Almost Ordinary (The Song Wreckers Book 2) (7 page)

Chapter 8

Tomorrow was not only Sunday, but Katie’s bridal shower, which meant Mama would be here soon. I missed her.

My doorbell rang at six o’clock. I threw the door open.

“Hey baby girl!” Mama hugged me hard. “I got those last batch of pictures that you emailed me all printed. Those two cuties are gems. Where are they?”

I led them to the family room.

“Oh my gosh, they’re so big! They’ve grown so much since my visit last month.” She crouched down on the floor with them, waving her hands between the two. “Which one wants to come to Meemaw first?”

Shoot me. I couldn’t get used to the title Meemaw.

She fawned over the boys for a while, going heavy on the kisses. I held my cringes whenever she said the M word.

“Where’s that handsome husband of yours?” Mama asked.

“Working. He’ll be home soon.”

“I knew he’d catch that guy. Good-looking men always catch the bad guy.”

Katie had told Mama the Adam story, so at least I didn’t have to explain again. Thank God.

We ate and it felt good to be with Mama and Katie. I didn’t share their blood, but they were my family.

Mama spooned some applesauce into Zander’s mouth. “Deena wanted to come to Michigan with me to see you, you know, to bend your ear on the music biz. She’s so nice, she could really use a break. Good job, Alex!”

“That one’s Zander,” I said.

Mama shrugged.

I didn’t bother telling Mama that Deena had a not-so-nice side, or that her singing sucked. “Nice doesn’t equal talented enough to make it big,” I said.

“Do you think you could hook her up somehow like with your record company? Maybe arrange an audition or something?”

Aaaaaand, there it was. Ever since Katie told me that Mama had spilled the beans to Deena that I worked as a songwriter for Gina Swinger and Crystal Records, I knew I’d be asked to find Deena an in with the record company.

“It doesn’t work like that.” For the most part, it didn’t. Crystal Records didn’t take auditions from anyone who wanted to be a singer. Sure, I could call Kent and swear up and down that I knew his next huge star, and line up a scout to listen to her. When they discovered that she sucked, my word would become good as dog shit.

“But you know people there,” she begged. “You could convince them to listen to her.”

Yeah, they’d hate me for that.

Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t say no to Mama. When Katie and I became best friends in the beginning of ninth grade, Mama filled the emotional mother gap that my own mother wasn’t able to. She brought me in and loved me right up.

Deena was bad, so no way.

But Mama considered herself my kids’ meemaw—ugh, that word!—so I had to do this favor for her.

Deena couldn’t handle others she felt were competition to her, so again, no way.

But I loved Mama, I owed Mama, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She settled for that.

Mama and I threw the perfect bridal shower at the local community center, mainly because Katie did all the planning and I simply agreed that she made great choices. Katie shined as the center of attention. Katie heaven.

The last of the guests filtered out leaving the three of us to do clean-up. We stared at the huge pile of gifts. “Dang,” I said. “You and Brett made out like bandits.”

Katie put her hands on her hips. “See, you could’ve had a bridal shower like this if you didn’t elope.”

I grabbed a centerpiece to keep as a memento. “I didn’t want a stu—” Mama smacked me. “Yes. I really should’ve let you plan a bridal shower for me.”

Katie huffed and walked away. “Dang, that’s a lot of leftover food,” she said.

“Mind if I make a couple plates and take it home?” I asked.

“Be my guest.”

I went to the kitchen and found paper plates and foil to use as a cover. I opened the refrigerator and gathered some of every food left and wrapped it to go.

At home I tossed Caleb’s leftovers on the counter. “Brought you a plate of food, you want it now?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Then I kissed him good in case I pissed him off like I figured I was about to do. “I made a plate to take to Cooper too.”

God, I felt like a guilty piece of shit. But I also felt sorry for Cooper. The hospital refused to release him. He was such a pain in the ass that the doctors weren’t confident he could safely go home, or that he told the truth about how he felt. There were also some complications with his blood pressure. He sat against his will in the hospital recovering from gunshot wounds, and Caleb told me only one 3D employee stayed at the hospital to watch over him. No family around, I knew how that felt.

Caleb’s shocked face froze for a second, then he turned and shoved his food into the microwave. I checked on the boys in the family room to give Caleb a minute. The microwave dinged and he joined us a few seconds later, setting his food on the coffee table.

