by Lee Hollis
For once, Hayley agreed with Bruce.
Well, except for the part about Wade being subpar.
Bruce wasn’t a country fan. He was more of a heavy metal enthusiast. He had looked like Steven Tyler in high school.
Maybe that’s why she once had a thing for him.
Too bad he cleaned himself up.
Chapter 7
By the end of the morning, Hayley’s budding romance with Wade Springer was the talk of the town. She waited for the phone call from Billy Ray Cyrus, relieving her from her chef duties, but it didn’t come.
So on her lunch hour, Hayley drove over to the grocery store and picked up the items from a list of ingredients for Wade’s breakfast, the first meal she would be officially preparing for him.
He and a few of his bandmates had gone whale watching today, so they had just picked up a few sandwiches at a local deli, and were planning to grab dinner at the hotel when they got back. So Hayley didn’t really have to worry about starting her new cooking gig until the next morning.
She dropped the food off at her house and returned to work. There was still no sign of Sal. He managed to keep himself scarce all day with an occasional e-mail claiming he was chasing a story in Bangor.
Interesting, Hayley thought.
Sal rarely wrote articles anymore, being editor in chief. It was pretty obvious he was avoiding her. She knew Sal like her own brother. And she knew he would probably show up with her favorite fresh bagels from Morning Glory bakery hoping she would be so excited she would forget he printed that photo.
And he was probably right.
Hayley could never carry a grudge for too long.
When Hayley turned off her computer at the end of the day, she was confident she still had her moonlighting gig as Wade’s chef.
So she wasn’t that mad anymore.
In fact, when she had driven over to the grocery store during lunch, she’d felt like a regular celebrity because all the stock boys and cashiers kept pointing and whispering as if Rihanna was in the seafood department buying fresh shrimp.
Hayley decided to cap off the day by going for a drink at Randy’s bar, Drinks Like A Fish.
It was Happy Hour.
Randy had killer drink specials.
What could be better?
And she needed to see some friendly faces.
Randy was tending bar. He was two and a half years younger than her. At least that was the case if you compared birth certificates. Hayley now claimed Randy was older by three years and counting. She always believes if you say something over and over again, eventually it becomes accepted as the truth.
So she was never going to back down from shaving a few years off her age.
Liddy was sitting at the bar sipping an espresso martini. She looked distraught and was talking Randy’s ear off, undoubtedly bemoaning the missing earring tragedy. Next to Liddy was Hayley’s other BFF, Mona.
Mona was married with six or seven kids. Who could keep count? She had just popped out another one a few months ago.
Mona was wearing a bulky sweatshirt advertising her seafood business. Mona was a successful fisherman selling lobsters and scallops at high-end prices to locals and tourists alike during the summer. She was so successful, she pretty much took the other three seasons off.
Hayley approached the bar and Randy broke out into a wide smile.
“Hey, sis,” he said as he poured a Jack and Coke and slid it over to Hayley, who was standing behind Liddy and Mona, hugging them from behind.
“I’ve looked everywhere and nothing. Zip. Zilch. Oh God, do you know how much I spent on those earrings?” Liddy moaned.
Hayley knew this would be the number one topic of discussion for weeks to come.
Randy reached for Mona’s glass. “Another Diet Coke, Mona?”
“Yeah, why not? I’m in no rush to go home to all that screaming and whining.”
“Oh, come on,” Randy said as he refilled Mona’s glass from the soda fountain. “Your kids are very well behaved.”
“I’m not talking about my kids. I’m talking about my deadbeat husband. And if he doesn’t stop getting me pregnant, I’m going to kick his ass.”
“Are you . . . ?” Hayley asked.
Mona nodded, patting her stomach with a frown.
“You’ve got to be kidding! Again?” Hayley said.
“Why the hell do you think I’m drinking Diet Coke? I hate this crappy stuff. It’s all chemicals!”
Randy put the refill on a coaster in front of her. “Don’t you two believe in using contraceptives?”
