Place Your Betts (The Marilyns) (32 page)

“Sheer animal magnetism. The ladies can’t stay away.” Gabe shook his head. “My life is one thrill ride after another.”

He pulled her in close and tucked her head under his chin. It felt right. It felt perfect. It felt permanent.

“Red?” His voice was hoarse and low.

“Yes.”

“I have a huge crush on you. What do you plan on doing about it?”

The music ended, but they didn’t stop dancing.

What did she plan to do? What did he plan to do? “Seventeen years ago, I chased after you. It’s your turn.” She dropped his hand, stepped back, and held his gaze for several seconds. She turned on her heel and walked off the dance floor. It was time for him to come after her.

***

Kaitlin Smith was fit to be tied. Tom was dancing with Cheyann. If Kaitlin could make flames shoot out of her eyes, Tom and Cheyann would be two piles of ashes. Until recently, Tom had been Cheyann’s favorite person to torture. Now, they were dance partners? Cheyann whispered something, and they both laughed. Kaitlin tried the eye-flame thing again, but nothing happened.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Familiar cologne clawed the inside of her nose. Lance. Perfect, just perfect.

“What?” She didn’t bother to turn around.

“You look real pretty tonight.” Lance sounded sad.

Kaitlin finally turned around. “Thanks.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to dance?”

Kaitlin glanced at Tom laughing with Cheyann and decided that was a great idea. “Sure.”

They walked out onto the dance floor.

Lance pulled her in tighter than she would have liked while his hands roamed her back. Kaitlin continued to watch Tom and Cheyann. Tom didn’t look like he was in pain, and Cheyann looked absolutely ecstatic. Fine. Good for them. Kaitlin hoped they stomped on each other’s toes. Cheyann’s laughter grated her ears like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“I’ve missed you,” Lance whispered in her ear. “You smell so nice.”

“If your hand goes any lower, you’d better be prepared to lose a finger.” Kaitlin slid his hand off her butt. Just because Tom had forgotten they were in a committed relationship didn’t mean that she had. Kaitlin would take the high road or die trying.

More laughing from Tom and Cheyann. Screw the high road—let Lance grope her and see how Tom liked it.

“Don’t be that way. We were together for a long time. We went through a lot. Don’t you have any feelings for me?”

Yeah. Contempt and loathing, but both those words had more than five letters so they’d go right over his head. “I enjoyed our time together, but I’ve moved on.”

“With a nerd like Tom? Come on. I’m the homecoming king and you’re my queen. We belong together.”

“Did you just call me ‘your queen?’” Kaitlin pushed at his chest, but Lance held tight. “Let go of me.”

“The dance isn’t over. I get you until the dance is over.” Lance was grinning, but there was an edge to his voice.

“I can’t believe we ever dated.” What had she seen in him?

The music ended.

“Get your hands off me.” The last sentence exploded in the room like a grenade.

Lance released her, but his eyes held nothing but meanness. “This isn’t over. Not until I say it is.”

A trickle of fear edged its way into her heart. She’d seen him this way before. The last time, he’d grabbed her upper arms so hard he’d left bruises. Lance hated not getting his way, so most of the time she’d given in—except for sex. That was too important to roll over and take it. But her ex-boyfriend had the power to really hurt her—physically and financially. Her dad worked for his dad. Making Lance mad had always ended in threats. Kaitlin swallowed and studied the glossy, wooden floor of the basketball court. Being with Tom, who honored and respected her, had shown her what a real, loving relationship was, and there was no way she was going back to the yelling, degrading version with Lance.

A warm, familiar arm slid around her. The scents of clean laundry, fresh air, and horses embraced her—Tom.

“Trust me. It’s over.” Tom sounded like he was explaining something very simple to the simple-minded.

“Stay out of it, Tommy Boy. This is between me and Kat.” Lance stabbed his finger at Tom.

Tom grabbed the finger, took advantage of the stunned look on Lance’s face, and slammed Lance’s hand back against his own nose. Lance fell to his knees as blood floated freely from his left nostril.

“My nose. Oh shit, my nose.” He pointed to Tom. “I think he broke my nose.”

Stanley stepped between Lance and Tom. “Actually, you broke your own nose.”

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Swanson and Betts stood right behind Stanley.

