“Then what the hell are you doing here? You can talk at Slim’s. What the hell am I doing here?”
Betty huffed. “Okay, here’s the deal, kid. This play thing is just a front for something else. Something bigger. Something a heck of a lot better; least we all think so.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “We’re trusting you to keep this information confidential. You’re a big-city guy now but try and remember what it’s like living in a small town.”
She took Joe’s hand. “You see, we’re sweet on each other. Nellie and Nick are the same way and so are Frank and Blanche and Roberta and Ty. The play gives us an excuse to be together, really together. We come in here big as you please every afternoon. Put the sign out front that says we’re rehearsing and no one should enter . . . That was Ty’s idea.” She winked and gave Ty a thumbs-up. “Then we leave out the side door and come back in a few hours, and no one knows the difference.”
Keefe stroked his chin. “Okay, I don’t get it. Why do you leave? What the hell do you do?”
“Sweet Jesus, boy,” said Nick. “You live in New York City. You’re a hip guy; do we have to go and spell it out for you? We fool around.”
Keefe felt his eyes bulge. “You . . . you . . .”
“I love Nellie,” Nick continued. “But we can’t get married. She’d lose her late husband’s pension, and for two to try and live off my savings as sheriff is a joke.” The others nodded in agreement. “It’s the same with all of us. Financially marriage is out because we’re on fixed incomes, and there’s not much employment around here for the older folks, so we can’t supplement incomes. But we enjoy each other socially and other ways, if you get my drift. If the townsfolk figured it out, tongues would be wagging a mile-a-minute and fingers pointing and snickering and the like, and none of us want that. We’re all pillars of the community. We’re respectable folk, and we have families here. We have to protect our good names. We sure can’t have scandal.”
Roberta sighed, “My daughter would shrivel up and die if she found out I was sleeping with Ty, and his son wouldn’t fair any better. The kids just don’t get it. Guess they think they got delivered by the stork.”
Keefe arched his eyebrows. “Until Bonnie showed up that’s pretty much how I had it pegged.”
“Good grief,” Betty said, then added, “I don’t think Stanley ever caught on to what we were up to and didn’t care as long as she got paid. Then she went and won a trip to Vegas from some radio show in Memphis—least that’s what we surmise—and now you’re here taking over.”
Keefe said, “What the hell were you going to do when it came time to put on a play and there wasn’t one?”
Ty said, “Figured we’d cross that bridge when we came to it. We’d all get sick or something.”
Frank added, “We’re desperate here, son. Bible study used to be how we got together before. We’d troop in the front door of Betty’s house all proper like with our Bibles in hand and our potluck dinner. Then the other six would sneak out the back and be gone for a few hours. They’d come back; we’d eat and leave through the front door looking respectable as all get-out. Pretty slick, huh?”
“Bible study?” Keefe leaned against the stage for support, half expecting a bolt of lightning to strike them all dead on the spot.
Betty said, “Except meeting three times a week for four years started to look kind of suspicious. There is just so much Bible to study, you know, and none of us could quote scripture for squat. When Ty told Reverend Adler we were reading Matthew, Mac, Luke, and Jack we knew we were treading on thin ice.”
“Three times a week? You’re all. . .What? Sixty-five? Older? Really, three times a week! Holy shit.”
Nellie blushed. “We’re not dead, Keefe, just on the better side of fifty, and being retired doesn’t mean we retire from everything.”
And they had one hell of a more active sex life than he did! Dammit, he was the young one, the TV star; he should be the one fooling around. Then he thought of Callie, and fooling around was just what he wanted to do. “I don’t believe this.”
“What’s not to believe?”
That they had incredible sex lives and his sucked goose droppings. Damn. “You’re right,” he said and held up his hands in surrender. “I believe every word, and I’m jealous.”
They all gave him a laugh that said they knew he was kidding . . . except he wasn’t. That was the pathetic part. “So now you expect me to cover for you?”