“I’m not an idiot, Randy,” Mona moaned. “We’ve tried everything. I’m this freaking medical miracle. I defy the odds. I’m like immune or something. The Pill? I’d get better results from aspirin when it comes to my ovaries.”
Hayley slid on to a stool next to Mona. “Well, I think it’s great news. I can’t think of anything better for a child than to have you as a mother.”
“Tell my rugrats that, will you? I swear they have secret meetings at night discussing plans on how to drive me bat-shit crazy,” Mona said, downing her glass of soda.
Mona reached out and took Hayley’s hand. “So how are you doing? I saw the paper.”
“I was hoping Bruce would do a story,” Liddy said, gulping down the last of her espresso martini. “I wasn’t sure he was going to take a missing earring seriously when I called him.”
“I was talking to Hayley.” Mona sighed. “About the photo of her and Wade Springer on the front page of both papers today.”
“Oh. That. I forgot,” Liddy said. She reached over and squeezed Hayley’s hand. “All publicity is good publicity, I always say.”
“But what if you don’t want any publicity?” Hayley asked.
“I don’t understand the premise of your question. Who doesn’t want publicity?” Liddy said, dropping her head down on the bar. “Where could I have lost my earring?”
“Maybe this guy or girl who has been breaking into houses and stealing property lately is behind it,” Randy said, trying to be helpful.
Liddy sprang up from the bar. “Yes! Of course! How could I have not made the connection?”
“Why would anyone steal just one earring?” Mona asked.
Liddy ignored her. “Randy, have you talked to Sergio? Does he have any leads?”
“I’m afraid not,” Randy said, wiping down the bar with a towel. “The culprit has been really smart so far and made very few mistakes.”
“Then that clears Jesse DeSoto,” Hayley said. “If that boy had a penny for every IQ point, he wouldn’t even be able to buy a forever stamp at the post office.”
“Jesse DeSoto?” Liddy asked.
“Bruce suspects Jesse may have something to do with the crime spree,” Hayley said.
Liddy grabbed her bag off the bar. “Of course! That kid’s bad news. And always causing trouble. It has to be him!”
“Now don’t go jumping to conclusions,” Randy warned. “This isn’t the Salem witch trials.”
“Those bitches were guilty! And so is Jesse DeSoto. I’m going over to the police station to talk to Sergio right now and bring him up to speed on my investigation.”
Liddy raced out the door.
“What investigation?” Hayley asked. “I just said Bruce suspected him. He has zero proof.”
“Let her go,” Mona said, shaking her head. “I’d rather she be out there stalking some lame-ass troublemaker kid than in here wailing to us about her missing piece of junk jewelry.”
“Actually, those earrings were really expensive,” Randy whispered as he leaned in to Hayley and Mona. “She paid five grand for them.”
“Five thousand dollars?” Mona yelped. “I bought my truck for less than that. Granted, it was used and needed new brakes, but holy crap!”
Suddenly the door to the bar was flung open, and a man stumbled in, fighting to keep his balance as he made his way to the bar.
He was young, early twenties, with longish brown ha
ir, tall with a bean-pole build. He was wearing a black cowboy hat. He pushed it back as he steadied himself with one hand on the bar. His face was pale and gaunt.
Hayley noticed his eyes were almost coal black. Maybe it was the lighting. But he looked like he had a dark soul.
He punched the bar with his fist.
“Bartender, whiskey straight up,” he said, slurring every word.
Randy took a deep breath and then said gently, “I’m sorry, sir, but I think you may have had enough for tonight. Let me pour you a cup of coffee. On the house.”
“I don’t want coffee,” the man said, his head swaying. He pounded the bar again with his fist. “I said I want whiskey.”
Randy stood his ground.
“Don’t make me climb over this bar and get it myself,” the man warned.
“I’m not serving you, sir. Now, I offered you some coffee. If you don’t want it, then I suggest you turn around and walk out of my bar.”