“Are you okay?” Betts spun Tom around by the shoulders and examined his face.

“I’m fine.” Tom smiled.

Mr. Swanson pulled Lance up by the arm. “Son, tilt your head back. What happened?”

“Lance grabbed Kaitlin and wouldn’t let her go. I stepped in, and the darnedest thing happened—he hit himself in the face. Broke his own nose.” Tom took Kaitlin’s hand.

Kaitlin smiled up at him. He had saved her. “Thank you.”

Later, she intended to make sure he knew how grateful she was.

Mr. Swanson eyed Tom for a good minute and then nodded. “Stranger things have happened.”

Kaitlin’s mouth fell open. Mr. Swanson believed Tom—he didn’t need proof, he just took Tom’s word for it. Her parents barely listened to her, much less believed what she said. If only she had parents who trusted her.

Betts opened the tiny gold clutch hanging from her shoulder, pulled out her iPhone, and handed it to Mr. Swanson. “I think we need to call his parents.”

Mr. Swanson nodded. “I agree.”

Lance took a step toward Tom and glared at him. “Good idea. Then you’ll know who to call and beg for mercy after my father’s lawyers sue you for everything.”

Betts stepped in front of Lance. She looked down her nose at him, which was something, considering she had to look up. “Listen to me,
little boy
, whatever muscle you think you have is nothing compared to mine. If you so much as blink in Tom’s direction or come within five feet of Kaitlin, I will come down on you so hard you won’t be able to form the words to beg for mercy. Got it?”

Lance was fuming, but he was no dummy. He glared at Betts but finally nodded.

Betts Monroe was scary when she got mad. Kaitlin made a mental note to never piss her off.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Tom squeezed her shoulder.

Kaitlin wrapped her arm around Tom. “Let’s go.”

“Hold up, you two.” Mr. Swanson stepped in front of them. He looked at Tom. “Remember what we talked about. And no drinking.” He stepped out of the way. “Have fun. Be home before two.”

Tom’s cheeks turned a little red. “Yessir.”

“What was your dad talking about?” She glanced back at Stan and Linde.

“Trust me. You don’t want to know.” Tom led Kaitlin out of the gym and to his truck. He opened the door for her. Slowly, he leaned into her, pressing her against the door. “I’ve spent the better part of the night wondering how that dress stays up without any straps.”

“Why don’t you take me somewhere private and I’ll show you?” Kaitlin nipped at his bottom lip.

“Oh my God, I love you.” Tom kissed her hard and slid his hands down her back to cup her bottom.

Dread snaked through her stomach. He’d want to do it again. The tenderness between her legs had subsided, but the memory hadn’t. Maybe she could distract him with something else?

She pushed playfully at his chest. “Drive fast.”

Kaitlin climbed up and buckled her seat belt.

Tom ran around to his side, hopped in the seat, and started the engine.

After they’d left the parking lot and were on the main highway, Kaitlin unbuckled and slid over to Tom. “I have a fantasy that involves you driving. Mind if I try it out?”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Since the night they’d gone all the way, she had been having fantasies and dreams. Her body seemed to have awakened somehow. Sex was on her mind all the time, and her body craved it. Too bad her spirit wasn’t willing.

***

The first few bars of Betts’s hit single,
Man of My Heart,
pounded out of the nearest speaker.

“We want Betts,” echoed off the walls.

“There’s a lady on the dance floor who knows this song better than anyone else in the world.” A voice drifted out of the loud speaker as a spotlight hit Betts directly in the eyes. “I know she promised us a free concert in a few months, but how about a teaser now?”

Since she was blinded, the evildoer remained anonymous.

“Maybe this will help. I have it on good authority that no one has blabbed to the media. Pastor Mike told me just yesterday that the Catholics have been neutralized.”

Whistles and applause erupted in the gym.

Jesus, what had they done to the Catholics? And did the Catholics have a name or were they just “The Catholics”?

To stop any future bloodshed, Betts plastered on her brightest media smile and made up her mind. She would sing this song to the man who’d inspired it. While she needed him to make the next move, it couldn’t hurt to sing him the song she’d written about him when she’d needed him most. If he didn’t already believe that she’d loved him, this would do the trick.

“
We want Betts
” became an organized cheer.

