Guilty Pleasures (27 page)

“How did you think you’d do your act without your ugly twin?”

“
I
didn’t.” He locked his elbows. “I intended to tell Jen to stay away from Jack. Then I
was going to convince you that
I co
uld make sure she stayed away. I
can do that, Mary. Jen wouldn’t do anything to get in the way of this opportunity.”

She pumped him ferociously. “You bloody little liar! I can’t
trust you.”

He all but ripped her hand away. He twisted her fingers backward until she screamed. “You don’t learn, do y
ou? I’ve
told you it’ll be me who makes the final calls. And I’ve already shown you how much I can hurt you—anytime I want to. Jen’s no bother, I tell you. Didn’t you ever think I might have something on my sister? That I can control her? Didn’t it cross your mind to leave things to me?”

Tea
rs of pain squeezed from the corn
ers of her eyes. “I don’t leave anything to anyone. It’s a mistake to leave the important stuff to other people. I learned that lesson the hard way. By losing.”

He released her fingers and turned the Mercedes from the freeway onto a road through flat farmland. “This is going to be a new experience then, isn’t it. Forget Jen. She won’t be a problem from here on. If you had any sense, you’d shut up and let Jack have her. All the more of you for me.”

Pleasure licked through Mary. He’d never said a word about really wanting her before. “Okay. Whatever you say. About her. But the other has to be done my way.”

“Off with the old obsession, on with the new? Now it’s Polly you’re worrying about.”

“I’m not worried about her.”

Art nosed the car between tall bushes bracketing a dirt road. He drove even more slowly.

“Where are we going?” Mary asked.

“Never mind that. Finish telling me what to do.”

“We don’t have to have Polly. People come and go on top shows. Happens all the time.”

“Not when a show is tailored around one person.”

“She’s no good in the part.”

He snorted. “Every kid in the country thinks she’s great.”

“Polly’s going to have to leave the show. We’ll all be very sad. But it’ll be another learning experience. How to deal with saying good-bye.”

“Haven’t we done that?”

“Not this way.” She looked around. “We’ve run out of road.” Scrubby trees made a tunnel over the car and the track ahead dwindled to a narrow path.

“Great, isn’t it. I’ve always loved places like this. Like you’re cut off from the world.” He stopped the car and turned off the ignition. “Sexy as hell.”

She wriggled and undid her seat belt. “Promise me, Art,” she wheedled, getting to her knees on the seat and slipping off the blouse.

He closed his teeth on a nipple, and she shrieked with pure sexual ecstasy. “You’re violent,” she told him.

“Yeah. I’m violent. Violence turns me on. That’s why we make a great pair—we like the same things. What am I supposed to promise you?” He hauled her scrap of a skirt up around her waist and slapped her bottom till it stung.

Mary made ineffectual grabs at his hand, thrusting her breasts in his face while she did so. “You’ve got to promise to help me get what I want. I’ll look after you, Artie. I’ll always look after you. Take off your pants.”

He paused long enough to undo his belt and push his jeans down past his knees.

“Lovely,” Mary said. He was huge. Another thing that kept her coming back for more. Huge, and broad at the tip. She swung a leg over his hips and let him flirt against her while she grew even wetter. “Once Polly goes bye-bye and we all get over being so sad Auntie Mary’s going to write herself into the story. To help the kiddies understand how the world works.”

Art laughed through gritted teeth. “Don’t you think the sponsors might have something to say about exposing the little dears to this sort of thing?”

“Now!” She positioned herself and drove down, took him inside until their sex hair mingled. Art gave a keening cry, and she rose and fell on him again and again. “I’m going to take care of us. And I’m going to have Jack, too. And Jack can play around with your sister in the dark if he wants to. It’ll give me something else to hold over him. He can’t risk me leaking that to the papers. Jack who has twisted sex with a woman he won’t look at with the light on. That might not play too well with parents in some parts of this country. Not wholesome.”

“Shut—up,” Art muttered holding her breasts while he used his strong legs to do what needed to be done.

“Just give me your word and I will shut up,” she said grimacing with satisfaction. “You’re going to find out where Polly’s gone and make sure she doesn’t come back.”

