Better Off Dead in Deadwood (11 page)

She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a hairbrush and compact mirror. “Word backstage is that he’s trying to grab the attention of a few bigger theatre companies to propel his career, so he won’t accept anything less than perfection on stage and off. Today was our trial costume and makeup run. He had us go through in shifts so he could inspect the costumes one at a time. This coming week, we’ll start rehearsing in full makeup and costume.”

“What’s your part?” I asked.

“The maid of honor.”

“Always a bridesmaid, never a bride,” Jerry said, watching Mona pull off her hairband and brush through her auburn locks.

“Maid of honor?” I said. “But you’re a zombie. I don’t get it. What’s the play?”

Mona inspected her hair in the mirror then tugged on the loose flap of skin half-stuck to her cheek. “It’s called ‘Better Off Wed,’ only the word ‘Wed’ is crossed off and replaced with ‘Dead.’ It’s a zombie wedding musical.”

I gaped at her. “Like with singing and dancing?”

She nodded and snapped the compact closed. “Jane had a solo performance in one of the songs at one point, which I’m not thrilled about, but for her I’ll give it my best. She was a much better singer than I am.” Her milky eyes grew watery. She turned away from both Jerry and me, grabbing the black duffel bag sitting on the floor by her desk. “I’m going to go wash this stuff off and change.”

I watched her walk away until the bathroom door shut. Then I turned to Jerry. “I’m sorry about that screaming business.” I waved toward the back hall. “I didn’t expect to run into a zombie at work.”

“As opposed to on the street where they belong.” He grinned. “What a day. Burned cookies and zombies.”

At least he didn’t know about Harvey and his closet nookie. That was Reid’s and my secret, along with the pain I’d seen ripple across Reid’s face when I’d told him the truth about Aunt Zoe’s romantic interest in her date last night.

“Is life always this entertaining here in Deadwood?” Jerry asked.

Besides the murders, ghosts, mediums, and albinos? “No. It just has your normal, small town fun.”

He stood and stretched all the way up. I crooked my neck to see if he could tickle the high, tin-plated ceiling. Not quite. Damn, he was big. Where had Jane found him? Why had they split? I’d have to ask Mona. Judging from her actions and his words, she’d known him for a while.

“Are we ready to get our ‘huddle’ on?” I asked, wanting to get his critique of today’s open house and my lack of success over and done.

He shook his head. “No. You look like hell, Violet.”

Ouch. I cringed. He could use some coaching on his delivery.

“How about we skip the huddle,” he continued. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

I wasn’t going to fight him on that. All I wanted to do was go home, put on my pajamas, grab the half-gallon of peanut butter fudge ice cream from the freezer, and slip into a dairy coma on the couch while Humphrey Bogart filled the screen. On second thought, skip the ice cream and bring on that tequila.

Thinking of Bogart made my chest ache for Natalie, my fellow Bogart groupie. I wished she’d give me a chance to explain what had happened with Doc. That I didn’t want to hurt her, but I couldn’t stop myself from playing with fire even while knowing I was going to get good and burned. After the whole mess with Doc and Jeff and the kids yesterday, what degree burn was yet to be determined.

I collected my purse from my desk drawer, my knees no longer knocking when I stood. “Tomorrow it is.”

Jerry walked me to the back door, holding it open for me.

“Oh, Violet,” he said as I stepped out into the warm, late afternoon breeze. “Do you know a Benjamin Underhill?”

A feeling of dread fell like an anvil, landing in the bottom of my gut.

Benjamin was Ray’s nephew, who also happened to be a real estate agent—the very agent that Ray had been trying to replace me with for the last three months. Because Jane had hired me instead of Ben, Ray had had it in for me since my first day on the job. His continued attempts over the months to get me fired had helped our relationship remain thorny.

I’d actually gone to dinner twice with Ben. He was the kind of guy my mom would hook me up with—one who pulled out chairs and held doors and never claimed to smell ghosts. While I liked Ben in a let’s-just-stay-peers way, his name on Jerry’s lips roused my fear of being kicked to the curb.

“Sure, I know Ben. He’s Ray’s nephew. Why do you ask?”

