurt you. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Part of me warms at this protective gesture, but the rest of me bristles at being called ridiculous. I’m not ridiculous. He’s ridiculous.

  My fingers tighten around my envelope-like purse. “You know, I’ve never wanted to hit someone with my purse before.”

  I see the dip of one corner of Liam’s mouth. “I assume that means you’re considering it now.”

  “You have no idea.”

  I hear that snorting sound again. I’m beginning to think it’s Liam’s version of a laugh. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s almost endearing. Kind of like it is when Gumbo does it. I just hope Liam doesn’t try to root at my leg. That might be a bit off-putting.

  When we finally arrive at the restaurant, a valet is there to take the car. Swanky! I’ve never even seen a valet before, much less been helped from a car by one.

  “Thank you,” I mumble when he escorts me to the curb where Liam is waiting.

  “My pleasure, ma’am.” His smile is very appreciative. Very. As usual. But when he gets a load of Liam’s foreboding expression, he tucks tail and hops into the car to drive away.

  “I bet you win everyone over with all that charm, don’t you?” I ask with no small amount of sarcasm.

  He makes no comment as we head inside. We’re seated by a hostess that is as admiring of Liam as the valet was of me. He doesn’t pay any attention, though. Probably because he’s used to it. The difference is, Liam hasn’t had Beebee’s blessing. He’s just naturally gorgeous and compelling.

  When we’re seated, he mumbles something to the hostess, to which she smiles brightly and nods.

  “Did you get her number?” I tease.