Deconstructing Lila (Entangled Select) (4 page)

“Deeds?” she asked in a whisper.

“Basement, room 35.”

F
rom Miss Pru’s journal concerning politics and bribery:

I am not anything special.

The mayor took the liberty of reminding me of this today, as he sat in my parlor.

On the surface he seems harmless enough. Of average height and build, he has rugged features lined from years squinting across hot Texas hillsides. A hardworking, decent man, one would assume.

But a puritanical fire burns in his eyes, lighting him from within. The fire burned bright today. I knew to guard my words and actions closely.

One of the newer girls carefully rubbed his shoulders, trying in her own way to diffuse the tension in the air.

I may not have the fire of the righteous, but when backed into a corner by a lawman such as he, one who regularly pretends to be against the very evil he promotes, yes, even takes money from those he objects to, I do well defending my own.

I am aware my place is not the only fancy house operating on this end of Hell’s Half Acre, as the mayor was so kind to remind me. Houses like mine are allowed to operate as a necessary evil to control men’s baser urges and keep the community safe.

There are other hurdy-gurdy girls, and one or two madams paying the mayor for the privilege, but I can admit none possess the presence of mind to treat customers with the genuine respect or courtesy as I do.

I digress. Back to the mayor.

“There’s an election in the fall, Prudence.”

“But your term is not expired yet, Mayor. Surely you are not announcing an early retirement?” This I also knew. Politics in a small town could mean death to a woman in my business. It paid to be aware.

He chuckled, for the moment indulgent in what he assumed was my ignorance.

“Not by a long shot. But a new sheriff will be elected and you might not have it as easy as you have under the old.”

I had been following the town’s call for a new man to clean up the streets of the Acre. Rounding up girls and saloonkeepers would solve the problem for a few hours, but the sheriff could not keep them in jail forever. And once they were let go, back down to the Acre they would come.

Surely the townspeople knew as I did, the lawmen bent on ridding the area of vice were the very same corrupt men allowing the practice to continue. And making a nice profit in the process!

No. It took something more than arrests to clean up the Acre. It would take something the townsfolk did not want to do. It would take getting their hands dirty and working to reform the people they wanted to incarcerate.

But the new sheriff would not be elected for months; we all had until the fall. Time enough to determine a course of action when the new man was elected.

“What would you suggest, Mr. Mayor? That we leave the Acre? Run like rats to infest another town?” He did not want us to leave any more than I did. He simply wanted more money.

“Now, dammit all, Prudence. That’s not what I’m suggesting. Leave it to a woman to jump the gun and start puttin’ words in my mouth. I mean for us to come to a new agreement with the sheriff. We got a system here and we want to keep it.”

Neither his greed nor his plans for further corruption shocked me. He had been the mayor for all the years I had lived in Hannington, and I imagined he would be here years after I was gone.

It was not a comforting thought. “All right. What do you suggest?”

What he said next did shock me.

“Word is, you’ve got the ear of that rich cattleman, Pierce. I figure we can use that to our advantage.”

No. Not Luke. A lump lodged in my throat and it was difficult forming the objection when all I wanted to do was rail at the mayor.

“Mr. Pierce has come into the saloon once or twice, but we are nothing more than acquaintances—”

“Now you’re being modest, Prudence. That ain’t like ya. I heard you and Pierce was cozy, you’ve even been out to his ranch.”

Dear Lord. I knew nothing good could come of my association with Luke Pierce. I knew at some point I would bring the man grief. I just did not know it would be in the form of the mayor.

I bit the words out, hurrying to have the wretched man gone from my parlor. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Hold up there, girl. We don’t want to get ahead of ourselves. You just keep being cozy with Pierce and I’ll let you know when the time’s right.”

“Or what?” I had to know if this was his idea of an ultimatum or simply torture. The man was known for both.

“Now, Prudence, don’t start getting yourself upset. We got a few months before the election. Sit tight.”

He stood, disentangling himself from the arms of my girl. “I’ll be back later to finish this.” He slapped her cheek playfully and smiled, revealing the charisma that continued to get him elected term after term.

