Bad Girls Don't (6 page)

“Serenity Falls isn’t exactly the big city.”

“No, but it’s not the same as living on a farm like this, where the air is fresh and clean.”

Tyler inhaled deeply. “Ah, the smell of fresh manure. There’s nothing quite like it. Guaranteed to clear your sinuses.”

Angel absently rubbed a spot behind Lucy’s ear. “I think the Amish have it right.”

“So you think you might like living on a farm around here?”

Angel nodded. “How about you?” Her attention shifted to Tyler. “Do you miss Chicago?”

The sun went behind a cloud, shadowing Tyler’s face as he shook his head. Since she’d first met him, Tyler had always been a man of few words.

He still didn’t talk about his past. He’d told her as little as he could. And she could understand that. At first. But they were closer now. Or at least she was closer to him. She’d fallen in love with him. Head over heels.

He’d told her loved her. Once. Which was a big deal for a quiet guy like him.

But she still had a hard time reading him. And she shouldn’t. They were soul mates. She should be able to know what he was thinking without him having to tell her.

Maybe her hot flashes were blocking her usual empathy. She was also having some memory issues. Not that she’d ever had a photographic memory. She’d always thought in clusters. Or in loops, like crocheting. One thought led to another and another, until in the end she had no idea what she’d started out thinking.

“Did you ever call Adam back?”

Tyler’s question about Julia’s biological father caught Angel totally off guard. “Not yet.”

“Don’t you want to know why he called you?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not? You had a child with him.”

“That he didn’t know about until a few months ago.”

“Yeah, but he knows now.”

“So?”

“So . . . nothing.” Tyler’s expression closed up before he abruptly added, “He’s left his wife.”

“What?”

“Adam. I read in the paper that he’s left his wife. Filed for divorce. Maybe that’s why he’s calling you. Because he wants you back.”

“I don’t care what he wants.”

“No?”

“No.” Angel turned to face him fully. “Where is all this coming from? Don’t you believe that I love you?”

Instead of answering, Tyler leaned down and kissed her. It was only later that Angel realized he’d never answered her question.

 

 

“Okay, ladies, are you ready to shake your stuff?”

The cinder-block walls of the Rock Creek community center ricocheted the sound of belly-dancing music for Skye’s Wednesday class.

“Wait,” Fanny Abernathy demanded. At eighty-two, she was the oldest one in the class. “Turn off the music a minute.”

Skye did so.

“Is it true you were arrested for indecent exposure yesterday?” Fanny asked.

“Of course not,” Nancy Crumpler answered on her behalf. “Hey, did I ever tell you all about the time I was a dancer in Vegas? Now there’s a story.”

Her comment surprised Skye. “But your sister is a nun.”

“Yeah, she’s the good sister. I’m the bad one,” Nancy said proudly.

“I can relate to that,” Skye said. “My sister Julia is the perfect one in the family.”

“The librarian from Serenity Falls? I heard she took off on the back of a Harley with some bad boy six months ago.”

“Her one attempt to out-bad me,” Skye scoffed. “Not that that was possible. It takes a certain something to be a bad girl, and Julia just doesn’t have it.”

“What kind of something?” Fanny asked.

“Bad girls make things happen,” Skye replied.

“That’s right,” Nancy agreed.

Skye swiveled her hips. “Bad girls have coast-to-coast confidence.”

“They’re cheeky. And some have great cheeks.” Nancy turned her back to everyone and cupped her firm bottom with her hands before giving them all a wiggle to demonstrate. “There’s a reason the sign on Crumpler’s Auto Parts says ‘We Have the Best Parts Around.’ This here”—she pointed to her derriere—“is definitely my best part.”

The entire class cracked up. Octogenarian Fanny giggled so hard, they almost had to do a Heimlich on her.

“They’re sassy and saucy,” Skye continued.

“Are you talking about bad girls or Nancy’s bottom?” Fanny demanded.

Skye grinned. “Both. Bad girls don’t have a plan for life. They only know what they want right now, and they go after it.”

“So what do you want right now?” Fanny asked.

“To get this class moving.”

“Have you heard when your sister is coming back?”

“No.”

“Do you think she knows about your being arrested?”

“I wasn’t actually arrested.”

“A lot of people saw you entering the police station in handcuffs.”

“Handcuffs were involved, yes.”

“You mean you and the sheriff were just having fun?” Fanny frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him. He’s not the type to have fun. You know his story, right?”

“I know he’s an uptight pain in the butt,” Skye said.

“It’s not polite to talk about an officer of the law that way.”

“She’s already told you she’s a bad girl,” Nancy said.

Fanny shook her head. “Even so . . . Do you know why Nathan is the way he is?”

“No,” Skye said. She didn’t want to know anything that might make Nathan more appealing. “And I don’t care.”

“It’s a tragic story, really. I can’t believe you’ve been in Rock Creek for several months and you haven’t heard about it.”

“Successful avoidance on my part,” Skye muttered.