“I’m going to drive to the hospital, drop off the food, and be home in like, an hour, hour and a half, tops.”

He clenched his jaw and said nothing.

“Have fun,” he said, still clenching.

I put my hands on either side of his face and kissed him. “I love you. I’ll be home soon.”

He stayed silent. I kissed the boys, grabbed the extra plate of food off the counter, then left before I lost my nerve.

There wasn’t much traffic on I-75 for the twenty-plus miles I drove. That was a relief; the less time I was gone, the better. The sun shone bright, and the nice day helped soothe my nerves. I listened to the news the entire way there. No broadcast regarding Adam’s arrest. I found that odd: fleeing from police, murder, and attempted murder. The media should’ve picked up on it by now. Not that I wanted to hear about it every time I checked the news, but still. Nothing?

A 3D employee I didn’t recognize paced outside Cooper’s room, talking on the phone.

I held the food in my left hand stuck out my right for him to shake. “Hi. Molly Ramsey, Ram’s wife. I’m here to drop off dinner to Mr. Grumpy Pants in there,” I said, hoping to come off as easy-breezy, not nervous-guilty. He indicated for me to wait.

I waved him off. “No, don’t hang up. I’ll be out in a minute.” I barged into Cooper’s room without waiting for him to tell me not to.

Cooper lay halfway propped up, flipping through channels, and turned his head my way. “Hey,” I greeted. He said nothing, so I cleared off the bed tray thingy. “So I brought you dinner, okay?”

“Why?” he asked, turning his attention the TV.

“Because I figured no one else would. And I may or may not have poisoned it. I’m going to warm it up for you.”

A nurse pointed me to the lounge with a microwave. I warmed up the chicken, left the other foods cold, and grabbed some napkins. Outside Cooper’s door, The 3D employee stepped forward as if he were going to stop me, so I waved and went about my business like I owned the place. I wondered if he’d been warned about letting me visit. Frankly, I didn’t care.

I set everything up on the tray for him. “Cooper, I want to talk to you.”

His hand froze halfway to the fork.

“Lucky for you I don’t have the time today.” He picked up the fork. “I have to get home. Caleb is home with our boys, and I—”
For some deranged reason wanted to do something nice for you because I feel sorry for you.
I was told you’d be fine but still needed to see for myself that you’ll be ready to answer my questions when I find the nerve to ask them.
I let out a noisy breath. “I want to be home with them.” I hoped he didn’t misunderstand me when I said
our
boys, meaning mine and Caleb’s, not mine and Cooper’s. Shit. Guess that could’ve been construed either way. Whatever. “Bye, Cooper.”

Home exactly seventy-five minutes from the time I left, I put on my happy face and found Caleb upstairs. He crouched over the tub getting ready to start bath time. I began helping and asked, “Why is there no mention anywhere in the media about Adam?”

We were on our knees, elbow deep in bath water. “Funny you should ask.”

“Why is that?”

He handed me the baby wash. “Because I’ve been wondering the same thing. When you were gone . . .” He paused to grit his teeth, “I put a call into my contact at Tipton P.D. He said he’d look into it and call me when he found something out.”

“Princess,” Caleb called down from the top of the basement stairs. I spent my nights down there working on my songs after the boys went to bed, as often as I was able. Crystal Records wanted to start putting the songs together by mid-January. Waiting too long between albums could sink a new artist’s career, they’d told me. With this deadline, the daytime hours weren’t enough for me to finish her album.

“Yeah?” I called up.

He asked me to come upstairs. My heart sped up as I set my guitar down and raced up to the kitchen. I hoped he wanted me with him because he, well, wanted me.

I stopped smiling when I saw the pissed off, stressed out expression on his face. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, on alert. “What’s wrong?”

Caleb pulled out a kitchen chair for me, then sat when I did. “My contact at Tipton P.D. called me.”

“He has Adam’s confession?”

He dropped his head. “No. There’s a reason he wasn’t able to tell me until now, and why this hasn’t made the news yet.” With a deep breath he looked up with a clenched jaw and pity that turned his eyes soft.

I hated that.

