"Well, I'm glad to hear you're not upset."
"Don't even."
"What?"
"Smirk."
"Who's smirking?" His eyes crinkled along with the cor- ners of his mouth when he smiled. His dimple popped.
Ugh! I couldn't take it. "We're at least supposed to pretend we're in a relationship."
"Right. The pretend relationship. Because a real one is out of the question." He reached his hand up, and his thumb swept along my jawline.
I grabbed his hand. He had this way of touching me that made me forget all rational reason. "What kind of relationship could we have?" I asked. "With you there and me here?"
"Right. Me . . . there."
"Why do you say it like that?"
"Like what?"
"The way you did, all . . . dripping with undisclosed meaning."
He arched an eyebrow.
I punched him in the arm. "You know how you said it!"
Hurried footsteps turned our attention. Louisa whipped into the room, her face flushed. Willie strode over to her.
She didn't bother with the whispering, and we didn't
bother to pretend we weren't eavesdropping. "He's not in his dressing room."
Jessica slid off the water bed and slinked over to Willie. She seemed awfully chummy for someone who'd been claiming sexual harassment.
"I could do the show alone, Mr. Sala. I could be your next host," she gushed. "You don't need Thad."
Willie rubbed his stubble, smoothed the hairs on his head.
Behind him the execs whispered behind cupped hands.
Willie nodded. "You're absolutely right, Jessica. You're hired. Thad's out."
I could feel Bobby's body heat through my shirt, so I shuffl ed a little to my left, closer to Mario and Perry, who watched the goings-on with eager eyes.
They weren't the only ones. Carson and his cameraman were having their own cupped-hand meeting. Carson's eyes shone brighter than Jessica's Hollywood dreams.
If he hadn't been the biggest fish in the tristate pond before today, then this little coup sealed his fate.
Jessica squealed.
Louisa looked sick. "Should I let Thad know?"
Willie shook his head. "He'll figure it out."
Willie left Louisa open-mouthed and strode over to Jessica.
"Well, well," Perry said.
If Thad had been the one to kill Genevieve, then his nefarious plot hadn't just thickened—it had turned to quicksand and swallowed him whole.
Apprehension hung over the set, a silent buzz. Everyone's nerves were on edge, waiting for Thad to walk in and see he'd been replaced with Game Show Barbie.
Jessica knelt on the bed, the covers pulled up over her legs. Her cups runneth over her satin nightie. The execs had nothing but smiles. Thad's ousting must have sat well with them.
Actually, I could practically see the lead Carson would
take with his ten o'clock newscast. "Hostess with the mostest takes charge on Hitched or Ditched in wake of tragedy. Stay tuned."
And she definitely had the mostest too. That nightie left nothing to the imagination.
"Places for the intro, people." Willie clapped his hands.
I made a mental note to call home to ask Riley to tape the show tonight so I could see what Bobby had been up to all day, what his camera crew had captured on film.
Not because he wasn't telling me everything. Only because I was curious.
"What time do you fly out tomorrow?" I asked him as we sat in our seats on the set.
I couldn't help but watch Jessica as she fl ipped through her note cards for the show ahead. I hoped to heaven there weren't more sex questions. Where were the home decor questions? The obligatory wedding questions?
Enough about the sex! It just served to remind me about the lack of it in my life.
"At ten," he said.
I tried to smooth a wrinkle out of my pants. Darn linen. "Are you coming back?" I held my breath, waiting for the answer.
"Tomorrow night in time for the taping of Rendezvous."
Something in me was so glad to hear that, despite the fact he'd be gone again in no time.
"There are a few things I need to take care of down there. Shouldn't take too long. Did you want to get dinner tonight?"
"Dinner or dessert?" I probed.
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I was thinking cookies might be good."
Outraged, I leaned forward, glared. "Perry! You told?"
"Sorry, sugar. I don't do well with secrets. I should have told you."
"Mario, you could have warned me."
He smiled. "I could have, but where's the fun in that?"
Sighing, I leaned back, crossed my arms.
"Remember the time with the double chocolate cookies and vanilla ice cream?"
"No."
"You lie like the rug Willie needs."
I couldn't help but smile. Willie really did need a toupee. Or to let nature take its course and allow his bald head to shine.
Overhead lights dimmed, cameramen took their places. A spotlight illuminated Jessica on the bed as she started Thad's usual greeting.
I wondered if he realized he'd been replaced yet. Or if he cared.
She greeted Mario and Perry, and I knew from previous nights that parts of their days would be pieced into this tape.