His eyes opened. “What the
…
What does that mean?”

She smiled at him. “We’re going to teach the children of America about death. You’re going to make sure Polly has a fatal accident.”

“Mad
,
” Art said and yelled as he climaxed. “You’re ruddy mad. Who are you going to want me to kill next week? My mother?”

Mary spread her arms in glorious abandon and shimmied
bouncing her breasts before his eyes. “Don’t be an ass, lover,” she said, as she howled with her release. “Polly’s the only one in my way. And you know you never had a mother.”

Twenty

N
asty kept the Porsche’s speed down and drove behind Dusty and Bobby in Dusty’s sleek silver camper. All the way to the tiny town of Past Peak in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, Polly had spared only brief glances for the beautiful scenery. The rest of the time she kept her eyes on the vehicle ahead. For Nasty to make such a point of wanting it where he could see it, there had to be the threat of danger every mile of the way.

“This place doesn’t change,” Nasty said when they drove through the center of the town. An abandoned railroad station stood to their left, and a row of single-story shops and businesses to their right. “Nice town. Nice people. The best. You and Bobby will have to come back when you can be free to wander around.”

Polly’s heart made yet another flip. Her life was becoming a series of fleeting, happy moments in one long, hellish episode.

“Phoenix used to work there.” Nasty pointed toward the shop fronts. “Round the Bend. Trendiest little bar and diner in the west.”

As they drove by, she located the sign. “Roman’s wife, Phoenix? I thought she was a lawyer.”

“She is. Doesn’t practice. She had to live, and there isn’t much call for lawyers around here.”

“Why would she settle in a place where it was so hard to find work?”

Nasty checked his rearview mirror—as he’d done about a thousand times since leaving Kirkland. “That’s another story. She needed a break. The camper Dusty’s driving was outside the Bend when it caught fire.” He chuckled. “Fortunately I got the fire out before
th
e whole thing went up.”

“How—”

“Another story,” he told her. “
I’ll
tell you another time. Belle Rose—Rose Smothers’s place—is about three miles on the other side of town.”

“Roman and Phoenix are sort of larger than life to Dusty, aren’t they?” Polly said. “Kind of a legend in their own time.”

He chuckled again. “Dusty puts up a good front
.
Dusty the crusty ogre. But he’s crazy about kids. Roman and Phoenix have two girls. Junior and Marta. Dusty’s their surrogate grandpa, and that makes Roman and Phoenix okay, too.”

“Bobby thinks Dusty’s great.”

“Yeah.”

“I think you scare him a bit.”

“I won’t when he finds out what a marshmallow I am.”

The laughter came before she could stop it. “Marshmallow?” Laughing felt good.

“Ask anyone I’ve known for a long time.” He sounded aggrieved. “They’ll tell you. That Nasty’s got a loud bark. Doesn’t mean a thing. He’s a marshmallow. Ask Dusty.”

“Maybe I should ask someone you’ve known for a long time who isn’t your partner.”

“Maybe.” The silver camper made a right turn up a narrow road. Nasty followed. “I’m going to have that talk with Bobby. Things kind of got away from me last night.”

Polly yawned. “Marshmallow and king of understatement
.
I think Bobby’s the only one among us who slept at all. I’m still feeling sick about Belinda and Festus. Poor Belinda. She’s really suffered.”

Nasty pushed against the steering wheel, straightened his arms. He hadn’t said much about what had happened at Another Reality. At his insistence, Polly had filed a complaint
with the police. They’d told her she’d have to come back into the station to identify any seized materials. She’d agreed. But there had been no discussion between her and Nasty over leaving town as soon as Bobby woke up. They’d headed out of Kirkland by seven.

“It could have been Festus who knocked me into the lake,” she said without deciding to say anything at all. “And he could have attacked me. He doesn’t look it, but he could be one of those tall, wiry people who are very strong.”

“Yeah.”

The camper passed through an open white gate leading to a wide driveway. When the Porsche drew into the same opening, Polly read
Belle Rose
in wrought iron on the gate. “Sounds like the name of a Southern mansion,” she commented.