“Piece of cake. All you need to do is show up here with us around five so we can enter together and then at eight so we can leave together. And you can come up with a reason there won’t be a play. You got two weeks to figure out something.”
“Why me? All this so you can have your clandestine affairs?”
“Yep,” Nick said. “That pretty much covers it, and since you’re the creative one around here and can act for real you can fabricate a lie and make it believable.”
Keefe let out a long sigh. “Look, I can’t do this. I could never pull it off. There’s got to be another way for you to .. . you know.”
Ty shook his head. “We’ve racked our brains, and this is the best we could come up with till Stanley took off. Can’t you help us out for old-time’s sake?”
“What the hell am I supposed to do here for three hours? Make noises like there’s activity? And how do you know someone won’t come nosing around?”
Ty pushed a tape into a player sitting on the edge of the stage. He cranked up the volume, and Dial M for Murder came to life. “One play pretty much sounds like any other from a distance and through heavy doors. I got it to loop so there’s continuous voices. And what you do is your business as long as you keep your mouth shut about our business. No one’s going to come in. Adults mind the sign, and the kids don’t care diddly about a senior citizens’ play rehearsal.”
Keefe watched the couples sneak out the side door one at a time. If the CIA needed undercover senior personnel, the Energetic Eight of O’Fallon’s Landing were prime candidates. Hell, they were prime in more ways than one, had him outprimed all to hell and back.
It was his choosing, no doubt about that. But even with that damn contest and more women than ever hanging around him, he wasn’t interested. They all seemed . . . artificial. Ms. Spandex done a hundred times over and there was nothing appealing about that. Callie might be the press, but she was not a fake. She leveled with him about what she wanted. He hated fake . . . except on the stage where it belonged.
Which was why he couldn’t lie for the seniors. He’d help them think of something else . . . but what?
He checked his watch. He’d sneak back to his house and see what was happening there, then come back at eight. He waited a few minutes, then opened the side door to, “Callie? What are you doing here? Didn’t you see the sign out front?”
“I never pay attention to signs; it’s an occupational privilege.” She looked around as she came inside. “I dropped off Bonnie, and Rory said he wanted to feed her. Where are your actors, and why is there a recording on instead of a rehearsal? I wanted to see you in action, take some pictures. Isn’t that Dial M for Murder? I love that play. The key is the key.”
She laughed, the happy sound making him laugh, too. How’d she do that, turn a simple meeting into something more. “So,” she pressed. “What’s going on? From the looks of things nothing much. How do you feel about sawing and hammering?”
She’d changed from her khakis and T-shirt into one of those long peasant skirts and a red sleeveless cotton blouse with a scooped neck. Her skin was creamy, no suntan for Callie Cahill. She really was a workaholic, but right now she looked as refreshing as a gin and tonic on the back porch.
“I know a saw from a hammer, but other than that I’m a lost cause.” And getting more lost in Callie by the minute. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, there’s a glitch,” she said as she paced in front of the stage. “Not exactly a glitch so much as an added event. Yeah, that sounds better.”
“I think this town is full of added events.”
“Digger’s the one who’s going to woo Georgette, and we’re going to help him with some suggestions because he feels he’s not socially up to the task. In payment for his efforts you’re going to give him a nice big check, and we’re going to help him fix up the Lee.”
She had on white sandals, her toenails painted red to match her top. Why couldn’t she have changed into a . . . garment bag. “When did this we stuff come into play? Georgette was your responsibility in exchange for pictures. How’d I get roped in?” Though just looking at Callie he figured she could probably rope him into anything right now.
“You’re Georgette’s target. She’s making your life miserable. You get to help solve the problem. I did my part by convincing Digger. It’s not a bad idea, and it could work with some help. Wanna help?”
“Since I can’t think of any other way to deter Ms. Spandex, your way is worth a shot.”
She stopped pacing, smiled and held her arms wide. “Well there you go. We actually agree on something. So, you never did tell me where everyone went. Taking a break?”
