Center Stage: Magnolia Steele Mystery #1 (7 page)

I snorted, but only half-heartedly. “You have the means to make it happen?”

“I know people.” He shrugged. “Passports. Social Security cards. False identities that can get you credit cards . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah, right.”

“I do,” he said more firmly. “Not long after I got to town, I took a job with some seedy people. I’m not involved with them anymore, but . . .”

I gave him a suspicious look.

“Hey, it was a job and I needed to make rent. I’m not proud of it, but the fact is that these guys have connections.”

“That sort of thing costs money, which I’ve already pointed out I don’t have.”

“If you had it, would you do it?”

That was like asking if you’d use a time machine to go back and kill baby Hitler. But I had to wonder . . . would I?

Sure, I’d built a new life for myself in New York, but my persona there was like a suit I put on every day, trying to convince everyone I wasn’t Magnolia Mae Steele, the frightened eighteen-year-old girl who’d run away from Tennessee. And while I genuinely did love acting, I hated the politics and games that went with it all.

Wearing that other suit had become exhausting. And in the few hours I’d spent back home, I realized that I was tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of being alone.

To my surprise, I realized I was ready to come face to face with my past, ready to face the demons I’d left behind.

Even if it would put me at center stage.

W
e were
silent for a couple of minutes, Colt letting me mull over his suggestion as we both slowly swung and drank our beers.

Finally, I planted my feet on the ground and stopped my swing. “I think I need to stick around for a while.”

He didn’t speak until I turned to look at him. “Are you sure?” he finally asked.

“If I disappear again—without a trace this time—it would kill my mother. I know she comes across as tough as shoe leather, but I hurt her when I left the first time. I’m not sure how she’d take it if I did it again.”

“You think she’d prefer for you to go to jail for a crime you didn’t commit?”

“I’m not going to let one more person abandon her.”

A small grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’ll respect your decision, Maggie Mae, but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“Thanks.” Narrowing my eyes, I smirked at him. “If you think you can get in my pants now, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

He laughed. “A guy can hope.”

“What I really need right now is a friend.”

He reached over and covered my hand on the swing’s chain. “I might be full of talk, but I can be a good friend if you’ll let me.”

“Thanks.”

He stood and reached a hand toward me. “Come on, Cinderella. Let’s get you to your mother’s house before you turn into a pumpkin.”

I took his hand and stood, suddenly feeling weighed down by the craziness of the last thirty-six hours. It would feel heavenly to sleep in my old bed.

Colt knew exactly where to go. When I asked him about it, he said, “I’ve been to your mother’s house before, Magnolia.”

My eyes widened.

“She hires me to do more than just bartend.”

“Oh, my God,” I said in horror. “Please tell me you aren’t a part-time gigolo.”

He burst out laughing, and when he finally settled down, he turned to look at me. “Trust me, darlin’,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Lila Steele doesn’t need to pay money to get a man in her bed. She’d just order him there.”

I shuddered. “I refuse to discuss my mother’s sex life.”

“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”

I cast a glance at Colt, trying to figure him out. If Momma had let him come to her house, that meant she trusted him. Once Momma trusted someone, they were in. But after my father’s disappearance, it took a lot for someone to earn her trust. Especially if that someone was a man.

He pulled into my mother’s driveway and slung his hand over the steering wheel.

“You know this truck is a total country music cliché, don’t you?”

He laughed. “Is that supposed to be a bad thing? It makes the country songs I write authentic.” He flashed his grin.

“You got a dog and an ex-wife to go along with it?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “But I’m working on one of ’em. Go inside, Maggie Mae. Get some sleep.”

I considered asking which one he was working on, but I knew I was just stalling. My mother now knew all the sordid details about my Broadway debut, and there was no way in hell I was going to get away with not talking about it. I took it as a good sign that my luggage wasn’t piled on the front porch.

“Thanks for the ride, Colt,” I said as I climbed out and then walked up to the front door. It was the same trek I’d made less than six hours before, and I felt no less desperate this time.

The door opened as I reached the porch. My mother looked more worried than I’d ever seen her, but that worry quickly switched to irritation, as if someone had taken an eraser to her face.

I paused outside the threshold. “Am I still welcome?”

She waved her hand toward the entryway, her mouth puckering. “Don’t be so dramatic, Magnolia. So you flashed your tits to the world. At least you’re still young and they look good. Just imagine if I showed my drooping bowling balls. I could have started a world war. Or at least instigated a minor economic depression.”

