ALLIE DROVE around for a while, trying to make sense of what had happened. Charlie’s arguments sounded right, but there were Grady and Beattie and Mrs. Winthrop, and they weren’t wrong. So how could Charlie be right? There should have been a simple answer, and there wasn’t.
She stopped and picked up cashew chicken and pot stickers because she was unhappy and starving and because it was what she wanted, for some reason.
Then she went home, and turned on Grady’s show, and thought about the mess some more.
She wanted to hate Charlie for what he was going to do to Grady, but she didn’t. She loved him. And tomorrow was November and he was leaving, and she’d be alone again, picking up the pieces he’d left behind him.
Well, not alone. She had Joe. And Harry. And Karen and Marcia, and even Mark and Lisa weren’t a complete loss. And Bill and Beattie and most of all Grady. She’d be working her butt off for Grady because he deserved it. She’d find a way to keep him out of jail.
And she’d get the drive-time show back. Mark would take her back in a heartbeat: the last thing he needed was her making some new bozo the flavor of the month the way she’d done with Charlie. He still didn’t get it that she hadn’t done it alone. That they’d been a team.
Allie closed her eyes for a moment because it hurt so much to remember that. In the background, Grady was playing some weird chanting music. Who would play the weird stuff while Grady was in prison?
The doorbell rang, and Allie went to get it, assuming Joe had forgotten his key and grateful he was home to comfort her.
But when she opened the door, Charlie said, “Can we please talk about this?”
Allie stood silent, staring at him as he filled her doorway. She blinked back tears and tried to breathe. The worst thing she could do would be to cry all over him; he was her problem, not her solution. But he stood there, tall and broad and solid and safe, and he sure looked like all her solutions for the rest of her life.
And tomorrow was November and Grady was going to jail.
He came in and closed the door and took her hand and pulled her over to the couch. Then he sat down beside her, and she held herself rigid so she wouldn’t lean into him, trying not to collapse against him, furious with him for what he was doing to Grady, loving him so much she was paralyzed with it.
“I don’t want to leave it like this,” Charlie said. “This is not the way we do things. Scream at me or something, but don’t walk away from me.”
Allie swallowed, and her voice came out strained. “I don’t know what to scream. I know you’re right. And I know you’re wrong. And I’m so tired, and you’re leaving anyway.” She tipped her head back and stared at the cracks in the ceiling. One of the cracks curved around itself and looked vaguely like Australia so she concentrated on that. All her other thoughts hurt too much.
“My father got my brother off the hook on his drug charge,” Charlie said. “Bought off the witnesses and slung Ten’s butt into a rehab center. He got Ten so buried, he couldn’t even call his girlfriend. But he solved the problem. My mother was not embarrassed. My brother was not jailed. And the law, well, the law is for the little people.”
Allie turned at the pain in his voice. “Charlie, you don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I do.”
She could see how seriously he was looking at her, and she was too tired to argue. “All right. Tell me.”
“He fixes everything the way he wants it.” Charlie said. “He wanted Ten to be a success and he was. Only Ten had to deal drugs to get it. And he wanted me to settle down, so he sent me here. Bill didn’t give a damn about that letter. He was doing my dad a favor, give his son a job, make him settle down. That’s what my dad told Bill. I know it.”
“Well, he didn’t get what he wanted there,” Allie said. “You’re leaving tomorrow. You—”
“And I’m doing the same thing,” Charlie went on. “I did what I was sent to do, fix Bill’s little anonymous-letter problem.” He looked at Allie. “I know I’m right on this. But it feels wrong. It feels like my father. It feels lousy.”
“You’re not your father.” Allie’s voice was firm. “You refuse to take any responsibility for anything. You never tell anybody what to do.”
“Why does that sound so bad?” Charlie slumped back against the couch. “I thought it was a solution, but it’s as bad as the problem.” He shook his head. “I packed my car tonight. I figured my job was done, and I hated what was happening so I thought I’d just leave. Let you play opera until you found another schmuck to make into a star.”
Allie latched on to his mistake. “I didn’t make you a star. You did. Your personality and your brains and your talent.”