Please don’t say you’re hiring him.

“I’m meeting Ray and him later for dinner.”

Ray!
That rat bastard!

I tried my best not to let my loathing for Ray spill out through my eyes. “Oh, yeah?”

“What can you tell me about Benjamin Underhill? Is he a team player?”

“A team player?” I repeated his question, stalling.

I didn’t want to slander Ben. He’d never been anything but nice to me, although a little creepy with his undivided attention at times. On the other hand, Jerry getting chummy with Ben could mean the end of my job at Calamity Jane’s, especially if Cornelius wasn’t able to come up with the funds for the hotel deal and I was suddenly a one-sale agent again.

“I haven’t worked with Ben enough to answer that.” I decided dodging and weaving was my best strategy this early in the game since Jerry might be testing me on some level.

“All right. I’ll find out for myself tonight.” Jerry pointed at me. “Tomorrow, let’s talk about your future with Calamity Jane Realty.”

I’d rather lick a doorknob. “I’m looking forward to it.”

* * *

Aunt Zoe met me at the door when I got home. Tonight she wore a long blue bohemian style skirt and a flowing white cotton top with blue diamonds embroidered on it. With her hair pulled back in a braid threaded with rhinestones and her cowboy boots polished, she had me whistling and cat-calling as I circled her.

“Another date with Mr. Wyoming?” I asked, catching a whiff of the exotic scent of her expensive perfume.

“We’re heading down to Rapid tonight. May even do some dancing.”

“You really like this guy, huh?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

As fond as I’d grown of Reid, I wanted to see Aunt Zoe happy. However, I couldn’t resist testing to see if she really was done with the fire captain.

“I saw Reid today. He asked who your friend was at the lounge last night.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s none of his damned business.” She grabbed her purse off the side table. “And you can tell him I said that next time he tries to nose into my life.”

I guess she was done. “Okay.”

“I’m not going back down that road again.” She started out the door, came back and kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart. I want to hear about your open house at Cooper’s. Tell me tomorrow over breakfast?”

“Sure. Have a fun night.” I waited until she’d climbed into her pickup to close the door. “Sorry, Reid,” I said. I went to see what my children were into, and if I could get a piece of the action.

Hours later, after feeding the kids some pepperoni pizza for supper, I sneaked upstairs and tried calling Doc for the third time. It kicked to voicemail after several rings. I hung up without leaving a message, just as I had before, and tossed my cell phone onto the bed. I needed to talk to Doc, not his voicemail. Besides, what I wanted to say shouldn’t be recorded.

My phone buzzed, announcing a text message. I grabbed it, hoping it was Natalie replying to my message about the cookie disaster at Cooper’s open house.

Nope—it was Doc:
Hi, Trouble.

I typed back:
Where are you?

Cooper’s.

What? Why?

Playing poker.

For real? I frowned, not liking Doc carousing with the law. There must not be any ghosts hanging out in Cooper’s house. Hell, the gun lamp had probably scared them away.

Before I could reply, another text came in:
Cooper says to tell you no texting during poker. Gotta go.

“Cooper can shove it,” I told my phone and stuffed it in my sweat jacket pocket. A glance at the clock got me moving. Both kids had homework to finish before bed.

After cracking the whip, we watched a little TV, then brushed teeth and climbed into bed—well, they did, not me. I waited another hour before pulling the bottle of aged tequila down from the cupboard above the fridge. I didn’t waste time with a glass, just leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped from the bottle. Staring at Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar, I drank the smooth tasting liquor.

“You’re lucky, Betty,” I told Miss Boop, pointing at her with the bottle. “You get to eat all of the cookies you want and you still look sexy.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“I used to be able to pull off wearing a bustier like yours, but having kids really messed up my fun-bags.” I took another hit of tequila and then pulled my phone from my pocket.

Doc had texted again:
I want to talk to you.

I replied:
You still at Cooper’s?

No. I’m standing on your back porch watching you talk to the cookie jar.

Oh! I looked at the back door. On the other side of the glass, Doc beckoned me outside with his index finger.

I pocketed my phone, set the tequila on the counter, and opened the door, shutting it and the screen quietly behind me. “What are you doing back here?”