I walked inside, laughing, but my laughter quickly turned to tears. “Oh, Momma.”

My mother shut the door behind me, then shocked the daylights out of me by pulling me into a hug.

“There, there, Magnolia. It’s not the end of the world, I promise.” She pulled back and cupped my cheeks, looking at me with teary eyes and a quivering smile. “This hasn’t even broken off the seal to the beginning of the apocalypse.”

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“Why? Because you showed the world that your breasts are natural?” When I started to ask her how she knew, she dropped her hold and waved my almost question aside with her hand. “I know a thing or two about fake boobs.”

That was a shocking statement, but I didn’t have the energy to ask how she could tell.

Seeing my confusion, she winked and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, then walked me into the kitchen and toward a barstool. “You need a cup of tea.”

This was the mother I remembered as a girl—not a pushover, but not so hardened around the edges. I realized I’d scared her enough to scrape the top layer off her armor. I didn’t expect it to last for long, so I was going to bask in it while I could.

She grabbed the kettle off the stove and filled it with water. “How’d it go with Emily?”

Oh, dear. “Okay, I guess. I told her my side of the story.”

“What did she say about your chances of getting out of any charges?”

“I don’t remember her saying anything about that.” No, she was too busy playing Nancy Drew with my past. “But I suspect she wouldn’t have said much anyway. She wouldn’t want to give me false hope or swing the other way and make me worry too much. Keeping it neutral would be the professional thing to do.”

“Maybe.” Then she looked back at me, her eyes narrowed. “Why did Colt bring you home?”

“I didn’t want to bother Emily any more than I already had. Colt had asked for my number after I was questioned by the police. In case I needed help.” I forced a grin. “Or bail money.”

My mother shook her head as she turned off the water. “That boy doesn’t have two nickels to rub together. I hope you wouldn’t waste your phone call on him.”

I wanted to ask her if I could call
her
if I ended up in jail, but I already had my answer. She’d called in a favor to get Emily’s help, and besides, her reaction to the news of my public shame had been way better than I could have hoped. “How long’s he been working for you? I’m surprised he’s been to the house before.”

“I still occasionally make things here in my own kitchen—where it all started. Sometimes I get nostalgic and like to remind myself what it was like in the beginning.”

“It was hard. You damn well nearly worked yourself to death.”

She looked back at me with fire in her eyes. “But I loved it. When you love what you do, it doesn’t matter how hard you work. You love it too much to care. Or maybe you love it because you enjoy the fruit of working so hard.” She gave herself a tiny shake. “I’m turning into a damn philosopher.” But then her eyes met mine again, her gaze piercing. “Do you love what you do, Magnolia?”

“You mean acting?”

“I sure as hell didn’t mean killin’ people.”

I cringed. The memory of Max’s body would haunt my dreams. “I do. But after the other night . . . I think my acting days are over, like it or not.”

“If you never acted again, would you miss it?”

“Yeah,” I answered without hesitation. “I love becoming someone else. I love making the audience react. It’s like making magic.” I might have stumbled into it, but I’d found the thing that made my heart take flight.

“So you want to go back?”

Well, wasn’t that a loaded question . . . I’d asked myself that very thing all day, and there was still no clear answer. I could only tell her what was in my heart. “All I know is that for now, I want to stay.” I looked into her face. “I’ve missed you, Momma.”

“I never left.” The warmth in her eyes wavered. The wariness that replaced it broke my heart, but I had to admit it was warranted. Who was to say I wouldn’t take off for another ten years? Maybe without leaving a forwarding address this time. I wasn’t a safe bet.

I gave her a tiny smile. “I know.” I hurried over to her and wrapped my arms around her back. She’d erected her wall again, not that I was surprised, but I squeezed her tight anyway. “I’m sorry I haven’t been easy. And I’m sorry that I left you like I did. But it was never about you, Momma. I promise. I love you.”

She nodded, her hair brushing my cheek, then pulled back and turned to face the kettle.

I yawned. “I’m exhausted, so I think I’ll just go to bed. Can I get a rain check on the tea?”

“Yeah,” she said, not looking back at me.

“Do you have any jobs for me tomorrow? Should I be up by a certain time?”

“I have to be at the office by nine. You can go with me and do some filing and office work.”

“Okay.” I headed for the stairs, but she called after me.

“Magnolia.”