“We did.” He looked at her then. “We did it together.”
Allie closed her eyes because it hurt too much to look at him. “Don’t. It’s over. You’re leaving.”
“No, I’m not,” he told her. “I can’t. I can’t leave you. I love you. I can leave Tuttle, but I can’t leave you. I don’t ever want to spend another day without you.” He leaned toward her, and his voice was taut. “I was going to leave this whole mess behind. I got in the car to go, and then I just sat there and thought, ‘Where the hell am I going?’ Because without you, there isn’t anyplace else to go. You’re all there is.”
All the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Allie felt pain in her chest and heat behind her eyelids where tears pressed, and she couldn’t move from all the emotion that was choking her.
When she didn’t say anything, Charlie added, “Say something, please. I’m dying here.”
She tried to suck some air into her lungs. She was having trouble breathing. And speaking. “I…” The words died.
Charlie took her hand. “I love you, Al. It’s not about sex or the bet or the show. I love you. I don’t know, with what I’ve done, if that’s enough, but I do love you.”
“It’s enough,” she said, and her voice broke. “It’s enough.” She swallowed. “I’m really mad at you, and I hate what you’re doing to Grady…”
“I know.”
“But I love you,” she said, and as she said it, any doubts she had disappeared forever. “I love you so much sometimes I get dizzy when I look at you. I feel good when I’m with you. I feel right. I think you’re wrong here, but I don’t think I could stand life without you.”
He bent to kiss her, and she held her breath and felt his lips on hers, warm and gentle and everything he was, and she kissed him then, with all the love she had for him, memorizing him, breathing with him as his mouth grew hot on hers.
“Don’t ever leave me,” he said against her lips, and she almost laughed because she wasn’t the one with the need to leave, but then the chanting on the radio stopped and Grady’s voice broke in.
“This will be my last show for a while, Tuttle,” he said, and they both turned to listen to him, their heads close. “I’ve been breaking the law, and tomorrow morning, I’m turning myself in. I had a long talk with a friend tonight, and he pointed out that the law is a fine thing, even when it’s wrong. It’s the only defense we have against anarchy, against the strong overwhelming the weak. And if it’s wrong, well, then it’s our job to change it. I’ve been giving away marijuana to chemotherapy patients because it helps them withstand the nausea the treatments cause, but it’s against the law. I think it’s time this law was changed, and tonight’s the only night I have left to talk about it before I go to jail. If you’re listening and you have an opinion, call in. The number is—”
“Grady is the only person I know who could make his arrest a call-in topic,” Allie said when she’d recovered her voice. “What do you suppose he’s been doing for the past hour while all that music played?”
Charlie let go of her. “He’s been talking to his father. I called Bill and told him.”
Allie sat up. “You what?”
Charlie sighed. “I called Bill and told him that Grady was doing something important that had probably saved Beattie’s life, and t
hat now it was Bill’s turn to stick his neck out. He yelled a lot, but I think he saw the light at the end. I think he’s going to fight for Grady. When I hung up, he was making a plan. If nothing else, it should be interesting to see what happens next.” He picked up the chicken carton from the table in front of them and began to eat, and when Allie stole a look at him, he looked almost relaxed.
All right. It wouldn’t have been her way of handling it, but at least he was handling it. Getting involved. And he might just be right. “I bet Bill’s not the only one making a plan,” she told him, picking up the pot stickers. “I bet Beattie’s working on a beaut.”
“You should have gotten more food,” Charlie said. “This chicken is going to be gone in no time.”
They sat close on the couch and finished the chicken and the pot stickers while they listened to Grady and his callers, all of whom seemed ready to march on city hall to spring him if necessary. Of course, they were all Grady’s callers, and anyone who would listen to Grady at three in the morning was already fanatically loyal, but it did reassure Allie. Even more reassuring was having Charlie near. She finally fell asleep on Charlie’s shoulder while he listened to Grady’s show, and she didn’t wake up until he shook her at five-thirty.
“Come on,” he told her softly. “Let’s go back in and see if Grady needs help after the show.”
