Ladd Fortune (8 page)

“
But it did.” Hate trickled
into Annie’s heart. “You slept with my boyfriend behind my
back.”

“
It was one time. It never
happened again.”

“
And you never told me,” she
hammered. “You, Lacy, and how many others?” Disgust roiled through
her, infusing her limbs with steel. “You slept with my boyfriend
behind my back—you two-timing
bitch
.”

“
Annie!”

“
I don’t ever want to talk
to you again.”

Candi shot up from her chair. “You
don’t mean that!”

Annie glowered, anger turning the hate
into a molten mess of loathing. “I’ve never meant anything more in
my life.”

Lacy checked out of the motel and
returned to the diner. Aunt Frannie was having a set of keys to the
house made, as well as packing up Lacy’s favorite food for dinner.
Didn’t want her to starve, she claimed, explaining there wouldn’t
be much in the way of food at her house. Which made sense
considering her aunt spent all her time at the diner. Thoughts of a
home-cooked meal simmered in Lacy’s mind. It may be diner food, but
Aunt Frannie’s recipes were second to none and she an amazing cook,
personally supervising the process.

Lacy loved Aunt Frannie. She was
generous, fun, and glad to see her. Unlike Annie. Her sister had
been downright mean to her this morning and all she’d done was stop
by and say hello.

Why don’t you go back to
Atlanta where you belong
?

It the meanest thing anyone had ever
said to her, and coming from her own flesh and blood made it all
the meaner. As Lacy entered the diner, bells announced her arrival.
Hovering by the hostess stand, she inhaled the scent of greasy
cheeseburgers mixed with fried chicken, the sweet aroma of baking
biscuits mingling in between. She closed her eyes and expelled a
sigh.

The smell was heavenly.

Opening her eyes, she took in the
interior. God, but she had missed this place. The red and white
curtains were still cut halfway across the front windows, the black
and white checkered floors were spotless. Red booths, round counter
stools—it was as if she hadn’t missed a single day, the picture of
her youth snapped in time, frozen for eternity. Back in high school
she’d come by after class for French fries and root beer floats,
eggs and biscuits every Sunday after church. Her daddy’s favorite
had been the chicken fried steak and gravy, with a side of fried
okra and collards, while her momma preferred the chicken and
dumplings.

Lacy languished in the
memories. She loved it all. Fried chicken, fried okra, plump, gooey
dumplings and warm flaky biscuits. She breathed in the scent,
reminiscing purely by her senses. Her mood dipped. She should have
stayed in Tennessee. Life would have been easier here. Simpler,
more pleasant. People here were honest. The air was fresh, the
rivers and streams were clean and clear. But she was itchy back in
the day and needed a change in scenery. Or thought she did.
Catching a glimpse of a familiar face at the bar counter, Lacy
caught her breath.
Was that
Loretta
?

Lacy hurried over. Nearing the blonde
seated at the food counter, she realized she’d been right. Surprise
and delight streamed through her. “Hey, Loretta!”

Loretta turned and beamed, her glossed
red lips setting off her perfectly white teeth. Her eyes were a
blend of blue and green, favoring one or the other depending on the
shade of clothes she wore. Today’s cobalt-colored shirt made them
the bluest of blues. “Hey, Lacy-lou. Fancy meeting you here!”
Loretta hugged her friend. “I was wondering if I’d see you around
town.”

“
You’ve come to the right
place,” Lacy returned proudly. “This here’s my Aunt Frannie’s
diner.”

Loretta’s eyes widened. “You don’t
say?”

“
I do.” Lacy slid onto the
red-cushioned stool next to her friend and asked, “Have you eaten,
yet?”

Loretta looked beyond Lacy and then
replied quietly, “I have.”

Lacy looked behind her to see what
Loretta was interested in and, not surprisingly, there were two
handsome young men seated farther down the counter. She turned back
and gave her a wry smile. “What are you up to, Loretta
Flynn?”

She lowered her eyes, her lashes thick
with black mascara, her lids a shimmery aquamarine. “Oh, you know
me, Lacy,” she replied bashfully and reached for her coke. “I can’t
help but admire handsome young men.”

Lacy laughed. “And you’re not fibbing!
Other than Jeremiah, I’ve never seen you so much as peep at a man
more than twenty-five-years old.”

