Burning Up (7 page)

Macy was hunkered down in front of the multiroll packages on the bottom shelf when a voice she could have gone the rest of her life without hearing drawled from behind her, “Toilet paper, Macy? How appropriate. You always did turn everything to shit.”

Swallowing a sigh, she selected a twelve-pack, rose to her feet and tossed it in the basket. Stooping, she grabbed another and added it, as well. Then she turned to face her old high school nemesis.

From their first encounter Liz Picket had disliked her, but in the beginning it hadn’t been personal. As the school beauty, a cheerleader dating Macy’s crush,
football star Andrew Mayfield, and the only child of one of the wealthiest men in town, Liz had been the undisputed female leader of the most popular group in school. Her sense of entitlement made her an equal-opportunity bitch to anyone she felt was her social inferior, which since Sugarville was largely a farming community, had pretty much meant all but a select few. What surprised Macy was how everyone had kept their heads down and let her get away with it.

Being the new kid in school too many times to count had taught
her
that allowing people to walk all over you simply invited them to trample you some more. So when Liz pushed her, she’d pushed back. But not nearly as hard as she would have if she hadn’t been trying so hard to fit in in Sugarville.

Apparently no one had ever returned any of the crap the princess of Sugarville dished out, however, so when Macy did Liz went ballistic and what had been generic trash talk became personal. Then Andrew asked Macy out, after telling her he’d broken up with Liz. That turned out to be as true as the tales he wove of Macy’s easiness, but had Liz blamed him?

Hell, no. She’d declared all-out war on
her.

So here they were ten years later, apparently about to play out the same ol’, same ol’.

Or not. Maybe, just this once, she’d take the high road and refuse to engage.

“Liz Picket. Long time, no see.”

“Not long enough.” Liz tilted her chin and shot Macy a supercilious smile. “And it’s Picket-
Smith
now. I’m married to the mayor, you know.”

Her good intentions dissolved. “Of course you are. You always were one for riding on a man’s coattails instead of carving out a place for yourself on your own merits.” She raised an eyebrow. “But then, I forget myself. You don’t
have
any of those.”

Liz flipped her expensively cut, exquisitely colored long-layered bob away from her face. “Unlike you, you mean, who makes her living in sex videos?”

She couldn’t help it, she cracked up. And every time she attempted to regain her composure the ridiculousness of Liz’s statement made her howl all over again. When she finally got herself together, she said, “Oh, God, thanks for the laugh.” Swallowing a couple of snickers that still wanted to escape, she dabbed beneath her eyes with the sides of her fingers and shot Liz a grin that was likely a little demented around the edges. “You must be the only twenty-eight-year-old in captivity who equates rock videos with porn. You really are provincial, aren’t you?”

The other woman’s perfectly made-up face mottled with fury, and Macy realized she had inadvertently issued the ultimate insult. Because she remembered now the way Liz had always prided herself on being so much more worldly than the rest of the girls in their class. Back then it had even been true. The rest of them had gone to Long Beach or Ocean Shores
for family vacations or spring break. Liz had gone to Paris.

The other woman leaned into Macy’s space and said in a low, vicious tone, “I wonder if your aunt and uncle know you blew the entire football team?”

Fury drove a spike up Macy’s spine, but applying the discipline she’d taught herself years ago, she stepped back from both it and Liz and gave the other woman a cool assessment. “I doubt it, considering that was always more your style than mine,” she said mildly. In truth, it had been neither of their styles. But wherever girls gathered in a small-town high school—in locker rooms and restrooms—Liz could be found bragging of every sexual act she’d ever taken part in with her boyfriend of the moment.

“Tell you what, though,” she said. “Why don’t you trot over to the boardinghouse and ask them? I’d
really
enjoy hitting you with a slander suit. Wouldn’t His Honor the Mayor love the publicity from that? Especially when it comes out—as these things have a tendency to do—that, while you were busy ridiculing
me
as the school whore, you were the one committing sexual acts I never even dreamed of. What was it you used to tell all the other girls? ‘I may be a slut…but at least I’m a rich one?’
That
oughtta play well in court.”