Ten
The station was crowded when they got there at five forty-five. The lobby teemed with two TV crews, print journalists, the sheriff, a grim Bill and Beattie and a bemused Mark.
“What is this?” Mark caught Allie’s arm as she came through the door behind Charlie. Charlie looked back and rolled his eyes at Mark, but he kept on going into the station hallway. “What’s all the publicity for?” Mark asked. “What did Charlie do now?”
“Nothing.” Allie pulled her arm away. “Grady confessed to giving away marijuana to cancer patients. He’s going to be arrested.”
Mark got a faraway look in his eye. Probably planning on confessing to possession of oregano. How anyone could get that caught up in a career—
She stopped. Thank God for Charlie. If it hadn’t been for him, she’d still be with Mark. In fact, she’d probably be Mark.
“I’ve got to go,” she told Mark and went into the station to find Charlie and thank him.
SHE FOUND HIM in the booth with Grady.
“There’s quite a crowd in the lobby,” Charlie was telling him. “Anything I can do? Whatever you want, you got it.”
“Nope.” Grady leaned back in his chair, Sam on his lap happily chewing on the sleeve of Grady’s sweatshirt. “I’ve got ten minutes of Hildegarde of Bingen on now, and then I’ll say my goodbyes and go to jail.”
“Oh, Grady,” Allie sat down on the floor of the booth. “I still wish you hadn’t said anything. We could have—”
“No, this is going to be great.” Grady’s voice sounded so self-satisfied that Allie jerked her head up to see if he could possibly be that happy.
He was.
“This is exactly the forum we need,” Grady told her. “We need to get this stuff legalized for medical treatment. Now we have a cause. They’re going to have to arrest me and my mother and probably a half-dozen cancer patients. Think of the publicity when Mrs. Winthrop goes to jail. Your celibate bet made the tri-state news. This will have to go national.”
Allie went back to the part that scared her the most. “Grady, you’re going to jail.”
Grady grinned at her. “Not for long. You don’t know my dad. Hell, I didn’t know my dad. He yelled at first, but he had a plan worked out, and then Mom got on the other line, and by the time she was finished, he was ready to run me for governor. He’s all gung ho, getting lawyers and filing motions and calling the press. He says there’s bail and appeals and no end of lawyer red tape he can throw at them to keep me out. And the whole time, Mom and I will be giving interviews, making statements…” He trailed off as his grin widened. “I bet Dad will even let me keep my show once he gets over the shock.”
“He’s over it now,” Charlie told him from where he was leaning on the side of the booth. “He’s arguing with the sheriff in front of the TV cameras. This is going to be a circus.”
Grady leaned back in his chair. “This is great.”
Allie stood up, suddenly reassured. “No, it’s not, but I’ll help, anyway.” She started out of the booth, and Charlie caught her arm.
“What are you doing?”
Allie smiled at him, buoyed by Grady’s optimism and the fact that Charlie was touching her again. “You know all those people I was going to call to try to stop your drug story? They work both ways. I’ll have Grady on the national news by tomorrow.”
“Oh, right,” Charlie snorted. “Even you—”
Allie stopped him in midsentence. “Want to bet?”
“No.” Charlie shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’m not betting anything with you ever again.”
“That’s what I thought,” Allie said and left the booth to make some phone calls.
THREE HOURS LATER, Grady had been arrested and bailed out, and Charlie was alone with Bill in his office.
“Things didn’t turn out quite the way I’d planned,” Charlie told him.
Bill sighed and sat heavily in his chair. “The two of them. Running a charity drug ring. And now they’re in hog heaven, and the poor old sheriff has to go through the motions. If they’d kept their damn mouths shut…”
“At least now you know,” Charlie said. “The anonymous-letter mystery’s over.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m real glad about that.” Bill leaned back in his chair and glared at him. “So I guess this means you’re leaving.”
“Nope,” Charlie said. “I’m staying. You can tell my dad he won.”
Bill started and then tried to look innocent. “What’s your dad got to do with this?”