“Or a description of the owner,”
Nasty said. He turned up the corn
ers of his mouth at her. “Rose is from the South. She was her father’s—her daddy, as she calls him—she was his only child, and he gave her everything. Except self-confidence. Rose is a very lovely, very reclusive woman. She loves people. She’s going to want to keep you. Don’t think I’m kidding—she will.”

Polly wasn’t sure she was keen on someone wanting to keep her, no matter how lovely and generous she was. “It could be that we’re overreacting. If Festus is responsible for everything, the police are going to track him down, and it’ll be over.”

“Sweetheart, if I could have one wish, I’d wish to find out that I’m overreacting. Until I know I am, I’d like you to let me play this my way. Okay?”

Argument wouldn’t make a dent in his resolve. “Okay,” Polly said. “But I can’t be away very long. And I do have to at least call Jack and warn him. And my mother, and Fab.”

“I called Jack early this morning—when we got back from the police station.”

She turned abruptly toward him.
"You
called him?”

“Told him you and I were going away together for a few days.”

“Xavier!”

His gum snapped, and she heard the force of his teeth coming together. “We’ve arrived.”

She glanced at a fabulous, two-story white house—Southern mansion-style from its columns to its extravagant veranda— and returned her full, furious attention to Nasty. “You told Jack Spinnel that you and I were going away together. As in
going away together?
”

“He may have made a leap like that I told him you had some problems we wanted to work out together. If he made something of that, then you can’t blame me. It’s not my fault if his mind’s on a single track.”

Polly blinked. Sometimes the man stole her every lucid thought.

“Let’s get inside. Rose will be wearing holes in her priceless carpets waiting for us.”

“Of course Jack made something of what you said. The
whole cast will think I’m…
Well, they will.”

“Think you're shacking up with me?” he asked in a helpful tone. “Maybe that would be a good cover. I still think someone’s going to try to find us. When they do, I’ll be ready, and then we’ll both be able to sleep well.” A smile flitted over his remarkable face. “And do other things well if I get my way.”

Telling him he wasn’t subtle was unlikely to move him. “I’m calling my mother as soon as I get settled.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I’m calling my mother. And Fab. Unless you want them running to the police and reporting me missing. If I tell them they’ve got to keep quiet, or risk hurting Bobby and me— they’ll keep quiet. In fact, they wouldn’t tell anybody even if their toenails were being pulled out.”

He leaned back and shoved his keys in the pocket of his jeans. “We’ve got to keep your nose out of the trashy thrillers you’ve obviously been reading. Pulling out toenails? We’d better buy you some good romances.” His next smile was the most brilliant he’d ever shown her. “They might help convince you a good man is what you’d like to have in your life. You’re right about Venus and Fabiola. Call them, but let me help you decide what to say first.”

She got out of the car in time to see a small, bosomy woman with a curly, white-blond ponytail rush down the front steps. While Bobby stood by and clutched Spike’s collar, Dusty absorbed the woman’s flying embrace with evident enjoyment. “Rose?” Polly asked uncertainly

“God, no,” Nasty said. “Nellie, Great woman. Runs Cheap Cuts in Past Peak. Beauty salon, I understand.”

“She likes Dusty.”

“Dusty likes Nellie. Come on.” He held her hand and started forward, settled a hand on the back of Bobby’s neck when he drew level. “This is going to be fun, Bobby. There’s even a windmill here.”

“Dusty said we’d go fishing,” Bobby said. “Dusty said you can get fish this big up here.” Bobby’s arms couldn’t spread any wider than he spread them.

“Uh-huh.” A frown replaced Nasty’s smile. “Did he tell you he’d teach you to wrestle grizzlies, too?”

“Nasty,” Polly said, and nudged him in the ribs.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, Mom. I know when I’m being kidded.”

Dusty and Nellie waited for them on the veranda. Nellie looked at Nasty and sighed. “Same old story. The best ones are always taken by the time they get to me.” Her crooked little moue endeared her to Polly. The very energetic hug she gave Nasty caused mixed feelings. When she reluctantly released him, she said, “Rose is
…
Well, Rose is Rose. She’s been twittering ever since Dusty called to say you were all coming. I spend as much time as I can with her—especially when Tracy can’t be here. You remember Tracy? Purple mouth? Nose ring? Doc Martens? She used to be a shampoo girl for me.”