“Behave yourself, Prudence. And stick close to Pierce. He’s our ticket to winning over the new sheriff.”

He let himself out through the front door, and as I watched him disappear from view, the thought occurred to me I was in real trouble.

For the first time, thoughts of the well-being of a man took precedence over myself and my girls. I was growing very fond of Luke Pierce. Very fond.

Lesson Number Four —

Stand up for yourself. Do not let folk railroad you or make you feel bad. Have pride in who you are and what you do, and the people trying to bring you down to their level will admire you. So will your man.

Chapter Six

J
ake glanced up from his spreadsheet in time to see Casler slam the door on the tiny construction site trailer. The force rocked the mobile rectangle on wheels, and he felt a sway under his feet.

“You plan on staying pissed all day?” he asked Casler. Ever since the run in with Lila, the carpenter had been irritable.

Casler threw his tool belt on the couch adjacent to Jake’s desk and rooted around in the mini-fridge. Finding nothing but bottled water and Gatorade, he settled on the water.

“I might.” He ripped the plastic cap off, throwing it behind his back where it landed in the sink.

“You want to take it easy? The maid’s not due back for another couple of years.”

He purposely ignored Jake and plopped down on the sagging couch, where he sat for several minutes, stewing. Jake let him simmer and went back to his budget.

Finally: “You wanna give me this sofa? I’ll pay you five dollars for it.”

“You wanna tell me what has you in such a foul mood? I’ve had to soothe hurt feelings all afternoon because of you, and I’m about damn tired of playing everyone’s mama.”

Casler had been sharp with the guys. Not overly harsh, but enough to keep them on their toes.

“I can’t believe you kept the little woman hidden from me all these years. Kinda shocks the system to find out your best friend is actually a married wingman.”

Jake uncrossed his arms, throwing his pen on the desk. He stretched back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. So that was it. Casler felt bad for talking about his wife.

A lot of people would never know it looking at him, but Casler was fierce when it came to treating women with courtesy and respect. And he obviously thought he’d disrespected Jake’s wife.

“Probably never. And don’t worry, man, you didn’t disrespect me. Or my wife.”

Casler frowned in response to the revelation and smoothed his long hair, which he kept tied back.

He didn’t want to talk about it, but he owed Casler some kind of explanation. They’d been friends too long. “We’ve been over for a long time. Over before I met you. So there’s nothing to bring up. She hasn’t been back here for a while. Her family typically goes out to Dallas to visit her.”

“Right.” Casler slouched farther down on the couch, stretching his legs out until they almost reached the opposite door. “Just try to keep me informed of the really important shit. You know, like any hot wives I shouldn’t hit on, or a stack of bricks getting ready to crush my melon.”

Jake still sat with his hands folded behind his head, impatience flaring his nostrils. Now he was getting pissed. He hated explaining himself. “What is it you want to know? You want the dirt on who left who?”

Casler slapped his thigh and leaned forward. “Hell, no. That’s your business. I just hated making an ass out of myself by talking about your wife the way I did.”

“You’re always an ass. This wasn’t a special occasion.”

“Cool. So what’s the story?” He took a pull off the water bottle, settled back again, and crossed his ankles.

“I thought you said it was my business.”

“It is, but I thought I’d hit you up while you were feeling all fragile and shit.”

Jake lowered his hands and sat up straight at his desk. “Since we’re feeling so
chummy
, why don’t you tell me about Threasa Thompson?”

Casler blinked, confused. “What can I tell you? Nice girl, but her sister’s a bitch.”

Jake leaned his elbows on the desk blotter and tipped forward in his chair. “Have you ever looked at Threasa?”

“Sure. I looked at her today in the Dairy Queen.”

Jake shook his head.

“What?”

“What was she wearing?”

Casler threw his empty plastic bottle in the sink alongside its cap. “Clothes. A hat. I don’t know.”

“That’s right, John. You don’t know. When was the last time you went out with a nice woman? And not the ones you pick up over at Ferrill’s Lounge.”

“Is there such a thing? A nice woman?”

“Stop changing the subject. Dating. When did you date last?”

Casler pushed himself up off the couch, clearly uncomfortable with the direction change in the conversation.

