Place Your Betts (The Marilyns) (5 page)

Fear soured her resolve. Where was the loving Gabe she had known? Betts wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “What? You don’t think it’s yours?”

“It took you three months to come up pregnant.” He still wouldn’t look at her. “In my book, that’s about two months too many.”

Betts narrowed her eyes. Anger kicked fear to the curb. Her arms crossed, and she set her jaw so tight it vibrated. “I’m three months gone, and my periods are irregular.”

And she’d been in denial. Weeks of praying, pleading, and hoping her period would come had finally ended in a pregnancy test. Seeing that pink plus sign had been the worst day of her life…until now.

“I don’t cheat. I told you that I loved you, and I meant it. Did you?” The one percent of her brain that clung to hope strained an ear.

Gabe finally looked up. “Yes.”

Betts’s anger deflated, and her heart started beating again. Relief settled her nerves. Smiling at him, she reaching for his hand. He loved her; anything was possible.

He pulled his hand away, and her smile faded.

“I loved you at the time,” Gabe said through clenched teeth and looked down. “But a lot of time has passed. You moved on, found someone else. Accidents happen.”

Her stomach churned. The fear was back. It tangled with grief and hunger. Betts pressed a hand to her belly. Dear God, her precious baby was right here inside of her shaking body. She hoped it couldn’t sense her despair or hear the ugliness in the conversation that was going horribly, awfully wrong. “You really think it’s not yours?”

Peyton Swanson’s robust, six-foot frame filled the open doorway. “You’re just as slutty as your momma. My son ain’t the father of your baby. That’s for sure—your Grandma told me so.” Piano music and cocktail party sounds drifted out.

Gigi had told them the baby wasn’t Tom’s? Why? Dread slithered down her spine and balled in her stomach. The only person Gigi was afraid of was Peyton Swanson; she would say anything to keep Betts away from him. Betts implored Gabe. “She’s lying.”

“Your momma was the town tramp. Like mother like daughter. My son ain’t responsible.”

Betts stared at Gabe. Was he gonna stand there like a stone-cold statue and let his father insult her?

“Gabe’s transferring to Texas A&M in January. He doesn’t need your kinda trash holding him back. How much is it gonna take to get rid of you? Money’s all your kind ever want.” Thunder exploded in the distance, and lightening skittered across the horizon.

“Gabe and I are in love. We’re getting married.” Betts squared her shoulders and held her head high. She cast a furtive glance at Gabe.
Say something—stand up to this asshole. Show him who you really are.

Gabe studied the shine on his boots.

“Tell him, Gabe.” Betts stepped in front of him and touched his cheek.

His head tilted up in slow motion, and he bit the inside of his cheek. His jaw turned rigid under her hand. “There’s nothing to tell. We’re not getting married. I don’t love you. It’s over. You need to leave.”

Her hand dropped. If he’d slapped her, it couldn’t have hurt more. She’d ridden ten hours, been lectured to and kicked out by Gigi, and climbed a fence in a thunderstorm…for nothing. Gabe didn’t love her. He didn’t want their baby. He didn’t want her. Betts’s heart refused to believe what her mind already knew. She grabbed his hand.

“You don’t mean it. I know you love me. We have plans. We’re gonna get married. It will be hard, but we’ll manage—”

“No.” Gabe yanked his hand away. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. Please leave.” He pushed away from the railing. “I’ll get someone to drive you back to your grandmother’s.”

“See there, little missy?” Peyton’s voice was cocky with triumph. “He wants you gone. All you wanted was his money. He knows the truth. Whores like you are a dime a dozen. Lure a man in and trap him before he knows what’s happening. Just like your momma. Money’s all you want, money’s what you’ll get.” He pulled out a money clip barely containing the thick wad of bills it was wrapped around and handed it to Gabe. “Here son, here’s a thousand bucks. Tell her to move on to her next victim. She was a good play-pretty, but playtime’s over.” Peyton turned around and addressed a man who’d appeared in the open doorway. “Hurley, could you escort Ms. Dittmeyer off the premises? She’s leaving. Tell the boys not to ever let her through the gate again. My son’s done with her.”

Gabe closed his eyes and nodded. His arm came toward her, and acid tears burned Betts’s throat as she focused on the bills clenched in his big, sun-browned hand. The hand that she’d held, the hand that just a few months ago had touched her so tenderly.

