On Tour (18 page)

Carol called as we neared Annapolis to ask me to meet her at Greene's that afternoon to go over some business issues, and to prepare for my first day on site at Personal Manufacturing. "By the way," she grumbled, "I already returned that death-trap you rented. My neck's been killing me all day from sitting hunched over the wheel on the way back. I don't care if it does get 50 miles to the gallon. I'd rather walk."

I promised to meet her at four and bring her car.

As we pulled up to my condo on Calvert Street, Max let out a happy bark, and I felt a strong sense of relief. I'd missed this place. It was located in an older section of west Annapolis. Nearly a hundred years old, the large, boxy house had been sectioned into condos a few years back and had quickly become a casualty of the real estate boom. I bought the one-bedroom place for a reasonable price a few years ago. Parking was always a problem during the summer, but Mark had managed to snag a prime spot for my Honda before he left on the boat.

I saw Mrs. Kester's curtain flutter. I heaved a big sigh. She was the worst neighbor in the world. She wasn't just nosy; she hated me. She'd actually put a hex on me. And while I wasn't particularity superstitious, I'd taken to wearing a feather necklace as a talisman that the salesperson had assured me would protect me against further hexes. Only I'd forgotten to wear the necklace today.

A couple of local reporters who must've staked out the street shoved microphones in our faces and snapped pictures as we unloaded our things and headed for the front door. We both murmured "no comment" to their questions and hurried up the walkway. "I was expecting worse," Mark said as we reached the door. "Guess Andre and Marsha's story is taking center stage now."

"I'm good with that."

An unmistakable voice came through the open window of Mrs. Kester's condo. "There's my Queenie Baby! Home at last!"

What the heck? "Uncle Grover?" I called through the window. Mark groaned.

We walked onto the landing, and Mrs. Kester's door swung open. My Uncle Grover was wearing a seersucker suit and a jaunty yellow hat. Mrs. Kester stood behind him, a disapproving frown on her wrinkled face.

"Give me a hug, my girl." He enveloped me in his arms. "The others will be so jealous that I got to see you first." He laughed.

"Hi, Mrs. Kester." I waved at her from the doorway. No way was she inviting me inside. I kept a tight hold on Max's leash. He was sniffing appreciatively at Mrs. Kester's doorway. If he got lose in there, I might never see him again. It was amazing that Uncle Grover had made it out alive.

"Your mums are looking lovely, Mrs. Kester," Mark said with a glance at the flowers.

She ignored me, but nodded at him like a queen granting favors. Old bitty.

"What are you doing here, Uncle Grover?" I asked.

"Why, I'm having tea with Edna."

Edna? Mrs. Kester's first name was Edna? Why didn't I know that?

"But how did you get here?" No way he had he driven. There'd have been an APB out on him. His last driving fiasco had ended with a four car pile-up.

"Took the bus," he said. "Not exactly the most direct route, but I try to get over every weekend for tea."

Mrs. Kester nodded primly.

"I'll let you get settled and then come up for a nice visit. Gotta be on the bus by four. Wouldn't want to have to ask Edna to put me up. What would the neighbors say?" He chuckled at his joke.

"That was awkward," Mark commented as we climbed the stairs.

It grossed me out to think about Uncle Grover shacking up with Mrs. Kester, but I was glad he was finding happiness in his golden years. Better than him duking it out with Granddaddy Hacker on a daily basis.

My condo was stuffy but neat and tidy. I threw open a couple of windows and glanced around the small space. I just couldn't picture Mark living here. There was barely room for me and Max. Living room with fireplace and small eat-in kitchen. One bedroom with a decent sized bathroom. That was it. And forget about storage. Besides, I'd been here alone for so many years. It would be weird living here with Mark.

Mark put our suitcases in the bedroom and placed my guitar in the living room near the fireplace.

"I feel like I should carry you over the threshold," he joked.

I glanced nervously over at him.

"Hey," he came up and put his arms around me. "This is just temporary, remember? I've got my eye on a penthouse at The Narrows."

"If this living arrangement doesn't break us up." I looked up at him.

"Do you really think living together is going to break us up after everything we've been through?"

I shrugged and shook my head. "Guess we've got to give it a try sometime."