Then she moved closer and her voice lost its easygoing equanimity. “Get this through your head, Elizabeth. I’m no longer a kid without resources. And I’m only going to say this once. If I hear so much as
a
hint
of that rumor making the rounds, I will have your ass in court so fast you’ll make Linda Blair’s little pre-exorcism head whirl look like an ordinary event. It doesn’t matter if the whispers originate with someone else. I have lawyers who
live
for tracking false rumors back to their source.”

The mayor’s wife stared at her, breathing hard for a moment. Than she took a deep breath. Let it out. And ruined her pretty looks with the ugly expression that twisted her features. “You trailer-trash
bitch!
”

“Uh-uh-uh.” She wagged her finger admonishingly. “Only the truth, remember? I freely confess to being a bitch. But the only trailers I’ve ever been in has been on location. And, honey, while you may not know this, never getting out of Sugarville and all, those are a
long
way from being trashy.”

“Ooooh!” Liz stomped off and Macy pushed her cart toward the front of the store. Back in high school such an encounter would have had her stomach churning for the rest of the day. She hadn’t been any more capable of penitently hanging her head or turning the other cheek while self-satisfied liars trashed her good name then than she was now, but she’d always felt sort of sick to her stomach even as she was giving back as good as she got. But now? Surprisingly, it had been downright cathartic to lay down the terms if Liz was considering picking up the same old gauntlet. And she actually felt…

Pretty darn good.

“You’ve got your nerve showing your face.”

Her short-lived pleasure popped like a balloon meeting the business end of a pin. Stopping her cart, she looked at the woman standing a few feet in front of her, her heart beating a sickening rhythm. “Hello, Mrs. Sorenson.”

“Don’t you hello me, Missy! Look at you, sashaying into a God-fearing store half-naked. How dare you go on with your life as if you didn’t ruin my Jimmy’s?”

For a second Macy was thrust back into the chaos of That Night at the post–football game kegger in Buzzard Canyon, where the senior class had been celebrating a victory over their arch rival, the Pateras Billygoats…until a slip of the foot from the brake pedal of Auntie Lenore’s Buick had destroyed the football careers and scholarships of three of the players. Jerking herself out of it, she drew a deep breath and shakily exhaled it.

“All I can say now, as I said then, is I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It was an accident, Mrs. Sorenson, not anything I ever,
ever
intended to happen. I felt horrible about it at the time and I feel horrible about it now.”

“You
should
feel horrible,” the older woman said fiercely. “I hope you take that guilt straight to hell with you when you die.” And ramming forward with her cart, she ricocheted off Macy’s as she stormed past her.

God.
Macy rubbed her forehead where a headache was brewing. Had this been the busiest-beaver day
or what? And it wasn’t even three o’clock yet. It felt as if it ought to be midnight, she was suddenly so exhausted.

Well, get over it, girl.
Squaring her shoulders and putting on her game face, she pushed her cart up to the checkout stand. Life didn’t stop because of a couple unforeseen encounters. She had to get over to the pool to keep an eye on Tyler and Charlie the way she’d promised Janna she would do.

But man. Wasn’t
that
just bound to be one big barrel of giggles. Who knew how many more people who hated her guts might be there?

G
ABE STEPPED OUT
onto the wraparound porch after dinner, the wooden screen door slapping softly closed behind him. The scent of Bud’s barbecue lingered in the evening air and the homey clatter of Lenore cleaning up drifted from the kitchen window at the back of the big farmhouse.

He’d come out specifically to find Macy, and he located her sitting in the swing at the short end of the porch’s L. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he gave her a nod while keeping his gaze on the post over her right shoulder. “Hey,” he said, feeling somewhat at a loss. He was accustomed to sparring with her, not having to hit her up for a favor.

It didn’t help that she hugged her knees to her chest and demanded in a don’t-get-comfortable tone, “Something I can help you with, Fire Chief?”

“Yeah. I want to ask your help on something.”

