T's Trial: A Bone Cold--Alive Novel (34 page)

*  *  *

“Lyla!” It was a hoarse whisper, flung across the bedroom from her ajar door. Eleven thirty at night and she had just turned off her light. Now Arial stood in the doorway. “You awake?”

“Yes. What do you need?”

“Do you hear it?”

Yes, she’d heard it, she just didn’t have the nerve to look. The low rumble of a sports car drifted up through the closed windows. Even over the air-conditioner, it was loud. “We’re closed, Ari. They’ll go away.”

The girl laughed as she launched into the room and peeked out the blinds beside Lyla’s bed. “They’re not here for gas.” She looked slowly at Lyla. “It’s them.”

“The aliens?” Lyla sat up. She’d just been fooling herself if she thought she was going to sleep through BCA’s arrival on the ground below. Now how did Ari know?

“BCA.” She glanced back. “He won’t get out of the car. It’s a Corvette!”

“Why don’t you start explaining at the beginning. And sit down. Get away from the window. Last thing I want is a knock on the door.”

“Oh, couldn’t we answer it?” She sat beside Lyla. “It’s not fair of you to keep them all to yourself, you know. Not when Andi and I figured it out cold from the start.”

“The start. Good place to begin, Ari. You think this is BCA because—”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Because the vee-jay have been reporting all the members of the band are flying to this area. Little Rock, Austin, Dallas, Oklahoma City—we’re in the middle of that! They must all be driving here and they’re meeting at the Quik-Lee! Isn’t it exciting?”

“Why would they be coming here?”

“Good try, Lyla. You might fool Harrison, but you can’t fool me. You’re sleeping with Eddie T!”

“Shhh!” Lyla clamped a hand over Ari’s mouth. “You want to wake Harrison up?”

“Not really.” She shook Lyla off. “He was a bear to get down tonight. You’d think he was going hunting tomorrow on opening day.” Arial leaned over and peered out again. “Yeah, look at that. Your houseguests have arrived. Quick! He looked up here—oh, you missed it!”

Lyla could stand it no longer. She followed Ari’s lead. Fletch and T had gotten out of their car and were being met by a dark-haired man with a goatee. “That’s Ron. He’s the drummer.” The girl shivered in delight. “Please introduce me to them all.”

“I don’t know them all.”

“I can’t believe Eddie T’s been here for two weeks and I haven’t shaken his hand yet. You are so sneaky, Lyla.” Her eyes developed a gleam and she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell me, did you do it here? Has he been here? On these sheets?”

“I am appalled at your lack of upbringing.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just upset I figured you out. But your secret is safe, Lyla. I can be bought.”

“And pretty cheaply, too, from the way you’re acting.”

“Oh, there’s another one!”

Headlights gleamed their way from the stop sign on the opposite corner into the parking lot. Another red Mercedes. Well, they’re not any of them modest, Lyla thought, as she watched the drama unfold beneath them.

In rapid succession, the other vehicles lined up: a Porsche, a Mercedes and the Corvette, all red. In turn, the men had barely put on the brakes before they were out from behind the wheels, hugging each other like brothers. They all greeted T like a prodigal, were a little more reserved with Fletch. Among themselves, the new arrivals acted like they hadn’t seen each other in months.

“Okay, I give. Tell me who’s who.” Lyla searched the faces for the one that looked like T. There didn’t seem to be any candidates. “His brother here?”

“No. C’s missing. Typical. I mean, if there’s to be a rebel, now that T’s supposedly straightened out, it’ll be C.” Arial warmed to the topic. “The first one, that was Ron, the drummer. He’s over there by Ian.”

“And what does Ian do?”

“He’s the bass guitarist, but he does a lot of other instruments, too. He came in the Porsche. He’s the one Andi’s just nuts about.” A sharp intake of breath. “Then the Mercedes was Bo and he plays the sax. Sometimes the harmonica. His hair gets all in his face and well, he is so hot!”

“Ari. Get control.”

“I think I’d rather meet him, if I could just meet one. But you can do better than that, can’t you, Lyla?”

Lyla tapped the window blind. “Are there more?”

Arial traced them with her finger on the pane. “Just C. Bo got married three months ago, but it didn’t last.” She stuck out her lower lip. “None of their marriages have lasted, Lyla. You really should take note of that.”

