“What PR disaster?”
“Some incident that involved cyberbullying leading to a teenage suicide.”
Will leaned forward, dropping his arms to the desk. “I remember that. There was evidence of bullying in all sorts of ways. Texts, emails, social networking sites. Line Creek police confiscated computer chips. The school shut down Internet service and didn’t allow phones for the rest of the year.”
“Writing on bathroom walls is a lost art.” I shook my head, remembering days gone by. “Do they even fight in the parking lots anymore? Or pass notes? What’s become of this generation?”
“Feeling your age?”
“Twenty-six is young.” I kicked the chair leg with the back of my boot heel. “I’ve got plenty of time to play the field before I worry about settling down.”
“Sure, hon’.” Will began shuffling through the stack of files on his desk. “Anything else I can do for you?”
For the past month, I had wanted to ask Uncle Will about my mother. She’d been gone about twenty years, and as far as I was concerned, we were better off without her. But recently, I had discovered my brother had stolen some snapshots from Shawna Branson, showing my mother with Shawna’s father. I didn’t know what to make of them. However, Uncle Will, like my Grandpa Ed, found the subject of my mother a mute point.
As in we didn’t talk about her. At all. I suspected these photos were Shawna’s sticking point in her campaign of ugliness toward me.
This past year, Shawna had acted the turkey buzzard to the carcass of my dying art career. She had hated me since the fifth grade county art competition when I caught her trying to pass off a traced drawing of Tupac as an original. When my tribute to the Atlanta Olympics won first place, Shawna set the sculptured torch on fire, claiming patriotic inspiration.
“What do you know about Billy Branson?” My mouth surprised my brain with a blab sneak attack. I sought for spin control. “You know, Shawna Branson’s father? I’m having a hard time with Shawna lately and her mother was no help. I thought maybe Shawna’s daddy...”
Will looked up from his files. “Billy Branson? He hasn’t lived around here in twenty odd years. Don’t see how he could help you with Shawna.”
“So he left about the same time as Momma?”
Will’s eyes narrowed. “Lots of people leave Halo, not just Christy Tucker and Billy Branson. Billy and Delia had an unhappy marriage because Billy couldn’t make it as a pro or keep his hands off his female golf students. Everybody knows that. Sad but true.”
“Why’d he leave Halo? His family is here.”
“I expect John Branson Senior had something to do with that. His boys were wild. JB was tearing up the town about that time, too. It’s not easy to be a Branson in Forks County. You’d like to think they sit pretty on their perch, but heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
Will laid the folders on his desk, pinning them down with a thick forearm. “That goes for stepsons, too. You were pretty hard on Luke Harper when y’all were seeing each other.”
“He didn’t tell his parents we were dating.” I lifted my chin. “He was embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“Luke Harper likes his privacy because he’s a Branson. And he cared about you enough that he didn’t want to drag you into the Branson minefield until y’all were ready.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. “How do you know?”
“Believe me, I know about these things.” Will picked up the top folder and opened it. “We done here?”
“Yes, sir.” I pushed out of the chair. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, baby girl.” He didn’t look up from his folder. “And another bit of advice. That Tara Mayfield would make a good Branson. Better her, than you, navigating those minefields. Your hurt will heal. Believe me there, too.”
Three
Before I could distill Uncle Will’s sage wisdom into something I could swallow rather than gnaw, my edification in humility continued. I opened the door, muttering how I wished everyone could leave off the subject of Luke Harper and myself, and almost stepped on that very subject. He squatted below me, tying his shoe, and gazed up.
“Hey, if it isn’t the sun.” His hands dropped from his shoe, but he continued to stare up at me. The gray eyes lightened and full lips softened, almost forming a smile. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
God had an odd sense of humor when it came to my love life. The harder I set my resolve, the more temptation came my way.
Luke rose and my eyes traveled with his ascension, up the long pair of legs clad in starchy brown. A utility belt hung off lean hips, accentuating a flat stomach. I rooted my gaze on the walkie, clipped on his broad shoulders, to prevent myself from further ogling.
One of these days, I’d find myself desensitized from Luke’s good looks. But for now, he still made my eyeballs spring from my head.
“What’s the occasion?” He pushed a hand through his dark, curly hair.
“I had to get fingerprinted.” I clenched the fingerprint cards, using the paper’s smoothness to keep from remembering the past feel of his silky locks tangling in my fingers.
“You need anyone to frisk you? Better yet, do a strip search?” His slow smile caused two deep dimples to emerge.
A flurry of butterfly wings beat against the walls of my belly and my toes curled within my boots. If Miss Tamara caught us, she’d take one look at my expression and accuse me of squirrelish behavior. While I worried about Miss Tamara’s squirrels, Luke’s gaze trailed from the hem of my dress to dawdle on Bert and Ernie. I took a long, slow breath while his eyes finished their journey to meet my cornflower blues.
“Aren’t you a little old for Sesame Street?” He smiled.
“I believe in life long learning.”
“I could teach you a thing or two.”
“I don’t need that kind of education.”
“Come with me to eat lunch.” He paused and the smile faltered. “I miss you.”