“Christ, Jake. Men our age don’t date.” He paced to the sink, grabbing his bottle up and crushing it flat. “You don’t date,” he said, pointing at him. “And why the hell are you asking me about Threasa Thompson?”

“I’m wondering if you take any time to appreciate all the beauty you have in front of you. Like Threasa, for example. The woman is hot. She’s built like a runway model. Miles of leg.”

“You been checking her out?” Casler said, incredulous.

“I’m not dead.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Jake pushed back from his desk and stood, his budget forgotten. “So, are you going to ask her out?”

Casler jerked his tool belt off the couch and slung it around his hips. “Hell, no.”

Jake pushed past him, headed for the door and the freedom of the open site. With his hand on the handle, he turned and looked straight into Casler’s eyes. Just because he’d thrown away an opportunity for a happily ever after like a stupid bastard didn’t mean Casler had to, too. And now that Lila was home, regret and second-guessing hounded him like starved mosquitoes with the scent of blood.

“You’re a dumbass. Maybe she’s better off pining for you.”

“E
xcuse me?” Lila raised her voice, trying to get the attention of the records clerk behind the four-foot wall of institutional filing cabinets.

The sign on the outer door indicated the office closed in five minutes, and Lila needed to get the property owner’s name today.
Right now
.

The sweater-clad woman, quietly filing, didn’t respond.

Was she deaf? Or was Lila being ignored? Figures, the first time to dress down in shorts and a T-shirt, and her corporate kick-ass clothes might have gotten her the attention she desperately needed.

Trying a second time, Lila raised her voice even louder. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

“Hey now! What’s happening over here?”

A man in his early fifties with a large belly only slightly larger than his belt buckle stepped into the basement office waving a filing folder full of papers.

Maybe he could get the woman’s attention. He looked like he knew his way around. “I need help finding a deed before the office closes. I’ve been trying to get someone to wait on me, but so far I haven’t had any luck.”

“Well, come on back here then, and let’s talk to Carol.” He led the way around the formidable row of cabinets until he stood in the clerk’s line of sight.

The woman looked up, her gaze slowly focusing on the two in front of her. She appeared unconcerned with the strangers in her domain.

“Carol, this young lady needs some help!” he shouted. Lila wasn’t sure if he shouted for Carol’s benefit, or if it was because he was the shouting type. He looked like the shouting type, in a “TV minister wearing shiny cowboy boots” sort of way.

Carol reached up behind her ear and adjusted her hearing aid.

This seemed to frustrate Lila’s savior. He slapped the filing folder full of paper against his jean-clad thigh. “Miss Carol!” he began in a voice strong enough to be heard in the back rows of the biggest cavernous church in the city. “It’s not five yet. You’re not supposed to shut down until”—he stopped in mid-sentence, pointing dramatically at the large steel wall clock hanging over the doorway—“the clock says five o’clock.”

The pronouncement didn’t seem to rattle Miss Carol one bit. She ignored the man and turned to Lila. “What’cha need, missy?”

Apparently, the man wasn’t satisfied with Carol’s customer service, because he dug his heels in—all two inches of them—and glowered at the both of them.

“I need to find a deed on the old general store next door. I would like to—”

“Carrie Goodwin owns that building. Or she did. The city condemned it and we’re tearing it down tomorrow.”

Lila looked from Carol to the evangelical cowboy. He’d said “we” are tearing it down.

She had a bad feeling about the situation.

“What do you mean ‘we’ are tearing it down?”

Carol suddenly perked up. Whether it was the clock striking five or the possibility there was about to be a yelling match, Lila didn’t know, but the woman came to life, her eyes wide-open and focused.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Her lack of townie status had already been established with the guard in the foyer. She didn’t feel like repeating the process again.

“Look, I need to stop the demolition on that building. Who do I talk to to make that happen?”

Carol’s face lit up and she practically clapped her hands like a schoolkid on the verge of summer vacation.

“Well, that would be me,” Cowboy said. “But I can tell you right now that building is coming down. No one is saving it.” He delivered the news with folded arms and narrowed brown eyes.