“Since y’all have been so kind to leave me alone and have…gone to, um…great lengths to shelter me from the media, I’d be happy to sing a song for you.” She climbed the stairs on the side of the stage. A local band was providing some of the music, and a DJ filled in with MP3s every now and then.

A man in his middle fifties with a graying comb-over and a blue bow tie handed her the microphone. Music was her therapy, and now the person responsible for her intense introspection was about to get an earful.

Betts nodded to the keyboardist and then the lead guitar. She brought the mic to her mouth and prepared to open her wounded heart to the only man who was able to rub salt in it. She focused on Gabe and let the music wash over her.

Five minutes later, as the last plaintive notes reverberated around the room, she still held Gabe’s gaze. His face echoed the soul-deep longing of the song, and regret radiated from his eyes. His image dissolved into a watery glow as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She had no defense against the raw emotion on his face, but she couldn’t afford to be rejected again.

Applause erupted like gunfire in the gym, and she bowed her head—more to hide her emotions than as acceptance of audience gratitude.

A clomping like boots on wooden stairs had her glancing to the side of the stage. Gabe came toward her with purpose on his face and love shining in his eyes. The roaring applause fell away as they became the only two people in the room. He was coming; the boy was braving a thunderstorm and his father’s wrath to claim the girl he loved and make the life he’d promised. It had taken years for him to get to her.

In a heartbeat, Gabe was there. His hands cupped her face, and his lips lowered to hers. Betts closed her eyes. He didn’t ask permission, he just took what was his. For now, it was that simple.

The kiss was gentle, possessive, and tortured—both penance and promise. The sixteen-year-old Betts got the healing and happy ending she’d spent the pregnant months constructing, and the adult Betts felt the hurt and rejection slipping away in the tidal wave of emotion flowing from Gabe. Every bit of her soul understood that he had loved her completely, mindlessly, and unconditionally. This was her happy ever after.

Raucous hoots, whistles, and cheers shattered the bubble insulating them, and Betts opened her eyes. They were not alone but standing in front of a crowd.

“I guess we know who that song was written about.” A voice thundered from the speakers.

Camera flashes blinked brighter than the twinkle lights glowing overhead. The townspeople wanted to capture this moment, but she was pretty sure no one would sell her out. She wanted to shout, “Remember the Catholics,” a new town motto and a warning.

“Why don’t you sing another song or two?” Gabe’s breath tickled her ear. “Something fast and
not
about me. Might calm them down.” He kissed her on the cheek. “After you’re done, we’re gonna go someplace quiet and talk. Right now, you need to straighten your spine, park a smile on that famous face, and give them hell.”

“Good going, Swanson—two state 4A championships and Betts Monroe! Wish I was you!” a large man in a brown tweed coat and pressed jeans yelled from the row of people closest to the stage.

“I’m the luckiest sun of a gun in the world, and don’t you forget it, Jimmy Dean Ferrell.” Gabe walked to the steps. “Leslie Cartwright, I know you have your camera. I’d like a copy please. Facebook it to me.”

“I’ve got one too.”

“Me too.” Hands shot up.

“Send them all. That’s a kiss I’ll never forget.” Gabe nodded grandly, playing to the crowd. “Who wants another song?”

The townspeople went nuts.

“Betts! Betts! Betts!”
They weren’t going to let her fade into the background.

Betts thrust her chin up, contracted her face into media smile mode, and called over her left shoulder. “Do y’all know
American Doll
?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The lead guitarist nodded.

“Give me four extra bars of warm up and follow my lead.” Betts stepped to the microphone.

Betts sang five more songs, all upbeat dance numbers that lightened everyone’s mood, including hers. She bowed to the roaring applause, replaced the mic in the holder, and did her best to ignore the Apprehension versus Hope cage match raging in her belly. Her eyes found Gabe waiting by the stage stairs, and Apprehension grabbed Hope by the neck and body-slammed him to the floor.

Betts plastered on her smile and walked down the steps. The crowd closed in around her.

Gabe stepped between her and them. “Folks, Betts would really love to talk to each and every one of you, but let’s give her some room. Tonight is about homecoming. Let’s celebrate our forty-eight-to-zip victory against Marshall.”

The crowd exploded in cheers and catcalls. Thank God team spirit outranked Betts’s star power.