Pecan Pie and Deadly Lies (An Adams Grove Novel) (12 page)

T
he tires squealed as Cody swerved through the familiar curves of the road back to Arty’s estate. He accelerated out of the second one a little too tight and then he slammed on his brakes to avoid rear-ending a long line of cars.

How did I forget about that damn party tonight?

He’d been so focused on giving Arty a piece of his mind immediately that he’d forgotten all about the stupid party, but he’d come too far to turn back now. If he didn’t settle this tonight, he’d surely explode.

Cody threw the shifter into reverse and turned around. From the main road he took the second entrance that only a few people knew about that led down to the barn. It wasn’t well-marked, but the feed trucks used it and it led right back out to the house. He forced himself to slow down on the pitted gravel bed road. Once he passed the barn and got near the homestead another line of cars waited to be valeted.

By the time he’d handed off the car and neared the main house it was clear there was no way inside without passing through a long line of cameras, and he was about at the end of his patience. Cody recognized the song playing in the big tent out front. It was Dustin. The kid was probably on cloud nine. Cody remembered when he was first
starting out. Those tent gigs were as exciting as all get-out. The first taste of celebrity. It was like a drug and Arty was the king of doling it out in doses that kept you inspired to work your ass off.

Cody veered off to the left of the front door toward the row of cottages. He knew the way well. One of those cottages was named after him, and he’d stayed there plenty of times over the years. The side entrance into the main house was just on the other side of the back gardens down a lit path.

There wasn’t a soul out here. He opened the glass-paneled door and slipped inside with the other guests. At six foot four, blending in with the crowd wasn’t all that easy. For once it would have been nice to be average height. He stayed to the outside of the crowd, looking across the top for that weasel of an agent of his. At least if he was in here he could get him into the office for a semiprivate conversation.

A server offered him a drink from her tray, but Cody refused. He pushed his hands in his pockets and kept an eye out for Arty.

“Cody! My man.”

The slap on his back caught him off guard. Cody spun around to face Arty.

“I thought that was you, but you swore you weren’t going to be here. So glad you had a change of heart,” Arty mused.

It was all Cody could do not to coldcock him right here in the middle of the room. His blood boiled. “I need a word with you.”

“What’s the matter, buddy?” Arty motioned to the group of people to his left. “This man right here. He’s a good man. And you, my friend,” Arty motioned to a man in a blue shirt
and his platinum blonde arm candy, “you two are staying in the cottage that his fame built. Wait until you hear the next album. Amazing. Maybe I’ll sneak you a little demo to listen to while you’re here.”

You’re so full of shit. I haven’t even given you any material from the new album yet. Tell the people what they want to hear. That’s just the way you roll, isn’t it?
Cody tried to restrain his anger but every muscle in his body clenched.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” the man said. His wife stood there practically weeping from nerves, unable to even utter a word.

It happened all the time and it still made him uncomfortable when people acted like that. Didn’t they realize it was just as awkward for him as it was for them to meet someone new?

“Nice to meet y’all,” Cody said, then turned back to Arty. “I need to talk to you. Now.”

“Sure. Let me find the editor.” Arty craned his neck searching.

“Now, Arty.”

“Shh.” Arty gave him a look. “Not so loud. You’re not going to make a scene, are you? Just hang on a minute.”

Cody grabbed Arty by the collar of his jacket and pushed him toward the office.

“What the hell are you—” Arty tugged away from Cody’s grip.

“I asked nicely. I said we need to talk.”

“Fine.” He straightened his suit jacket, and placed his empty glass onto a waiter’s tray as he walked by. “What’s got you all riled up?”

Arty walked under his own power into the office, but Cody was hot on his heels.

“Want to know what’s got me riled up? You, damn it.” Cody leaned back against the door to close it, then moved toward Arty.

Arty was no fool, he was already slithering around to the other side of his desk like the worm he was. “Me? What the hell? I’m just throwing a party. A party you said you weren’t coming to, if I recall. What’s the problem?”

“You lying sack of sh—”

“Whoa. You just need to calm down.”

Cody lunged across the desk with his finger just inches from his pointed nose. “Why didn’t you tell me? What else have you kept from me all these years?”

