“Are you ready, everybody?”
She waited for the crowd to respond with a hearty, “Yes!”
Coco laughed and clapped her hands. “Okay, this is my party trick.”
Expecting the worst, Mike bit his lip. Eric and Kate braced, too.
Coco nodded to the DJ, who played a drum roll over the sound system. She took a firm hold of the linen tablecloth beneath the china and the crystal, and yanked quick and hard.
The crowd cheered. Undisturbed, every piece of china and crystal remained in their original positions. Tom grabbed his talented date and kissed her.
Over the roar of the zealous crowd, Jen heard Mike lean into Kate. “Seriously? The woman can’t cook dinner without causing a three-alarm fire, but she can pull off that freaking party trick?”
“Look around, Mike, she has caused a fire,” Kate pointed out.
Mike measured the faces in the crowd. Hell, even Lugowski’s smiling and clapping. Oddly, he’s staring at Kate. Now what the hell is that about?
The lights dimmed, and the music went low and slow.
Eric pulled Jen close. She ran her hands up and down his arms while breathing in his cologne and the warmth of his body against hers. The evening had been as she hoped, but it was time to get the late night festivities ignited.
“Eric, I’ve had a wonderful time,” she whispered, “but my feet are killing me.” Hope that’s not too transparent. “How about if we go to my place, so I can get out of these heels.”
“Will I be allowed to loosen my tie?”
“Oh, yes, by all means.”
“Then you’re on.” He gestured to Kate that he was leaving.
Holding back the urge to break into a dead run, Jen led him from the dance floor. On their way out of the ballroom, she scooped up her purse when they passed the table. They went out to the lobby.
Jen hesitated at the ladies room. “I’ll be right back.” She kissed his cheek before disappearing through the door.
Eric wasn’t waiting until they arrived at Jen’s condo. I’m loosening this damned tie this very instant. Enough with the choking already.
Margie rounded the corner and bumped into him.
“Margie ...”
She smiled. “I signed my name yesterday for the UPS man.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Thanks.”
“Margie—” Not wanting to participate in whatever conversation he wanted to start, she waved her hand and made a quick escape into the ladies room.
Jen smacked her lips together in the mirror, they were plump and moist and ready for action. Assuring that her breasts were perfectly primed, she tugged at her dress. Eric West is going to get the ride of his life tonight.
Standing behind her, Margie appeared in the reflection of mirror. Her face was stiff and her eyes were razor sharp.
Jen’s eyes widened. She dropped her lipstick into her evening bag and turned to make a swift exit.
Margie blocked her path. “I wanna talk to you.”
Jen squared her shoulders. “About what? My slashed tires or my broken window?”
“What?”
Jen hitched her chin while rolling her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She tried to sidestep around her, but Margie stepped in front of her again.
“I wanna talk about Eric—”
“You can talk to my attorney.” Jen shoved her aside and reached for the door.
Margie grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute.”
Jen wasn’t interest in waiting for anything. I’m not buying Margie’s lame act of the poor, innocent, brow-beaten daughter of Doug O’Conner. She may have fooled Eric but not me. I’m not going to let her get away with it any longer. She yanked her arm from Margie’s grip and slapped her hard across the face.
Margie’s head snapped to the side. Her eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open. Whatta bitch! She cuffed her in the jaw.
Eric’s tie drooped through his collar. He had even unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. Relief. He leaned against the wall, checked the time on his watch, and sighed. That was when he heard a thump against the ladies room door. He jolted away from the wall and listened intensely to the harsh voices wafting from behind the door. He could hear a skirmish. He crept toward the door with his eyebrows furrowed. The aggressive movements and the agitated voices were louder and more severe.
Desperately, he looked around the lobby. It was empty and quiet. The only sounds were the low murmur of the crowd and the romantic music from the ballroom … and the callous voices rising rigorously from the bathroom.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as panic scraped up his spine. He stepped toward the ladies room door, reached for the handle, and then retreated.
He looked around the lobby again. It was still empty. He swallowed hard. He’d never been in a ladies room. That was a place where women did ... women things … a no-man’s land. While most men wondered what the hell are they doing in there, what the hell’s taking so long, and why do they always visit that room in pairs; it was still a place men regard as “off limits.”
The murmur of loud voices grew harsh, which graduated to yelling, and then another hard thump followed by several bang, bedunk, clang, clangs. The yelling changed to screaming, screeching, and what sounded like skidding.
Jesus.
It was time to toss his inhibitions aside. He grabbed the handle and dashed into the mysterious forbidden no-man’s land. He slid to a stop at the end of the short row of stalls. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
An entanglement of bodies, Jen and Margie were rolling over the floor, pulling hair, kicking, and shrieking. Jen’s lovely gown was bunched around her waist. The shoulder of Margie’s dress was ripped.
Jen kicked her leg furiously against a stall door, which bounced open and then slammed closed. Bang! Bedunk! Clang! Clang!
“What the hell is going on?” Eric shouted.
They weren’t listening. Jen had her hand cupped under Margie’s jaw, which forced her head against the floor. Meanwhile, Margie was yanking Jen’s head backwards by her hair.