“The story’s been kept quiet because it’s going to be the front-page story in
The Detroit Metro Press
on Sunday. The Tipton Police Department is using Adam’s takedown as positive publicity to help diminish the incompetence scandal within the department that went down a few months ago.”

I reached down to grab a baby, then remembered they were asleep. Damn it. I often held a baby when I became upset to help me feel better and keep things in perspective. Or to keep me from picking something else up and throwing it.

“Fuck.” I’d been trying to lighten up on cursing. The kids weren’t around, however, and it made me feel better so I wasn’t going to practice restraint right now.

“Yup,” Caleb said.

“Fuck it all to hell and back. What a lame, pathetic stunt!” I smacked the table.

“Yup.”

I admit, the idea of my name being thrown out there, and everyone knowing what happened and wanting to talk about it, scared me. When the Creep was stalking me, very few people knew. When he tried to kill me, I lied to whomever I could about my scars, saying I had been in a car accident.

“Shit,” I said, resigned.

Chapter 9

My eyes flew open at five-fifty-eight Sunday morning. I ran out of bed and into a pair of slip on shoes, then out the door. I didn’t bother with a jacket even though it was cold. Sunrise would be coming soon. Too bad I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

Caleb waited in the kitchen for me, making coffee as I shook the paper out of its plastic sleeve and opened it onto the table.

There it was, front page news. Caleb pressed the start button on the coffee maker and joined me. We read side by side.

TIPTON POLICE TAKE DOWN DANGEROUS FUGITIVE. CHIEF CALLS THEM HEROES

In what can only be described as police work as its best, The Tipton police took into custody a fugitive who was considered armed and extremely dangerous. Adam Kinder, 29, is in police custody after evading police for two days. He was wanted for questioning in an assault and attempted murder case that occurred just over two years prior. Upon being identified by an unknown source at Detroit Metro Airport two weeks ago, Kinder fled and hid from police, where he was found holed up in the apartment of his girlfriend, Belinda Nord, whom Kinder has confessed to killing.

Belinda Nord, 24, was already dead when police stormed into her apartment to capture Kinder. The official cause of death is acute blood loss according to the coroner’s report. Nord suffered from at least ten stab wounds to her body, the most serious being to her neck.

Another victim shot by Kinder was also in the apartment. He was released from the hospital a few days ago and is expected to make a full recovery. His name has not yet been released, and police have not yet commented on how he fits into the events that took place that day.

Anonymous sources not authorized to speak about the case have told us that the case Kinder was wanted for questioning in also involves a victim who was stabbed several times to various parts to her body. The victim survived the assault.

The Chief of the Tipton Police Department, Edward Spintowski, is calling his officers that responded to the 911 call, heroes. “My officers followed procedure and followed all the proper precautions ensuring that no one else was hurt. I am convinced that, were it not for their utmost dedication and professionalism, it is quite probable that more injuries, or even deaths, could have occurred. This is a dangerous criminal, and my officers did exactly what they were supposed to. One more bad guy has been taken off the streets thanks to the dedicated Tipton officers.”

The Tipton Police Department has been plagued with reports of incompetence over the last several months after undercover cameras had captured at least ten officers over the course of five months, engaged in various acts of misconduct, including sleeping, personal shopping, drinking, and more, all while on duty. In many cases, dispatch calls were ignored or had late response times, sometimes hours late. Investigations into the activities of these officers are still being investigated.

Kinder is expected to plead guilty to second degree murder for killing Belinda Nord, and attempted murder for the shooting of the unidentified man sometime this week.

Part Two of this story will be showcased in next Sunday’s edition and will detail how Kinder was able to stay hidden for two days, and how the Tipton Police were able to hunt him down and bring him to justice.

I stopped reading. Caleb wadded up the paper and tossed it into recycling.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I said. “Definitely could’ve been worse.”

“Then why is your foot going a million miles an hour?”

I stopped tapping and poured our cups of coffee. We sat at the table and talked, both glad that the article didn’t name my or Cooper’s name, or give any more details about my attack, including that it happened at Brett’s. Neither one of us knew if withholding 3D’s name as the private company responsible for finding Adam was good or bad. On the one hand, it could be good P.R. for 3D. On the other hand, one of 3D’s men was shot.

“So, Cooper went home a few days ago?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“I want to see him.”

