“I don’t even know your dad, but maybe you should tell him. He’s going to find out, you know.”
The boy stood on one foot, then the other. “I’ll think of something. I’ll tell him I got kicked off the team. That might work.”
“Or it might not. Just tell him the truth.”
The boy sucked in air through clenched teeth. “You don’t know my dad.”
A pretty girl with long, straight brown hair and about his age came up beside him. “Do you know your lines, Barry? The next scene is yours again. You did great in the first scene.”
He smiled hugely, love of the theater mixing with first love of a girlfriend. “Hi, Helen,” he said on a dreamy sigh. “I even know your lines as Elaine, and I know everyone else’s in case they forget.”
Callie said, “I’ve heard Keefe used to do the very same thing.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled, but they didn’t stop looking at Helen. “Cool.”
Keefe turned to the back of the gym. “Barry, you and Helen and ...”
His voice trailed off when he caught sight of Callie. For a split second she and Keefe stared at each other. She really wanted to hate his guts for kissing her and labeling it an experiment, except she couldn’t. Least not all his guts, the ones that gave Barry the lead in the play were okay. And directing the play for the seniors was nice. And he loved Bonnie and Rory and his brothers and . . . Darn. He did fine with everyone but her. Why was that? “Can I talk to you for a minute? It won’t take long.”
Keefe nodded and said to the cast as he walked toward her, “Take a five-minute break but no longer. And don’t go anywhere or we’ll never get this play together.” He said to Callie. “Is anything wrong? Bonnie okay?”
Callie nodded at the baby asleep on her shoulder. “Just had her with Georgette and Sally over at Slim’s. I’m taking her home to Rory right now. He’s starting her on strained peaches tonight, a big step in baby land. I got another message from M. Perry.” Lordy, how was she going to pull this off? She wasn’t the actor. “The time’s changed for the meeting. He wants ten instead of nine.”
Keefe nodded. Okay, that was good. He wasn’t shaking his head; that would be bad. She continued, “I wrote back and said it was okay.”
“That works, but what’s going on?”
She froze. Uh-oh! Somehow he knew she was lying through her teeth. “Look, I—”
“You and Sally being friends with Georgette sort of boggles the mind.”
She heaved a mental sigh of relief. He was concerned about a friendship not the meeting. “Georgette is okay. She seems to treat Digger all right, and she has Bonnie’s best interest at heart. I have to admit I never saw that one coming. Seems she’s a member of the little sister club like the rest of us.” Uh-oh, she was rambling. Rambling was a dead giveaway to lying. Time to wrap this up and get out of here. “So, good luck at Kerby’s. I better go.”
Callie turned, and Keefe snagged her arm, the heat from his large hand making her so physically aware of him that no one else seemed to exist. How could one touch do that!
“So what are you doing tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t tried to change my mind about the meeting in Memphis. You’re just letting it go? And, you seem jumpy.”
“Jumpy? It’s strained peaches night, what more can I say?”
Chapter 9
Callie followed Georgette down Beale Street and called, “Will you wait up for one second? Not everyone’s as proficient in stilettos as you are.”
She tried to tug down the candy-apple red mini skirt that fit more like a low belt, wobbled, tripped, grabbed for Sally at her side, making her stumble and hold on to whatever was near ... a guy in a ripped T-shirt with Sex 24/7 on it. He grinned. “Want something, baby?”
Sally growled, “Yeah, my head examined for agreeing to this.” She let go of the man’s arm. “You can leave now.”
24/7 frowned. “Hey, you’re the one who grabbed me, lady.”
“Yeah, well, big mistake on my part.” He gave her the middle-finger salute and strode off.
Sally gasped and pointed to his retreating back. “Did you see that? How insulting. I should deck him.”
Georgette rolled her eyes. “You look like a gal on the prowl, and you grabbed the man’s arm. I think between the three of us we have on every truly slutty thing I own. What do you expect from him, the stock reports?”
Sally said, “I’d know what to do with the stock report.”
Callie slipped her left foot from the four-inch heel and massaged her tootsies. “These are torture.”