Aunt Frannie breezed out of the kitchen
toting a large white bag in her arms. “Hey, sugar!” she called out
to Lacy.

“
Hi, Aunt Frannie!” Lacy
waved eagerly.

Frannie made her way around a waitress,
currently wiping the counter near the boys, and deposited her bag
on the counter before Lacy. “Fried chicken and mashed potatoes,
complete with a side of fried okra and black-eyed peas.”

Lacy squealed. “You always knew my
favorites!” Frannie eyed Loretta and Lacy promptly introduced her.
“Aunt Frannie, this is my friend, Loretta. She’s from Atlanta.
Loretta, this is my aunt,” she finished, feeling a swell of pride
that filled her entire chest.

Loretta stuck out a slender hand, her
nails long and glossy red. “Pleased to meet you.”

Frannie shook hands and said,
“Likewise.”

“
She’s Jeremiah’s
girlfriend,” Lacy informed her, surprised by the abrupt cooling to
her aunt’s demeanor. Then it dawned on her. Annie was angry about
the Jeremiah thing and so was Aunt Frannie. Lacy frowned. How could
she be so thick-headed and forget?

“
Jeremiah’s girlfriend?”
Frannie asked.

“
Yes.”

Loretta exchanged a glance with Lacy,
as though realizing this was not good news.

Frannie glanced down the counter to the
young boys sitting at the other end, then back to Loretta. To Lacy,
she said, “Your food’s gonna get cold, honey. You best be gettin’
it home.”

“
Oh, I don’t mind cold fried
chicken,” Lacy replied. “I actually prefer it.”

“
Yes, well...” Her aunt’s
gaze lingered on Loretta, as though contemplating something
important. But if she had something to say, she kept it to herself.
“Lacy, sugar, if you want any pie, help yourself to one in the
case. I don’t have any at home.”

“
Thank you. I might do
that!”

As Frannie excused herself and returned
to the kitchen, Loretta muttered, “She don’t like me none, does
she?”

“
Aw, it’s not you, Loretta.
It’s Jeremiah they don’t like.”

“
On account of he left
town?”

Lacy shook her head. “No. He had a
thing with my sister back in high school and she got
pregnant.”

“
Jerry has a child?” Her
eyes rounded. “He never told me that.”

“
He doesn’t think it’s
his.”

“
Do you?” Loretta
asked.

“
Oh, I don’t know.” She
dismissed the question as easily as if Loretta had asked her the
time of day. “It’s none of my business. My sister Annie wouldn’t
tell me the truth one way or another, anyhow. She hates
me.”

“
Why?”

“
She thinks I ran off with
her boyfriend.”

“
You mean Jerry?”

Lacy nodded. “But I swear I didn’t
think they were still together. I never really thought they were
boyfriend and girlfriend to begin with.” She peeked into the bag of
food, the warm moist aroma saturating her nostrils. Her stomach
rumbled.

Loretta sipped from her coke, appearing
to absorb the information. She cast another glance toward the boys,
a small smile forming on her lips.

Lacy turned and this time studied the
boys more fully. She had to hand it to Loretta. She had good taste.
And twins! While they didn’t look a day over eighteen, and barely
legal, they certainly were handsome with sexy brown eyes and brown
hair, strong builds, though the farther one was more natural. The
closer boy was bigger, his muscles obviously developed from lifting
weights. Lacy’s gaze tickled around his biceps, dropping to the
hard line of his thigh in close-fitted jeans. Definitely cute. But
much too young for her liking. She preferred older men, always had.
Lacy turned back to Loretta. “You’re not trying to pick them up,
are you?”

Loretta quickly shook her head. “Course
not.”

Through the server’s window, Lacy saw
that her aunt was keeping an eye on her and Loretta. Something told
her it was because Loretta was flirting with those two boys and
Lacy would bet her Aunt Frannie knew them. Probably watching them
like a hawk, ready to report back to their parents. Whatever, Lacy
mused. It wasn’t her problem.

Pushing up from the seat, she grabbed
her bag of food. “It’s good to see you, Loretta, but I need to get
going.”

Loretta nodded. “You too,
Lacy.”