Doc stood in the deep shadows, nothing more than a dark silhouette. “Being quiet on a school night.”

“Where’s your car?”

“At home. I walked. After all of the cigar smoke at Cooper’s, fresh air appealed.”

I crossed my arms, wanting to touch him but following his Joe-cool lead. “So you’re one of Cooper’s poker buddies now, huh?”

“Does that bother you?”

“A little. I don’t trust him not to whip out his handcuffs and haul me off to jail at any moment just because he feels like it.”

“You want to know what bothers me?”

“What?”

“You screaming your head off today and scaring the hell out of me.”

I grimaced. “Sorry about that. Mona really freaked me out.”

“I’m not talking about your verbal reaction to Mona.”

“What are you talking about then?”

“The panic I saw in your eyes.”

“I thought I was hallucinating.”

“When I saw you, I wanted to do this.” He reached out and captured my elbow, tugging me into the shadows with him where he enfolded me in his arms. “But I couldn’t. Not with an audience.
That’s
what really bothered me.”

I leaned my forehead against his chest. The faint odor of cigar smoke mixed with his cologne soothed away the day’s rough edges, taking care of what the tequila hadn’t. “I definitely could have used some of this right about then.”

He lifted my chin, tipping my head back. I tried to see his face, but the shadows were too deep.

“Then you sat there in your chair, trying to hide your trembling.”

“God, don’t remind me. I felt like such an idiot for overreacting,” I said.

His mouth touched mine, gentle, soft, slow; his lips caressed mine, taking their time. My heart rolled over and splayed out like a good puppy, vulnerable, smitten, his to treasure or crush. That couldn’t be good. I moaned.

He pulled back. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”

“Was it worth the wait?”

“I don’t know.” He walked me backwards until I was pressed against the side of the house. “I’m going to need to try it again to tell.” Capturing my wrists together in one hand, he held them hostage above my head against the siding. His eyes glittered from the feeble light coming through the back door window. “Now what’s this about me being short, little woman?”

I smiled up at him. “My new boss has several inches on you.”

“I noticed.” His lips moved along my jaw, teasing me with feathery kisses. “He looks familiar. I’ve seen him somewhere before.”

My body swayed toward him, wanting more contact. “Maybe you saw him visiting Jane before I came to town.”

Doc had been living in Deadwood about eight months before I moved up from Rapid.

“No,” he said. “Somewhere else.”

“I think he’s from the eastern side of the state.”

His free hand glided along the back of my neck, his body pressing mine into the house. “I don’t want to talk about your boss anymore.”

“So shut me up then,” I said, wrapping my leg around his thigh.

He obliged, plundering my mouth, the easy warmth between us now a sizzling fervor.

“You taste like tequila,” he said when his lips blazed a trail across my cheek. His hand slid down my neck, his palm covering my breast. “I want to drip lime juice on my favorite parts, sprinkle on some salt, and start licking.”

My head swooned and not just in a lovesick way. I had a feeling the tequila I’d downed while talking to Betty Boop was catching up with me, and Doc’s kisses weren’t helping my ability to remain vertical.

Doc let go of my wrists and stepped back, slipping free of my leg hold. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“I know.” Groaning, I slid down the wall, aching. “The kids might hear us.”

“And your aunt.”

“She’s on a date.” I peeked up at him. “We could sneak upstairs to my bed.”

“It squeaks.”

“How do you know that?” He hadn’t been in my bedroom yet.

“I heard it the other night when you were talking to me on the phone,” he said.

“You were paying attention to the bed’s springs?”

“I was imagining you naked on it.”

“Really? What were we talking about?” I didn’t remember getting heated up like I usually did when he started telling where he wanted to touch and how.

“You were asking me what kind of car you should buy when you get the commission from Cornelius’s sale.”

I giggled. “And you were thinking about me naked right then?”

“Violet, I think about you naked ninety percent of the time I’m talking to you, in person or on the phone.”

“What about the other ten percent?”

“You’re wearing something lacy.”

A loud laugh escaped from my throat before I could corral it.

Doc covered my mouth with his hand. “Shhh.”