“What are you doing?” I ask, taking hold of her hands to stop her. “I’m fine. They didn’t arrest me. I’ve been sitting out here in the waiting room, not fighting for my life in a jail cell with the general population. Stop freaking out.”
“I just wanted to make sure everything was properly documented for evidence in case you were mistreated,” she says. “Should I take photos of you with my cellphone? You might need them later.”
“Please don’t,” I beg her with a wry smile. “The officers didn’t do anything except embarrass me.”
“You look terrible,” she says abruptly, reaching up to pull something out of my hair and staring at it. “Is this a daisy petal in your hair? Ginny! What have you been doing? Have you been rolling in hay? I’m talking about for real, not a proverbial roll in the hay.”
“Luke took me on a picnic on private property. We were trespassing. The cops arrived. He mouthed off a little and they arrested him. That’s the short version. Everything got blown way out of proportion and now he’s in jail.”
“Let’s get you out of here,” she says, glancing around the waiting room. “Is there any paperwork that needs to be filled out? Do I need to sign something for you to be released?”
I shake my head. “No, the lady said I could go whenever my ride arrived. We had to leave Luke’s rental truck behind.”
Misty throws a comforting arm across my shoulder and pulls me close. “I’m here now to drive you home. That’s what friends are for. We’ll figure out what to do about Luke on the way. This is all a new experience.”
“Tell me about it,” I say.
She swings open the glass door of the police station and we step outside. A sudden explosion of camera flashes in my face almost blinds me, and I stagger back. Misty grabs onto my elbow to steady me. A young woman thrusts a microphone in front of my mouth.
“Is it true Luke Collins has been arrested?”
I stop walking and turn toward the woman to defend Luke.
“Come on, Ginny!” Misty says, tugging me forward. “Don’t say one word to her.”
“Luke Collins has been arrested though, right?” the reporter asks, following along beside me as we walk toward Misty’s car. “Is he still inside the police station right now? Or has he been released? Can you tell us what happened?”
“No comment,” Misty says loudly. “Don’t say anything,” she mutters to me. “Keep walking to the car and don’t look at them. Speed up.”
“What’s your name, miss?” another reporter calls out to me. “Were you with Luke when he was arrested?” The questions keep coming, one right after the other. “Aren’t you the woman who sang with Luke in church this morning?” another one asks. “How do you know Luke? Are you his new girlfriend? Would you care to make a statement?”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Misty says over her shoulder to the crowd following us. “For the last time, no comment. Stop bothering her!”
We reach her car and she quickly hits the unlock button on her fob. “Hurry! Get inside,” she says.
I slide into the passenger seat. She tosses me her sunglasses and leans over to pull down the sun visor on my side to help block the view of the cameras pointed at me.
“Here, put my sunglasses on and keep your face turned away from the window,” she says. “They’ll be taking photographs and video. Keep your face hidden as much as you can. This is crazy! There must be twenty people out there with cameras of one kind or the other.”
“Where did they come from?” I ask. “There’s only one newspaper in Sweet Rose Canyon, and the same man writes everything.”
“They’re crawling out from everywhere,” she answers. “Half of them are real reporters and the other half are wannabe social media stars trying to get shots of Luke. The funny thing is they’re both dangerous because any of the photos they take will land on social media.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I say. “This is a circus.”
She starts the car and backs slowly out of the parking space while trying not to hit any of the photographers who are hurrying alongside the car. I make the mistake of turning to watch them and see a camera lens pressed against the glass.
“Move out of the way!” she yells through the window then blows her car horn, causing the photographers to jump back.
“Ha! That did the trick,” she says with a wicked grin. “Ginny my dear, this is what fame looks like. A livestream video of you and Luke singing ‘Amazing Grace’ at church this morning was uploaded onto social media by a random twelve-year-old kid with a cellphone. It’s already gone viral. My guess is the reporters piled into their cars and headed to Sweet Rose Canyon the minute they realized where Luke’s been hiding the past few weeks.”
“But how did they know he’d been arrested?” I ask, confused. “It hasn’t been more than a couple of hours.”
“My guess is one of the arresting cops leaked the info as soon as they picked you up. I don’t know for sure. Secrets are impossible to keep these days with social media always being turned on and running.”
“You mean the cops might’ve known who Luke was before they arrested him?” I ask in surprise.
“Didn’t you say he was driving a rental truck?” she reminds me. “How hard would it be to run the tags and see who it was rented to? I’m sure they knew. The cops in this town can be jerks at times. Who knows? They might even be jealous of Luke. You know how men can be.”
She reaches over to pat my leg and grins at me when we make it out of the parking lot and turn onto the road.
“You’re a celebrity now, Ginny,” she says. “This is your big fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Ugh! I had a feeling you’d say that,” I reply, slumping down lower in the seat. “I don’t like it. Not one bit. It’s unnerving.”
“I was only kidding,” she says, giving my hand a sympathetic squeeze. “I know you’re the type to hate the limelight. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. What can we do about Luke? Should we contact a bail bondsman or a lawyer?”