“They’re French, cost two hundred dollars.” Georgette sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two are the worst sluts on the planet. Think wicked, think sexy and try not to trip anymore or you’ll ruin my shoes.”
Sally said, “Okay, this store is Strange Cargo. We can hobble in here and get the boas. They have everything, and I do mean everything. Then we cut down to Peabody to Kerby’s and get this over with.”
“As long as we sit when we get there.” Callie slipped her sore piggies back into their torture chamber, and Georgette said, “When we approach Kerby’s remember to stand straight, shoulders back, boobs out, hips gyrating. Got to look like hussies if we want Perry to think we are, and I bet anything he’s watching for us.”
Sally said, “Honey, every male in Memphis is watching us.” She assumed the pose that Georgette described and frowned. “Think I have on more mascara tonight than in the whole rest of my life. My lashes weigh a ton and— yikes.” She jumped, her eyes suddenly huge as a guy in a cowboy hat and no shirt strolled past and winked at her. Sally sputtered, “That man just pinched my ass. I’ll have a bruise. After all this we better learn something that will help find Mimi.”
Callie turned into Strange Cargo. “Next time we dress as street thugs. They get to wear jeans and gym shoes, and no one hits on them.”
They ambled past a display of toasters with a picture of Elvis on the front, a hat shaped like a guitar that proclaimed BB King the King and a back-scratcher. They paused and looked around doing the I-am-a-tourist impersonation, and Callie snagged the back-scratcher. After a night in itchy spandex she’d need one of these . . . least that’s what she thought till she realized the scratcher was shaped like a very long . . . penis?
Holy cow. She’d gotten into enough trouble with one of these things. She sure didn’t need another. She tossed it back onto the stack, but she found a bandanna that said Wonder Dog. She’d get that for Max. He deserved it for saving Bonnie. Sally pointed to a pink boa draped around a plastic flamingo’s neck. “We’re getting close.”
They crossed the aisle and found boas in every color imaginable. “Pay dirt,” Sally said as she snagged up a red one, flipped it around her neck and assumed a sexy pose. “The real me. Wall Street, eat your heart out.”
Callie picked up another one and tossed it to Georgette, who twisted it on. “IRS, eat your heart out.”
Callie adorned herself in the third boa, and Sally said, “Keefe, eat your heart out.”
Callie said, “Keefe couldn’t care less, but M. Perry will have no trouble recognizing us now.” She caught sight of two big guys in biker shirts standing by the Elvis toasters giving her, Sally, and Georgette the male once-over. Creepiness danced up her spine. The guys had warned them about this. She’d planned on getting the boas and then hurrying on to Kerby’s. Obviously they hadn’t hurried fast enough. “Uh, we better get out of here right now. Don’t look now but I think we’re getting an audience.”
Georgette and Sally glanced at the guys, and Sally said, “They’re kind of scruffy-looking.” She batted her eyes. “And I think I’m allergic to these feathers.”
Callie groused, “Didn’t I say not to look, and for God’s sake don’t keep fluttering your eyes.”
“They itch, I can’t help it.”
Callie, followed by Georgette and Sally, elbowed their way through the customers, paid for the boas and bandanna, then
joined the crowd on the sidewalk milling about in the muggy night air.
Sally pulled her gold spandex top away from her body. “The humidity must be a hundred and ten out here. Bet we got rain on the way for sure.”
Callie gasped. “Oh crap. The two guys from Strange Cargo are following, except now there’s four. It’s like one of those horror movies where the aliens multiply and you can’t stop them.” She stuck the bandanna in her purse and took Sally’s and Georgette’s hands. “We got to get to Kerby’s. A bouncer would be good here. Some protection.”
“I hate when this happens,” Georgette said as they did a fast trot on tiptoes.
Sally said, “We can go down Third Street to Peabody. Hurry up.” She cut her gaze to Georgette. “You’ve experienced this phenomenon before?”
Georgette huffed. “Fallout from stilettos and short skirts.” Callie added, “This is as fast as I go. I didn’t think a marathon was on the program for tonight.”
Sally glanced back, her eyes still twitching. “Something’s on the program for tonight, and I think we’re the main attraction. They’re gaining on us.”