The man reached over the bar and grabbed Randy by the shirt. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Yes. You’ve been in here the last couple nights. Drunk. Which was fine, but now you’re being belligerent and I want you out of my bar,” Randy said evenly.
Hayley reached into her pocket for her cell phone. She was getting ready to dial the police if the situation escalated.
The man with the coal black eyes stared at Randy, his nostrils flaring. Randy glared back.
Neither was budging.
Finally, the man let Randy go and it looked as if he was going to leave peacefully. But, then, without warning, he lunged across the bar and took a right-hook swing at Randy.
Randy jumped back, but not fast enough. The man’s fist connected with his jaw and Randy fell back against a shelf.
A couple bottles of Smirnoff flavored vodka crashed to the floor, sending glass flying everywhere.
Hayley punched 911 immediately into her cell phone and waited for the dispatcher to pick up. Thankfully, it was a small town and the officers would be there in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.
Randy regained his senses, and bounded around the bar to drag the guy out. But before he reached him, the drunk cowboy grabbed an empty Budweiser bottle and smashed it against the bar and then waved the jagged shards at Randy’s face threateningly.
Hayley gasped, still waiting for someone at the station to answer.
Mona was off her stool and jumped on the guy’s back. She wrapped her arm around his throat and squeezed as hard as she could.
Hayley and Randy stared in disbelief. This pregnant lobster woman was fighting like a mixed martial arts champion.
The man struggled, trying to shake her off, but Mona held him tight. He desperately clawed at her arm, but Mona was strong. She hauled lobster traps for a living.
There was no way she was letting go.
Saliva came spitting out of the guy’s mouth as he tried to breathe. He dropped to his knees. Mona went right down with him, not releasing her grip in the slightest.
She had this guy.
And she was going to finish it.
Finally, the dispatcher at the station picked up and Hayley screamed for her to get some officers over to the Drinks Like A Fish bar.
But there was no rush at this point. The drunk was passed out.
Probably a combination of Mona’s headlock and too much alcohol.
He started to snore.
Randy was already sweeping up the broken glass with a broom behind the bar.
Hayley just stared at Mona in disbelief. “Where did you learn that?”
“I like watching the Military Channel. They have the most kick-ass shows about self-defense training and that kind of shit.”
Hayley looked down at the sleeping cowboy on the floor. He had to be part of Wade Springer’s entourage.
Perfect.
She was already involved in a bar brawl with one of his people and she hadn’t even cooked Wade his first meal yet.
Chapter 8
Hayley was up at five in the morning to cook Wade’s first meal of the day. She decided to prepare a full farmer’s breakfast as well as her homemade Maine blueberry muffins and some freshly squeezed orange juice.
After cooling the muffins, she scrambled the eggs, fried the bacon, whipped up the grits, and squeezed the oranges. She carefully arranged the covered plates on a wooden tray and slipped the whole thing into a pizza warmer, carefully balancing it as she clicked the leash onto Leroy’s collar and led him out the back door to her car in the garage.
The kids weren’t even up yet. It was still dark outside. But she knew Wade had an early sound check at the Criterion Theatre and had requested his breakfast be delivered at 6:30 A.M.
After Hayley dropped off the food to Wade, her plan was to drive Leroy to the vet because he was due for a few shots.
Leroy excitedly scampered toward the car because he thought they might be going for a hike in the park. Only when they pulled up to the veterinarian’s office would the cold hard truth hit him head on. Panic would then set in. So she had some time to enjoy his rare good behavior.
Hayley pulled into the nearly full parking lot of the Harborside Hotel and found an empty spot. She got out and walked around behind the Subaru wagon and popped open the hatchback where she had carefully placed Wade’s breakfast.
“Stay here, Leroy, I’ll be right back.”
Leroy started yapping.
“I’m serious,” Hayley sighed. “This will only take a moment.”
Leroy continued yapping.