Caleb’s eyes tightened, but he didn’t respond. Good. It was too early for a possible argument, but I needed him to know I still planned to get my answers from Cooper. “What do you think about the details coming out of Adam hiding for two days? Know anything about it yet?”

He linked his arms behind his head. “No. I’m surprised that hasn’t gotten leaked yet. It’s odd for everyone in the know to keep their mouths shut. Someone always says something, even if it’s only to their spouse. Then the person they mentioned it to will talk about it to someone else, and next thing you know, the leak is out. They must be serious about doing damage control.”

“Can you call your contact in Tipton and persuade them to not mention my name at all?” Of course I was relieved Adam was behind bars and would remain there for a long time. I thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have to testify at a trial because I didn’t want my name associated with Adam at all. The idea of random people knowing my personal business, feeling sorry for me, ugh. The sooner all of this was behind me, the better.

“Already done,” Caleb informed me. “It’s been relayed that any mention of your name will result in every dirty detail I can dig up on anyone in the Tipton P.D. being spread out in the next Sunday paper for everyone to read.”

Grateful, I straddled his lap on the chair and hugged him. Being protected by him made me feel so safe and
womanly
of all things. Never in a million years did I ever think having a big, strong man to protect me would feel so good. I’d taken care of myself my whole life. It felt good to finally let someone take care of me sometimes. I buried my face in his neck. “I love a man who will threaten for his wife.”

He slid his hands up my spine, under my pajama shirt. “I love a wife who will make love to her husband on a kitchen chair.” His hands sank to my sides where he held me tight.

I sat up straight, shocked. “We can’t . . . on this chair! We’ll break it!”

He trailed his hands from my sides to my front, rubbing my ribcage with a light touch and letting his thumbs skim the undersides of my breasts. “It won’t break. Come on, how many married women do you think are lucky enough to make love in the kitchen while their kids are still sleeping?”

“Uhh . . .” Was this a reaction to reading about Adam, or my thoughtless blurting of wanting to see Cooper? Maybe both, since Caleb’s eyes were so intense my breath hitched. Yeah, he still needed to reaffirm life after his own near death, and assure himself that I was here with him, and therefore, safe. I tried to come up with an argument as to why we shouldn’t defile the chair, but I felt him growing hard against my crotch, and he had unbuttoned my pajama top. “Uhh,” I tried again. With no reason to reject him, especially since his tongue swirled on my breast and his hips lifted and lowered so his erection rubbed against me, I stopped caring why he was seducing me in the early morning on a kitchen chair. If he needed sex to drill home the fact that we were alive, his family was safe, that I belonged to him and he belonged to me, that
he
turned me on, then that’s what I’d give him.

I brought his mouth to mine and kissed him with everything I had. God, I loved this man. Without breaking the kiss, I pushed my bottoms off—not the easiest thing I’ve ever done—unbuttoned his boxers, and guided him into me.

For once I was glad to be wrong. We didn’t break the chair.

Cooper was home but still out of commission so Caleb continued to put in more hours at 3D. The boys would wake, he’d leave the office, and tried to be home by seven every night. In the evening Cooper called Caleb as often as he felt necessary for updates. According to Caleb, Cooper wasn’t taking it easy like the doctors ordered. He used his time at home to hammer out the details for the new 3D branch, while trying to keep up with the Detroit branch via phone.

On evenings when Brett worked at the bar and Caleb worked late, Katie came over for dinner. Her wedding plans dominated every conversation. Maybe that would annoy some people, but not me. I cherished every moment that didn’t include the names Cooper or Adam. The wedding was three short weeks away. She made sure her date didn’t interfere with work, band practice, or a Wreckers Weekend. The Bachelorette party, she informed me today, was set for June tenth.

I spent the time between Franny leaving and Katie arriving making cookies. No bakes, Katie’s favorite.

She babbled about the wedding until I snatched a cookie from the cookie jar and handed it to her.

She swiped it from me. “Good lord, Mol, what do you want?”

I smiled a guilty smile. “I want to go see Cooper. The hospital released him last week. He needs aftercare, and I’m willing to bet he doesn’t have any. Caleb says he’s pretty much working from home instead of relaxing.”

She bit into the cookie. “Doesn’t he have any family?”

