Part 23 (2/2)
”Sorry, love,” Langley said, and gently let go of my arm. ”Sounds like the duet could do with a soprano.” He gave me a wave and went to join his BFFs. Soon Tiara had grabbed Frankie and pulled him into the chorus line.
I grabbed my sleeping bag and claimed the wall nearest the front door. You know. Just in case.
”I hope you're happy,” Dixie said, dropping to the floor beside me.
”What? Frankie's finally coming out of his sh.e.l.l. That's a good thing.”
”Sh.e.l.ls exist for a reason. It's called protection,” Dixie pointed out.
A second later, Langley threw an arm around Patrick and pulled the reluctant trooper into the sing-along.
”I hope you're happy.” Taylor dropped to the floor on my other side.
”What? Patrick's showing he can be a good sport. Gotta love that in a guy.”
”Oh? And being a good sport includes being groped by someone you just met?” Taylor asked.
”What do you mean, groped? I can see both of Langley's hands.”
”Not Langley, you idiot. Keelie,” Taylor hissed.
I blinked. She was right. Keelie was definitely putting the moves on Patrick, who was now the yummy, meaty filling between two slices of bread.
He looked like Mr. Spock did when his human half was showing.
”Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to rescue that lawman from the clutches of Reality Red?” I asked Taylor.
”He hardly looks like he needs rescuing,” she said.
”Are you kidding? He looks about as comfy as our mom does when Gram volunteers to read the announcements at church.”
”Oh, Lord. That bad?”
I nodded. ”Trust me on this one.”
Taylor made a face. She turned to the grumble puss next to me. ”Dixie?”
”As much as I hate to agree with the Trekkie here, it's pretty evident, that dude is miserable.”
Taylor hesitated for a moment.
”Okay. I'm goin' in,” she said.
I raised a hand. ”May the Force be with you.”
Taylor shook her head. ”Some Trekkie,” she commented and left to rescue her trooper in distress.
”So, who do you really think has it in for the Kardas.h.i.+an wannabe over there?” Dixie asked, nodding at Keelie who was currently giving Taylor the Voodoo eye. ”Do you think it's someone with the show?”
”Did I sound credible when I suggested it?” I asked.
Dixie scratched her chin. ”Credible? That's not exactly a word I'd a.s.sociate with you, but you certainly sounded like you believed it.”
”Well, if you rule out Taylor and this reluctant Trekkie, it almost has to be an inside job.”
Dixie snorted. ”Inside job? Ooh. Look at you going all Sherlock Holmesy on me.”
”I know. You thought I was just a pretty face, right?” I snorted.
”I suppose you think the guilty party could even be Keelie herself,” Dixie said.
I gave Reality Red a long, considering look. ”It occurred to me. What better way to gain sympathy and support than by being a victim? She paints a target on her own back and then proceeds to fire away. Splat! Splat! Splat, splat, splat!”
Dixie shook her head. ”Speaking of 'splat,' what about the case of Hershey squirts the tabloids have had so much fun with? You're saying she did that to herself?”
”Well, no one witnessed any actual...a.n.a.l...leakage,” I pointed out.
”a.n.a.l...leakage?”
”Montezuma's revenge could have been an elaborate performance.”
”Then, judging by what I saw, Keelie Keeler is a pretty good actress,” Dixie said.
”But you see my point, right? It could all be a series of Keelie Keller hoaxes.”
”Still, any number of people stand to benefit from the notoriety,” Dixie said.
”Or, it's someone who doesn't like Keelie at all and is using the ride as an opportunity to get back at her.”
”I thought you ruled yourself out,” Dixie snarked.
”I don't know her well enough to dislike her,” I pointed out.
I wrapped my sleeping bag around me and tried to suppress a jumbo-sized yawn. Okay, so I didn't try to suppress it. I let it rip. I felt my eyelids begin to droop. Beat didn't begin to describe how tired I was.
I could hear singing. Boisterous and off-key. We were now being treated to a totally whacked version of Mr. Sandman.
Music to snooze by, as far as I was concerned.
I struggled to keep my eyes open, finally surrendering to that blissful ignorance of sleep in a place with soft mattresses, clean sheets, fluffy pillows, and strong arms to hold me.
I awoke to find my head c.o.c.ked at an uncomfortable angle and a bladder full enough it wouldn't let me fall back to sleep. Drool dribbled out of the corner of my mouth. I reached up to wipe it before anyone noticed.
Not that I had to worry. Everyone else was camped out on the parlor floor, different sizes of sleeping bag lumps, filling the room with the sounds of sleep.
I checked my cell phone. Three o'clock.
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