“Leroy, shut up!” Hayley yelled as she lifted the pizza warmer with Wade’s breakfast. But she knew it was hopeless. Once Leroy got going, there was no stopping him. She knew what had to be driving him wild. It had to be another dog.
Sure enough, when Hayley turned around, she saw Wade walking out of the hotel with a giant St. Bernard on a long, studded, black leather leash.
Wade spotted her and waved.
Hayley set the pizza warmer back down. “Hush, Leroy!”
Wade ambled over to them. “Morning, Hayley.”
Hayley checked her watch. “It’s almost six-thirty. You ready for your breakfast?”
“Sure thing. But I have to take Delilah out for some fresh air first,” Wade said, rubbing the top of the St. Bernard’s head.
“Now? I don’t want your food to get cold.”
“Understandable. But I don’t want Delilah peeing on the carpet in the hotel. This tour is expensive enough as it is without having to reimburse for property damage.”
Of course Wade wanted to walk his own dog instead of handing her over to a roadie to exercise her for him.
God, what a man.
Leroy stopped barking and was staring at Delilah curiously.
Maybe it was because Delilah was staring at Leroy with a dopey grin.
If this were an animated movie, there would probably be little red hearts shown thumping in her eyes.
Some drool from Delilah’s slobbering mouth landed on Hayley’s shoe.
“What’s your little spitfire’s name?” Wade asked, his deep baritone drawl sending shivers up Hayley’s spine.
“Leroy, and he’s a pain in my butt. He’s always barking at other dogs.”
“He doesn’t seem to be barking now.”
Wade was right.
For once, Leroy was being quiet.
Hayley turned to see if he was okay.
Leroy was staring back at the obviously love-struck St. Bernard.
Leroy then jumped over the seat into the back of the car where Hayley had just set down the pizza warmer. He ran right over it to get to Delilah.
“Leroy, no!” Hayley wailed as she threw open the flap to the pizza warmer and peered inside. “I think he just crushed your blueberry muffin.”
“No worries. I’m not hungry right now anyway.”
Hayley glanced at him, concerned. “You’re not?”
“I can eat later. Why don’t we take the dogs for a walk along the shore pat
h? We may have found a love connection.”
“But you hardly know me and, well, I am technically working for you and . . .” Hayley noticed Wade grinning. “You were talking about the dogs, weren’t you?”
Wade nodded before bursting out laughing.
Hayley wanted to die on the spot.
Leroy craned his neck to sniff at Delilah. Delilah stepped back, acting coy and feminine, despite the fact that she was five times the size of her suitor.
“I have to get Leroy to the vet and then I have a ton of errands to run and—”
“What time does the vet open?”
“Eight.”
“It’s not even seven. Come on, let the dogs get to know each other. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get to know each other a little, too.”
Hayley nodded. “Okay.”
After all, he was the boss. If he would rather take a walk than eat the delicious meal Hayley had slaved over the stove to prepare for him, that was his decision. She tried not to be offended. But then it occurred to her that she was being asked on a morning walk by Wade Springer.
Screw the eggs.
Hayley and Wade strolled along the narrow dirt path that followed the shoreline from the harbor to the stately mansions on the other side of town owned by some of the richest families in the country.
The sun had just started coming up.
The waves crashed violently against the rocks, and Hayley and Wade let Leroy and Delilah off their leashes to go explore the seaweed and snails and starfish that had come in with the last tide.
Delilah was so exited to be off her leash, she nearly knocked Hayley off her feet as she broke into a run.
Hayley lost her balance and nearly fell flat on her face before Wade caught her around the waist to keep her steady.
Another shiver shot up her spine.
And then she noticed a flash.
Just like the one at the Balance Rock Inn.
There he was.
Darrell Rodick. That obnoxious pint-size paparazzi.
“Darrell Rodick, stop taking pictures!”
He was about thirty feet away.
She could see him checking his digital camera.
“Awesome!” he cried. “It looks like you’re hugging! I’ll get at least fifty dollars for this one!”
And off he went.