The stall doors reverberated. Bang! Bedunk! Clang! Clang!
This was a major cat fight. Some men may have been totally turned on by the female fury. Eric? No so much. His face was flushed and the beads of sweat were now streams running down his temples. He had to do something. Straddling the women, he forced them apart and lifted them to their feet. It was poor judgment on his part, or perhaps he didn’t realize the scope of the situation. He braced himself between the two snarling women.
The silence was brief.
Anger rushing through her veins, Jen lurched forward at Margie.Trying to block the blow, Eric caught Jen’s swift right hook to the jaw. Margie obviously considered this a cheap shot. Arms pumping, she desperately tried to get a good hold of Jen’s hair but came up with a chunk of Eric’s instead.
“Stop!” Eric shrieked.
Just then, several women wondered into the room. They gasped at the sight of the two women with their hair askew, dresses ripped, and blood dripping from Jen’s nose. Eric looked like a madman with his mussed hair, a steady trickle of blood dribbling from his lip, and his arms firmly wrapped around Jen and Margie’s waists.
The women’s eyes popped and their faces filled with fright. Calling him disparaging names, they threw their purses at Eric. Some threw the contents of their bags. He ducked and dodged. Some of the purses hit him in the head and shoulders. Others missed him to hit the stall doors. Bang! Bedunk! Clang! Clang!
Enough was enough. Eric had had his fill of the mysterious room. Tucking Jen and Margie under each arm, he dashed around the panicked women into the now crowded lobby. He set the infuriated women down only to realize that he was surrounded by a mass of shocked, wide eyed on-looker
s.
A familiar voice rang out. “Whoa, Eric. What have you been up to?” Dan could barely get the words out for his laughter.
Followed by Kate, Holden, and Tanya, who was suddenly speechless; Mike pushed through the crowd.
Mouth gaping open, Scott pushed to the front to take in the sight of the trodden women.
Jen ripped away from Eric’s grip. “I’m going home.”
“I’ll take you,” he insisted.
Her face was flushed beyond embarrassment. “No, I can find my own way home, thank you very much.” She brushed back a lock of hair from her eyes. With one shoe missing, she limped through the crowd.
When Margie turned to leave in the other direction, Scott grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. His voice was thick with guilt. “This is my fault.” He turned to Eric. “I slashed Ms. Fleming’s tires. I threw the brick through her window.”
Once again, Margie’s face filled with hurt. Tears came to her dark eyes. “Why, Scott? Why would you do such an awful thing and let them blame me?”
His mouth moved but no words came out. He didn’t know what he expected.
I never expected it to go this far. I just wanted to put a huge wedge between Margie and the Wests. I never thought anyone would get arrested or charged. Then again, I’ve never done anything like vandalism before. Maybe I didn’t think it through enough. I just wanted Margie back at the dances with me. Truth be told, I just wanted Margie to be with me, period. But how can I tell her that now? I damned well can’t.
Shrugging his shoulders, he dropped his gaze to the floor.
Astounded that he had no explanation, no reason, and no words, Margie took a step back. The lobby was caving in on her. She felt the weight of betrayal waging down upon her. Eric didn’t love her. Mike wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole; and now Scott was nothing more than a coward, a liar, and a dirty vandal.
Eric’s rumpled appearance broke Kate’s heart, but Margie’s broken soul was more than she could bear. Her father was strong. He could get himself home. She wasn’t so sure about Margie.
She took Holden’s arm and stepped forward. “C’mon, Margie, we’ll drive you home,” she whispered while taking her by the shoulders.
“Wait.” Colette stepped from the crowd. “I’ll take her home, Kate. Margie and I are old friends.”
Colette’s eyes were filled with a watery compassion that took Kate aback. She stepped aside so that Colette could lead Margie away from the humiliating situation. Margie willingly went with her shoulders sagging and the top of her dress torn to hang below her bra. Pulling his car keys from his jacket, Tom Mason followed.
As they made their exit, Kate glanced over her shoulder. Lugowski had approached Scott to inform him that he was under arrest.
It was almost midnight when Tom drove up to a stop in front of the O’Conner’s farm. His eyes popped at the unkempt conditions. When Colette grasped the door latch to get out, he touched her arm firmly and whispered, “Are you sure you want to go in there? Is it safe for me to leave my car here?”
Colette’s half smile was definite. She patted his hand. “It will be fine, Tom.” She wasn’t as confident as she was putting on. While they madetheir way up the sidewalk, Colette could see Doug, peering out the front window from behind the threadbare curtains.
As if he expected a werewolf or a chainsaw murderer to jump out from the twisted, overgrown trees in the chicken-scratched yard, Tom searched the entire area.
Margie was a mess. Her dress was torn, her hair was askew, and her mascara had dried in long black streaks where her tears had fallen down her swollen cheeks.
Even that rat-bastard father of hers could see that she needed a heavy dose of TLC from a woman who understood. When he opened the door to see Colette and Tom standing there with Margie, Doug stepped aside to let Colette enter the house and take Margie to her bedroom.
Colette was relieved that he didn’t say a word.
In the bedroom, Colette reached for the light switch inside the door.
