I taped a bandage over the cut on his eye and handed him the ice pack. “Okay. I can get us some off-the-record police advice, but they need to know that Kent beat the hell out of you—”
He interrupted, “But—”
I cut him off. “Because it shows a tendency toward physical violence. If they can establish that, along with the fact that he and Abigail inherit a crap ton of money with Cecilia gone, all they need is one little shred of evidence placing him at the scene, and he fries.”
“He was there that night. I talked to him.”
“Well, they have to prove he was inside the Java Jive tent specifically, and to do that, they probably need his fingerprints and DNA. But, they also need a reason to collect that stuff. I hate to say this, but you pressing charges against him may be the only way to make that happen. I know it would probably mean an assault charge against you as well, but wouldn’t that be a small price to pay to catch your sister’s killer…and to prevent Kent from potentially hurting Abigail? What’s to stop him from killing her to get all of the money to himself?”
Stan went pale. “I never thought of that.”
There was a knock at the door. Cole stuck his head in and announced, “There are two dudes here to see you.” He nodded his head at Stan. “How you doin’, Clooney?”
Before I had to explain Cole’s comment to Stan, I shoved Cole back out the door and went to meet Trevor and Ryan.
“Hi, guys. Thanks for coming to my rescue again.”
Ryan smiled. “No problem. Actually, it should help on one of my finals. I have to suture a pig’s foot tomorrow for a grade. Do I get to stitch someone up again?”
I nodded, and Ryan’s face lit up even more.
“Bro, you are way too excited about this. You’re sick,” Trevor said.
“It’s my calling. And I’m craving cookies.” Ryan looked at me pleadingly. “There will be cookies, won’t there?”
I glanced over at the pastry case. It was full, even though we were fast approaching closing time. “Yeah, there are dozens of cookies in your future.”
He smiled. “Let’s do this.”
I showed them back to the office. Stan was holding the ice pack against his eye and pouting. “Stan, this is my neighbor Trevor Wells and his friend Ryan Hart. Ryan is a med student, and he’s going to take a look at your face. Guys, this is Stan Hollingsworth.”
They all said their hellos, and Ryan got out his gloves. He took my bandage off Stan’s cut and examined the wound.
He said to Stan, “It’s up to you, man. Facial stitches are very painful. I don’t have to stitch it up, but the wound will heal better and the scar will be less noticeable if I do.”
Stan gritted his teeth. He was such a baby, but he was trying so hard not to be. “Do it.”
Ryan got to work, and I noticed he was much more adept at suturing than he had been a couple of months ago.
“Hey, you’re really getting good at this,” I said, watching him work.
“Yeah, after I stitched up your guy, it really built my confidence, you know? And, of course, I’ve been practicing for my final.”
“It shows. Um…again, I’m going to ask for your discretion about keeping this quiet.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Trevor joked, “If pediatrics doesn’t work out for you, maybe you can get a job being the doctor on call for the mob. You could use Juliet as a reference.”
I chuckled. “Please don’t.”
Ryan got done stitching and began examining the rest of Stan’s wounds. He said, “Keep some ice on your eye. You’re going to have a shiner, but there’s really nothing you can do about that. Any loose teeth from the punch to the mouth?”
Stan replied, “No.”
“Did you get hit anywhere else—gut, ribs, kidneys?”
“The stomach a couple of times.”
“Can I take a look?” Ryan asked.
Stan dutifully unbuttoned his shirt and let Ryan take a look. He definitely had nice abs, but he was no Ryder. The skin on his stomach was a little red.
Ryan asked, “Do you have any pain when you take a deep breath?”
After taking a breath, Stan replied, “No.”
Ryan placed his hand on Stan’s chest and asked, “Does it hurt when I press here, on your sternum?”
“No.”
“Twist your upper body for me and tell me if you have any pain.”
Stan did as he was told, and again said, “No.”