Arty bobbed out of direct alignment with Cody’s loaded finger. “What are you talking about?”

“I went to see Lou today.” Cody watched the color drain right out of the man’s face. “Yeah. I know.”

“Lou?” Arty’s breathing got heavy like he’d been running, and if he was smart he would’ve been.

Fury almost choked him. So much that he could barely get the words out. “Don’t play stupid with me. You know who she is.”

“That’s who you went to see?” He lowered his head and mumbled, “I ought to have Annette’s ass for this.”

“This isn’t about Annette, Arty. It’s about you. You. Your lies.”

“I told you to leave the past where it was. She was bad news the first time.” Arty’s voice got calmer. “Trust me. She’s not worth causing a scene over. Calm down. Sit.” He
motioned Cody toward the chair on the other side of the desk. “Sit.”

“Don’t play that psycho-calm crap on me. You never told me she had a daughter.”

“Annette should have stayed out of this. She knows how I feel about dredging up things from the past.”

“Annette? Arty, you’re the one who lied to me. These are things from my past. Things I had a right to know about.”

“I didn’t lie.” Arty shook his finger. “No. I didn’t. I just didn’t get around to telling you, or did I? Are you sure I never told you she had a kid?”

“I think I’d have remembered something like that, Arty.” Cody picked up the award he’d won for song of the year, the one he’d written after that breakup.

Arty looked at him as if daring him to do anything to the coveted award.

Cody threw it across the room, causing the picture on the wall to crash to the ground. “You had plenty of time to tell me she married Mr. SpaghettiO. I guess the rest just slipped your mind.”

“That was my award!”

“No… It was my award. I earned that.”

“Calm down. You’re making way more out of this than it’s worth.”

“I thought you didn’t like Lou, but really you just didn’t like her being around. You paid her to stay away from me?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“I saw the house. That’s one heck of a payment plan.” He ran his hand across his chin. “She said she appreciates
how comfortable we’ve made her all these years. Basically, you could say you’re the reason we didn’t stay together.”

“No.
You’re
the reason y’all didn’t stay together. Remember, you wanted to be on the road. I got that for you. Your dream. I made it happen.” Arty plopped down into his desk chair. “You’d be nothing if I hadn’t helped you. Lou wasn’t helping you get it. Anything not helping is hurting. Just sayin’.”

Arty’s cool mocking hung in the air.

Cody’s jaw pulsed. “You never liked her.”

Arty cocked his head and gave a glassy stare. “Oh, my friend, that’s where you’re very wrong. But what I did do was save your sappy, lovelorn ass more angst than you had. You should probably be thanking me.”

“For lying? Keeping secrets about Lou’s daughter? Paying for that house? How did you even do that without me knowing the money was gone? Hell, what else have you skimmed off the top?”

“Hold it right there, Cody.” Arty stood and straightened his jacket. “I never took a dime from you.”

“Don’t lie anymore. It’s over. I know. I met Amy today. Lou told me you paid for the house. It’s a nice house too. You must’ve felt guilty as hell. But Arty, it wasn’t any of your business. You had no right. You own part of my career, but not my life.”

“I had every right.”

“There’s a line.”

“What’s the difference Cody? It was over. She was no good.”

“I had a child.” Cody licked his lips and tried to hold back the tears. “I’m a father.”

“What?”

“What do you mean,
what
? Just because I didn’t know about it doesn’t make it untrue. How could you not have told me I had a daughter? You let me go all that time thinking I broke that girl’s heart. You told me she’d moved on, gotten married. You led me to believe she was happily married and you knew that wasn’t the case, didn’t you?” Cody slammed his fist into the back of the chair. “Damn you, Arty.”

“But you—” Arty started.

“And you paid her all these years. Jesus, Arty. What kind of jackass do you think I am? I’d have done right by them. It was not your place to do this.”

“I was thinking of your career.”

“Like hell. You were thinking about your wallet.”

“Cody. Stop. Listen to me.” Arty cleared his throat. “She’s not your daughter.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix this, but I will.”

“Cody, you’re not her father.”