“Leave it,” Margie muttered in a morbid tone while peeling the ruined dress from her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. She yanked back the blanket from her bed and plunked down. She wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her face into her knees.
Colette glanced around the room.
The moonlight filtered through a pair of white sheers with purple butterflies. The wall beside the bed was cracked diagonally from the top corner of the ceiling to the far corner of the floor. Without more than three or four-feet of space between them, an old dresser rested against the wall across from her bed. Almost barren, the room was null and void of décor or even personal belongings. No indeed, Margie was not accustomed to any frills.
She ran her fingers lightly through Margie’s hair. “It’s going to be okay,” she soothed. “I know how you feel.”
Margie’s head jerked up. “How’s that possible? How could someone like you even begin to know how I feel?” Her tears had begun to flow again. Her voice was ripped with frustration. “Look at you. You’re freaking gorgeous. Men fall all over you. So don’t tell me that you know how I feel, Coco.”
Colette let out a thin snort. “You’re right. Men do react to me, but for all the wrong reasons. Beauty isn’t always a gift, and neither is wealth. Men love my looks, but they fall in love with my money.”
“Even Mike West?”
“Mmmm, he liked my looks … hated my horses.” She giggled. To her surprise and delight, Margie managed a giggle through her tears.
Colette picked up her purse from the floor and pulled out a wet-nap. She washed the mascara from under Margie’s eyes and cheeks. “You’re eyes are naturally beautiful, Margie. You don’t need all that gunk on them. You’re lucky.”
Not feeling very lucky, Margie lay back onto the pillow. Colette pulled the blanket over her. She was most grateful to Coco for bringing her home; but she felt the need to be alone, to sort things out and, yeah, to wallow in self-pity.
“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be okay. Thanks for everything.”
“Hey, you took care of me not long ago, remember? That’s what friends are for.”
Tugging the blanket over her shoulder, Margie stared into the darkness of her room. The exhaustion of heartbreak consumed her to lull her to sleep.
It had been over an hour since Colette disappeared into the ramshackle house. Tom waited patiently. God bless him, he sat among the sleeping cats on the steps of the O’Conner’s porch with his allergies in full smack-down. His eyes watered. Sniffing and sneezing, wheezing and snorting while praying that his throat didn’t close, he sucked desperately on his inhaler. Spitting tobacco juice over the railing while rocking in his chair, Doug’s severe scowl bore into his spine.
There were two places in the world that Tom didn’t want to die: a Walmart parking lot and this God-forsaken place.
Despite the awkward unpleasant company, and the tightening in his throat, Tom waited for Colette to emerge from the house. Finally, the moment arrived. The screen door screeched open and she stepped onto the porch.
Doug rocked forward in his chair. “Marge okay?”
Colette tossed him a steely glance. “No ... but she will be.”
She was shocked at Tom’s decayed condition. Using his silk tie as a handkerchief, he tossed her the keys to his Mercedes. “You drive,” he managed in a breathless, sandpaper voice.
“Poor baby.” She took him by the shoulders and guided him toward the car with several cats following along.
Seventeen
Kate wasn’t sure if she should be worried or annoyed. Where the hell is Shane? She thought as she drove along the road toward Keystone Downs.
The testosterone terror hadn’t shown up at the dance last night, nor was he in the kitchen pouring coffee into his travel mug for breakfast before s
he left for the track.
Maybe this Rachel-girl had him tied to a bed post somewhere. She chuckled. It would serve him right. Hmmm, how would that telephone conversation go? “Hey Mike, I’m a little tied-up right now, could you cover my chores, like all day?” The thought made her laugh out loud. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite come up with what Mike’s exact reaction would be.
She sighed. Her date with Holden Reese had gone perfectly. They danced. They talked. They flirted. He looked so damned hot in his western-style suit. He smelled all musky and manly and sexy as hell. No problem picturing myself in the throws of passion with him. No sirree. No sweat ... or yes, sweat, lots and lots of sweat. Mmmm, Mmmm, Mmmm.
Yep, everything was going great until all hell broke loose in the lobby with her father smack-dab in the middle of it. She hoped that Holden wasn’t terrified that all dates with Kate West were like that.
Promising that he’d call, he kissed her tenderly, not passionately, at the front door in his haste to leave. Red flag.
Needing a fresh cup of coffee, she rolled her new, new Mustang into a parking spot in front of the Stop-N-Shop convenience store, next to Shane’s Jeep Wrangler.
Well, well, the golden boy cometh. She chuckled when she pressed through the door and spotted him filling his travel mug in the back corner of the store. He didn’t look any worse for the wear. He was wearing a fresh pair of Levi’s and a clean T-shirt. Lordy, he never fails to amaze her. He must keep a go-bag in his Jeep among other things that she didn’t want to know about. Smooth operator, indeed. He was pouring the columbian coffee so she took a spot at the next dispenser to fill her cup with hazelnut coffee.
“Rachel wasn’t up to coming to the dance?” she asked with a drummed-up tone of concern.
A devilish playboy grin formed on his lips. “She liked my suit.”
“Really?” she asked wryly.
“What can I say? I’m freaking irresistible.”
“And humble. Don’t forget humble.”
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