“
Maybe I’ll see you later?”
she asked, hoping she would. Loretta was one of the few friendly
faces around, and it would be nice to visit with someone who cared
enough to be with her. “There’s a night spot called Whiskey Joe’s
that might be fun.”

“
Really?”

“
It’s not like anything we
have in Atlanta, but it’s been around forever. Used to have great
live music for dancing.”

Loretta perked at the mention as Lacy
knew she would. Between the two of them, they’d often cut a line
dance or two after working the lounge, and Whiskey Joe’s was the
only place in town for dancing. “That would be nice,” Loretta
replied, “though I’m not sure what my schedule will be.” She
ventured another peek at the boys and Lacy wondered again at her
friend’s intentions. “But who knows?” She smiled broadly.
“Anything’s possible.”

Lacy nodded, the bag growing warm
within her arms. “Okay. Well, have fun, whatever you do.” She waved
goodbye to her aunt back in the kitchen and headed out. Fun was
something Lacy wanted to have too—and would—right after she moved
into her aunt’s home and devoured this delicious food.

Chapter Six

Malcolm’s instincts were humming as he
pulled into the parking lot for Whiskey Joe’s. A small
establishment, it was far from his normal swank—LA clubs with
modern interiors, artsy lighting and filled with beautiful
people—but it would do, especially if the woman in question could
be found inside. According to Nick, this was the place to be. From
what he saw around town, it was the only place to be.

Which made his quest simple. One lady,
one bar, that’s what he called easy pickings.

Parking his rental truck, Malcolm
strolled inside. Struck by the stale smoky smell, he realized the
non-smoking trend had not reached this part of Tennessee. Scanning
the interior for sight of the black-headed beauty, he browsed a
wooden dance floor surrounded by a deep maroon carpet flecked with
beige. Wooden high-top tables lined the perimeter, their surfaces
sleek and pleasing to the eye. A group of young ladies crowded
around one set nearest the floor. Dressed in skirts and boots, they
had styled their hair to salon perfection, applied cosmetics like a
work of artistry. He raised a brow. A few looked barely legal but
totally gorgeous.

Malcolm chuckled to himself. Far be it
from him to alert the authorities. He’d rather enjoy the view,
although he was disappointed that view didn’t include Lacy. Granted
the half dozen females in house were attractive, but they weren’t
the one he was looking for. A few older men sat hunched over the
bar as he ambled up, flagging the bartender. The bar back was
mirrored in good old-fashioned saloon-style, the selection of
alcohol fairly adequate from what he could discern. A clean-cut
cowboy hurried over to him and smiled. “What’ll it be,
mister?”

“
Scotch.” He surveyed the
bottles lining the wall behind the bar, searching for his preferred
brand. “You have Macallan?”

The man shook his head. “Johnny
Walker.”

Malcolm nodded. It would have to do.
“On the rocks with a splash of water, please.”

“
Yes sir, coming right
up.”

Leaning a hip against the bar, Malcolm
turned and settled his gaze on the women clustered around the
table. He hitched a heel up behind him and wondered how many of the
girls were interested in companionship, or were they out for a
girls’ night of gossip. With few men to speak of, he didn’t see a
lot of hooking up to be had, but perhaps that kicked in later. He
heard the plunk a glass behind him.

“
Thanks,” Malcolm said with
a tip of his head. Lifting the drink to his lips, he treated his
senses to the blended Scotch whiskey, detecting a hint of spice.
One eye securely wrapped around the table of women, he enjoyed the
liquid gliding across his tongue, fanning through his veins. The
brand wasn’t as mellow as he was accustomed to and had none of the
oak flavor, but it hit the spot all the same. In the two weeks
since Nick had dragged him halfway across the continent, Malcolm
lacked the comfort of his usual amenities, the luxury lifestyle and
the company of his current squeeze, an auburn siren of the utmost
beauty and skill. Nick had insisted he was needed on site. Yet
instead of designing, brainstorming and completing the project at
hand, he was chasing down possible court challenges and
side-stepping family feuds. He shook his head and sipped. He should
be on the streets of LA tonight entertaining the ladies of Southern
California or carousing among the corridors of his favorite casino
in Vegas, not stalking a table of fresh-faced innocents in the
hills of Tennessee.