“I met her. She told me her birthday. I can do the math. And Lou said she had you and me to thank for that fancy house.”

“She’s
my
daughter,” Arty said.

Y
our
daughter?” Cody shook his head. “No. Stop screwing with me. That’s impossible.”

Arty laughed. “Possible, and fact. I paid for that house with my money. Fifteen percent of your money, to be precise, that I earned by representing you. By making you the star you are today. I don’t need to steal from you. Look around. I’m just as rich as you are. She’s mine.”

Cody cramped forward like he’d been sucker punched. “No.”

“Yeah.”

“No.” Cody stepped back.
This can’t be happening.

Arty pointed to his hair. “Amy’s hair is brown, and her eyes… brown just like mine. Not too likely you and Lou would have a brown-eyed daughter. And Lou even named her after me.
A
for ‘Arty,’
M
for ‘Max,’ and
Y
for ‘Why the heck didn’t we use protection?’
A
-
M
-
Y
. Amy.”

“Uh-uh. No. She’d never have slept with a conniving shit like you.”

Arty shook his head. “Watch it, Cody. I know you’re pissed, but we’ve got a long history. Don’t say something
stupid.” He slid open his desk drawer and pulled out a picture and sat it on his desk.

Cody snatched it up. Then looked back at Arty.
She’s not my daughter.
A much younger Amy sat next to Arty in the picture. With them side by side it was pretty clear there was a relation there. Arty wasn’t lying. Even he couldn’t make that corny crap up. Cody could see it in his face. “How could you, man? You knew how much I loved that girl. She was my whole life back then, as much as the music.” He threw the picture down on the desk.

Arty stood and walked back around the desk. “She’d have dragged you down. If she’d been all that, she wouldn’t have fallen into my bed so easy.”

“You slept with her while we were together. Man, that’s—”

“I’m sorry, but frankly I probably saved you from a worse heartache than you got. Think about the earnings you’d have lost in a nasty divorce somewhere down the road.”

Cody turned his back on Arty.
I’m not sure which is worse. Thinking I had a daughter I didn’t know about, or finding out you slept with the woman I loved and fathered a child with her right under my nose.

“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. Trust me. She’s no good. I probably did deserve her, but thankfully we both dodged that bullet.”

“You didn’t do me any damn favors.” Cody straightened and then turned and swung on Arty, landing his fist right in Arty’s gut and sending him ass over elbow to the floor. “Yeah. That’s one thing we agree on. You’re sorry.”

“Fine, man. I deserved that one,” Arty said. “Now can
we leave this mess in the past? Get the hell out of here before you do something we both regret.”

The door of the office swung open.

Why did I think I’d be the exception to your nasty underhanded ways? I was a fool.
“I don’t regret one thing I’ve said or done. You deserve more than that. I ought to beat the hell out of you with my bare hands right here and now until you realize what an awful human being you are.” Anger singed the corners of his control.

Cody took a lunge toward Arty just as three guys came running into the room.

“You okay, Arty?” asked a beast of a man with biceps as big as bowling balls.

Fists clenched, Cody kicked the trash can next to Arty’s desk clear across the room, sending a shower of papers that fluttered across the floor. “You’re not worth my damn time,” Cody said, then turned to the people at the door. “It’s fine. Nothing to see.”

Arty stood and straightened his suit. “It’s fine, guys. We’re just finishing up. I’ll be out in a minute.”

People in the main room gathered around the door, craning to see what was going on.

Cody swept past them and then excused himself through the throng of people hanging around the door trying to catch a little bit of the drama he’d been doling out. He could barely absorb everything that Arty had just said. This time the guys with their cameras were armed and ready for him, peeking through the bushes and snapping as he walked by. Cody raised his arm to cover his face. “No story here, guys. Move along.”

Kasey’s T-bird was still where he’d left it, just like he’d
asked, when he got to the valet and pressed a hundred-dollar bill into his hand. “Thanks.”

The young valet ran up to the car at Cody’s heels. “Thanks for the tip, but could you sign my hat too?”

Cody was in no mood, but he’d always promised he’d never be an ass to a fan. “Sure. You got a pen?”

The boy took a marker out of his pocket and handed over his tan Stetson.