Cowboy Famous: Book 4 (Cowboy Justice Association) (2 page)

“I’ll tell the rest of the staff later,” he began, his pock-marked features a ruddy tone that spoke of anger. “They’ve raised the rent here and I can’t afford it any longer.”

“What does that mean?” Patty asked, leaning against the door frame. “Are you moving to another location?”

“I’m closing,” Virgil answered baldly, not bothering to soften the blow. “At the end of the day. I’m going to work for my father-in-law. So you’re fired. Here’s your final pay.”

He shoved some envelopes their way and they all looked at each other disbelieving. This had to be some kind of joke. Luck this bad simply wasn’t possible in one human being.

“Today?” Mary asked, her finger wagging under his nose. “Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell us before now?”

“Because you would have walked out.” Virgil shrugged. He didn’t give a shit about his waitresses—Jazz had known that for a long time but this move seemed especially odious. Even for him.

Jazz grabbed the stack of envelopes from his desk and rifled through it to find her own before handing them off to Patty, anger churning in her gut. Jazz might be tiny in stature but Virgil didn’t intimidate her in the least. “You’re a real class act, you know that? A regular humanitarian.”

She didn’t bother to dial down the sarcasm in her tone. She had plenty of references available to get another crappy waitressing job. She didn’t need his.

“I’m not running a charity here,” he blustered.

“As of today, you’re not running anything at all,” Jazz retorted. “I’m out of here.”

With her check clenched in her fist and her head held high, Jazz marched out of the restaurant, Patty and the others at her heels. Once on the sidewalk, Jazz paused, unsure as to what to do. She’d been planning to hit the grocery store on her way home but she wasn’t sure she could afford food any more.

Mary pulled a credit card from her wallet. “The bars open and I’m buying. Or technically, my mom and dad in Virginia are buying.”

“I always liked your parents. Lovely people,” Patty giggled. “I’m in but only for sodas. Damn cold medicine means I can’t drink. But I can be the driver for all of you.”

The others parroted their agreement and Jazz didn’t argue. No point in heading back to an apartment she could no longer afford. She’d have a few cocktails and drown her sorrows before going home. Sort of a last hurrah before facing the reality that she couldn’t get away from.

She’d lost her job and the role of her dreams all within the space of a few hours. Things were definitely not going her way.

Chapter Two

“A
re you drunk?”

Caitlin Dalton, Jazz’s roommate and best friend stood in the living room with her hands on her hips and a disgusted expression. Caitlin’s boyfriend, Tony Albright, was lounging on an easy chair with a grin on his face, presumably at the picture Jazz made in the doorway. She’d spent the afternoon drinking with her now unemployed waitress friends and she probably looked a funny sight still in her cheap, polyester uniform, her cheeks pink from the booze, her blonde hair askew from running her fingers through it in worry.

“I’m not drunk,” Jazz denied, dumping her purse on the table beside the door along with her keys. “I’m tipsy.”

“Can you feel your lips?” Caitlin demanded. “When you’re drunk you can’t feel your lips.”

Jazz moved her mouth around and Tony’s smile got even wider. “I can feel my lips. Don’t have a cow.”

“I’ll get you some coffee. Patty called, by the way, and told us everything. About the part too.”

Awesome. Patty, true to her word, had stayed sober as a judge all afternoon. She’d apparently informed Caitlin as to what a loser Jazz had become all in one day.

Jazz sank onto the couch cushions and kicked off her sensible tennis shoes she wore when waitressing and sighed in relief. She needed to soak in a hot tub and forget these last eight hours ever happened.

“I know I look ridiculous in this outfit,” Jazz told Tony who was regarding her as if he were a kindly older brother and she a dotty younger sibling.

“The mustard color doesn’t do anything for you,” he responded. “So you got canned today?”

She winced at his plain speech but Tony rarely wrapped up his rhetoric in roses and moonbeams. He was a successful television producer-director and as such got to speak to people rudely. This was Hollywood after all, and Jazz was low on the totem pole while Tony was riding high.

“The restaurant is closing, so the short answer is yes. As for the part, well, it sucks. I would have been good in that movie.”

Jazz had felt a symbiotic relationship with the role she’d been denied, had felt it was hers to lose. Every time she thought about the drunken, slutty child star who would be playing the part instead, she felt sick inside. But name recognition was everything and no one knew Jazz from Adam and Eve.

“Rogers is a decent director but he tends to the maudlin side.” Tony took the cup of coffee Caitlin offered. “What will you do now?”

Jazz accepted the mug from Caitlin with a grateful smile and her roommate settled on the arm of Tony’s chair. They’d been dating awhile and Jazz wouldn’t be surprised to see the two of them get married. Because of his connections, Caitlin had landed a part in a soap opera.

“Get another job, I guess. Maybe two.” Jazz’s eyes filled with hot tears. She simply couldn’t seem to catch a break in this town. She was already in debt due to her car breaking down. There had been no choice but to fix it. If she couldn’t get to work and auditions, she couldn’t earn money.

“Do you have any savings?” Caitlin asked, biting her lip. Until recently, she’d lived on a shoestring budget the same as Jazz.

“None.” Jazz shook her head, misery winding its way through her abdomen and curling up like a heavy log while tears started to streak down her cheeks. “I have a big balance on my credit card because of the car repairs too. Plus all the other crap that waitressing doesn’t pay for.”