She glanced out into the front yard with its perfectly manicured trees, acres of lush green grass, and the large, swirling wrought iron gate protecting the kingdom. She didn’t belong here. She was a commoner who’d broken into the palace because she’d thought the prince had loved her.

Fairy tales were for people who could afford them.

Pride dried her tears, stiffened her spine, and made her put her hands on her hips. “You’re right. All I wanted was a free ride. But it’s gonna take more than a thousand dollars to get rid of me. I’m in this for the long haul. I won’t take less than ten.” Betts tapped her mud-soaked Keds knockoff against the cement porch. “I’m waiting.”

Gabe’s face turned to granite, and he skewered her with his baby-blue eyes. “You played me, just like they said.” He turned on his heel, walked inside the house, and never looked back.

“Trash. Just like your momma.” Peyton pulled out his checkbook and wrote a check. The ripping sound of the paper echoed the ripping of her heart. He flicked the check at her.

Betts grabbed at it, but it floated through her fingers. Bending over at the waist, she reached for it. A slithering sensation tickled her lower abdomen. Her baby. That was her baby, and it loved her. The cold world warmed slightly. With the check in hand, Betts stepped right into Peyton’s face.

“Kiss my ass, Peyton Swanson. Here’s what I think of your blood money.” Betts tore the check into tiny pieces. “Your spineless son isn’t worth it. I deserve better.”

She turned on her heel and walked out into the night. Betts was done with Gabe Swanson. She and her baby would be just fine. They had each other.

“Come on, Hurley. Time to toast my son’s engagement. He made the right choice. His fiancée is a real lady, not some trailer trash.” Peyton’s voice rumbled behind her.

Betts put her hand over her heart but kept on walking. With her head held high and her legs shaking from hunger and fatigue, she’d die before turning around. Gabe was engaged to someone else? It had only been two months. He’d moved on. Gigi was right; Betts had screwed up her life by giving herself away. Men like Gabe Swanson wouldn’t ever pay for their pleasure.

Grief and shame and love for the life growing inside her propelled her forward.

Each step took her farther from innocence and closer to adulthood.

When she’d finally made it to the end of the quarter-mile-long driveway and stepped onto the county road, the headlights of Charlie’s BMW convertible flicked on, and the engine came to life. Here were the only two people she could count on…her friends.

The car pulled alongside her and stopped.

Betts opened the passenger door and slid in.

Lucky was behind the wheel and Charlie in the backseat.

“What happened?” Charlie handed Betts her denim jacket. “You’re soaked.”

“He didn’t want me.” Betts hated that her voice shook.

“Don’t worry.” Lucky put a hand on Betts’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out…together.”

Betts opened her eyes as the past swirled around her. This road, this lonely stretch of road represented both promise and pain. Only a few feet farther and her son would be in her arms again.

What if Tom didn’t want to see her? What if Gabe had married and Tom had a new mother? Her last shred of hope began to unravel. Tom had his own life, and it didn’t involve her.

She glanced down at her shaking hands. This was no way to meet her son. She needed to be calm, cool, and collected. Now that she’d found him, she wouldn’t let him go…ever.

The next morning, Charlie held open the metal-and-glass door of Bobcat Realty for Betts and Lucky.

A pretty brunette met them at the door.

“I’m Laura Langeford.” Laura jumped back and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. You’re Betts Monroe.”

Betts shot her a gracious smile and let her gawk. Being famous was like walking out of the bathroom with her dress stuck in her panties—people tended to point and stare.

“My husband and I are your biggest fans. We go all over to your concerts. We met at Wal-Mart buying your
Life is Love
CD. That was a million years ago; now everyone just downloads everything.” Laura’s brown eyes would have been big on a cow. “I just love you.”

Laura completely ignored Charlie and Lucky.

“Thanks. I’d like to buy some land in the area.”

“Land?” Laura’s eyes got bigger. If they really were the windows to the soul, then people in the next county over could read her like an open book.

It was hard not to stare.

Lucky leaned down and, in a tone that was too loud to be a whisper, said, “She’s a talker. She’ll need to sign the blanket confidentiality agreement.” From her back pocket, she pulled out her iPhone and clicked on an app. She showed Betts. “Confidentiality Agreements App. I just got it.” She handed the phone to Laura. “Use your finger to sign.”