“I’m not sure I do remember her,” Nasty said, so politely Polly craned her neck to see his face.

“Rose pays better, and she thinks Tracy’s fads are great. You know how Rose likes to watch the world without getting too close. Tracy usually lives in, but she’s in Seattle visiting her mother for a week, so I’m sleeping over nights to keep Rose company.”

Dusty had already entered the house. Leaving Spike on the veranda, they went in, too. “How are Mort and Zelda?” Nasty asked. To Polly, he said, “They own that diner I showed you.”

“Great,” Nellie told him. She led the way into a spacious living room heavily scented by vases and bowls filled with pink roses. “Here they are, Rose. Doesn’t Nasty look good enough to eat?”

Polly saw his face color and suppressed a smile.

A beautiful blond woman rose from an overstuffed couch upholstered in rose-covered brocade. The same brocade adorned a love seat and three chairs—and a chaise in a bay window. Small roses rioted over sumptuous drapes, and climbed heavy, slubbed wallpaper.

The picture should have been overwhelming rather than elegantly opulent. Elegantly opulent described Rose Smothers and her house perfectly.

Rose held a magazine to her chest. “You’ve come,” she said. “I just knew you would. A gentleman’s word is his word, and you are both such gentlemen. My daddy taught me to know a gentleman when I see him. And a lady,” Her sweet smile lighted on Polly.

“You’re looking lovely, Rose,” Nasty said, surprising Polly again with his gentleness, his virtual courtliness. “You should wear lots of that color blue.”

“You think so?” Rose swung a little at the waist, shifting the long skirts of a chiffon dress in two shades of blue. A satin frog closed the neck of a perfectly cut matching silk jacket. Her shoes were also blue satin, and she wore big blue crystal earrings.

Vague discomfort overtook Polly. She didn’t check her watch but figured it couldn’t be later than eight-thirty in the morning. Rose looked ready for cocktails and t
he theater—or a presidential bal
l.

“She looks a picture, doesn’t she?” Nellie said, apparently accustomed to her friend’s eccentric taste.

“A picture,” Dusty agreed, staring at Rose with open admiration. “She always does.”

“Not quite like this, though,” she said, holding out the magazine to Polly. “Maybe you’ll be able to help me choose something really in style while you’re here. I never quite know, you know.”

Polly took the book and discovered it wasn’t a magazine, but a sales catalogue. She a
l
so found herself looking at a model wearing a blue outfit identical to Rose’s. Even the earrings and shoes were the same. And the blond model’s hair was upswept, a thin blue ribbon wound into a braided chignon— just as Rose’s was.

Rose had bought everything advertised in the picture—and copied the hairstyle. Polly handed back the catalogue. “You look better than the model,” she said, meaning every word. More catalogues were stacked beside the couch—and another heap reached the arm of one chair.

“We need to get your guests settled,” Nellie said in a rush. “Why don’t I show them their rooms?”

The hairdresser’s anxiety didn’t need explanation. She was; afraid Polly would notice the obvious—Rose Smothers was charming, but she was also eccentric and locked in her own world.

“Why, Nellie,” Rose said. “I know they’re tired, dear, but I won’t hear of them not sitti
ng down and joining me for tea
before they do another thing. Do sit down, all of you. I don’t believe I heard your boy’s name, Polly,”

Bobby, who showed nothing but his usual shyness at an introduction, suffered Rose’s kiss to his cheek with only a re
strained wrinkling of his nose. “My dog’s outside,” he announced. “His name’s Spike.”

“Most welcome, I’m sure,” Rose said. “Nellie, you make sure Spike has what he needs, too, dear.”

Nasty had subsided into the stillness that was part of him. Still watchfulness. He studied Rose, and the sadness Polly thought she saw in his eyes saddened her in turn. He cared for Rose Smothers the way good people care for good people. Nasty also regretted that such a lovely, charming creature was so ill equipped for the world.

“I gotta get back,” Dusty announced, too loudly. “Gotta open that shop of ours, Rose. Nasty’s and mine. The one I can’t get you to come and see.”