He kissed the top of my head. "Not exactly a vote of confidence, but I'll take it."

We unpacked and staked out our spaces. Mark was working through email and sketching out preliminary plans for the Jetty project. I was hiding in the bedroom, noodling my guitar and trying not to be too loud. I had worked out the chords for my new song that I was tentatively calling "Catch Yourself." I was sure if I let Phil and Roger get hold of it, they'd want to call it something else. I was also jotting down the lyrics as they came to mind. I couldn't help remembering Tyrell's words to me at the prison. Catch yourself, girl.

My phone rang. Oh, great.

"Hi, Mom."

"Don't 'hi' me. I get back from shopping and find out not only are you home, but that you've been staying at your sister's?" Her voice rose with indignation.

"I know it looks a lot like prison, but is it actually a crime to stay at Ashley's?" My voice dripped sarcasm.

"Don't you sass me, girl. You know as well as I do that you'd never stay with your sister unless something was wrong. Then I see on the news how your bodyguard and that woman have been found at sea. You give me the scoop, and don't leave out the details." I pictured her bleach blonde head shaking with agitation.

"I haven't said anything because I didn't want you to worry. Plus, I didn't want to give any more info out to the press or the bad guys. But the press is off my back for the most part now that they've got Andre and Marsha's romance at sea to report on, and the bad guys have been arrested, so I guess I can give you the details. Just please don't worry The Grands with all this. I don't want them calling TMZ and stirring things up again."

I spent the next thirty minutes listening to my mom gasp, cry, and berate me for having a hitman after me. She seemed to have forgotten that I
had
told her about my hitman problem and she'd thought I was playing a joke on her. I assured her it was all over and everything was going to be back to normal.

"Except for your living arrangements," she said shrewdly. "Where's Mark staying?"

"With me," I replied calmly.

But my mom didn't buy it. "Is that so? No big deal, huh?"

"Why would it be? He's stayed at my place before."

"But he's never hung his toothbrush next to yours for an extended period of time." I pictured her white-tipped nail punctuating each word at me.

"Bound to happen sometime." I was trying to sound unconcerned, but it came out sounding strained even to my own ears.

"Now you listen to me," my mom lowered her voice, and I had to strain to hear her. "The best way to lose a man is to live with him before you're married."

I rolled my eyes. Relationship advice from my mom. Priceless.

"Especially for someone like you, Diana. Good Lord! That's not going to last a week."

"Hey," I interrupted. "I'm not that bad to live with."

"You have a tiny house, a mean dog, you can't cook, and you play the guitar night and day. Did I leave anything out?"

"You forgot the hateful neighbor downstairs."

"I didn't leave her out. I was trying to be polite since Uncle Grover's courting her. By the way, make sure that old man is on the four o'clock bus, or you'll be putting him up at your place tonight. That ought to seal the deal. Cranky old man on your couch. Yeah, Mark will love that."

I thought my mom was being a tiny bit harsh considering everything I'd been through lately. "You know, Mom, this hasn't actually been easy for me. Remember why Mark is staying with me right now? His boat was blown up by my hitman."

"Exactly my point, Diana. Living with you is not only unpleasant, it's dangerous. Now take my advice, and get him outta your place until you've said your 'I dos.'"

"How does getting married change the fact that—according to you at least—I'm impossible to live with?"

My mom sighed. "Once you're married, he can't just walk away at the first sign of trouble. He's going to feel obligated to work it out. Too much paperwork, and men don't like paperwork."

I shook my head at this logic. But maybe it explained my mom's marriage to Dave.

"Thanks for the advice, Mom. But we're going to give this a trial run. I think it might work." My voice held a note of real optimism.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna wake up next to Brad Pitt tomorrow morning. Get him out of your house, Diana," she ordered.

I hung up and walked out to the living room. Uncle Grover was sitting on my couch feeding Max bits of cookies and talking Mark's ear off. I could tell Mark was trying to concentrate on his paperwork, but he was compelled to nod and entertain Uncle Grover's questions.

Mark looked up gratefully as I entered the room.

"Just about time to head for the bus stop, Uncle Grover," I said.

"Yep, just finishing up Edna's homemade shortbread cookies. They are divine. I was just telling Mark here that I've nearly got her convinced to come take a look at The Meadows."

