Homecoming in November (The Calendar Girls Book 3) (20 page)

I pushed past him, unlocked my front door, and went inside. But this time, I didn’t lock the door behind me. I didn’t peek out the window to see if he lingered there. I simply greeted Midnight and proceeded to go about my life. Like a normal person.

Terri

I knew the minute I slid into the back seat of the limo, I’d made a horrible mistake. Max had a feral look to him, rumpled, unshaven, and his pupils were smaller than my stud earrings.

“Terri!” he shouted, his arms thrown wide. “We are gonna have soooo much fun tooo-night!”

Oh, God, he’s on something stronger than ginger ale
.

I’d seen him in similar circumstances twice before, and while he turned out fine in both instances—even if he did ignore me all night at that house party and fooled me into showing up at a meeting under a trumped-up sob story—I got a stronger sense of pending disaster this time. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and a wave of nausea assailed my stomach.

“We are gonna rock the house!” he exclaimed.

I stayed near the passenger door, my fingers curled around the handle. I don’t know why. The limo had already made it to Montauk Highway and sped along at a clip that would ensure at least a dozen broken bones if I tried to dive out. Still, it might have to be an option. Time would tell. “I thought we were going to an art exhibit.”

“We are; we are.”

“Then, I don’t understand. What’s to rock? Aren’t art exhibits usually quiet? With people studying the paintings or sculptures in the main area and then making offers through the gallery owner in some private back room?” At least, that was the way they were always portrayed in movies and tv shows.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. We’ll be perfectly sedate by the time we get there. Here. I’ve got a way to make it more fun.” He reached onto the lit-up bar behind him and pulled out a piece of aluminum foil and a mini-straw. “Have a hit off this.”

I shook my head. “What is it?”

“Just some stuff to take the edge off. Totally medicinal.” I must have made a face because he added, “Come on, don’t be a stooge. It won’t hurt you. It just makes you miss the booze a little less. It doesn’t have to be addictive, you know. You can chip. You know, take a little when you need it. Like for this snoozefest we’re headed to tonight. This will help take the edge off and make the night tolerable.”

I had no idea what was in that packet of foil, and I didn’t want to find out. “I…umm…you know what? I totally forgot. I have to babysit for a friend tonight. You can just drop me off at the corner, and I’ll walk home from here.”

“Hey! Don’t be like that,” he said through chuckles as he shoved the foil and straw back on the bar. “You don’t want a hit, you don’t have to take a hit. I just thought you might want to try it, you know? I forget you’re a small town girl with a small town brain. Probably terrified of the big, bad Mr. Brownstone. That’s okay. More for me.”

He settled into the cushion, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. For several minutes, I waited, and when he continued to ignore me, I surreptitiously grabbed my cell. After making sure the phone was set to no tones, I typed a simple text to Gary.

Help?

He answered almost immediately.

What’s wrong?

Not sure. I think Max is on something. He’s got aluminum foil and a straw.

Get out! Now!

I can’t. We’re on the highway.

Where you headed?

Art gallery. Westhampton. Don’t know anything else.

Find out where and let me know. When you get there, get away from Max. Hide in the ladies. I’ll come get you.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I looked up to see Max staring at me, his face a mask of fury.

I had to think fast. “I told you, I was supposed to babysit for a friend. I was texting her to let her know I wouldn’t be there.”

“Bull. Let me see.”

“No.” Instinctively, I cupped my bandaged palm around the screen.

“Let…me…see.” Before I realized what he planned, he’d yanked the phone out of my hand.

“Hey!” I struggled to reach it, but he extended his arm in the opposite direction, keeping me about a foot away from my one and only lifeline. “Give me that!”

Craning his neck while holding me back with his other hand pinned to my shoulder, he managed to catch enough of the conversation on the screen to know I wasn’t texting about a babysitting cancellation. With a malevolent smile on his face, he pressed the button to roll down the car window.