Her bark of laughter was not amused. “Trust me,” she said flatly, “that’s the last thing you want. Any cause near and dear to your heart will
not
benefit from having me be part of it. Not in this town.”

He’d been avoiding looking at her too closely for fear of getting sucked into that vortex of heat and
temptation he’d been dodging ever since he’d first clapped eyes on her. But the matter-of-fact way she put herself down made him give her a good, hard look.

And he discovered she didn’t look like she usually did. He’d noticed before that she didn’t dress provocatively around her aunt and uncle yet still managed to look dolled up, if in a more girl-next-door way than the ramped-up sex-squared look she adopted whenever she went to town. But it just went to show how assiduously he’d
not
looked at her at dinner tonight, because until this moment he hadn’t noticed that her hair had been pulled back in a plain braid, her lipstick was chewed off and she was wearing a baggy pair of shorts with a loose T-shirt that should have been tossed in a ragbag a long time ago.

“Whoa,” he said. “Who are you and what have you done with Macy?”

She curled her lip at him. “You’re a laugh a minute, Donovan.”

“You’re saying that
is
you?” He made a rude noise, then narrowed his eyes at her. “Unless… You on your period, or something?”

“What?”
She jerked upright, setting the swing’s chains to creaking. Her bare feet slapped against the porch decking and put an end to the seat’s sudden off-kilter wobble. “No!” she snapped. “What kind of question is that, anyway?”

A dumbshit one,
he mentally acknowledged as
heat crawled up his neck. Jesus. He didn’t say stuff like that to women!

But before he could assemble even a half-assed apology she abruptly laughed. And turned back into, well, not the complete Macy he knew, but at least someone more closely resembling her usual self.

“You know what, Gabriel?” she said. “I take back what I said to Janna today. I think I
do
like you, after all. You’re pretty much a call-’em-as-you-see-’em kind of guy, aren’t you?”

“Too much so, apparently, if
that’s
what comes out of my mouth.”

She shrugged. “You say what you’re thinking. And despite getting an overdose of that today, I generally prefer to know where I stand. Although I can’t say I understand what prompted that particular remark.”

He must have given her a quick once-over, because she looked down at her ratty attire and said, “Ah.” Then pinned him in place with her gaze.
“And?”

“And…I’m an insensitive clod.” Because, big deal, she’d dressed down for once and let her makeup wear off. Putting his fore-and index fingers to his temple, he pulled the trigger of his thumb. And felt the corners of his mouth curve up in satisfaction when she laughed out loud. “You had a rough day, I take it?” he said.

“I’ve had better, but it wasn’t all bad. Being at the pool with Ty and Charlie was pretty cool.” Waving the subject aside as if it had no importance, she propped one bare heel on the edge of the swing’s
seat, wrapped her arms around her shin and rested her chin on her kneecap. “So, what’s the cause you’re pushing?”

“My fire department. My crew is all volunteers—they get paid for the fires they go out on, but that’s it, and my budget doesn’t allow for much more than their stipends and my salary. The mayor agreed to sponsor a booth at the fair for us, as well as a dunking tank, so we can raise some funds. You’d be a huge draw.”

“You’ve been in Sugarville
how
long now?”

He hitched a shoulder. “Since February.”

“Long enough to be familiar with my reputation, then.”

“Which one?”

Her lip curled in disdain. “Don’t go coy on me now, Donovan.”

He sank onto his haunches in front of her, his forearms propped on his thighs, his hands dangling. “I’m not trying to be—I’ve heard two separate things. That you’re a hot mama in the sack and not particularly selective about who you sleep with. And that you single-handedly destroyed the high school football team’s shot at the state championship in—I can’t remember what year—and cost two players their college scholarships.”

She sighed. “The first is crap,” she said. “Which I’m sure you have a hard time believing.” Without giving him the chance to refute the charge or agree, she added, “The second, unfortunately, is true. It was
an accident, but I still hit three football players with my aunt’s car. And there are a lot of people around here who are never going to forgive me for that.”

“There’s also a lot of people around here who think your music videos are the pinnacle of cool. So will you give the fire department a hand?”