Ryan took his gloves off and started packing up. “Doesn’t seem like you have any broken ribs, but it definitely wouldn’t hurt to get an X-ray. Those sutures need to come out in about a week, but I’m leaving Friday for Christmas break, so you’ll need to have someone else remove them for you. Juliet, you could probably do it, but I don’t recommend it.”
“We’ll work it out,” I said. “Going home for Christmas?” Ryan and I were from the same hometown, Liberty, Indiana, although we hadn’t known each other before meeting here in Nashville.
“Yeah, my parents are coming in, too, and we’re all staying at my sister’s house.” He grinned. “She’s gonna hate it. You heading back?”
“Probably around New Year’s. It kind of depends on what goes on here.” Even though I was angry with him at the moment, I didn’t think I could leave Pete in the state he was in on Christmas.
“Cool. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
The guys got up to leave, and Stan buttoned his shirt and stood up. He stuck out his hand to Ryan and said, “Thank you for helping me.”
Ryan shook his hand. “No problem, man. It was great practice.”
“Let’s get you boys some dinner,” I said, ushering them to the front of the house. I said to Cole, “Get these guys anything they want. On me. And box up the rest of the cookies for them.” I turned to Ryan and Trevor. “Thanks again, you two. Good luck on your finals.”
They waved goodbye, and I went back to the office. I plopped down next to Stan and said, “Now what?”
He looked over at me. “I need a drink.”
“Me, too.”
“Let’s go out.”
I gave him a doubtful look. “Do you feel like going out? You look like hell.”
Smiling, he said, “Thanks. Actually I have an ulterior motive. Kent said he’d press charges if I talked to the police. He didn’t say anything about feeding the gossip mill.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, let’s go to the club. It’ll be pretty obvious who did this, because I’ve heard he’s been going around shooting his mouth off about me since last week.”
I frowned. “Do you think it’s wise to provoke him? He’s kind of crazy, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I can’t just hide out like a coward,” he said earnestly.
Good for Stan, finally showing some balls. “Okay, if that’s what you want to do.”
“Will it be awkward for us to go out together since we’re not dating anymore? And will other people think it’s strange for us to be seen together?”
Stan worried way too much about what other people thought. I said, “No, we’re friends, remember?”
He smiled. “Yes, I know. But you have to understand—my ego has been badly bruised. If anyone asks, I dumped you.”
“Fair enough.”
Chapter 21
After I changed clothes, I drove us over to the country club. Stan’s eye had swelled so much that it was only open a fraction of an inch. He didn’t care, though. He wanted to make a point.
When we stepped through the door, all eyes swiveled toward us. I wasn’t exactly dressed to go to the club—I had on a nice enough sweater, but I was wearing jeans, evidently a fashion faux pas around here. And of course, Stan looked like he’d been hit by a truck. We strolled over to the bar and sat down.
“Two vodka martinis,” Stan said to the bartender.
“Make that a beer for me, please,” I interjected. I didn’t have to keep up appearances anymore, now that I was no longer
officially dating Stan.
Stan was being pretty quiet, playing with the coaster in front of him. We got our drinks and sipped them in silence for a while.
The silence finally got to me. “What’s up?”
He turned to me and said apologetically, “I don’t know how to act around you now.”
I hid a smile. Stan was worrying about what other people thought again. “You should act the same way you always have, only now you can’t think about having sex with me. Friends don’t do that.”
Chuckling, he said, “That’s an interesting way of putting it.” He went back to sipping his drink, but didn’t seem as dejected.
I toyed with the bracelet he’d given me for a moment, then removed it from my arm. “Since we’re just friends now, I should probably return this.” I held the bracelet out to him.