“Do you know any?” I ask. “Because I don’t.”
“Good point. I’ve never seen a sign or an ad for a bail bondsman. I’m sure there must be one in Sweet Rose Canyon somewhere. Otherwise nobody would ever get out of jail.”
“I’ve never known anyone who was arrested,” I say. “Not a single person. Luke told me not to worry and to not call Matthew. Luke said his manager would take care of it.”
My cellphone buzzes in my purse. I check the number, thinking it might be Luke.
“Who is it?” Misty asks, glancing over at me.
“I don’t know. It’s a Nashville area code. I better answer it.” I hit the answer button. “Hello?”
“Is this Ginny?” the male caller asks.
“Yes.”
“This is Harry, Luke’s manager,” an impatient voice says. “Listen up. We need to talk. I understand Luke’s been arrested. This is what I need you to do.”
24
Luke
Early the next morning, a young police officer walks over to unlock my solitary jail cell and swings the door open. He couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty at the most. Due to my notoriety, they’d kept me in a private cell rather than sticking me in the drunk tank holding cell down the hallway. For that I was grateful. Sweet Rose Canyon isn’t known for a criminal element. Drunk driving or disturbing the peace is probably the worst offenses committed in town.
“Good news!” he says. “You’ve been released, Luke. You’re free to go. I hope your time here wasn’t too uncomfortable.”
I stand up from the hard bench where I’ve spent the long night and after stretching my sore muscles, move past him out of the cell. “No, it could’ve been a lot worse, I’m sure,” I say. “I certainly don’t want to come back though for a repeat visit. One time is enough for me. My life will be on the straight and narrow path from now on. I swear.”
“I can’t say I blame you,” he says with a chuckle. “Would you mind signing an autogra
ph for my girlfriend before you go?” he asks. “She’s a big fan. It would mean a great deal to her. She’s been pestering me about it since she heard you came in last night.”
“Sure,” I say, taking the pen he’s holding out and scribbling my name on the notepad he pulls from his pocket. He’d been kind enough to sneak me a pack of peanut butter crackers and a soft drink during his overnight shift. Signing an autograph is the least I can do in appreciation.
“You’re lucky to have found a bail bondsman working late on a Sunday night,” he says. “You must’ve pulled some strings. Usually things move along much slower.”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I’m getting out. Just thankful that I am.”
Thirty minutes later, the contents of my pockets have been returned to me and I’m a free man. The lady at the desk told me my rental truck was impounded. I need to find out where it is and try to get it back. And then call Ginny. I don’t know how I’m going to make up for last night. All I know is that I’m going to try my best. Begging and pleading for one more chance might be a good place to start. At this point, I’m on my third or fourth chance and don’t know when my luck will finally run out.
“Luke!” a voice calls out as I’m walking down the hallway of the police station.
I turn to see Matthew leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed. There are dark shadows under his eyes, clearly showing his exhaustion. I’m not in the mood for another lecture from big brother about how I’m a disappointment to the family. He’s the last person I wanted or expected to see this morning.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks, falling in step beside me. “Sorry I couldn’t get you out sooner. I’ve been working on it all night.”
I stare at him, speechless. “Wait! You’re the one who got me out of jail?”
“Of course I did,” he says with a curious stare. “Who did you think it was? The sheriff contacted me as soon as he heard they brought you in last night. He was at his lake cottage doing some fishing when he got the call. The two of us go way back. We were on the same football team in high school. He was ticked off at the two idiot officers who arrested you. And for disturbing his fishing weekend.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I would hate to have been those boys once the sheriff got ahold of them. Anyway, all charges have been dropped and he sends his sincerest apologies for his guys’ colossal screw up. There’s not much going on in this town and they’re quick to jump the gun. No pun intended.”
“You mean it’s over? The charges were dropped already?”
I’m stunned. All night, I’d sat there in my cell going over a plan to smooth things over with my fans, the record label, and Harry. Not to mention Ginny.
“You’re a free bird now,” Matthew says, grinning. “Just don’t let something like this happen again. The sheriff might not be so understanding next time around. Though he did seem quick to want to put this behind him and the sheriff’s department.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I didn’t want to bother you with this mess. I thought Harry had pulled some strings to get me released.”
“Oh, I’ve talked to him too,” Matthew says. “He’s a hyper little fellow. He’s calling everyone in town trying to do damage control. Telling us what to say and not say to the media.”
“Who is ‘us’? Who else did Harry call?”
“Ginny.”
I stop walking. “Harry called Ginny? Now why did he do that? It’s none of his business what goes on between us.”
“I agree,” Matthew says. “Apparently the press doesn’t though. There’s a whole pack of hungry reporters sitting outside the police station waiting for you. They’re staked out around back too, and from what I heard have been there all night. Otherwise we’d sneak out that way. I’m sure you want to avoid them if you can.”
“I’m beginning to hate those jerks, always lurking in the shadows.”