“That’s one way of looking at it. Since we’re into a little flim-flam as Dad calls it, here’s another secret to add to the list. The play is really a front for the actors to mess around on the side. They’re older, living on a fixed income, but that’s the only thing fixed about them. They use this time to . . . And then they return and leave and—they’re screwing like rabbits.” The words hung between them, and their gazes connected.
“Screwing?” she whispered, then swallowed, her eyes dark as the Mississippi in a storm. Golden curls framed her face, the blouse showing a hint of cleavage. God, he wanted to touch her . . . just one touch to see if she was as soft and sweet as she looked. His heart thudded; she could probably hear it. After talking about sex for the last half hour and thinking about Callie and having her here now, what did he expect?
He felt her hair, the silky strands slipping between his fingers. Holy crap, one touch was not near enough. He wanted all of her, and he took her into his arms and kissed her.
His brain sizzled; his body went granite-hard. If she pulled away and slapped him silly, he’d understand, but she didn’t. . . Oh, thank God she didn’t!
She kissed him back! Her mouth parted, her lips warm, moist, accepting as her arms twined around his neck. His tongue laid claim to hers, and his hands splayed across her back, fusing their bodies. Her whimpers accompanied his primal moan, the sensual sounds drowned out by the recording. Thanks, Ty, for the tape.
Her breasts swelling against his chest made him even more crazy for her, and he backed her against the stage as her fingers wound into his hair and her body wiggled closer to him.
“What are we doing?” she asked in a shaky breath.
His tongue stroking hers suggested exactly what was on his mind. She pulled her head back, her face flushed and eyes bright with the same passion possessing him.
“I don’t have a clue, but I really like it,” he replied.
Her eyes never left his as her palms trailed down his neck, his chest, then stopped at the snap to his jeans. His skin burned for wanting her and then she claimed his mouth in a wet kiss as she unzipped his jeans. She stroked his erection through his briefs, and the gym tilted on its foundation.
The play droned on, but he had no idea what was said, and when she pushed down his briefs and cradled him between her palms he nearly lost it.
“What if someone comes in,” she gasped. “I did.”
“They’ll get one hell of a performance. Damn, woman, you are something else.” Reluctantly he let her go and retrieved a condom. Four shaky hands slid it on, and he looked her in the eyes. “You sure about this.”
“Good grief, Keefe!” She scooped her skirt onto one arm, exposing bare legs, a patch of blue silk and soft curls beneath. She hooked her thumb into the waistband of her panties and peeled them down her legs, and she stepped out. She took the lace and stuck it into the neck of his shirt; then she slid her tongue halfway down his throat. Guess that meant yes she was sure.
Heat poured through him, and desire feasted on his in-sides. He bunched her skirt into his hands, then slid his hands beneath the filmy material and cupped her derriere. She took a quick breath, her eyes wide. “Oh, God.”
“Yeah, me, too.” The smooth mounds fit perfectly in his palms, and her legs parted, straddling his. She tucked the material of her skirt into her waistband and braced her arms on the stage. “This is a little complicated.”
“Life’s complicated.” He kissed her again and lifted her as her legs circled his waist. His body shuddered for wanting her, his muscles rippled and slowly he pushed into her, giving her time to adjust to him, till she suddenly arched her hips, taking him in one thrust.
He choked in surprise, his whole body in a fever reacting to the connection that was more mind-boggling than he thought possible. He fought for control, lost it, then climaxed as if this were the first time he’d ever had sex in his entire fucking life. Callie’s head swayed back, the scent of her filling his head and her cries of delight mixing with the recording.
He’d done the quickie thing before, but this elevated it to a whole new experience. “Holy moly, Callie,” he finally whispered, his lips against hers, the heat from her body a match for his. He rested his forehead against her. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Sex.” She panted, then swallowed. “Really, really good sex. I think I’m going to die.”
“Dad would be pissed if I killed the baby-sitter.” He eased himself out of her and let her down, his muscles like pudding now. Her skirt cascaded over her legs, covering her, but if he said she looked as if nothing happened, he’d be lying. She looked erotic as hell. She took her panties from his shirt and handed them to him. “You can put the condom in these; I have more . . . panties, I mean. Lord, I don’t know what I mean.”