“Thank you, Ari. I’m not marrying him.”

“Not even if he asked?”

“What does C do?” Lyla was watching them all get back into their respective cars, obviously having given up on C’s appearance.

“Everything. He plays everything but mainly guitar. But then T can play anything too.” She elbowed Lyla. “He’s looking up here again.”

T stood by the passenger side of the Mercedes, one foot in, his hand resting of the doorframe. His eyes were searching the windows.

Ari’s hand darted to the bed lamp and flicked it on and off before Lyla could stop her.

“Ari! How could you?”

All mock contrition now, Ari released the blind as the red car parade spun up the road to Lyla’s house. She smiled. “He wanted to know you saw him.”
“Precisely. And I had no intention—”

“Get a grip, Lyla. Isn’t it romantic? He was searching all the dark windows for you and then, in a flash of light, he knows you know.”

“Arial Palmer, you read too many romance novels.”

The teenager smiled broadly as she made her way to the door, rolling her hips and her eyes. “Shall I get the phone when he calls?” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Tell him you’re not in?”

“Go to bed.”

Ari chuckled. “I want to meet them all.” She closed the door behind her.

Arial’s hope, Lyla’s fear. She didn’t want to meet them all and had flashes of regret that she’d even met one. She lay back down on the bed, put the phone on her stomach. Resting her hands on it, she determined to pick it up at the first hint of a hum.

*  *  *

“Nice place.” It was a mutually murmured comment as they carried their luggage in. T watched as Fletch stood in the center of the living room and acted the part of host. The sofas were made out in the house as well as on the Osprey.

“I can’t believe all of you made it here without the media.” T walked no farther than the piano bench, settling himself down in his proprietary domain. No one would share the bench or touch the keys without his permission, even though he had slowly come to realize the truth of Fletch’s comments. BCA’s house was indeed divided, he was the cause, and he had to both apologize and reestablish control. Unfortunately, he would have to do the former before he could have the latter. The acquisition of the piano bench was perhaps premature and out of order, but he was going for it.

“Well, it wasn’t easy.” Ron sat on the edge of the loveseat bed and started pulling off his biker boots. “The car rental place was so delighted to have me as a guest, they decoyed the media buffoons that spied me.” He pushed the boots under the bed and fell back. “Long drive, Fletch. Next time, let’s bring the bus.” He kicked the sofa.

“I agree.” Bo cracked every vertebra in his back and popped his neck twice. “So we trail some of the dogs here, so what?” He eyed the sleeping arrangements.

“Isn’t there a private landing field anywhere? How about a plane?” Ian fixed Fletch under a harsh stare. “What’s with the camp arrangements?”

T quirked an eyebrow in Fletch’s direction as the manager stood with his hands on his hips and tapped his toe. The band was as cantankerous as ever. What exactly had Fletch thought would happen?

“I thought you guys would enjoy the respite—and the thrill of achieving it on your own.”

“I’m no damn James Bond!” Ian complained. “We sleeping through there?” He pointed his head in the direction of Lyla’s wing of the house.

“And why do we have to sleep alone? Got a new piece of ass,” Bo started and the hoots followed. “Really, just because T here’s been on a starvation diet, shouldn’t mean the rest of us have to be, too.”

“Good God, man,” Ron said, “is the ink even dry on the divorce? I get better odds on the tables in Vegas than how long your women will last.”

T turned slightly to the windows so none of them could see his smile. He listened as Fletch tried to maintain order, irritation finally creeping into his voice. “There’s two berths on the houseboat at the dock, down the bluff. There’s two beds here. I don’t care, go sleep in your cars!”

“Where do you sleep, T?” Ian demanded.

T turned back to them, pointed down their hall. “Got a bed. First come, first serve. And I’m not sharing with you or C.”

“Well, what’s through there?” Ian apparently wasn’t letting go of the possibilities that existed on the other side of Lyla’s double doors.

“The landlady’s rooms,” Fletch explained.

A leer crossed Bo’s features. “She sleep here, too? Young, sexy?” He moved his hips rhythmically. “Old, worn-out? Been getting yourself some, Fletch?”

The rest laughed. Ron dragged out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Fletch got to him before T did. “Outside! No smoking in here!”

