Blue Christmas (The Moody Blue Trilogy | Book One) (25 page)

“All right,
Hannah, all I can say is you better have a darn good reason for all this. Hey!
Where are you?” She poked around the small apartment then headed for the
bedroom.

She dropped her
purse on the floor and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, excuse me, but you’re
not sick, I’m not stupid, and I’m not leaving here ’til I get some answers. Got
it?” She stomped over to the window and yanked on the cord throwing the
curtains open. Daylight flooded the room.

The body in the
bed moaned. “Kylie! I’m trying to sleep. Do you mind?”

“Yes, I mind!” She
yanked back the covers only to have them yanked back.

“Kylie, stop it!
I’m freezing—just cut it out!” Hannah rolled over onto her stomach pulling the
covers over her head. “Please, just leave me alone and give me some space,” she
mumbled from deep under the covers.

Kylie picked up the
remote control off the bedside table and clicked on the small television
resting on the chest of drawers. She plopped onto the end of the bed and pulled
her legs up Indian style. “Fine. You go ahead and sleep. I’m gonna watch TV.”

She surfed through
several channels catching pieces of
Friends
reruns, some old western on
AMC, the news on CNN . . . “Oh, look at this. Hannah, did you
hear what happened to Jackson Greer of
Out of the Blue
over the
holidays?”

No response.

“Well, you
had
to have heard something. It happened right here in Chapel Hill. I mean, I was
all the way out in California and I heard about it. Oh wait, look. It’s a live
report.” She pressed the volume control and the voice of a young reporter
filled the room. She felt Hannah moving on the bed behind her.

“Word swept across
Chapel Hill and certainly all around the world as the good news was announced
concerning Jackson Greer.”

“Oh my gosh, he’s
okay?”

Kylie turned to
look at Hannah. Best friends since kindergarten, Kylie knew Hannah had once
been an avid
Blue
fan, but was surprised at her reaction. “Well, I
should have known I could count on
Blue
to still get your attention.
Y’know, Hannah, you look awful—”

“Shhh! I want to
hear this. Turn it up.”

Kylie stared at
her, appalled at how bad Hannah looked. Bewildered by her strange behavior, she
turned back around to see the reporter extending a microphone to a man in a
suit. His name flashed across the screen, identifying him as the hospital
spokesperson.

“We are pleased to
announce that Jackson Greer regained consciousness a few hours ago. His doctors
report that his condition is stable and they are continuing to monitor his
progress. His friends and family wish to—”

“I can’t believe
it. He’s really okay.”

Kylie cocked her
head at an angle, staring at Hannah. “You know, it’s been a long, long time
since I’ve heard you even mention the band. I mean, sure—Jackson getting shot
is a big deal, but I wouldn’t have expected this much of a reaction out of you.
Not after all these years. And certainly
not
after the despicable way
you’ve been treating me today.”

Hannah looked
sideways at her and took a deep breath. “Look, Kylie, I’m sorry about running
off from work. And I didn’t mean to be rude just now, it’s just that . . .
you woke me up. That’s all.” Hannah rubbed her eyes.

The unanswered
questions still hung in the air.

“You’re not really
sick, are you?”

Before Hannah
could respond the phone rang. Kylie watched her, realizing she wasn’t going to
answer it. She peered at Hannah, adding this to the long list of questionable
behaviors. While they waited for the recorded message to play out, Kylie looked
around the room. She took a double take at the royal blue evening gown
sparkling with rhinestones that hung on the doorframe of the closet door.

“And
where
did
you get that gorgeous dress? You creep! You had a date for New Year’s? Well,
c’mon! Out with it. Who was it?”

“Hey, Hannah? Are
you there, girl? This is Marissa,” the voice on the answering machine asked.

Kylie raised her
eyebrows. “Marissa?”

The message
continued. “—and we need to talk. You just disappeared and we all got really
worried but then George told us he’d taken you home.”

Kylie mouthed the
name at her. “George?”

“—and the thing
is, well, Jackson finally woke up and everybody’s goin’ nuts over here and—well,
Hannah, I know how hard it must have been when—wait, I don’t want to leave an
epic message here, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to have George
drive me over there and—”

“Who’s Marissa?” Kylie
interrupted. “How do I know that name? What a minute . . . wasn’t
that the name of the tour manager for—”

Hannah snapped up
the phone. “Rissa, I’m here. I just . . . yeah, I’m okay. No,
really, I’m okay . . . I know, but I just couldn’t . . .
but I . . . No, no please—you don’t need to come over here . . .
I know but . . .”