Wind whipped through my hair, but I didn’t care about my bangs flying in my eyes. “Max, please. Don’t do it.”

That twisted smile remained as he casually dangled my phone outside of the car and then, let it drop.

“Nooooo!” I whirled in the seat to stare out the back window as the massive SUV behind us crushed my poor cell under its weight. While my heart sank past my feet, I turned my anger on the villain beside me. “Have you lost your frickin’ mind?”

“Relax. I’ll buy you another phone tomorrow.”

“That’s not the point. You can’t go around destroying someone else’s property on a whim.”

“I can, when my guest for the evening uses that property to rudely ignore me while she texts another guy.”

“Are you insane?
You
were ignoring
me
.”

“Was I? Oops.” He giggled. Seriously. Giggled. High-pitched and downright creepy.

Once again,my panic button flashed red. “Max, it’s not funny.”

“Sure it is. Look, I’m sorry about your phone, but you ticked me off. I’ll get you another. For now, let’s just forget about this and have a good time tonight. Okay?”

No, it wasn’t okay. But what choice did I have? I’d have to wait ‘til we got to the gallery to come up with an escape plan. I turned away from Max, keeping my gaze on the storefronts whizzing by while my brain registered familiar landmarks. I still had every intention of getting away from this man as soon as possible. So what if he’d just made “possible” even harder for me? I’d figure out a way to get in touch with Gary and hide in the ladies room until he could come get me. Whatever charm Max Trayham once held over me had been crushed under the tires of a strange SUV on Montauk Highway. No amount of mystery substance in foil would make me crazy enough to ever have anything to do with him again. The man was deranged. Damaged. Maybe both.

The limousine pulled up near the main stretch of shops in Westhampton in front of a white storefront with large glass windows. Inside, a crowd milled around various paintings, sipping wine and nibbling on cheese cubes. I looked over the people with a sense of purpose. Someone there had to have a phone I could borrow.

“This is it?” I asked, my fingers perched to grab the door handle. “This is the place? The Paloma Gallery?”

“I guessh sho,” Max mumbled with a noticeable slur.

I didn’t bother to reprimand him. At this point, all I wanted was to get inside, throw myself on the mercy of a stranger with a working cell phone, and call Gary with my location so he could come get me. I kept repeating the name, Paloma Gallery, in my head, along with the building number: 425.

For over an hour, I tried. But Max never left my side, which, was, of course my luck, since this time I wanted him to leave me alone at one of his social events. I couldn’t get near the bathroom, which wasn’t a multi-stalled ladies room, but a simple one-room toilet and sink that forced all the guests to line up to use the facilities one at a time. Although the paintings were hideous and obvious ripoffs of that guy, Lichtenstein, a fact even I, with my absolute ignorance of modern art, recognized, I considered making an offer on one, in the hope the gallery owner would pull me into her private office where I could use the phone.

Max and I were making our umpteenth stroll around the room when a uniformed police officer came inside and headed straight for the gallery owner. I stared at the price tag listed underneath the smallest, most innocuous piece I’d come across, a vivid yellow, red, and blue cartoonish image of a woman putting on lipstick. Twelve thousand dollars. I was calculating how many organs I’d have to sell on the black market to raise that much cash when the same policeman strode over to where I stood with Max.

“Miss O’Mara?” he whispered.

I flinched. “Huh?” Well, crap. This night had gone from dangerous to criminal. “Yes. I’m Terri O’Mara.”

“I need you to come with me, please.”

Come with him where? Oh, God. Had Max set me up to take the fall for whatever he had in the aluminum foil out in the car? “Is something wrong?” Why didn’t he arrest Max instead of me?

“It’s better if we talk outside, if you don’t mind.”

Talk. About what? Why would a cop want to talk to me? A terrifying thought came to mind. Had something happened to Aunt Andrea or Uncle Larry? They would’ve tried to reach me by cell, but
somebody
had made that simple contact impossible. I glared at Max, my fury rising. If my aunt or uncle was in serious danger, and I missed helping them because of this selfish…
child
, I’d find a way to get even, if it took the next thirty years and every dime I had.

