Part 39 (1/2)

”Yes? What do you want me to tell him?”

”Tell him to take his remote controls and-”

I held the phone away from my ear and frowned at the display that read ”My mum.”

The h.e.l.l it was!

She hung up.

I stepped out on the porch and hurried to the squad car. Keelie stepped away from her bodyguard and pulled the blanket closer around her.

”That was your mom who picked me up?”

I nodded. ”That's her.”

”She's nice. Cool. Calm. Collected. Compa.s.sionate.”

”She's good in emergencies,” I acknowledged.

”My mom is bossy, always telling me what to do and what not to do.”

”I guess that's a mother's deal.”

”Your mom got me to do what she wanted, but she didn't yell or call me reckless or stupid or cry to get her way.”

”I suppose every mother has a different method of...parenting their offspring,” I said.

”Your mom had a message for your father,” Keelie said.

I winced. ”I think she already relayed that,” I said.

”Oh. So she told him she was going on a road trip and would be back in a few days? That's good.”

I blinked. Road trip? Not good. Not good at all.

”Tressa?” Keelie leaned in closer and grabbed my arm. ”Something awful happened tonight.”

I patted her hand. ”I know. You were upset. You ran. You drank. You nearly got ran over by a car. I'd say that qualifies as pretty awful.”

She shook her head.

”That's not the awful part.”

Her fingers dug into my arm.

”It's not? What is the awful part?”

”The car that nearly ran me down?”

”Yes?” I held my breath.

”It was Jax's car.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

”Uh, Scotty. Any time now.”

I gazed toward the ceiling of my home and waited for the transporter beam to lock on me and beam me to the bridge of the Enterprise where I could drool over Kirk and Spock and have some girl time with Uhura, where we would discuss the faults and foibles of the male species.

I tapped a foot. ”I'm waiting.”

”Who you waitin' for? Everybody and his brother are here already. Your living room looks like one of them mosh pits.”

My gammy was right. This house hadn't seen so much foot traffic since the year Gram gave out dollar bills to trick-or-treaters. Okay. I'll cop to it. The sheet-covered ghostie? Me. And the Lone Ranger. Zorro. A kerchiefed bandit. And, my personal favorite, John Wayne. Hey, doesn't everyone have a Duke Wayne mask lying around?

”Did you catch a load of all them poprocksies out on your front lawn? Cameras everywhere. Click. Click. Click. Nearly blinded me when I walked through 'em.”

”I saw them.”

I'd also observed my gammy's stroll across the yard to the house. She'd stopped and posed for the cameras more times than Oscar nominees on the red carpet before the awards ceremony.

”That Keelie girl must be hot stuff,” she said, and pulled her gla.s.ses out and put them on to get a better look. ”I don't see it. What's the big deal? All that red hair? That don't make her Lucille Ball. Now Lucy? There was a star.”

I nodded. She'd get no argument from me. I loved Lucy. And she'd made a very nice living from calamities and chaos, thank you very much.

Meanwhile, my own life was definitely no sit-com.

All the chaos. None of the laughs.

Once I'd convinced Keelie to tell Manny that it was Jax's car that sent her into the roadside ditch, he'd whisked her into the house.

My house.

Somehow the word got out that the reality star was being treated for possible injuries, and the media converged.

Not to mention the entourage.

In addition to EMTs, my house hosted Keelie's cameramen, Keelie's just-released-from-the-hospital manager, Vinny, her co-stars, Langley and Tiara, Manny, Knox County acting sheriff, Doug Samuels, Gram, Joe, my dad, my sister, my, er, date, and two over-stimulated yellow labs that weren't the only ones that were gonna have a hard time settling down for the night.

”What do you think, Manny?” Keelie was saying. ”Should I throw in the towel? Go home?”

I chewed my lip, wondering if it was too late for me to place a bet on a certain cowgirl Trekkie biker. Or would that be considered insider betting?

Manny shrugged. ”Keelie's call.”

”No! It isn't just Keelie's call!” Vinny Vincent's bl.u.s.ter almost made up for his lack of stature. ”There are contracts. Sponsors. You quit, you're in breach.”