Kylie worked a
thousand pieces of the puzzle in her mind. And then, as if reaching for the
last piece, it hit her. “Ohmygosh!”

Hannah closed her
eyes and lowered her head. “Okay, Rissa. Okay. Yeah, I’ll be here. I look like I’ve
been run over by a freight train, but I’ll be here . . . Okay,
see you in a few minutes.” Hannah slowly clicked off the portable phone and
tossed it on the covers beside her. She pulled the quilt up to her chin, stole
a peek at Kylie’s shocked expression, and pulled the quilt over her head.

Kylie exploded. “Oh
my GOSH, Hannah! You’ve been hanging out with—and that’s Marissa as in
Marissa-the-tour-manager for
Out of the Blue
 . . . and
you went to some kind of New Year’s par—”

It suddenly hit
her. It all finally made sense. The air vanished from her lungs so fast, she
felt faint. “Hannah! YOU WERE THERE?!” she wheezed. “You were there when Jackson
got shot and—but WHY were you there? And who were you there with?” Another
gasp. “JASON! It has to be Jason! Because you weren’t talking about my
brother
Jason at break—you reacted when I said his name because it was Jason
McKenzie
and—but how did you meet him and—OH MY GOSH, HANNAH!” Kylie finished her
rampage with a squeal that echoed all the way back to their groupie days.

Hannah threw back
the covers. “Kylie! Stop! You’re gonna hyperventilate. Now just calm down, will
you?”

Kylie stopped,
staring at Hannah as unanswered questions continued to storm her mind. “But—”

“Look, Kylie, I
promise . . .
I’ll tell you everything. Everything!” Hannah jumped out of bed. “But I
can’t right now. You heard her, Rissa is coming over and—”

“Oh, ‘Rissa’ is
it? Well, my, my, my, aren’t we all chummy with the celebs? Good grief, I was
only gone for two weeks. I left town and you were supposed to be working the
entire holiday and I get back and you’re all chummy with a bunch of
celebrities
?
And for crying out loud, Hannah—you’re Jason McKenzie’s
girlfriend
?!”
Another squeal bounced off the walls of her bedroom.

Hannah stopped in
her tracks. Kylie stared at her friend’s face, a profound grief covering her
countenance. She watched Hannah lean over to pick some clothes off the floor.

“No, Kylie. No, I
am not Jason McKenzie’s girlfriend.”

Kylie watched a
tear roll down her best friend’s face. “Hannah?”

Hannah looked up
at her. “It seems the clock struck midnight . . . and Cinderella
woke up.”

Chapter 18

“
I
can’t believe this. You are so unbelievable,
Hannah. I’m totally freaked out here trying to figure out what in the world has
been happening, and look at me! You’ve got me cleaning your apartment like some
maid or something. I feel liked chopped liver.”

Hannah stood in
the door to her bedroom. “Kylie can you just give it a rest please? I told you
we’d talk and we will. Can you just forget about it for now?”

Kylie muttered as
she dashed through the room picking up clothes and dirty dishes. Her running
commentary only made Hannah more nervous, so she headed back to her bathroom.
The ranting from her living room followed her. On any other day, she would have
laughed at Kylie’s soliloquy.

“So there you are
trying to salvage that pitiful crybaby face and here I am cleaning up after you
like some hired maid. Don’t mind me, missy,” Kylie mimicked. “I’ll just dust
your furniture and mop your floors and scrub your toilet—”

“I heard that,” Hannah
yelled. She hurried out of the bedroom, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.
“How do I look?”

“Like a wet puppy,
if you want the truth, but—”

The doorbell rang
followed by a series of rapid knocks.

Hannah headed for
the door. “Kylie, can you just please try to be nice and stop being so witchy
to me?”

“What? I’m not
being—”

“Hannah! Oh, girl,
how are you?” Marissa immediately rushed into the apartment and engulfed Hannah
in a hug. “We’ve been so worried about you.” She pulled back, taking a long
look, holding her at arm’s length.

“Rissa, the last
thing you should be worried about right now is me. I heard about Jackson on the
news. I was
so
relieved—is he really okay?”