"You kicking Granddaddy out?" I asked.

Uncle Grover sniffed. "I wish. But, no, I wasn't proposing we move in together." He wrinkled his nose. "Utter nonsense living together."

Mark looked up interestedly. "Yeah, why's that?"

"Too much trouble," Uncle Grover waved a manicured hand. "Women aren't much easier to live with than your Hacker. Of course, they're neater and smell better. But living next-door to your lady-love…" Uncle Grover smiled. "Now that's the ticket."

"Interesting take." Mark looked to be seriously contemplating Uncle Grover's words.

Uncle Grover said goodbye to Mark and headed downstairs to see Mrs. Kester one last time.

I went to the bedroom and grabbed my purse. "I'll take him to the bus stop on my way to meet Carol."

Mark wrapped his arms around me and gave me a lazy kiss. "Maybe we can have some snuggle time tonight."

I relaxed against him and tilted my head back for another kiss. "Maybe."

His hands moved lower, and he pulled me against him. I wiggled away. "Business before pleasure. Got to get Uncle Grover out of Kester's clutches."

"You know if she moves to The Meadows—" Mark began.

I held up a finger. "Don't even say it!"

"Uncle Grover may have a point. We might make better neighbors than roommates." He had a twinkle in his eye.

I knew he was teasing, but I thought "roommates" was a little harsh. Geez, I was on edge about this living arrangement to begin with. "Maybe you can have snuggle time with Max."

I gave the door a solid slam and headed downstairs.

It had been weeks since I'd been to Greene's Staffing. The agency was located in a storefront in the business district of downtown Annapolis. Parking was a cinch in this part of town on a Saturday afternoon. The agency was sandwiched between Nails 2Go and Spellbound, a Wiccan specialty store. Although my luck seemed to be improving, I made a note to stop in to pick up something for my cloudy aura. You never could be too careful.

The sidewalk in front of Greene's was tidy—no litter, no gum on the pavement like some of the other stores in this part of town—with an old-fashioned green awning over the doorway. I knew bigger and better things were to come when Mark completed construction on the new office complex, but I was going to miss the old place. I pulled the heavy wood and glass door open and stepped inside.

Carol looked up from her a pile of paperwork. "Howdy, stranger."

She got up from her desk and came around the big counter to give me a hug. She smelled of Estée Lauder perfume and powder.

"You look swamped," I said. "I guess I suck at this whole business partner thing."

Carol laughed. "Are you kidding? You're a great partner. You fronted the money and let me have my way. I'm in control-freak heaven."

Carol did like things a certain way. When I had first started filling in at Greene's, it had taken me awhile to get used to her systems. Tabitha must be making her crazy.

"So, anything I can help you with?"

She waved a hand. "No, this is easy. I want to get you prepared for Monday." She blinked at me through her thick glasses. "You're sure you can commit to this? No more hitmen, pirates, or the like?"

"One hundred percent. I'm actually looking forward to it. Being a rock star isn't all it's cracked up to be. I need a break from it."

Carol nodded sympathetically. "It seems a little dangerous too. I can't believe what you've been through the past couple of weeks. And poor Andre and Marsha! They're lucky to be alive."

"I'm not sure how bad Andre feels about the whole thing. I think he just had the opportunity of a lifetime to hook up with Marsha, and he took full advantage." I laughed.

"Oh?" Carol's eyes gleamed. "Do tell."

She loved a good romance story. When she wasn't matching temps up with jobs, she tried to match them up with each other. Not always a good idea given the temporary cliental, but at least Carol had all the background info on them before she set them up. More than you could hope for when you met somebody in a bar.

"How 'bout I buy you a drink at McGlynn's when we're done and give you all the details?" McGlynn's was my favorite watering hole and my regular music gig. It was also conveniently located across the street from Greene's.

"Deal! Oooh, I wonder if it's Karaoke Night!"

"Nope," I said quickly. "Not on a Saturday. It'll be live music." Thank God. Karaoke was the bane of live musicians eking out a name for themselves on any local bar scene. Why pay a musician if your customers could amuse themselves with a $99 Karaoke machine? "Hey, a couple of them might even be good singers," said the bar owners. Yeah, right.