The House on Mermaid Point (12 page)

Determined not to display the nerves she felt in William Hightower’s presence, Maddie forced a smile to her lips and headed to their table. When she greeted them she was pleased that her voice sounded normal with none of the wobble her knees were experiencing. She felt other eyes on her, assessing, wondering. Heads bent together.

“Is it always this packed?” she asked, declining an invitation to sit.

“Mostly, but it’s especially intense right now because it’s tarpon season,” Hudson replied. “Have you ever seen a tarpon?”

“Just in the water at Bud N’ Mary’s. But our Nautilimo captain says we can go to Robbie’s and feed them.”

William grunted in amusement. “It’s a lot more fun to catch them than feed them.”

“Too true,” Hudson said. “Do you like to fish?” he asked Maddie.

“I have no idea. I’ve never really done it.” She hadn’t grown up near a body of water and neither had Steve. On their few beach vacations it had never occurred to either of them. “Unless you count the goldfish I caught by throwing a Ping-Pong ball in his bowl at the fair.” As she recalled, she’d barely dropped him into his new bowl at home before he’d gone belly up and received a flushed-toilet burial.

“Down here we don’t typically fish for pets,” William said drily. “But fishing teaches you a lot about yourself. And a lot of it’s not all that pleasant.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hudson said. “You just don’t like being humbled by a fish.”

“Hey,” William said, “who does? They can be surprisingly devious.”

They laughed, and in that moment William Hightower seemed a little less rock god and a lot more human being.

“Are you sure you won’t sit down and have a drink?” Hudson asked her. His green eyes were warm, his smile easy.

“No, thanks. I’m done.” She looked at the dark liquid in William’s highball glass and wondered what it held. “I’m a bit of a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.”

Will caught her looking and downed the remainder of his drink without comment. She grimaced, realizing he’d probably assumed the comment was aimed at him.

Maddie was about to excuse herself and head back to the others when a man and woman who’d been watching them from a nearby table stood and walked over. The guy had a large beer belly and swayed slightly as they came to a halt. The woman was tall and leggy, but she looked a lot older close up than she had from a distance.

William tensed. His face smoothed into an impersonal mask.

“Hey, aren’t you William Hightower?” the man demanded.

“I am,” Will said, his voice quiet.

“I told you so,” he said to the woman before turning back to Will. “I’m Dan. Me and Vera here are
big
fans.”

Will smiled slightly, through very tight lips. “That’s nice.”

Vera ran a hand over her bleached blond hair. Her exposed skin—and it seemed to Maddie there was an awful lot of it—was leathered from age and sun. The words “rode hard and put away wet” surfaced in Maddie’s mind.

“Me and Vera are gonna buy you a drink.” Dan waved at the bartender. “Bring Wild Will here another round on me.” He swayed again. “And then we wanna take a picture with you.” His eyes went squinty. “Vera’s had a thing for you for decades, man. Even though she didn’t believe me when I said it was you over here.”

“Thanks.” Will seemed to ignore the insult. “I appreciate the gesture. But I’m all set.” Two guys who’d been drinking at the bar wandered over and aligned themselves behind Will and Hudson. Dan’s eyes, which were already bloodshot, went even squintier. “Just wanna have a fuckin’ drink with you, man.”

William sighed. “I hear you,” he tried one last time. “But I don’t need a drink and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t talk that way in front of the lady.”

“Who—her?” Vera scowled at Maddie. “What’s so special about her?”

Hudson began to stand. Will laid a hand on his arm.

“Here.” Dan shoved his phone at Maddie. “You know how to use one of these?” he asked.

Maddie was slightly better at phone photography than she was at texting, but the guy’s question was clearly rhetorical. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a glint of light. Her chest tightened when she saw that it was a camera lens; somehow Troy and Anthony had arrived and were already set up and shooting. Instinctively, she stepped forward and edged to the right in an effort to shield at least part of William, just as she would have Dustin.

“Okay, we’ll skip the frickin’ drink,” Dan said as if this were a negotiation. “But we’re not leavin’ without a picture.”

William and Hudson rose, the two from the bar flanking them. The cell phone felt like an anchor in Maddie’s hand.

The tables around them went quiet. No one moved for a long moment. Then Hudson slung one arm around Dan’s shoulders and the other around Vera’s. One of the guys from the bar moved to stand directly in front of Troy’s camera.

Dan tried to shrug loose but only managed to hike up his T-shirt, exposing a belly that blinded in its whiteness and should never see the light of day.

“I can tell you’re not from around here,” Hudson said to Dan and Vera. “Because we have lots of celebrities who live and spend time here. Athletes and presidents and all. And you know why they come here?”

“For the fishing?” Dan seemed confused by the turn the conversation had taken. Not to mention what looked like the viselike grip Hudson had on him.