She studied him for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. “Sure. Why not? But if the citizens of S-ville stay away in droves, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” He rose to his feet. “Thanks. My guys argue over which video of yours is the best, so they’re going to be pumped.” He heard a car turn off the road onto the long drive and said, “That’s probably Grace. I’ll get out of your hair.”

She was looking beyond him. “I doubt that’s Grace,” she said, rising to her feet, as well. “I mean, I’m sure you’re hot as all get-out in the sack, yourself, and I know we aren’t exactly rife with privacy around here. But Grace strikes me as much too classy to show up hauling her own trailer.”

He pivoted to see a red pickup truck towing a classic bullet-shaped silver Airstream up the drive, then glanced back at Macy, raising his brows. “Are Bud and Lenore expecting a new renter?”

“Not unless somebody’s moving out, which I haven’t heard. And wouldn’t bringing your own trailer to a boardinghouse be kind of redundant anyway?” Her eyes first narrowed on the approaching truck, then snapped wide. “Omigawd. Oh. My.
God!
” Her face lit up and just like that the Macy he knew
reemerged with a vengeance. Screaming with laughter, she shot down the porch steps and ran toward the truck, her hands waving crazily overhead.

And Gabe realized it wasn’t the sex-infused clothing or crazy-ass wigs or artful makeup that made Macy Macy. It was her lack of self-consciousness, her bone-deep joy, or some shit like that, that lit her up from the inside out, bringing a light to her eyes and giving her cheeks that peach-skin flush.

He loped down the steps in her wake as the screen door banged open behind him and some of the boarders barged out onto the porch, demanding to know what all the fuss was about. The truck had rocked to a stop, and Gabe rounded the back of the sleek Airstream in time to see the driver door opening. A lean, medium-tall man in a muscle shirt that showcased the tattoos covering his arms climbed out of the cab.

Macy took a flying leap at him.

Gabe watched, narrow-eyed, as the guy caught her and hauled her in with the long-fingered hands he’d clamped on her butt. She wrapped her hands around his neck and her legs around his waist, leaned back and grinned at him.

The man laughed. “Hello, luv,” he said. “Miss me much?”

“Holy shit!” Gabe heard newlywed Tiffany gasp from behind him and glanced back to see most of the boarders and Lenore not far behind him. “Do you know who that
is?
That’s—”

“Jack freakin’ Savage,” Brian Dawson breathed reverently. “From Aussie Kiss.”

“Aussie Kiss?” Lenore said, perking up. “Isn’t that the band our Macy’s done videos for?”

“They’re like the
hottest
band since the Rolling Stones,” Brian told her. “And Savage is their Mick Jagger.” When the older woman merely looked at him, he elaborated. “That’s the Stones’ lead singer.”

“Yes, I know who Mick Jagger is,” she agreed dryly. “And it’s very nice that Mr. Savage is an important celebrity. I’m just not sure I’m wild about him having his hands on Macy’s rear.”

Gabe seconded that.

Oblivious to the crowd they’d attracted, Macy studied the familiar buzz-cut dirty-blond hair and the tiny silver barbell piercing the eyebrow of her best friend in the entertainment industry. Then she gave him her highest-wattage smile. “Not that I’m not totally jazzed to see you…but what the heck are you doing here?”

Jack gave a theatrical sigh. “Well, now…” He put her back on the ground. “As it happens, I needed a break from the L.A. madness and this is closer than Ireland. And I’ve got business reasons. I need your input on our next video.”

“Ooh. Did you bring me the music for the new album?”

“It’s in my rig. Speaking of which, what do you think the odds are of your relatives letting me camp on their property?”

“Well, I dunno. Let’s get one over here and ask.” Twisting around, she noticed the gathering for the first time. “Auntie Lenore, could you come here?” Her attention was snagged by Gabe—or more accurately, by his long denim-clad legs—disappearing around the end of Jack’s trailer, but she pulled it back where it belonged. “Everyone else, please go inside. I’ll introduce you to Jack later.”