I hated the pained tone in his voice, like I was kicking him in the gut every time he saw me. “If we’re going as friends, I could eat. Lickety Pig?”
“Sounds good. I’ve got to get out of here fast. Before you-know-who shows.”
“Tara still won’t leave you alone?”
“Somebody should study that girl’s brain. We could use her homing instincts as a new kind of radar. She will not take no for an answer.”
“Tara is very persistent. That’s a good quality for working with prisoners and children.”
“You always look for silver linings, don’t you?” He opened the heavy lobby door, and I stumbled through. “That’s a good quality, too. See you there, sugar.”
I turned to tell Luke to cool it on the sugar stuff in front of Tamara, but the door had already closed. I glanced toward her bulletproof shield.
Tamara sat with her arms crossed, her eyebrows arched, and her lips pursed. I ducked my head and fast-walked through the lobby and into the parking lot before I heard more talk about the love life of squirrels.
Fifteen minutes later, Luke and I eyed each other over a sticky Formica table dressed with red plastic glasses of tea and paper baskets of pulled pork. East Carolina vinegar sauce and coleslaw covered his sandwich. Mine dripped with sweet red sauce and pickles. A basket of fried okra sat between the two. We reached for the okra at the same time, our fingers touching and skidding away.
Luke cleared his throat. “Did you talk to the principal of that school this morning?”
“No, he wasn’t in.” I popped a hot bite of okra into my mouth, sighing in ecstasy at the salt, crunch, and tang dissolving on my tongue. “It seems the principal’s secretary, Maranda Pringle, died. Did you hear about that?”
Luke set down his sandwich. “I did not. Where does she live?”
I shrugged. “Must be
Line Creek. The call didn’t come through County. One of the mothers had some ugly things to say about Miss Pringle. Those stuck-up Aureate folks need to learn some manners, talking trash about a woman who just died.”
“Sounds like you did some gossiping yourself.”
I cut my eyes to my barbecue. “I just listened.”
“Are you sure you’re up to working at that fancy school? Can’t say you handle yourself well around the high and mighty.”
“It’s temporary. Gives me a chance to do something in the community. And I’ll get paid.”
Luke raised his brows, but kept his mouth busy with his sandwich. Sauce dripped down his chin. I resisted the urge to wipe it off, deciding Luke and the Lickety Pig staff would get the wrong idea. I chewed and transferred my thoughts to a safer plane. According to my Tara timer, she’d appear within the next five minutes, and I needed to broach the subject of Luke’s cousin and ex-girlfriend in private. It’s just not kind to talk ugly about somebody in front of that person.
“Speaking of the school, that mother showed me some interesting photos posted on my Facebook page.”
Luke’s eyes glazed over. He reached for a handful of okra.
I waved a hand before his face. “Photos of you and Tara Mayfield posted by your cousin, Shawna Branson. Naming me the crazy ex-girlfriend for all the cyber world to see.”
The okra dropped into a puddle of vinegar sauce next to his sandwich. “Step-cousin.”
“Whatever. Shawna’s been poking sticks at me all year and now she’s found another way to prick my skin. With you and Tara Mayfield.”
“I’m not seeing Tara anymore.” He reached for my hand, but I slipped it into my lap. “Sugar, can I help it if she doesn’t believe me? What am I supposed to do? I can’t bring myself to get a restraining order put on Tara. I wouldn’t want to do the paperwork when she breaks it.”
“Throwing Tara in the pokey for following you around like a love-sick swan is your business. Shawna’s using the relationship to needle me. And poor Tara is caught in the middle.”
“Poor Tara? What about me?”
“You’re a big boy. I’ve been the recipient of rumors and gossip for the past six months. I can’t afford the bad press as the homewrecker who broke sweet, little Tara Mayfield’s heart.”
“I broke sweet, little Tara Mayfield’s heart, not you.” He pushed his basket aside. “Besides, she’s the one who thought dating meant getting married. Don’t know what gave her that idea.”
“Because you never tell anybody what you think or feel, so she jumped to conclusions. You introduced her to your parents.” Something he had never done with me. I gave him an extra glower for that thought.
“I had to go to a Branson wedding and Shawna was angling for me to take her. I was desperate, so I asked Tara.”
“In Tara’s world, a date to a wedding equals a promise ring.”
He gaped at me, then tore another bite out of his barbecue. “I don’t understand women.”
“You’d understand us better if you’d talk to us. So you need to start by telling your step-cousin to stop egging Tara on.”
“I say it’s nobody’s business who I’m seeing and who I’m not seeing.”
And therein lied the problem. When you lived in a small town, people made it their business whether you wanted it or not.
Particularly when a Branson wanted to date a Ballard.
Because the universe found favor in pairing gossipers with gossipees, when the little bell hanging on the Lickety Pig door rang, I knew who would walk through that door. I cut my eyes from the okra to Luke’s as a shaft of sunlight fell across our table. Tara Mayfield glided into the cafe. Pink Keds shod her size four Barbie doll feet and a rosebud print dress with matching sweater swathed her petite frame.