Hannah was aware
of Kylie’s presence. It was awkward to talk to Marissa like this, especially
since she hadn’t had a chance to tell Kylie all that had happened.

“Hannah, why did
you just take off like that? You didn’t have to run, you know.”

“Rissa,” Hannah stopped
her, stalling for answers as long as she could. “I want you to meet my best
friend. Kylie, come over here for a minute.”

Kylie twisted the
dishtowel in her hands and slowly approached them.

“Kylie, this is
Marissa.” Hannah smiled, pleased to finally make the introduction. Marissa extended
her hand to Kylie who stared at her with the goofiest grin Hannah had ever seen.

“Hey, Kylie, nice
to meet you,” she said, forcing her hand into Kylie’s. She laughed easily at
the redhead’s reaction.

“Wow, this is such
an honor,” Kylie responded, shaking hands diplomatically as if meeting the
president of the United States.

Marissa looked
back at Hannah, her countenance etched with curiosity. “Hannah, she’s great.
Very . . .
verbose
, isn’t she?” They laughed, Kylie
joining them at her own expense.

“Okay, Kylie, you
can stop shaking her hand now,” Hannah teased. “Rissa, come on in and sit down.
Can I fix you some tea or something?”

“No, you can’t and
don’t get comfortable because I’m on a mission here.”

“What?”

“I came over to
see how you were doing, but there’s someone who’s very anxious to see you right
now and—”

“No! No, I can’t.”
Hannah backed away from Rissa, shaking her head.

Marissa looked
perplexed then leaned her head back. Her expression changed as she picked up on
Hannah’s interpretation of her statement. “Oh, Hannah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t
mean—”

“No, really—it’s
okay.” Hannah sat down on her rocking chair.

“No, you don’t
understand. I came here to get you because Alli and Jackson want to see you.
They’ve been really worried about you. Everybody has. That’s why Gevin
suggested I come by and pick you up.”

“Oh, wow—
Gevin
 . . .”
the third voice responded.

Hannah and Marissa
turned to look at Kylie. She still had that silly grin on her face. It was a
welcome diversion for Hannah who couldn’t help smiling despite the anxiety needling
her.

“Jackson Greer
wants to see you,” Kylie muttered. “Jackson Greer wants to see
my
friend, Hannah. Who’da thought . . .”

Hannah turned her
attention back to Marissa. “Look, I would love to see Jackson. And I’ve wanted
to talk to Alli, and I’m so thrilled that Jackson’s okay and all, but—”

Marissa dug her
gloves out of her coat pockets. “Hannah, there’s not a lot of time. We’re
going. Just get your coat.” She turned toward the front door.

“But I can’t! I
won’t. I just couldn’t bear it if I ran into . . . well, what
if—”

Marissa turned
around and faced her directly. “Look, I give you my word. You will not run into
Jason. Okay?”

“How can you be so
sure?”

“Because they . . .
I mean,
he
left just before I did. He was going home to get some rest.
He said he wouldn’t be back for probably five or six hours. So you don’t have
to worry, okay?”

“But Rissa, this
is ridiculous. They don’t need
me
there. None of them do. They hardly
know me! I told you the other night how out of place I felt. Well, I still do,
no matter what you say. Why can’t you understand how
I
feel?”

“Because right
now, all I care about is how Jackson feels. He asked to see you and I’m gonna
make sure he does. Got it?”

The sharp tone of
Marissa’s voice startled her. She immediately regretted sounding so
self-centered. If Jackson had asked to see her, the least she could do was
swallow her pride and go see him.

“Rissa, I’m sorry.
Of course, I’ll go.”

“Good. Now grab
your coat and let’s go. George has to be wondering what’s taking me so long.” She
opened the front door.

“George? Who’s
George?” Kylie asked, walking toward the door. “Whoa, you’re in a limousine. Maybe
the
longest
limousine I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Oh, Kylie,”
Marissa said. “I wouldn’t hesitate to invite you, except that—”

“Don’t be
ridiculous, Rissa—I can call you ‘Rissa’, right?”

Marissa laughed.
“You can call me whatever you want to, girlfriend. And I would really like to
get to know you better, only—”

“Only, hey—we
can’t keep Jackson waiting, can we!” Kylie laughed at herself. “Jackson Greer!
I can’t believe you’re . . . and Hannah . . . and,
oh just go!”