She blushed. He found it endearing that she behaved that way considering what had just transpired between them in his high school gym. “Recreational sex isn’t my thing, but that’s got to be some of the best recreation I’ve ever had. I don’t know how or why—”
“It’s all my fault.” She swiped her hair back from her face. “I... I always wanted to make it with Lex Zandor.”
He felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Every inch of him got ice cold. “Lex?”
She rolled her shoulders. “For over two years I’ve—”
“Y-you were having sex with a TV character?”
She held up her hand. “What can I say? It’s the truth, and today when I came in here there you were and here I was and we were talking sex and then there we were. But it’s over now, fantasy is fulfilled. Thanks. It was . . . memorable.”
She smiled. “Guess I better be on my way. Rory may need help. I’ll see you back at the house. Digger’s stopping over later so we can get Operation Georgette under way.” Callie took a breath, made for the side door and was gone.
“What the fucking hell?” he said into the empty gym as he stood there like an idiot and adjusted his clothes. “All that great sex was with Zandor?” The door slowly opened. Callie was back. He knew she’d reconsider and realize it was him, not Zandor, she was with and . . .
Except it wasn’t Callie. It was a kid about fourteen or so in his baseball uniform. He looked uneasy. Keefe was sure he, himself, looked a whole lot worse than uneasy . .. more like a damn fool. The boy stopped just inside the gym, the door swinging closed behind him. “Are you Keefe O’Fallon? I ... I want to be in your play,” he blurted out all at once.
Keefe hid the panties behind his back. What happened to no one coming into the gym? No one having any interest? This was Grand Central Station. “Look, kid, I—”
“I’m Barry. Mrs. Stanley says I can’t act at all and I’m terrible and I should give up the theater, but I can’t. I think about it all the time, even act stuff in front of a mirror. I’m such a loser, but I can’t help it because I really lik
e being in plays and she won’t put me in anything and I just want a chance, just a small part and—”
“Ah, hell.”
Barry held up his hand. “Please, just give me a walk-on. I swear I’ll work my ass off to make it right.” Barry finally took a breath, looking depressed but a flicker of hope shining in his eyes. “Please?”
“The ah, hell wasn’t for you; it was for me. It’s just been a very complicated day.” And was about to get more complicated. Stanley strikes again. Damn her miserable hide. “Look, Barry, about that play, there . . . there ...” There isn’t any play stuck in Keefe’s throat. How could he tell this kid there was no play going on?
Barry was Keefe fifteen years ago right down to the pitcher’s glove. Keefe knew how Barry felt, that sick feeling in the gut where something you want so bad you can taste it is out of reach and you don’t know how to make it happen. Stanley had demoralized Keefe, and the old goat was not doing the same thing to this kid.
Keefe said, “Come back tomorrow around six, bring a girl about your age who likes to act as much as you do.” Keefe gave him a manly kind of grin. “I’m sure you know someone.” He went to Barry and put his hand on the kid’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “And don’t listen to Stanley, ever. She’s a lazy nutcase who wouldn’t know good acting if it bit her in the butt. All she’s really interested in is getting paid for doing as little as possible and the school board not finding out about it.”
Barry grinned, his eyes dancing. “I. . . I . . . Thanks, Mr. O’Fallon.” He grabbed Keefe around the shoulders, hugging him tight and surprising the heck out of both of them. Barry stepped back. “Sorry about that; it’s just that—”
“You got a chance. I know what you mean. Call me Keefe; my dad’s the mister in our family. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, tomorrow, wow.” Barry floated to the door and turned back. “Thanks. And you won’t tell anyone about the hug, will you?”
“Heck no.” Barry blushed and went out the door just as the seniors entered. Was he ever going to get rid of this damn condom that he still held behind his back? “What happened to three hours and everyone coming back here at eight?”
The Way U Look Tonight Page 6
