Sleeping with Anemone (38 page)

As I stood with my back pressed against the door of the Down the Hatch Bar and Grill, people began to descend onto the courthouse lawn in droves, some carrying signs that said, WE LOVE YOU, CODY!, others waving banners, caught up in the kind of frenzy that only a celebrity could create.

And then, as though someone had cried “Action!”, all along the streets surrounding the courthouse, workers emerged, some carrying paint cans and ladders, others erecting scaffolding, pushing wheelbarrows stacked with bricks, and toting brightly colored awnings. The parks department even sent men to spruce up the cement planters.

I stared around the square in astonishment. Then I noticed Jingles watching me with a look that said,
I told you so.

The door behind me opened suddenly, and I had to grab on to the frame to keep from falling in. “Morning, Buttercup,” my boyfriend, bar owner/ex-Army Ranger Marco Salvare, said, kissing the top of my head. “Lots of excitement in town today.”

I turned to face him, trying to form my distress into a coherent remark. Marco’s forehead wrinkled as he studied me. “Are you okay?”

“I want my small town back!” I wailed, and flung myself into his arms.

 

Seated across from Marco in the first booth at Down the Hatch, which wouldn’t open until eleven o’clock, I propped my chin on my hand and sighed grumpily. “If this is a sign of what’s to come, I’m leaving until it’s over.”

“Come on, Abby. It’s not that bad. Besides, when was the last time a celebrity came to New Chapel?”

“Cody Verse is hardly a celebrity. Two months ago, only a handful of people had even heard of him. All he did was win a contest.”

“You say that like it was the local spelling bee,” Marco said. “
America’s Next Hit Single
is a national television event. Cody had to outperform thousands of people just to get on the show.”

“I get that, Marco, but come on! He didn’t win the Nobel Prize. He sang a song that he cowrote with his friend and then took all the credit for.”

“Or so his friend claims,” Marco reminded me. “A friend who stands to gain a lot of money if he wins his lawsuit. Don’t scowl at me. I hear what you’re saying. Cody Verse’s sudden fame has been blown all out of proportion.”

“It doesn’t hurt that he’s dating Lila Redmond, either.” Lila was the new It Girl, the hottest starlet since, well, whoever the last It Girl was.

Marco leaned back to stretch, lacing his fingers behind his dark, wavy hair, putting his hard-muscled torso on display. Today he was wearing jeans and a formfitting navy T-shirt with the white lettering
Down the Hatch
running the length of one sleeve. He was a yummy-hot male and all mine.

“I need coffee,” he said, and got up to go to the coffee machine behind the bar. “I didn’t get home last night until two in the morning.” He held up the pot. “Want some?”

I shook my head. Not to hurt Marco’s feelings or anything, but his bar was not known for its coffee. Or its decor, for that matter. The last time Down the Hatch had been decorated must have been in the seventies, when burnt orange, avocado green, and dark walnut paneling were all the rage, and a blue plastic carp passed for wall sculpture.

I heard cheering in the distance and got up to look out the big plate-glass window at the front of the bar. “You should see the crowds now. Little kids, too. Did they call off school today? Maybe the mayor declared a holiday . . . Cody Verse Day.”

“The lawsuit should be settled in a day or two,” Marco said, coming to stand beside me with a coffee mug in his hand. “Then everything will return to normal.”

“With Ken ‘the Lip’ Lipinski as his attorney? No way. When I clerked for Dave Hammond, I sat in on a few trials and saw Lipinski in action. The Lip is the kind of lawyer all those nasty jokes are about. He lies, stalls, grandstands, and cheats, and somehow manages to get away with it because he wins huge settlements for his clients. Trust me, Marco, Lipinski will do everything in his power to turn this lawsuit into a major media event.”

“And Dave will do everything in his power to keep that from happening,” Marco countered.

“I’m afraid he’ll be fighting a losing battle. Dave usually refuses to take a case when Lipinski is on the other side, but this time he was hired before he knew who the opposing counsel was. Now he’s stuck.”

Marco took a drink of coffee. “Why doesn’t he withdraw his appearance?”

“Because the Chappers have been with him for a long time, and he wouldn’t do that to loyal clients. Have you noticed that Dave hasn’t been himself lately, like something’s weighing on his mind? Maybe it’s his caseload. Being a public defender is never an easy job, and with the crime rate rising, he’s busier than ever. Or maybe he’s having some kind of midlife crisis. Whatever it is, having to deal with the Lip in a big, splashy civil case isn’t going to help him any.”

“I thought Dave’s client was a young guy—Cody Verse’s high school buddy,” Marco said, heading for the bar. “Sure I can’t get you some coffee?”

“No coffee, thanks. And technically, yes, Dave’s client is Andrew Chapper, one half of the former Chapper and Verse duo. Andrew’s grandparents have been with Dave since he first hung out his shingle. They’re the ones who brought Andrew to see Dave. Apparently, they raised Andrew after his parents died in a car accident.”

Marco came back to the window carrying a full coffee mug. He put his arm around me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“I wish I could help Dave somehow,” I said with a sigh. “Proving that Andrew cowrote the winning song is going to be tough. And who knows? It might not even get that far. If the judge rules in Lipinski’s favor on his motion to dismiss, it’s all over. Case closed. Andrew loses.”

Marco nuzzled my ear. “It’s not all bad news today, Sunshine. We’ve got something to celebrate, remember? Your engagement ring should be resized and ready to wear.”

Oh, right. About that . . .

With the corners of his mouth curving in that sexy way of his, he lifted my left hand to his lips to kiss my fingers. “What do you say I pick it up and give it to you at dinner tonight?”

“Marco, we need to talk.”