“Why?” Laura’s eyes wobbled between the three women.

Lucky sighed long and hard. “Because I don’t have a stylus and a pen would scratch my screen—”

“No, why do I need to sign a confidentiality agreement?”

“Look, Betts wants to buy some land, and if you want to sell it to her, you must sign the agreement.” Lucky’s tone suggested that Laura was too stupid to find the short bus, much less ride on it.

Laura nodded. “Land. Yes.” With her index finger, she scribbled her name. “I’d like a copy of that.”

Lucky picked up a business card on the corner of a wide oak desk and began thumb typing. “Here you go.”

“Have a seat.” Laura gestured to the pink wingback chairs in front of the desk and then took the chair on the other side. “What are you looking for?”

“Something with a fence and a gate. Privacy is key.” Betts sat, flanked by Lucky on her left and Charlie on her right.

Lucky sat forward. “Something with electricity and city water or a well.”

“Or a house, with lots of land.” Charlie chimed in.

“Who are y’all?” Laura asked, looking from one to the other.

“I’m her manicurist.” Lucky cracked her knuckles. “And that,” she nodded to Charlie, “is Ms. Monroe’s bodyguard. Don’t let those designer clothes fool you; she can kill you ten different ways with nothing but her elbow.”

“Don’t mind them, they’re harmless.” Betts kicked Lucky in the shin and shot her a
behave
look. Not everyone got her friend’s humor; most of the world just saw her as scary.

Lucky stuck out her tongue. Leaving an impression was her greatest wish; the fact that it was negative didn’t matter.

Too bad they were leaving tomorrow. Life wasn’t as much fun without them.

“Err, okay. I think I have something you might be interested in.” Laura rose out of her chair and braced her hands on the middle of the desk. Her magic-eight-ball eyes looked left and right like she was about to divulge something classified top secret. “A large parcel of land just became available yesterday. A bank foreclosure. Our most prominent citizen is having a cash flow problem.”

Betts, Lucky, and Charlie said in unison, “Who?”

“It’s so sad. He’s such a nice guy.” Laura apparently wanted to give the juicy piece of gossip a dramatic buildup. “And a real cutie patootie. But his daddy spent more than he had. Unfortunately the son is paying for the sins of the father.”

Betts leaned closer. “Who?” Her voice was louder than she intended.

“Gabe Swanson.”

Adrenaline zipped through Betts’s veins. “I’ll take it.”

Laura’s jaw hit the floor. “Don’t you want to see it? Know the particulars?”

“Doesn’t matter. Where do I sign?” If Betts were religious and if Gigi hadn’t been Satan’s older sister, Betts would think she had her own personal angel watching out for her.

“I love it when she goes all diva and starts buying stuff sight unseen. Now, I’m gonna have to buy something sight unseen so I don’t feel inferior. Maybe a ruby mine in Paraguay? There’s bound to be something like it on eBay.” Lucky sat back. “I’ve always wanted to mine my own rubies.”

“Holy crap.” Laura’s eyes did that scary big thing again. “You’re Lucky Strickland.”

“Nope, I’m her stunt double.” Lucky stared her down.

“I used to watch your reality TV show. Did your husband really introduce you to his mistress on live TV and then die in a terrible car crash?” Laura’s tone suggested that she thought it’d been staged. “Okay, I saw you run out, and he ran after you…. Next thing I knew, the news was reporting that he’d wrapped his car around an oak tree. Come on…really, it’s all too convenient, don’t you think?”

What people seemed to forget was that reality TV took place in real people’s lives.

Lucky threw her hand up. “That’s it, if another person asks me that, I’m moving to France.”

Charlie turned to her. “You don’t speak French.”

“Exactly. Then when people ask me really intrusive questions about my dead husband, I won’t know it.”

“So it was staged? You had to have known about Ricky’s mistress and their three kids together…right? No one’s that stupid.” Laura nodded like she’d just figured it all out.

“Unbelievable.” Charlie rose, all frosty, regal superiority. With her hands splayed out on the desk, she leaned menacingly toward Laura. “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”

Laura nodded. “My mother.”

“How would you feel if people you didn’t know came right up to you and asked if her death was faked?” Charlie’s tone was cold. “Tact is the mark of refinement. Have I commented on your ill-fitting, Calvin Klein knock-off dress? No, because I was raised to be a lady.”