Who the hell did this guy think he was, the town dictator?

“I want to buy it.” She met his frosty gaze, mirroring his posture. Though she didn’t look the part currently, Lila used her best don’t-mess-with-me-Dallas-bitch voice. “Now.”

He didn’t bat an eyelash. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean I can’t? The sign says I have until tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately, the courthouse is closed for the day.” He nodded arrogantly at Carol and then looked pointedly at the open door.

Lila didn’t move a muscle.

“You’ll have to come back in the morning.”

Lila wouldn’t leave until the matter was settled in her favor. She’d camp out here all night if she had to. Miss Pru’s was not going to lose one tiny, scarred old brick on her watch.

“No. I’m here now. And since you seem to be the man making decisions around here, you can just tell me why you’re blocking the sale of that building to a willing buyer.”

People passing by the records room stopped to listen. Lila could make out a gathering crowd of three or four excited, animated faces hovering in the entryway.

Either Mr. Preacher-in-Boots didn’t care or he liked the attention. Probably the latter, the show-off. Either way, it pissed Lila off. She just wanted to find the owner of Miss Pru’s and buy the damn thing. Not confront good ole boys at the county courthouse during what should be Miller Time.

“Sweetie, I don’t have to explain anything to you. You’re not one of my constituents.”

One of his constituents? Who was this guy? “Pretty sure of yourself. Mind telling me your name so I’ll know who to vote against when you come up for reelection?”

“This here’s Mayor Armstrong.” Carol chose that moment to slip into the conversation, delivering Lila the unexpected blow.

The mayor
? Man, she knew how to pick ’em.

“I’ll remember that when I slip behind the curtain to cast my vote.”

He puffed his chest out and arched a brow, holding his ground like an overfed dog that has no idea he’s too fat to fight.

“So that’s it?” she asked him after several seconds. “You’re going to tear down a building despite the fact that I’m willing to buy it, fix it up, and return it to the town’s tax base?”

“You must be a genius, miss, because you’ve finally got the point. Now, if there’s nothin’ else I can clarify for you, I’ve got a city council meeting in an hour.”

And he turned and strutted in the direction of council chambers.

“What an ass,” Lila murmured under her breath. Carol couldn’t hear her anyway.

“We call him Mayor Assface,” Carol said, trying to swallow her laughter at Lila’s surprise.

Lila felt a smile coming on even though she was mad enough to bring down the courthouse. “How did he get elected?” she asked Carol.

“His father was the mayor for twenty-five years and when he retired, he passed the torch to Howard. Folks around here don’t like too much change, so they figured one Armstrong was as good as another.”

Carol did a good job of keeping the sarcasm to a minimum, but Lila got the impression she’d never voted for Howard Armstrong.

“So what do I do now, Carol? Do I have any recourse here?” Lila was too far out of her comfort zone here in Hannington. Back in Dallas, she knew who to call at city hall, and what attorneys to hire to get things done. She ate little men like Howard Armstrong for breakfast. But that was there, and she was here. Time to call in backup.

Carol pushed her heavy tortoiseshell-rim glasses higher up her nose and looked up and down the counter to make sure she wasn’t overheard.

“If a person were to circumvent the mayor through a real estate attorney, it might get the process started back up. There are other parties involved in the disposition of the property and he can’t make the final decision until everyone has been notified and responded.”

The smile she fought earlier turned into a full-blown grin. “I bet you can recommend an attorney for me, right?”

Miss Carol winked and retrieved a business card from her desk.

“Carol, you’re a sweetheart. And severely underpaid, I’m sure. If you ever want another job, come talk to me please. I could use someone like you on my side here in Hannington.”

“You’re a Gentry, right?”

Uh-oh. Lila felt her joy skidding to a halt. “Barbara is my grandmother. I’m Lila.”

“That’s what I thought. I just wanted to know your name so that when I come looking for that job, I know who to ask for.”

Carol closed the drawer on the cabinet. “If you go now,” she said, checking her watch, “you’ll be able to catch Rose Garner leaving her office. She has to pick up her kids at the day care in a few.”

Rose Garner. Her old friend.

This was going to be fun.