“Well, yeah,” Hudson conceded as if they were all just standing around shooting the breeze. “But also because we just leave them alone. We don’t get in their faces. Or shove drinks on them. And we sure as hell don’t demand pictures or anything else.”

Maddie watched confusion and indecision pass over Dan’s and Vera’s faces. No one had raised their voice or thrown a punch, but there was no doubt they weren’t about to get any of the things they wanted.

“Oh, who gives a shit?” Vera said suddenly. “He looks older than dirt anyway. And if she’s what he’s into nowadays, well . . .” Vera shook her head sadly as if the world had become a very sad place indeed. She reached out to grab the camera out of Maddie’s hand and the flash went off.

“Jesus. Come on, Dan,” the blonde said. “This is bullshit.”

Hud let go of their shoulders and moved to stand next to Madeline as Dan and Vera huffed off. Given the human wall now aligned in front of him, Maddie doubted Troy was able to get more than a sliver or two of the couple’s retreating backs.

William shook his head. “Sorry you got caught in that.”

“I can’t believe the nerve of those people,” Maddie said, bristling with anger. She’d watched the paparazzi trail Daniel Deranian and his wife and had hated it even more when they’d begun to hound Kyra and then Dustin. “They should be ashamed of themselves!”

“Seems like Dan and Vera are lucky we didn’t set Maddie on them,” William said, considering her.

“Yeah. That was a pretty impressive blocking maneuver,” Hudson agreed.

Maddie’s gaze connected with Will’s. The anger coursing through her had burned clear through the last of her discomfort. “The idea that anyone who’s ever bought a movie ticket or a record album would feel entitled to intrude on another person’s life is absolutely ridiculous.” She still couldn’t believe how protective she’d felt when the couple had accosted William Hightower. As if he needed her to run interference for him.

“Hey, Will,” the bartender said, “I charged that guy double for the drink he offered you. You thirsty?”

“I’m absolutely parched, darlin’,” Will drawled. He and Hudson exchanged looks. “Can you give it to me in a to-go cup?”

The bartender smiled. “You got it.”

Maddie looked at the highball glass, then at William, wondering if the whole “no alcohol on the island” thing was just another wrinkle thrown in by the network. Not that the rocker’s drinking or not drinking was any of her business.

“One double Coca-Cola on the rocks for the road, coming right up,” the bartender said, taking his glass.

“You want a ride?” Hudson asked Maddie.

“No, thanks. I really need to get back to the others,” she said, oddly relieved that William the Wild was not, in fact, drinking liquor. She turned to go as Hudson clapped Will on the back.

Though he dropped his voice she overheard him when he said, “Very impressive. Six months ago that little encounter would have ended in blows. We would have been peeling old Dano off the ground.”

Will snorted. “Six months ago I would have enjoyed the fight. Shit. Nothing’s even close to what it used to be.”

The last words she heard were Hudson’s “Well, thank God for that.”

As if experiencing the altercation at the Lorelei hadn’t been enough Maddie discovered at breakfast the next morning that video of the confrontation had already gone viral.

“The world was a better place before everyone had a cell phone camera in their pocket and a determination to use it.” Nicole slid into the banquette beside Kyra, who had pulled the video up on her computer screen.

“Whoever shot this footage wasn’t more than a table away,” Kyra said, watching the ugly scene between William and the obnoxious fan couple play out.

“I can’t believe we didn’t realize what was going on,” Nicole said.

“I can’t believe you were right in the middle of it,” Kyra said.

“There wasn’t much to get in the middle of,” Maddie replied, unable to tear her eyes from the screen.

“Oh, God, look at this.” Kyra pulled up a clearly homemade interview with the still-belligerent Dan and Vera. Footage of Maddie holding the couple’s phone during the altercation had been cut into the piece. “Whoever put this together has some editing skills. Take a look at this ending.” Kyra turned the screen so that everyone could see the end of the video, which was a series of repeated shots of the flash going off as the blonde grabbed the phone from Maddie. It ended on an incredibly unflattering freeze-frame of Maddie’s surprised face.

“Great.” Maddie groaned. “I look totally ridiculous
and
technologically challenged.”

“Even worse,” Kyra said, rewinding the piece once again. “Given the fact that you’re standing right next to William, I doubt it took anyone who’s seen this more than two minutes to figure out that the next
Do Over
is taking place on Mermaid Point. The world—and its paparazzi—now knows we’re in Islamorada.”

After breakfast Avery and Deirdre spread their notes and sketches across the tabletop to prepare for that night’s presentation to William Hightower. Their collaboration after two long years of grappling with each other was startling. The lack of argument, chin tilting, and eyebrow raising was practically surreal.

Avery looked up to check her watch and caught all of them staring. “Get over it,” she said. “I almost have.”

Deirdre remained diplomatically silent.

“What’s this above the refrigerator?” Maddie pointed to one of the floor plans.