Stan took the bracelet from me, but instantly put it back on my wrist. “Absolutely not. I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it, not because I thought we’d be together forever.” He smiled at me. “Do you know you’re the first woman who has ever offered to give jewelry back to me when we called it quits? Most women don’t like to part with shiny things—but then, you’re not most women.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
During the lull in our conversation, I heard the hushed tones of people whispering behind us. Even though I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I could tell they were talking about us, or Stan at least. He was right about the club being a good place to start the rumor mill. All we needed to do was let it slip to one gossipy person that Kent beat up Stan, and everyone would know within minutes. But who? I turned around to scan the crowd. I didn’t know anyone here. Wait. I spotted a familiar face across the room.
I nudged Stan. “Isn’t that Jenny Vaughn over there?”
He turned around and looked. “Yes.”
“You two on speaking terms since you relieved her of her virginity?”
Smiling sheepishly, he said, “Yes, we’re on speaking terms. She’s always had a soft spot for me.”
“Let’s get her to come over here.”
“Why?”
“I’m feeding your rumor mill, and I need you to do something for me.”
“Name it,” he replied.
“Get her to tell you who Cecilia’s baby daddy is…was. Whatever.”
He furrowed his brow. “What? Pete’s the father.”
“No, he’s not,” I said emphatically.
“He’s not? Then who is?”
I explained, “She was cheating on Pete with another guy. I need to know his name.”
“Why?”
“I just do. Will you do it? Jenny probably won’t even speak to me.”
He regarded me quizzically for a moment and then relented. “Okay.”
Stan turned around and waved at Jenny, who waved back tentatively. She flicked her eyes toward me, and I saw her jaw clench. He beckoned her over, and she got up and slowly headed for us.
Jenny Vaughn had never liked me. It stood to reason, though, because she was always besties with Cecilia, who despised me. I remembered one time when Jenny had been particularly malicious.
It had been several days after I found out my boyfriend, Danny Wright, had cheated on me with my roommate. I had caused a big stir by tricking him into taking his clothes off in one of the practice rooms in the music building, and then pulling the fire alarm, forcing him to run outside naked. My payback was something students were talking about even years later, and in the week after it happened, I’d been a campus celebrity. I had lost count of the high-fives I got from girls (and even some guys) as I walked from class to class.
Jenny Vaughn was not one of those girls.
—
One evening, when I was headed back to my dorm, Jenny stopped me.
“Well, well, well. Aren’t you big girl on campus?” she sneered, an evil glint in her eye.
I thought that line would have worked better if she’d had a mustache to twirl, and the absurdity of the mental image made me giggle out loud.
“You got a problem, skank?” she went on, poking me in the shoulder.
I might have gotten mad, but her poke didn’t even hurt. I found it much too funny that Jenny was furious over something, and I had no clue why she had chosen to turn her wrath on me.
I replied, “It seems like you’re the one with the problem.”
She got in my face. “You might be getting kudos for how you got back at Danny, but let’s not forget what really happened. You got cheated on. Big-time.”
“So? Danny is a sleaze, in case you hadn’t noticed. I’m just thankful I figured it out when I did.”
Going on as if I hadn’t said anything, she continued, “And with your own roommate. How much does she have to hate you to do something like that? There must be something wrong with you. You can’t seem to keep a boyfriend or any female friends.”
“Um, I don’t really want to hang out with either one of them considering the circumstances, so that’s why we’re no longer friends. Do you have a point to this? Because I’d really like to not talk to you anymore.”
Her face turned red, and she exploded, “Oh, no. It was you! Your roommate doesn’t respect you, and there was obviously something you weren’t doing for Danny. Something lacking in your sex life, maybe? Like, did you call out Pete’s name one time when you were under Danny?”
Jenny’s rant had been funny up until that last statement, when I became completely pissed off. “Whoa. You can just stop right there. You don’t know me, and my life is none of your freaking business, so back off.”
“You’re a loser,” she said, her face inches from mine. “And you’ll always be a loser. And poor. And…and an ugly ginger!”
I had to shut her up. Redheaded She-Devil had an idea. “Your breath smells like dick, Jenny.”