Jessica had trouble pronouncing MacKenna and stammered her way through my introduction too. Red filled her cheeks as she began speaking faster and faster, finally reading the closing line, a teaser about the next segment.
We took a break while Mario and Bobby went backstage to the soundproof booth closet.
I prepared myself for the night's double entendre questions.
"She's got great legs, doesn't she?" Perry said.
"Jealous?"
He laughed. "You're catching on, sug—"
Jessica's shriek cut him off. "You can't!"
Pulling her robe tightly around her waist, she stood over Willie, eyeing him like prey.
"Sorry, Jessie. You're no host. You're eye candy, not the nougat center."
Perry pretended to gag himself.
Willie clapped his hands. "Take ten. Louisa, find Thad. We need him back."
Reminding me of Riley, Louisa threw her arms into the air and stomped out of the room.
The new me didn't feel sorry for her one bit.
And little did she know what she was in for tomorrow, what with Mac's touchy-feely-ness.
Served her right.
Jessica wasn't through pleading her case. "Willie, this is outrageous. You can't do this to me. After all I've been through!"
"Life's tough, kid. Get over it."
Perry moved into Mario's empty seat. "This is better than Dallas the year J.R. was shot."
This whole week had felt like an eighties nighttime soap.
"Do you think Thad will come back?" I asked, watching Carson cross the room to interview one of the execs.
"Sugar, Willie's going to have some serious groveling to do."
If Willie knew Thad had been sleeping with Genevieve, then it would be a cold day in the netherworld before he kowtowed to him.
If.
That "if " was the hinge for many theories, including motivation for Willie to have killed Genevieve.
"You've got that faraway look again. Thinking about cookies?" Perry asked.
I laughed. "No. Far from it, and don't think I've forgiven you for blabbing. I was just thinking about Genevieve and who killed her. That person could be among us right now."
Perry whistled low and made a show of looking at each person milling about, his eyebrow raised.
There were at least fifteen people in the room, all of whom had been present last night. With the exception of Jessica.
Even though she hadn't been seen, it didn't mean she hadn't been there. Maybe Josh had made up her trip to Mexico.
My gaze stopped on the police detectives standing near the door. They were the same pair who'd
interviewed Bobby and me last night. It made sense they were here, observing. Were they any closer to finding the killer? Had they found any solid evidence?
It was a relief to know Kevin wasn't working this case. He'd been involved in my life too often these days—it made it really hard to completely move on, away from him.
Toward Bobby?
I just wasn't sure what to do. Wasn't that the whole point of this self-discovery? To figure out who I was, what I wanted?
It hadn't even been two weeks, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion.
I wanted Bobby.
But I still couldn't tell if that was my heart or my libido talking. Or both.
"Ahh," Perry said. "Now you're thinking about cookies."
"I plead the Fifth."
"No reason why you shouldn't have a nibble."
Little did he know. "It's complicated."
"You want him, he wants you. You're definitely hitched material."
"You really think so?"
"Sugar, I'm never wrong."
"But you don't even know us."
"Don't have to. Sometimes things just are. No rhyme, no reason. Just are. If you nit and pick and dissect, the magic dies, and if there's one thing I know, sugar, it's the magic you want—and it's the magic you already have with Bobby. You don't need to be wearing a cape and pulling a bunny out of a hat to see it. It surrounds the two of you."
Louisa jogged into the room, pulled up short next to Willie .
"You find him?" Willie asked her.
Red-faced from exertion, she drew in deep breaths. "Not. Here."
I thought maybe I should give her Duke's number.
That'd serve her right too.
"Mr. Sala," Jessica purred. "Give me another chance."
"No."
"But—"
"No." The Channel 18 cameraman moved in. Willie covered the lens with his meaty hand. "Go. Away."
The camera guy backed up, bumping into Carson. I wondered if Ana and he had plans to meet later.
To Jessica, Willie said in short, breathless bursts, "You still want any job, sit down and be quiet. Unless you want to sue me again?"
"Sue him? What's that about?" Perry asked.
I figured it didn't hurt to spill the beans now. "Sexual harassment."
Perry's mouth formed a perfect little o. "No way."
"Way. Trumped-up charges, I'm guessing."
"Not exactly the way to get in the good graces of the boss. I wonder how she got her job back."
I wondered too.
"You're here only because I was desperate," Willie stated to Jessica. "Let's get that out in the open right now."
"Impeccable timing he has," Perry whispered, smiling.