Charlie shook his head. “Forget it. I figured it out a while back. You called Dad and told him you had an anonymous letter, and he told you he wanted me settled down and you cooked this up together. Favor for an old friend, right? You didn’t give a damn about that letter.”
“I told him I couldn’t make you stay if you didn’t want to.” Bill scowled at him. “Then you went and made yourself a hit. And me some money. It’s your fault.”
“No, it’s Allie’s.” Charlie sighed. “She wanted to make me a star.”
“Well, I got to tell you, son, I’m real glad she did.”
Charlie looked up in surprise at the emotion in the older man’s voice. “I am, too.” He blinked at the thought. He really was glad.
That’s what hanging around with Allie had done for him. Made him career crazy.
“You’re sure gonna make the nights interesting around here,” Bill went on, and Charlie shook his head.
“No, that’ll be the mornings. I want the drive-time spot.”
Bill frowned at him. “Can’t do it. That’s Mark King’s show.”
Charlie shrugged. “Then I’m out of here. And so is Allie.”
Bill’s eyebrows shot up. “Alice? She’s not leaving.”
“We’re getting married, Bill. Whither I goest, she goest. And if we don’t get the drive-time show, we’re going.” Charlie mentally crossed his fingers, hoping Bill wouldn’t call his bluff. Allie was too independent to follow anybody anywhere, but Bill didn’t have to know that.
Bill glared at him. “What the hell am I going to do with Mark?”
“I am not the person to ask that,” Charlie said as he stood up. “You wouldn’t like my suggestions.”
“All right.” Bill ground his teeth a little. “All right. You got it.”
“Thank you very much.” Charlie turned back as he got to the door. “And good luck with Grady and Beattie. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Bill sat back in his chair. “We can handle it. It’s a family problem.”
Charlie leaned in the doorway. “Well, to tell you the truth, Bill, I kind of think of you and G
rady and Beattie as family now. So if you need anything…”
Bill’s face softened and he nodded. “I’ll call you.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
Charlie looked in Allie’s office, but she was long gone, her phone calls made while he was helping Grady.
He knew where she’d be, and he tried not to think about it on his way out to the car.
Now was no time to have a heart attack from lust.
ALLIE OPENED the door of her apartment when he knocked, and just the sight of him made her weak-kneed. Coming home to bed had been a mistake. It was November first, and Grady was where he wanted to be, and the bet was over, and she wanted him. She didn’t want to lose the closeness they’d had, but she wanted him with a craving that went beyond lust.
So when she opened the door, and he was standing there, broad and safe and male and Charlie, her knees went, and she tried to pretend it didn’t matter. “Come on in,” she said and then went back into her bedroom and crawled under her quilt. “I can’t believe this,” she told him when he followed her. “I can’t believe this last twenty-four hours happened. I can’t believe this last month happened.”
Charlie slumped at the foot of the bed, and Allie fought back her disappointment. He was supposed to be under the quilt with her.
“It happened,” he told her. “The last thing I heard as I went through the lobby was Mark, on the air, telling the world he’d inhaled in the seventies.”
Allie was so surprised, she forgot to lust for a minute. “Inhaled what?”
“I don’t know.” Charlie rubbed his neck. “I don’t care. I’m just glad it’s over. I just want some sleep.”
Sleep. Well, it was a start. She moved over a couple of inches to make room for him. “You can get some sleep here if you want.”
He was still for a moment. “Here?”
She nodded.
“Allie, if I climb into bed with you, I’m going to want more than sleep.”
Her heart did a little heated lurch in her chest. Thank God. Now, if only things didn’t change. “I’ve been thinking,” she said to him. “All last night, and this morning while I was on the phone. And I don’t know what I think about this Grady mess. I don’t even know which one of us is right. But I do know that you did what you thought was right even though I tried hard to change your mind.” She smiled tentatively at him. “And I’m pretty impressed with that, that you’d give up everything to do what you thought was right. And I know that you’ve been right on some other things this month, too. Not everything, but some things. And I know I love you, and you love me, and after that…well, I think we can work this out.” She swallowed. “What do you think?”