“What?” The drummer flicked the lighter closed. “No smoking, no sex, what about beer, booze? Are we all in rehab like the big, bad wolf here?” As one, they looked to the piano. T shrugged and rose.

“No smoking, no sex, plenty of beer, plenty of booze. Just ask the social director here where he’s hidden it.” T strode through them to the kitchen, picked up his cell phone and exited out the utility room door into the garage.

*  *  *

Even though Lyla had fallen asleep she felt the vibration of the first chirp. “Wake you up?”

She smiled. “Little bit.”

“I’d like to wake you up a lot.” The voice was deep, sexy, caressing even through the phone line. “Awfully early for bed.”

She looked at the clock. It was almost one. “Got to open up in four hours. First day of dove season. We always celebrate with early breakfast. It’s a mad house.”

“Oh. That’s a pity. I wanted to talk all night.” She heard his smile.

“No chance.”

“Saw your light.”

“You saw Ari’s light.”

He paused. “You were already asleep? You didn’t watch them arrive?”

“We watched. I got an introduction to each and every one of them. Then Ari switched the light on and off because she’s a romantic at heart.”

“So am I.”

“Run away from your reunion? Or have you already tucked them in?”

“I ran away. The more things change…you know, same old, same old. Need any more clichés? Like, this is where the real mad house is.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“Defending our privacy from some very aggressive reporter.”

“He may not make it then.”

“He’ll be here. The deal he’ll cut is a different matter.”

“You mean, like exclusive interviews? My humble lake cabin on the national news?”

“I hope not, but it’s a real possibility.”

“Where are you?”

“Sitting in the car in the garage.”

“And they haven’t followed you out?”

“Nah. They don’t care that much.”

“I bet they do.”

“Do you?”

“Needing reassurance, huh?”

“Needing you. Now. Desperately.” He drew the word out, ending it in a whisper. “I can close my eyes and imagine you sitting here like last Thursday night. Why don’t you come up and make my dreams come true?”

“You’re horny.”

“Aren’t you?”

She rolled over on her back, stretched, then curled up. “Nah.”

“Lightning’ll strike.”

“Then you’d best get out of the way.”

“It has never ceased to amaze me how women can sound so sexy and talk so dirty over a phone.”

She gave a low laugh. “I think you need to get back to your guests.”

“Not my guests. Fletch’s. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I guess you could.” She eyed the ceiling. “Sam, I need to ask a favor.”

“It’s not a favor, really, Lyla. Making love to you is my pleasure and I hope yours.”

“Elevate your mind. I need to bring Ari up to meet everyone.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say she put two and two together and came up with six, as in sex.”

“Oh. Okay. Warn me first, and I’ll pledge them to good behavior.”

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

“I love it when you talk dirty. I just love you.”

She smiled. “Good night, Sam. I love you, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

S
ally was already behind the counter the next morning when Lyla came down. “Been here long?”

“Just walked in. Spent the night in town with my daughter. There is sure a lot more traffic than I remember having last year.” Lyla opened the oven door for Sally to slide in the first tray of biscuits when the phone rang. It was Red.

“Lyla, we got problems.”

She lifted her eyebrows, signaled for Sally to come listen, too. If there was something she needed to know badly enough for Red to call during dove morning breakfast, Sally would need to know right along with her. They shared the receiver. “What, Red? Dub’s not had a heart attack, has he?”

“Nothing as simple as that. We got reporters and cameramen, and some sassy blonde I’m going strangle, breathing down my neck and insisting there’s an Eddie T and his heavy metal band here in hiding.” Her voice lowered as if she’d turned with the phone to the wall for privacy. Now she was hissing. “They’ve got a whole slew of pictures. Guess who they look like? You know anything about this?”

Lyla wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes. Sally’s mouth dropped open. Oh, Lord, what a mess! Any day but today, she thought as Norm entered and straddled the far end stool, the better to watch everyone else.

“Where’s the coffee, Sally? Make it to go, the dove aren’t going to wait past first light!” he bellowed.

“Lyla, you listening to me?” The hiss continued.

“Yes, I’m listening.” Sally had left the earpiece to tend to Norm. No sense riling him up before his time.

“Well? Should I send them to you?”