Uh-oh. The pickup was big, white, and very familiar. The engine stuttered to a stop. A door squeaked open, and then slammed.
“Mace! You home, darlin’?’’
The words were slurred. The accent was country, and also familiar.
“It’s me, sweetheart. Jeb Ennis!’’
Boots shuffled on the gravel path outside. Step. Stumble. Stumble. Step.
“I told you I could still find my way here.’’ Jeb’s shout was slurred. “I’m a little drunk, but not too drunk to get busy.’’
A knock sounded at the door. Carlos had already put on his pants and shoes. He was gathering his keys and wallet.
“Please stay,’’ I told him. “I’ll get rid of Jeb.’’
He stood in front of the mirror on the dresser in my bedroom, buttoning his shirt. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I had no idea he was coming out here, Carlos.’’
The knocking turned into pounding at the front door.
“Open up! I reconsidered our little chat in my truck. I love you. I’m gonna change, just like you always wanted. That’s a promise.’’
Carlos slipped his wallet in his back pocket, patted it. “That sounds like a pretty good offer to me. I’d take Jeb up on it. Like he said, it’s what you’ve always wanted.’’
“I’m not interested in Jeb. I’m interested in you. I thought I’d just proved that.’’
I glanced at the couch, its pillows all askew. I hoped I wasn’t blushing.
He focused those lasers of his on me. “That was just sex, Mace.’’ His voice was ice. “Anybody can do that.’’
The knob on the front door rattled. “I’m tellin’ you, sweetheart: I love you!’’
Carlos unlocked the door and yanked it open. The surprise on Jeb’s face when he saw him standing there was almost comical. But I wasn’t in a laughing mood. As Carlos stalked past Jeb, I followed him out onto the porch.
“Please, don’t go.’’
I hated the desperate note I heard in my voice. I hated it even more when Carlos coldly shook off the hand I’d placed on his arm. He didn’t bother to answer as he hurried down the steps. I ran after him into the yard, leaving Jeb standing on the top step with his mouth hanging open.
“Carlos …’’ I called as he got into his unmarked cop car.
“Your cowpoke is waiting for you.’’ I heard the sneer in his voice. “Maybe you two can saddle up and ride off together into the sunrise, after he sobers up.’’
With that, he swung the door shut and gunned the engine. The Crown Vic spit grass and gravel as Carlos tore out of my yard and out of my life.
Watching him go, I caught sight of Jeb weaving drunkenly on the porch steps. As Carlos roared past, Jeb turned his head to look. That made him lose his balance, and he tumbled backward to the ground.
“Hey, darlin’, how ’bout a little help?’’ Smiling a dopey grin, Jeb reached out a hand for me to pull him up.
I stepped over him without a word, somehow resisting the urge to aim a kick at his head. I stomped up the stairs and through my front door. Then I slammed it on my drunken first love and the rest of my regrets.
The next morning, the mood on the movie set was subdued. Long faces, hushed voices, very little chatter. Maybe everyone was feeling the effects of the previous night’s bash at the Eight Seconds Bar.
Or maybe I was just looking at the world through depression- gray glasses.
I’d been holding a private pity party since Carlos peeled rubber out of my yard. Jeb must have gotten tired of banging at the locked door. When I peeked out the window, he was snoring on the front porch. I heard him start his truck and drive away just after six a.m.
Good riddance. I was furious at him for ruining my reunion with Carlos. Jeb’s timing always was better in the rodeo than it was in real life.
“What’s wrong, Mace? You haven’t even touched your breakfast.’’
Marty’s soft voice brought me back to the present, and the table outside the food tent where I sat with my sisters. She picked up my fork and handed it to me. I laid it down again beside my uneaten scrambled eggs.
“Are you going to finish those home fries?’’ Maddie asked.
I pushed the plate her way. “Knock yourself out.’’
The sight of Maddie dousing everything with ketchup made the coffee I’d swallowed roil around my otherwise empty stomach. “I’m not feeling very well.’’ I started to rise, when Marty tugged at my sleeve.
“Sit down, sister. Tell us what’s wrong.’’
“Nothing wrong with these potatoes,’’ Maddie said around a mouthful of mostly ketchup. “What’s put you off your feed this morning, Mace? Not that I’m complaining.’’
“I don’t want to talk about it.’’
“Carlos?’’ Marty asked.
To my horror, I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes again. I don’t think I’d cried so much since we had to put down my favorite dog when I was ten.
Passing me a folded napkin, Marty waited for my answer. Her blue eyes were full of sympathy.
Finally, I nodded yes to her question.
“Oh, honey!’’ She scooted close and rubbed my back.
“Could you pass the salt, please?’’ Maddie said.
Marty slammed a hand down on the tabletop.
“What?’’ Maddie looked up from her—formerly my—breakfast plate. My dejection finally seemed to register on her radar.
“Well, why didn’t y’all say something? I’m not a mind-reader.’’
Marty rolled her eyes. “Honey, tell me what happened with Carlos. I bet it’s nothing that we can’t fix.’’
“Well, that’s one bet you’re going to lose, Marty,’’ I said.
I filled them in on everything that had happened, beginning with Carlos dancing with Kelly at the bar. I continued through the romantic make-up session at my cottage, minus the multiple X-rated details. Then, I ended with the interloping ex-beau plummeting off my porch.
“So, did you invite Jeb to sleep over then?’’ Maddie picked at a few remaining pieces of greasy, charred onions on the plate. My stomach clenched.
“I don’t love Jeb, Maddie.’’
“That hasn’t stopped you before.’’
When Marty saw I wasn’t rising to our big sister’s bait, she stepped in. “Can’t you see Mace is really hurting? She needs encouragement, Maddie. Not criticism.’’
“I wasn’t criticizing,’’ Maddie said. “I was stating a fact.’’
“Well, cut it out!’’ The heat of Marty’s glare was so unaccustomed, so intense, it raised a guilty look like a welt on Maddie’s face.
“Sorry, Mace,’’ Maddie said, adding an awkward pat of my hand.
I shrugged and then heaved a big sigh. I hated this sad-sack version of me, but I couldn’t seem to help it. All I wanted was to go back home and pull the bedcovers over my head. But I couldn’t. The horses had to be cared for. If Jeb was still on a toot, or sleeping it off, he might not show up to handle his cattle. I might have to do that, too. Not to mention, Mama’s dancehall scene was scheduled for shooting later in the day. She’d kill me if I missed it. I may be miserable, but I didn’t want to be murdered.
I sighed again.
Now, both my sisters were staring at me in that sad way you look at someone in the hospital who you know won’t be coming home. Suddenly, Marty brightened. “You need a distraction!’’
Maddie clapped her hands, like a first-grade teacher promising finger-painting. “Exactly! Let’s see if we can figure out who killed the producer.’’
“I don’t care who killed him,’’ I said.
“Really? You don’t care if a murderer gets away with it? You don’t care that the same person may have tried to kill you by rigging that light to blow?’’
Maddie searched my face. “Aha!’’ she cried. “I saw that spark of interest in your eyes just now. Of course you care.’’