“That’s not the worst thing,” Matthew says. “I spotted one sneaking around the far side of the barn out at the ranch this morning with a zoom lens. He just about had a heart attack when he turned around and found a shotgun pointed at him. He won’t be back anytime soon. I can promise you that. Ginny said they were parked in front of her house too.”
“What the devil? Why on earth are they so interested in my life? I’m just a guy with a sick dad and a girl I’m trying my best to get back with. I’m sure there’s plenty of more interesting guys in this world to stalk.”
“Beats me,” Matthew says. “It might be a big problem now that they’ve found you. We can’t have strangers roaming around out at the ranch. Not with Dad’s condition and his delusions. There’s no telling what might happen. It’s not safe for him or them.”
“Should I hire security to walk the ranch? The thought of reporters harassing Dad or causing him anxiety makes me furious. People don’t understand boundaries anymore.”
“No, don’t worry about the ranch,” Matthew says, waving a hand at me. “I’ll protect my family the best way I see fit. There’s no need to hire security. I’ll take care of it.”
I glance over at Matthew. He has a determined expression on his face that I recognize. There’s a side of him not many people know about. They see the solid, hard-working father, son, and rancher. I know there’s a whole other side. A side that won’t stop at anything to protect the people he loves. If Matthew is pushed, he’ll shove back hard, and the outcome won’t be pretty.
“Maybe I should hire security to protect the press from you,” I joke. “If you shoot someone, make sure they’re on your property first. Or whatever the law is. I’m honestly not sure.”
“I’ll shoot first and ask questions later,” Matthew says, winking at me. “Are you ready to wade through the mess of people waiting outside? It’s a zoo.”
“I’m used to it,” I say. “I deal with it every day. Privacy is a luxury I never have now.”
We reach the door to the police station. Through the plate glass, I can see the crowd of reporters and fans gathered out front in the parking lot like hungry hyenas ready to jump on a pile of meat. To them, I’m just a tasty morsel ready to be ripped apart by their teeth and shredded until there’s nothing left but bones.
“This life of yours is total baloney,” Matthew says as he slams the metal bar and pushes the door open. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand it. My truck is parked in the first row, right past the handicapped spots.”
I tuck my head down and follow him through the crowd. Fans reach out to touch the fabric of my shirt while reporters shout their questions at me, each one trying to be louder than the other.
“You’re right,” I say to Matthew when we both reach the safety of his truck.
“About what?” he asks, turning to me.
“This life is a bunch of baloney,” I say.
25
Ginny
Unable to sleep knowing Luke is sitting in jail, I give up at four am and dress for work. Arriving at the pharmacy before any of the other employees, I jump right into work to keep my mind busy. I’m on edge, waiting for any word from Luke. His manager had called me twice last night warning me not to talk to the reporters. Not that I would’ve anyway. He told me to be careful and not let down my guard around them.
I appreciated the warning. Last night I noticed photographers parked in front of my house, watching my every move. They spent the night and were still there this morning when I walked to my car.
After turning on the lights in the drugstore, I walk into the back breakroom to put on a pot of coffee for the employees. My cellphone buzzes with a text from Matthew letting me know he’s waiting to pick up Luke from jail and that all charges were dropped. Relief floods through me and I say a quick silent prayer.
Luke will be out soon. I couldn’t bear the thought of Luke sitting in a nasty jail cell all night. I text Matthew back quickly and ask him to please let me know when Luke is free.
Against my better judgement, I’d kept my word to Luke and not contacted Matthew to ask for help
. Obviously, he’d found out some other way. He’s probably ticked off at me for not calling him. I can’t help feeling guilty about it, though I understood Luke’s reluctance to involve Matthew.
Before the pharmacy opens at eight, my cellphone rings. It’s Misty. “Have you seen the photos?” she asks right away, not giving me time to speak.
“No,” I answer hesitantly. “What photos?”
“They’re all over social media this morning,” she says. “There’s photos of you and Luke. First, in the church singing together. Then later when the two of you arrived at the police station.”
Dread settles in my stomach. “You mean someone was waiting for us at the police station? I thought they didn’t show up until after the news about his arrest leaked out?”
“Somehow they knew and were waiting for you,” she says.
“What are people saying?” I ask, scared to hear.
Misty hesitates. She’s trying to protect me. “The fans are saying you’re the reason Luke left the tour. That his dad isn’t sick and that it’s all a big lie. That he’s messing around with an old high school flame and has forgotten about his fans. They’re furious and are trashing him on social media. He’s lost over a hundred thousand fans since yesterday.”
“That many?” I ask. “This is bad. I want to see the photos for myself. Where are they?”
“Is that really necessary, Ginny? There’s nothing you can do to change things at this point. It’ll make you feel bad to see them.”
“Tell me,” I say.
“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this mess,” she replies. “You of all people shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of trash. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever known. I’m always here for you if you need me. Okay?”
“I know you are, and I appreciate it. I also know you’re stalling and wasting time. Where are the photos?”
Every Good Cowboy Deserves A Second Chance Page 18