Callie dodged around a corner, followed by Georgette and Sally, the men moving fast. Sally pointed to a bar that spilled out onto the sidewalk with tables, chairs and music. “Kerby’s!”
Callie huffed. “Never been so flipping happy to see a bar in my life.”
Georgette said, “How do we deal with these guys?”
Sally said, “You’re asking us? You’re the pro on attracting men.”
“I’m a newbie sexpot who has no idea what she’s doing unless it’s on a balance sheet.”
“Now she tells us.” Callie darted into the entrance of Kerby’s, followed by Sally and Georgette . . . until a man, a very big man, stood in front of them. “We don’t want your kind in here.”
Sally drew herself up tall. Panting, she said, “Excuse me! What do you mean our kind? I have an MBA from Harvard, worked on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.”
Georgette poked his chest. “I’m an accountant. A CPA. I’ll do your taxes for free if you let us in. There are unsavory guys following us.”
The bouncer scoffed, “Isn’t that what you want?”
“No,” they all three blurted at once. Callie hissed, “We’re not who you think we are. For God’s sake let us in, I’m a . . . baby-sitter.”
“Well, three cheers for you,” the man groused. “And I’m Martha Stewart on parole. Get the hell out of here all of you right now.”
Callie puffed, “But—”
“No buts.”
“We’re supposed to meet someone here. It’s really important.”
“I just bet it is. Meet them somewhere else.”
The four men came up behind them, and the one with a ponytail and gold earring snaked a possessive hand around Callie’s waist. “Hi, there, baby. Trying to play hard to get? I’m damn good at playing catch.”
Crapolla!
He continued, “Saw you gals giving us the eye back in that store.” He smelled of beer and sweat and all things vile and a little dangerous.
Sally said, “That was the evil eye to turn you into a horse’s butt. It worked, now go away.”
Callie tried to free herself from his grip. Sally squirmed to get away from a guy who looked like a fireplug on steroids, and Georgette tried to do the same with a grungy guy in a leather vest.
A Neanderthal throwback said, “Wait till you get to know me, you’ll really like me.” He glanced at the others with a menacing glint in his eyes. “You’ll like all of us. What do you girls charge?”
Ob, shit! Ob, shit! Callie pushed at ponytail guy. The bouncer said, “Take your business somewhere else or I’m calling the cops,” and Keefe was suddenly at Callie’s side saying, “You heard the ladies, beat it.”
Ponytail guy scoffed, “How about I just beat the hell out of you instead.” He threw a punch, Keefe ducked as he grabbed Callie, and Sally got hit in the back of the head, sending her hard against the bouncer.
“Hey.” He pushed her aside, and out of nowhere Demar caught Sally with one hand and blocked a punch from vest guy with the other, then did some marshal arts kind of kicking thing at the bouncer coming toward him.
In her peripheral vision Callie caught sight of a man with a black mustache and limp leaving in a hurry. Then Neanderthal socked Keefe, sending him flying across a table. Digger returned the favor to Neanderthal as he grabbed Georgette and tucked her safely behind him. Callie took her boa and flipped it around vest guy, pulling him off balance as he tried to swing at Demar, and Sally elbowed the bouncer as he grabbed for Digger.
Sirens sounded, and Callie felt her hair stand on end. So much for meeting Perry, and Keefe did not need this bad publicity. He swung at ponytail, connected hard, sending him across the room, and grabbed Callie with his other hand. He made eye contact with Demar and Digger for a split second, then pulled Callie through the congested bar, back into the kitchen area, now deserted since no one wanted to miss the fight out front.
Keefe snagged aprons from a rack and slipped through the back door into the alley. He draped one apron over her head, the other over his, did a quick tie, then took her into his arms and kissed her as if she were the only woman on earth. Without a doubt this was the best thing that had happened to her in the last three hours.
“Hey,” came a gruff voice and footsteps next to them. “You two see anyone out here?”