“It’s the staircase, or at least it will be if William approves this plan.” Avery tilted the drawings so Maddie could see them better. “You have way more practical kitchen experience than any of us. Which of these options do you think works better for a B-and-B scenario?”

Maddie studied the plans individually then slipped one piece of parchment paper under the other so that two of the halves appeared to join. “This would be a pleasure to work in. And I think turning out breakfast and hors d’oeuvres for a daily happy hour or occasional special dessert for the guests would be a snap. And this section”—she pointed to a stretch of counter—“could be outfitted so that guests could help themselves to drinks and coffee, maybe pop popcorn if they’re watching a movie or a big game.”

Avery nodded and scribbled notes on the parchment while Maddie tried to imagine William Hightower living with a steady stream of strangers invading his personal space. “You know, since we’re already planning to do over the master bedroom and bath and you’ve got so much space up there to work with, maybe we should create a living area with enough of a kitchen so that William wouldn’t have to come down to the communal area unless he wanted to.”

“That’s a great idea,” Nicole said.

Avery and Deirdre nodded their agreement.

“And I was thinking that it might be good to have dinner up at the house with Will tonight before we present the final plans. You know, to sort of soften him up a little bit,” Avery said.

“I offered to make filet of beef au poivre with a spectacular—” Deirdre began.

“But she can’t because it will probably take us all afternoon to get the presentation laid out,” Avery said, cutting her mother off. “And since
someone
hadn’t gotten around to asking to use the kitchen or the laundry room, I went ahead and asked Will and . . .” Avery hesitated only briefly before turning her gaze on Maddie. “I volunteered you to make dinner tonight.”

“Me?” Maddie was hoping she’d misheard.

“Will you do it, Mad?” Avery practically pleaded. “Hudson said he’d be glad to either take you to your car or pick up whatever you want from the grocery store.”

“But how will I know what I need without seeing what he has?”
Okay, that didn’t sound right.
“I mean, without looking in his refrigerator and pantry.”

Avery shrugged, her attention already back on the sketches. “You have permission to cook in the man’s kitchen, Maddie. I don’t think he’s going to object to you peeking in his pantry.”

•   •   •

Maddie’s peek into William Hightower’s pantry felt far less personal than it might have, had there been anything in it.

After a smile and nod of greeting, William had returned to the kitchen table, where he went back to doing whatever it was he was doing with the bits and pieces of, well, Maddie wasn’t sure exactly what they were, that spilled out of the tackle box and were spread out in front of him.

He didn’t look up when she opened his painfully empty pantry or even when she stuck her head into the equally echoing refrigerator, which contained a half-empty quart of milk that had passed its expiration date, an egg carton that held two eggs, jars of mustard and mayonnaise, and what looked like the remains of a pizza. The freezer was stuffed with fish.

“How do you live?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Hm?” He looked up, his long fingers still twisting what looked like a strand of hair around a metal hook. Reading glasses were perched low on his nose, but they didn’t make him look anywhere near as safe or ordinary as they should have.

“There’s no food here.” She closed the refrigerator and turned to face him. “What do you do for meals?”

He studied her over the top of the glasses, which was oddly disconcerting.

“I can always catch fish when I want it. And, I don’t know . . .” He paused as if thinking about this for the first time. “I spent a lot of my life on the road, eating whatever got catered backstage. Or grabbing breakfast in some IHOP or Waffle House late after a show or the parties afterward.” He fixed her with a dark-eyed stare and she tried not to imagine how many women had been at those parties; how far they would have gone to get his attention.

“I’ve always been more interested in what I drank, smoked, sniffed, or snorted than what I ate.” His smile was wry. “Always been more thirsty than hungry. Except for when I got a case of the munchies.” He shrugged. “I guess my taste buds aren’t all that highly developed.”

His honesty surprised her and she found herself responding in kind. “Based on your pantry and refrigerator I’d say they stalled out somewhere around the age of fourteen. My son ate Cheerios, grilled cheese sandwiches, and anything that resembled pizza between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“I bet you do,” he said with a faint smile that left her wondering what it was about her that he found so amusing.

“Avery says you’re okay with letting us use the kitchen and laundry room on occasion.”

He shrugged.

“I know all of this is . . . well, I know you don’t really want us around.”

“I don’t.” He removed the glasses and set them aside. “Yet here you all are. It’s not like banishing you from my kitchen will make you go away.”

“Okay, then.” She whipped out the paper and pencil she’d stuck in her pocket. “What would you like for dinner tonight?” she asked, hoping it wouldn’t be something beyond her culinary abilities.

“I’m always up for Italian,” he said. “Do you do spaghetti and meatballs?”

“Well, I’m more of an assembler than a creator,” she said truthfully. “But if you can live with sauce from a jar and pasta out of a box, I’m pretty sure I can satisfy those fourteen-year-old taste buds of yours.”

The most genuine smile she’d seen yet lit up his face and stuck with Maddie all the way to the marina, through the grocery store, and back to Mermaid Point.