At least, if the cop was here to arrest me, I’d finally get my phone call. Who needed a twelve thousand dollar escape when a cop would bust me out of here for free? Now I could sell my organs to pay for vengeance against Max. I’d see him broke, abandoned, and with all his fans gone instead.

“Miss?” the officer prompted. “Outside, if you please.”

“Is it my uncle? Or my aunt? Are they okay?”

“Yes, miss. As far as I know. At least, that’s not why I’m here. I’d suggest you step outside so we can discuss this in private.”

At his questionable reassurance, I shook off some of my fear and dared a glance around the room. Everyone had forgotten the paintings and stared at me and this cop.

“Go on, Terri,” Max said. “I’ll come bail you out after I’m done here.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” I replied through clenched teeth. “But I think I’ll be better off without your help.”

With a nod, I allowed the policeman to lead me outside.

I stepped into the chilly night when a familiar voice said to me, “You didn’t call me back so I ordered reinforcements.”

“Gary!” I raced toward him, never so grateful to see this man than I was at that moment. When he opened his arms, I flung myself into him. “Ohmigod, thank you! How did you find me? And why’d you call the police? Not that I’m not grateful because I didn’t know how I was going to—”

His mouth came down on mine, cutting off my relief-induced rambling. I didn’t fight him. Instead, I gave myself over to the pleasure his lips evoked. Baking wasn’t the only artistic skill this guy picked up in Paris. He kissed with the same passion he put into his pastries.
Viva La France
.

“Ahem!”

Gary and I broke apart like two kids caught by the high school principal.

“I’m guessing you don’t need me anymore,” the officer said.

“Take a hike, Tom. Thanks for your help.”

“You got it. Don’t forget the torte for Thanksgiving, and we’ll be even.”

“Trust me. For what you did for me tonight, I’ll create a torte that’ll send your in-laws to heaven.”

The officer grinned and gave a smart salute. “Then I’m outta here. Terri, it’s nice to meet you. Try not to run off again without telling Gary where you are. I’ve never seen him get so panicky before.”

I wasn’t about to allow the slightest tarnish on my knight in shining armor. “Not nearly as panicky as I was. I don’t know who you are or how you found me, but thank you.”

“Tom Sharpe, SCPD, part-time baseball coach and finder of lost girlfriends.”

I laughed. “Well, this girlfriend is eternally grateful. You saved my life. Truly.” I snuggled closer to Gary. “So did you. How’d you know where I was?”

“I went online and checked for modern art exhibits scheduled in Westhampton tonight. This was the second out of four Tom was gonna hafta check. Why didn’t you call me back?”

I told him about Max throwing my phone out the window, and had to hold him back from storming into the gallery to drag the cretin out so he could beat the snot out of him.

“Don’t. He’s not worth you going to jail. I’m done with Max and all his problems. Honest. I still can’t believe he tried to get me to try…” I didn’t know what he’d tried to get me to try. “…whatever he had in that foil.”

“My guess would be heroin.”

“Heroin?” I screeched my shock.

Tom turned from climbing into his car. “What was that?”

“Easy,” Gary murmured and waved a hand at his friend. “Heroin with an e,” he lied. “I just told Terri she reminded me of one of those old time movie heroines who needs to be rescued from the railroad tracks.”

Tom chuckled. “You oughta know better, Sullivan. That’s not going to make her grateful for your help.”

Gary hauled me up against his waist. “She’ll forgive me. Won’t you,
ma puce
?”

“Kiss me again,” I demanded, tilting my head to meet him halfway. “Then take me home.”

♥♥♥♥

Jayne

When my phone rang the next day, I assumed Iggy was calling me to fill me in on his mom’s condition. Imagine my surprise to see Paige’s name pop up on my screen.