Callie fought to focus, and Keefe gave the cop a man-toman kind of look. “Hell, man. I wasn’t exactly paying attention, know what I mean, but someone was running somewhere. Heard steps. Didn’t see who. We’ve got a fifteen-minute break and ...” He eyed Callie, and a devilish smirk lit his face. “Well, you get the picture.”
The cop shrugged. “Yeah, right. Get a room.” He ducked back inside the bar, but Keefe didn’t let go. His eyes sparked fire and not the good kind that said I want you, baby. More like, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t toss your sorry butt into the river. His lips drew into a firm line. “When we get home I’m going to wring your neck. What did you think you were ...” His voice trailed off as a downpour of rain fell over them like someone turning on the faucet full blast. Callie put her hands over her head, and Keefe stepped back.
She said, “Oh, great, now what?”
Keefe took her hand. “My car’s around the corner. Keep the apron on or another band of horny men will be following us. Whatever possessed you to do something so insane and—”
“We can’t leave Digger, Georgette, Sally, and Demar.”
Keefe swiped his face. “They all split when we heard the sirens. None of us need cop problems, especially Demar who is one. He’ll take care of Sally. Digger knows this town like his name; he’ll look after Georgette. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Look, I had no idea these guys would—”
“Can we argue later?”
Her clothes were soaked through and glued to her skin, though considering how tight they were in the first place, there wasn’t much change. “What about M. Perry?”
Keefe put his hands on her shoulders and gazed through the gush of water between them, his breath warm across her lips, even though she was chilled to the core. “I think the cover’s blown, babe, don’t you?”
“But this was such a really good plan.”
“Yeah, fucking terrific.”
She glared, suddenly not caring he had sexy breath or if the rain washed her down the nearest drain. She had something to say! “Hey, this was not just some hair-brained idea. It was a good idea and a hell of a lot better than baseball caps on TV stars that was sure to wind up as a photo op for tourists more than an undercover meeting.”
“Least my idea wouldn’t have overgrown apes running after me down the street.” His eye was swelling shut, his lip cut, knuckles raw, and she felt wretched about all those things, no matter how much she and Keefe disagreed. And that he’d come and helped her out of a crappy situation was something she couldn’t di
smiss. In fact, she owed him big-time.
A slow twinkle sparked in his one good eye, and he folded his arms. “But I gotta say, you do make one hell of a hooker. I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve had it, that’s it, I’m so out of here.” She turned and tramped down the alleyway, splashing water till one of her steps scared a mangy cat trying to squeeze under a Dump-ster to escape the rain. She looked down at the torn ear, scraggy tail, obviously the least successful cat in the neighborhood. “Boy, do I know exactly how you feel.”
She took off her apron, came toward him, and when he didn’t run away she wrapped him up and took him into her arms.
“Now what are you doing?” Keefe asked as he came up beside her.
“Taking this cat home. I can at least rescue something tonight.”
“It’s a feral cat, Callie.”
He meowed pitifully and looked at Keefe, his matted fur plastered to his face, whiskers limp and broken, eyes droopy. Callie said, “Yeah, mean as a snake, this one. I’m terrified all to hell and back. Let’s go.”
“A souvenir from Memphis. Max is going to love it.” Keefe pulled off his apron and put it around Callie’s shoulders, and she tucked the cat inside. Keefe nodded up the street. “Swim that way. My car’s two blocks over.”
They crossed at the corner, not bothering to run. What was the point? She spotted Keefe’s Jeep at the next curb. He hit the unlock button on his key chain, and they climbed inside, the sudden absence of water everywhere kind of shocking. Keefe pulled back the apron and studied the mass of fur. “He’s either dead or asleep.”
“Purring, I can feel his bones going up and down. I bet he has fleas.”
“Not after this downpour.”
She took an edge of apron and wiped her face, the mascara leaving a long black smear. She looked like a roadie for Kiss. “Let’s circle around the block and see if we can find the others.”
“They’re fine. Digger drove his truck. Demar will get a ride with Sally. By some miracle you didn’t get any information we could use before all hell broke loose, did you?”
“Only thing I found out was that they have some really strange back-scratchers in this town. And I bought a bandanna for Max.” She fished in her purse and pulled out the red material.
The Way U Look Tonight Page 12