Her aunt strode up to them. “This young man is a friend of yours, I take it?” Her voice was mild, but she gave the hands still resting on Macy’s butt the gimlet eye.

Macy laughed when he promptly released her and took a step back.

He sent her a brief scowl, but his trademark charm flashed in the smile he gave her aunt. “Jack Savage, ma’am,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ve known Macy for several years now. We met when we were both starting out in the business.”

“There you go being generous,” she said, elbowing him in the side. “Jack was a bit further beyond ‘starting out’ than I was when we met,” she told her aunt. “Which was at the audition for Aussie Kiss’s first video. He’s the one I told you about who picked me for a bigger part than I auditioned for.”

“Sure, and weren’t you exactly the girl I’d written
Burn, Baby, Burn
about?”

“You obviously have excellent taste,” Aunt Lenore said. Her eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t sound Australian.”

“Because it’s an Irishman I am.”

“Well, for goodness sake.” She studied him a moment. “Why call your band after another country?”

“It’s not, really. Aussie Kiss is a slang term in my country.”

“For?”

“Uhhh…”

To Macy’s delight, he actually blushed—something she’d never witnessed before. But taking pity on him, she leaned forward and whispered, “He doesn’t want to say, Auntie, because it’s dirrrrrrty.”

“Then it’s probably best you don’t,” her aunt agreed. “I’m already subtracting points for the tattoos and the stickpin through your eyebrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely, but Macy watched her friend retreat inward a little. “Well, it was nice finally meeting you after hearing all Macy’s stories of her aunt and uncle. But I’d best get to town to see if I can find a place to park my trailer.”

“Don’t be silly,” Lenore said crisply. “There’s a perfectly good spot behind the chicken coop for your trailer. I imagine Bud can even jury-rig some kind of hookup for electricity and water.”

Jack looked at her a little uncertainly. “You wouldn’t mind then?”

“Of course not. I might be old-fashioned about your body decorations, but Macy’s friends are always welcome in our home.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, as I’d like to be
close. I need to pick her brains for the first vid from my new album.”

“Jack gave my career’s new phase instant credibility when he listened to my suggestions for his last video—then acknowledged me in the credits. Because of him, other artists started asking me to come up with concepts for them.”

“No, that was strictly on the merits of her talent,” he told Lenore. “She’s a natural. Not only does she have an eye for the aesthetic of music videos, she imbues them with her own unique perspective. But regarding letting me park my rig, Mrs. Watson. I want you to know I realize you run a business. I’ll pay you, of course.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll discuss that after we see what effect you have on my utilities bill. Meanwhile, you could use some fattening up. Come in the kitchen and I’ll fix you a plate.”

He dove into the meal Lenore set in front of him. Macy could have told her aunt that for all he was heroin-chic lean, Jack could put away an amazing amount of food. Instead she simply enjoyed Lenore’s pleasure at watching him eat.

“I see I’ll have to charge you for your meals,” Lenore said dryly as she slapped another dollop of potato salad on his plate and filled up his milk glass for the third time. “As it’s plain you’ll otherwise eat me out of house and home.”

“It’s just so
good.
” He dabbed barbecue sauce from his lips with his napkin and shot her a crooked
smile. “We don’t get much home cooking in my business, and this is fierce spectacular. You eat like this every night?”

“Nah,” Macy said. “Usually we eat better.”

Jack made a rude noise. “You’re havin’ me on. Food doesn’t get much better than this.”

“I’m telling you, it’s a phenomenon. Every meal Auntie makes just seems to taste better than the one before. Give her a week and you’ll see what I’m saying.”

Uncle Bud joined them as Jack was finally pushing his plate away. They talked for a while, then he directed the rocker to drive his trailer around behind the chicken coop. While they positioned it and got it leveled, Macy went back to the house to fetch Janna so she could introduce her to Jack. But her cousin was clearly worn-out by the day’s therapy session, for she was sound asleep in their room. So she went back out and explored the trailer’s interior as the men circled the vehicle outside, discussing the finer points of running utilities to it.