Jessica glared at Willie, and it was easy to see the hatred in her eyes. Her Hollywood dreams must have outweighed her need to lash out because she turned on her heel, strutted to the water bed and climbed in, arranging herself in the middle. A spotlight from above lit her every curve as she leaned her head back against the padded headboard. She blinked against the bright light, squinted. A look of absolute horror came over her face.
"Jessica?" I rose. A chill swept down my spine. "Jessica?"
She tore her teary gaze from above, looked at me and started screaming.
Perry and I made it bedside at the same time as the detectives. No one knew quite what was going on. Jessica was too hysterical to speak.
I shaded my eyes against the spotlights and peered into the maze of catwalks above the studio, where she'd been looking when she'd gone pale.
It didn't take long to see what Jessica had spotted.
Thad Cochran's body dangled from a noose tied to a metal beam.
Seventeen
The local country station played softly in the background as I drove home, a song about a man who'd driven his big rig into a motel when he found out his wife was in it with another man.
Life seemed so cut-and-dried in country songs. Jealous? Just run down your wife, own up to it, and spend the rest of your life in jail. No fuss, muss, or deception needed.
It was one pesky detail that had a way of interfering with reality. People who killed didn't usually want to be caught.
Even if it meant taking their own life.
It sure looked as though Thad had committed suicide. Had he killed Genevieve and couldn't live with the guilt? Had his arrest been imminent?
Bobby didn't think so. We'd been back in the conference room, waiting to be interviewed by Cincinnati police detectives, when he said, "Thad loved himself too much to end his life."
"He's right," Perry added.
Mario nodded. "Thad loved Thad first and foremost."
All true.
The streets were quiet this time of night, and I'd made every light. I couldn't wait to get home, crawl into the sofa bed and try to figure out my life.
Tequila might help me figure things out faster, but that was probably taking the easy way out. The new me wasn't supposed to take the easy road.
I sighed. This self-discovery stuff was hard. Worse yet, I didn't even know if any of it would work.
So far I had a new look, a new diet, sore muscles, clean fingernails, and a whole lot of frustration and confusion. Not exactly a glowing endorsement of self-discovery, was it? I kept hoping that feeling of contentment, of knowing what the right thing to do with my life, would come over me.
No such luck.
I didn't know what to make of that. Do I keep on keeping on? Or go back . . . ?
Almost home, I decided to wait for the tequila to think about it.
Yeah, it was easy, but after the night I'd had, I needed it. A girl could take only so much.
As far as I knew, Thad's body remained dangling from the catwalk on the set of Hitched or Ditched. The police had been waiting for the arrival of the medical examiner before cutting him down.
And I couldn't help but wonder . . . If he didn't kill himself, how'd he get up there? It's not as though someone can lure a person onto a catwalk, slip a noose around their neck, and give a little nudge.
I rolled down my street, breathed in relief at the FOR SALE sign still up across the street, and slowed to a stop when I noticed the cars parked in front of my house. My mother's, Maria's, Ana's, Brickhouse's, Tam's . . .
Ah. Would this be the "later on" Tam had mentioned? Now I understood my mother's cleaning frenzy and the cream puffs.
Slowly, I pulled into my driveway. The shades were drawn, the inside dark, but I could see the flicker of the TV set.
Glancing next door, I noticed Mr. Cabrera's house sat ablaze in light, and through his picture window I could easily see him and Riley playing a game of cards.
Not sure what to expect, I climbed out of my truck and up the front steps. I pushed open the front door, and the scent of popcorn, cream puffs, and strawberries filled my nose.
"Um, hello?" I said to the group gathered around the TV.
"Shh!" It was my mother who hushed me.
My couch had been pushed back, nearly into the kitchen. My living room, littered with pillows, sleeping bags, popcorn bowls, and margarita glasses, was a mess.
No one bothered to turn my way. Five pairs of eyes remained glued to the TV set, on the image of Carson Keyes, reporting from the parking lot of HoD.
" . . . examiner will have preliminary autopsy information by week's end, though by all accounts it appears as though Hitched or Ditched host Thad Cochran took his own life. No word from Cincinnati's finest on whether this tragedy is in any way related to the untimely death yesterday of Genevieve Sala, the show's hostess. For now, a source close to producer/director Willie Sala reports Hitched or Ditched has been put on temporary hiatus as the investigation continues. This is Carson Keyes, and I'll keep you informed and up-to-date. Back to you, Del."
Ana fanned herself. "Isn't he the cutest?"
"You should see him in person," Maria chimed in.
A smile crept across Ana's face. "You should see him naked."