She gasped, then abruptly snapped her lips shut. Her hand flew to her mouth as she backed away from me, eyes as big as saucers. I guessed I must have struck a nerve or something. Well, she was a slut, so it wasn’t a total shot in the dark.
I walked away triumphantly that night, in my mind the victor of a very odd fight. After that, Jenny never spoke directly to me again, which was fine with me. However, I always felt she fueled Cecilia’s fire against me any chance she got.
—
I jolted back to the present as Stan stood up, his hand outstretched toward Jenny.
“Hello, Jenny,” Stan said smoothly, taking her hand. “You know Juliet.”
She looked down her nose at me, but threw Stan a polite smile. “Yes, hello, Stan.” Obviously, she still wasn’t talking to me. Whatever.
“Please, sit down,” he said, offering her the chair next to him. “Let me get you a drink.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, not taking her eyes off Stan. She asked, “What happened to you?”
“I’m fine. I just got into a little fight, that’s all,” he said, acting nonchalant about it, probably knowing it would make her more interested.
“Hmm. I thought you were a lover, not a fighter.”
Chuckling, he said, “Normally, I am. But Kent and I had a minor disagreement and…he decided to end it with his fists.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” Her face softened. “How are you doing…otherwise?”
“It’s been rough. You?”
She shook her head, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I lost my best friend. I miss her so much.”
Stan covered her hand with his. Go Stan. He replied quietly, “I miss her, too. You know, her visitation is tomorrow…and I wanted to make sure to reach out to the man she was seeing. He probably needs closure, too.”
Jenny’s face turned angry, and she jerked her hand away. “Pete Bennett? He doesn’t deserve any closure.”
Turning on a charming smile, he said, “Of course he doesn’t. I mean the other man she was seeing. You know who it was, right, Jenny? Cecilia always confided everything in you. You were such a good friend to her.”
She
softened at his compliment, laying her hand back on his. They seemed to have forgotten I was sitting here. “Yes, she told me about him. I even met him a couple of times. Lovely man. Please do try to contact him. His name is Alejandro Bastidas.”
My mouth involuntarily dropped open, and I had to quickly cover it with my hand. No way! Cecilia’s fancy landscape architect was nailing her. Why didn’t I think of it before? That explained why she would cough up fifty large for a few flowers and a fishpond. Because he was doing way more than her landscaping.
Well, my work here was done. I said, “Um, Stan, is there any way you could catch a ride home with someone? I’ve got to leave.”
Jenny gave me a triumphant look. “I’d be happy to drive you home, Stan. Let me go tell my friends I’m ditching them.” She sashayed back to her table and started speaking to her friends.
“Well, you certainly got your rumor mill started nicely. And picked up an easy score in the process. Your night is looking up,” I said.
Smiling, he replied, “I guess it’s not going to be so bad after all. Thanks, Juliet.”
“I told you that you needed me as a friend. I’m a kickass wingman.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I gave him a hug. “I’ll see you soon.”
“At the visitation tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.
I made a face. “Do I have to?”
“Juliet! I thought we were friends.”
I smiled. “Fine. I’ll stop by.”
Chapter 22
I had a glorious night of uninterrupted sleep, in part thanks to the white noise of the steady rain, and I woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. Last night after I left Stan, I sent a group text message to Pete and Ryder. Basically, I told them I was going home, alone, and I was not to be pestered by either of them, and if they had a problem with that, they could suck it. It wasn’t very nice, I knew, especially since both of them were only looking out for me, but I was too tired to have a civil conversation after they had ganged up on me yesterday.
After remembering how many leftover cookies we sent home with Trevor and Ryan last night, I decided to make only half of my normal selection of baked items. If business was going to be this bad, I’d have to combat it somehow. I was putting off cutting my employees’ hours back because I hated to do it, especially around the holidays, when people needed the extra money. Unfortunately, it was my job to keep us in the black, and I’d do whatever it took to accomplish that.
Mug Shot Page 18