Sunlight lit her golden, always-smooth-never-frizzy locks, producing a halo that dazzled my eyes. Her tiny dancer body spun as her wide, china blue eyes took in the barbecue crowd. In response, the mainly male lunchers stopped chewing to take in the radiant, beautiful glow that Tara offered. Her eyes lit on our table and she skipped forward.
I glanced at the okra squeezed into camo-colored pulp in my fist, then slid my hand into my lap to wipe the mangled mess into the paper towel that served as my napkin.
“Hey Tara,” Luke and I chimed.
I noticed his dimples did not crease and his eyes had lost their luster. I wanted to shake him. Why in the hell would you drop a girl like Tara Mayfield? If I were into that sort of thing, I would marry Tara Mayfield. She made Mary Poppins look like Lizzy Borden.
Except for the stalking, which I wouldn’t put past Lizzy Borden.
“Luke and Cherry,” she squealed. “I’m so glad to see you. How are y’all? I thought I’d find you here.”
“What a surprise.” I smirked. “Have a seat, Tara.”
Luke’s shoe nudged my ankle, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to dress Tara up and braid her hair.
“What have you been doing?” I turned to grab the free chair behind me and scooted it around to face our table.
“I just finished some volunteer work at the women’s shelter and thought I could meet Lukey for lunch. The guys at the station said he was headed here.”
“Lukey? That is so adorable.”
“I’ve got to go back to work.” Luke shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and grabbed a handful of okra.
“Really?” Tara’s smile turned upside down and somewhere a fairy died. “Well, I hope the rest of your day goes well.”
“Thanks,” Luke said through a mouth full of okra as he hopped to his feet.
“I’ll just eat with Cherry. You don’t mind do you?” She turned her sorrowful eyes on me and my heart just about broke.
“Please do, Tara.” My eyes narrowed at the man scrambling to get out the door.
He shook his head and I mouthed “chickenshit.”
Tara laid a napkin in the chair abandoned by Luke and pulled out an antibacterial wipe from her purse to clean the table. “Mercy, what a sticky mess. I guess y’all ate here because it’s so close to the Sheriff’s Office.”
“We ate here because Lickety makes some of the best barbecue in the county. That it just so happens to be near the Sheriff’s Office, makes it handy.”
“I don’t eat barbecue, but maybe I’ll get a salad.” Tara smiled and waved at the cashier behind Lickety’s counter. “Where’s the waitress?”
“Lickety doesn’t have salad unless you count coleslaw. They don’t have waitresses, either. You have to order at the counter. Tara, it’s like you didn’t grow up around here. How do you not eat barbecue?” Tara fascinated me the way zoo animals did.
Her small shoulders lifted. “What have you been doing today, Cherry?”
“Visiting Peerless Day Academy. The drama teacher needs help with set designs.”
“My brother goes to Peerless. They have such a beautiful campus. I wish I could have gone there, but daddy said it wasn’t worth the money for me.”
“Because you’re a girl?”
“No, silly. Because they don’t have football.” Tara’s trilling laugh caused the grizzled farmer behind her to break a smile.
“You played football?”
“Cherry.” She laughed again, and I hunted the air for animated bluebirds. “I did competitive cheering. High school and college. What about you?”
“I worked and painted.” And drank beer and ran around with boys, but those were extra-extracurriculars. “So what does your brother think about Peerless?”
“He doesn’t like it, but it’s either Peerless or military school. After that big to-do last year, my daddy almost pulled him out. And now that it’s happening again, a lot of parents might do the same. Peerless could be in trouble.”
“What to-do? What�
��s going on?” At the thought of Peerless Day Academy in trouble, I saw my possible paycheck floating away. “What happened?”
Tara grabbed six napkins, spread them before her, then leaned an arm on the table. “I don’t like to gossip.”
“Of course you don’t.” I pushed aside my barbecue basket and plunked my elbows on the dirty table.
“I think the poor girl who killed herself—you know, Ellis?—was troubled anyway. She was from Ballantyne Estates. Sophomore. Same year as my brother, Laurence. At first it started with photos on PeerNotes and then they hounded her with anonymous texts. I heard something like that is happening at the school again.”
“What’s PeerNotes?”
“Peerless Academy’s version of Facebook. Girls would post photos of shopping trips and parties where Ellis wasn’t invited.”
“Flippin’ mean girls,” I said.
Sounded like something Shawna Branson would have done if Facebook had been invented back in our high school days. “What is wrong with teenagers? They are so warped. Maybe I should rethink working at that school.”
Tara grabbed my calloused hands between her soft, vanilla scented palms. “No, you should totally work there. That stage is incredible. A Disney star went to Peerless and his parents left the drama department a huge alumni gift. Some other kid ended up on Broadway, and another performed in a reality show. The drama students win all kinds of competitions.”
“Drama competitions? What happened to putting on plays?”
“I want to help you. I can keep my eye on Laurence at the same time.”
I pulled my hands from hers. It was one thing to eat lunch with Tara Mayfield. Her cuteness made it hard to remember she was stalking Luke. But having Tara stalk me while I worked was a whole ’nother thing.
“Listen, Tara. Thank you for wanting to help, but that’s not such a good idea. Luke and I are friends. It makes it hard on him to have you always around.”
DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE Page 3