“I don’t think so. There were no cards or flowers in his hospital room, so I doubt it. And besides a 3D employee, I think I’m the only one who took the time to see him. That’s sad.”

“You know what else is sad?”

“The fact that the word Meemaw is a part of my vocabulary?”

She nudged me. “No. The fact that you’re willing to care for a man who’s proven he doesn’t give a shit about you or the boys. Now I’ll never see you punch Cooper, and that’s a damn shame.”

“For the record, I don’t punch everybody,” I informed her. “Seriously, besides Belinda Nord and The Creep—Adam—it’s been a few years since I’ve been in a fight.” My thirtieth birthday, in fact.

I handed Katie another cookie, then grabbed the cookie jar and kept the rest away from her. I hated putting her in an awkward situation, but hey, best friends did that sometimes. While she chewed I asked her if she would stay with the boys so I could check on Cooper.

She huffed, showing her displeasure at feeding her a cookie to ask a favor. I smiled, nice and sweet, and held out the jar. She swapped it from my hands. “Go.”

I promised Caleb I would let him know if I went to see Cooper, so I texted him.
Going to check on Cooper. Katie watching boys. Love you.
No response, so I told Katie the boys would wake from their nap within the hour, and that I’d be home for dinner.

Cooper lived in a loft in downtown Detroit. I dug my phone from the front pocket of my purse to let him know I was on my way, but thought better of it and tucked it away. It’d work in my favor to surprise Cooper.

A twenty-five minute drive later, I pounded on his door. No answer. I pounded again, louder, and yelled, “Cooper, it’s Molly. Let me in.”

Shuffled footsteps mixed with clumps sounded, and in another minute he opened the door, supporting himself with crutches.

His hair was ruffled, his clothes wrinkled. Dark bags lined his eyes. The grimace on his face said he wasn’t pleased to see me. Shocker.

I plastered on a fake smile. “Hey, Cooper. How are you feeling?”

He stared at me for a few heartbeats, then turned and hobbled into his loft. I followed. I had been here only one other time. Everything had stayed the same; comfortable yet impersonal. It was all one room, save the bedroom and bathroom, so I could see he’d been camped out on a recliner chair that sat at the perfect viewing distance of his television.

He eased himself into his chair. There was a blanket over the arm, and food wrappers and drink bottles littered around it and on a nearby table, along with his cell phone and a legal pad with some notes scribbled on it. A layer of dust coated every hard surface I could see.

Cooper leaned sideways over the chair to grab a pizza box. Seeing it was empty, he tossed it and mumbled something unintelligible.

Awkwardness loomed in the air. We had this huge issue between us that had yet to be discussed. I was positive he didn’t want me around, and pretty sure I shouldn’t be there. Regardless, I couldn’t seem to turn my back on him and let him rot in his own filth.

I sat on the couch at the furthest point from his chair. “So, you going to answer my question? How are you feeling?”

He stared at the blank television. “I feel like shit. I was shot, remember?”

Yup. Shot saving my husband. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d appreciate the reminder. “Are you hungry?”

He shrugged.

I ground my teeth together to keep from bitching at him. Could the man make nothing easy? “Listen, Cooper. I’m trying to be nice here, which you make it hard to do by the way. Seems like you have no one to care for you. Am I right?”

“So?”

He didn’t want my sympathy or an emotional outburst. Cooper wanted practicality, so that’s what I gave him. “See, here’s the deal. The sooner you heal and start running 3D again, the sooner my husband can resume his normal hours and spend more time at home, and the sooner I’ll be able to ease my conscience and leave you the hell alone.” I paused to let that sink in. “So, again. Are. You. Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

Hallelujah, an answer. I walked to his kitchen and rummaged through his cabinets and refrigerator, which were close to bare. I picked through the little food that remained and tossed the expired stuff. It took a minute, but I wrangled up some pasta and frozen chicken, and enough ingredients to make a chicken pasta salad. I yelled to him what I was going to make. When he didn’t complain I put the chicken in a pot of water to boil.

I forced every emotion I had for him—pity, irritation, anger—away, and went into care giver mode. I cleaned up around his chair. When I glanced at him, I noticed his face had paled since I arrived. Little beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

“Are you in pain?” I asked.

He nodded. Praise Jesus, an answer I didn’t have to drag out of him.

“Where are your pain pills?”