I stopped and looked back at her, not surprised she was still giving the kettle her undivided attention. “Yes, Momma?”

“I’m glad you’re here to help.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the warmth those simple words spread through my chest. That was my mother’s equivalent of
I’m so glad you came home. I missed you.
I’d take it. “Me too.”

I decided to take a long shower, hoping it would relax me enough to sleep, but the hot water did nothing to clear my mind. The fuzzy images that had popped into my head earlier had faded, but the horror of them lingered in the back of my mind like white noise. Even though the dreams had faded long ago, I was certain those images I’d seen earlier had been plucked straight from them. Could they be memories from the night of my graduation party?

But if I’d seen something that terrifying, would I really have forgotten it? For a while I’d convinced myself there was only one plausible explanation—that I’d gotten drunk and blacked out in the woods. Except I only remembered having one drink. What if that wasn’t what happened at all?

Hot water beat down on my knotted back muscles as I quieted my mind and tried to remember, ignoring the way my heartbeat spasmed from my anxiety. Just like it did every time I tried to think about that night.

I only remembered bits and pieces. Finding Blake in the woods with Ashley. Running in the woods as it began to rain. But there was more. Much more. I only had to make myself remember.

Start at the beginning
.

My graduation party had started around eight, but the party wasn’t in full swing until ten. I’d already had a drink—a wine cooler—to calm my nerves for what I knew was coming. I had the tiniest of buzzes when Tanner snagged my hand and took me up to my room, shut the door, and locked it.

But I moved past the memory of losing my virginity and all the awkward clumsiness that went along with it, including the disappointment that it wasn’t all fireworks and magic like I’d expected.

Fifteen minutes later, we were back downstairs, and I was looking for Maddie. She’d anticipated my first time almost more than I had, so I wanted to let her know we’d
done the deed
. I was still trying to figure out how to tell her it hadn’t been what she’d led me to believe. And that was when I saw Blake in the kitchen with Ashley Pincher draped across his chest. She winked up at him and slipped out the back door, the one leading to my backyard.

I continued to search for Maddie, but now I was watching Blake too. He kept shooting glances at the door. Then he looked around and followed Ashley outside.

He was about to cheat on my best friend.

I’d suspected for weeks, but this was my chance to prove it to Maddie, who had shut me down every time I’d tried to get her to listen. If I got proof, she’d be forced to believe me. I snagged my digital camera off the table Momma had set up for everyone to take photos of themselves for posterity and snuck out after him.

And that was where my mind started to erect a barrier, making my next memories hazy and painful. While I knew in my heart I’d seen Blake and Ashley together and then ran off, I couldn’t clearly recall the images of them together. What if it wasn’t true after all?

I had to force my way past it, which was easier said than done. My chest was so tight I felt like I was suffocating, and I started to shiver violently despite the hot water that was still steaming the tile walls. I was tired of wondering why I’d run away. Why I was so scared to come back. Why those nightmares had tormented me.

I took a deep breath and gave my mind a shove.

I slipped out the back door just as he disappeared into the woods. Feeling like a private investigator, I followed hot on his heels and walked past the tree line as quietly as possible. I heard them before I found them. The music from the party filled the night, drowning out their voices at the edge of the woods, but it soon became obvious what they were doing.

About fifteen feet in, I found them in a small clearing, his back pressed up against a tree and his pants around his ankles. Ashley was on her knees, her mouth wrapped around him as he fisted her hair and moaned her name.

While I’d suspected he was cheating, catching him in the act stole my breath away. Maddie would be devastated. It took me several seconds to remember the camera in my hand. Swallowing my nausea, I lifted it until they were perfectly centered in the scope. I needed to concentrate on getting proof.

Rain began to fall, the patter of the drops on the leaves getting louder as it began to pour. I considered giving up my quest, but I was already here. I owed it to Maddie.

My mother would kill me if the camera got wet and ruined, so I snapped several photos and then hid behind a tree to review the results. The photos would be worthless if I couldn’t prove it was him, but the lighting was so bad I couldn’t get his face in focus. So, my heart beating madly, I switched on the flash and snapped two or three shots in rapid succession, lighting up the ten-foot area as surely as if I’d shined a searchlight on them.

Releasing a roar of anger, Blake pushed Ashley away from him and snatched up his pants as I turned and started to run toward the house. But in my haste, I dropped the camera. I
needed
the proof, so I knelt down and fumbled around in the dark for it.