Something flickered in Tony’s gaze but he remained silent and Jazz shifted her attention back to her roommate. The pretty redhead had a sad droop to her mouth and sympathy in her green eyes.

“You’ll get another job,” she encouraged. “A better one. You should try for one of those fancy ones in the Hills. Bigger, better tips, I bet.”

“I need another job yesterday.” Jazz tried to smile for her friend despite the feeling that the walls were closing in. She had few options at this point and crawling home to her family wasn’t one of them. Whining wouldn’t fix this either. She laughed but it didn’t sound particularly happy. “Hey, maybe I could turn tricks on Hollywood Boulevard. Fresh air. Exercise. Meet new people. It’s a cash business, I bet.”

“How about two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?” Tony’s abrupt question made her gaze swing to him. His eyes were intent but he didn’t seem to be laughing at her.

“Who do I have to kill?” she joked half-heartedly.

“I’m serious, Jazz.” Tony stood and walked over to the front window, staring at the street where a group of children were playing a game of kickball. “What are you willing to do?”

“Anything legal, I guess.” Jazz wasn’t sure she liked the gleam in his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

Tony turned back to her and sipped at his coffee. “Have you heard about my latest project? I just had a contestant pull out and I need a replacement right away. It’s thirty grand guaranteed even if you’re ousted day one, but the winner gets a quarter million and great television exposure. You could get some solid offers from this. If you play your cards right.”

Tony was a producer and director of reality shows or “unscripted” television as he liked to call it. He was dangling it right in front of her nose and he’d done it before. She’d always turned him down and told him she was a real actress.

But she’d never been this desperate. Thirty thousand dollars would make a lot of problems disappear, not to mention what two hundred fifty thousand could do. Lots of people had got their starts on reality television. Tons. Serious actors too. She’d think of their names later.

“I’m listening, Tony.”

*   *   *   *

“You can’t do this. It’ll be a disaster.”

Griffin hopped up from his chair and paced the small room in City Hall that doubled as a conference area and the town council chambers. The room smelled of burnt coffee and stale pastries that a council member had brought. Griffin had declined when they’d offered him one.

He’d only been there for fifteen minutes but already things were on a downhill slide. He’d worked hard to create peace and harmony in Hope Lake and now they were throwing it away with both hands.

He simply couldn’t allow it.

“Calm down, Sheriff.” Otis McClintock, the owner of the local bar, waved at the chair that Griffin had abandoned after being told the news. “Let’s talk about this. We understand you might have some objections but we’re doing this for the good of the town. We’re doing this to help you.”

“
Help
me?” choked Griffin, his tone incredulous, his stomach churning with anger and frustration. “How will creating chaos help me? You’re not helping, Otis. You’re ruining everything I’ve worked for.”

“You’re being overly dramatic,” Leroy Wilson, a third-generation rancher said dryly, relaxing back in his chair with a smile. “I don’t think you can equate a reality show coming to town to chaos. You can handle it.”

“I understand the sheriff’s concerns,” responded Alice Kennison, who owned the local grocery store and the one who had brought the pastries. She appeared to be flustered by all the emotion whizzing around the room. “This will certainly affect the citizens of Hope Lake. Perhaps we should have put this to a referendum.”

“There was no time,” Leroy blustered and sat up, making the chair legs squeak loudly in the room. “Besides, they elected us to make these kind of decisions. If we don’t do this, we’re going to have to cut the town’s budget severely.” His face purple with anger, he pointed to Griffin. “That’s something you said we couldn’t do. Well, now we’ve found another option and you don’t like it either. Tough.”

“Everyone calm down,” commanded Otis, who stood to look Griffin in the eye. “I know this isn’t perfect. I know this has the possibility of turning our peaceful little town into a sideshow but we don’t have any choices left here, Sheriff. This town is broke. Busted. The economy sucks. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t find a way to solve our problems. This is a solution.”

Griffin stopped pacing and scraped his hand down his face. What had been presented in the beginning of the meeting as merely an idea was looking more and more like a done deal.

“You want me to allow a bunch of civilians who have no experience to compete to become my next deputy? And I’m to do this all in front of a bunch of cameras? Have you lost your ever loving minds? Nothing good can come from this, Otis.”

“On the contrary.” Otis came out from behind the table and slapped Griffin on the back and smiled. “This is going to bring revenue to a town that sorely needs it. Maybe businesses will want to relocate here.” That smile fell and Otis leaned in close, his voice soft. “This isn’t about just you anymore. This is about every person in Hope Lake. The merchants are being starved out one by one. Are you going to stand in the way of prosperity? The production company has guaranteed us a payment of three hundred thousand. That doesn’t even count the money they’ll spend while they’re here. Hell, the motel is already booked solid. Do you know how many deputies you can hire for three hundred thousand?”

Considering the piss poor pay? A hell of a lot.
Fuck a duck
. Griffin was cornered and he damn well didn’t like it.

“Do I really have to hire the winner?” Griffin fell back into his chair, the anger draining away but the frustration remained. He might have to give in but he didn’t have to be happy about it. When Dare found out he was going to be pissed off even more than usual.

Otis nodded and sat in the chair opposite. “The person who wins gets two hundred and fifty thousand plus a chance to be our new deputy.”

“Why would anyone who had that kind of money want to be my deputy?”

“That could work to your advantage,” Alice offered softly. “Maybe they won’t even want the job.”