Fanny pursed her lips. “But why would you want to do that?”

“Maybe tragedy makes her cry,” Nancy suggested. “It makes her mother cry.”

“Bad girls probably don’t cry, huh?” Fanny looked to Skye for the answer.

“Not unless they’re after something,” Skye said. “Okay, ladies, let’s get down to business here. Prepare to let your inner diva out.”

As Skye went through the familiar movements of her dance, she felt the stress gradually leave her body. She ordered thoughts of Studly Do-Right to depart as well, but being the stubborn sort . . . he refused.

So she imagined him posing nude for some calendar, figuring that should chase him out of her thoughts. No such luck. He made a mighty fine Mr. May.

 

 

“I’m home!” Skye called out later that afternoon as she walked into her apartment above the deserted Tivoli Theater.

The entire building had been for sale for over a year. No one wanted to buy it. So the once brilliant movie theater remained dark, as it had for quite a while apparently.

The realtor who was selling it was in one of Skye’s belly-dancing classes and had given her a very quick tour of the Tivoli when she first moved in. Red velvet seats baggy from thousands of patrons sitting in them. A deep blue ceiling painted with hundreds of faded gold stars. A screen bigger than those in the megaplexes so popular these days.

The reality was that too many businesses in Rock Creek were boarded up with FOR SALE or FOR LEASE signs stuck in their vacant windows. The downtown area along Barwell Street was three blocks long . . . well, only two and a half if you didn’t count the south end of town, where the library, village hall, and sheriff ’s department were all located.

Nearby was the Dairy Queen, and a block down was Angelo’s Pizza. These were the only two eating establishments in Rock Creek. No Indian curry places or Thai take-out here. No organic fusion bistros to satisfy Skye’s food cravings.

Crumpler’s Auto Parts was on the northern end of town. Next up were three empty retail spaces, where Chuck’s Meat Market was the most recent to close its doors. Leah’s Nail Salon had been around for a while and seemed to be doing okay. Nick’s Tavern was still open next to the VFW hall on the corner, and doing a good business.

Another place with plenty of customers was the Sisters of the Poor Charity Thrift Shop. Which was why Algee said he’d chosen the empty space beside it to open his second Cosmic Comics store.

Gas4Less, a combo gas station/convenience store, was the only other really active business on that block.

Skye could see the thrift shop from her living room window. She’d gotten most of her furnishings from there, and from local garage sales. The lucky bamboo plant by the door was a gift from Angel, who dabbled in feng shui more than Skye did.

The spinning wheel in the corner of the living room was one of the few things Skye had brought with her from the West Coast. Angel was a better spinner than Skye, but Skye still enjoyed doing it when she had the time. Which wasn’t often these days. Not when she was scrambling to keep the bill collectors at bay.

Skye didn’t have the kind of spirit to fit into the mold of a regular nine-to-five job—not that there were many of those available these days in Rock Creek. Instead, she gave yoga and belly-dancing lessons. She also helped out Algee at the comic-book store on occasion, and her sister’s friend Pam at her bridal floral business if she needed an extra hand for an event. But those weren’t regular things.

Of course, Skye wasn’t into regular things. She was rather proud of that fact.

“Mommy!”

Skye was also proud of her daughter Toni. The kid was just like her. All attitude and cocky confidence.

Skye scooped her up into her arms, where Toni hung on to her like a little monkey—arms around her neck, legs around her waist.

“Who is this princess?” Skye demanded.

Toni straightened her crooked tiara. “I’m Cinderella. I’m making ’viron-mental good shoes with no leather.”

“Been telling her your version of the Cinderella story again, huh?” Skye said to Angel, who had joined them.

“Absolutely.”

“Cinderella is in the shoe business,” Toni recited. “But she’s not a capitalist pig even though she’s a princess.”

Skye smothered her with kisses before setting Toni free. “What kept you?” Angel said. “Usually you’re back from class before now.”

Skye shrugged. “I stopped at Gas4Less to get a few instant lottery tickets for Owen as a thank-you present. I hope I don’t lose them before I give them to him.”

“I don’t mind waiting if you want to run over there now,” Angel said.

“Really? It’ll only take me a minute. And you know how I am about paperwork.”

“Go on, give them to him before you lose them.”

“I won’t be long. I’ll be right back,” Skye told her daughter before racing down the stairs and across the street to the stately building of the funeral home, where DRIVE SAFE. WE’ll WAIT was displayed on the sign out front.

Skye wasn’t good at either thing—playing it safe, or waiting. However, once inside, she did knock on Owen’s door and wait for his invitation to enter.

“Hi, Owen. I got you a surprise. Do you have a minute?”

He smiled at her. “For you, always.”

“I know how much you’re into the lottery, so I got you some of these cards.” She spread a handful of them on his desk.

“The Pennsylvania Lottery is the only one that uses the funds to benefit senior citizens, you know,” Owen told her.

“So you only participate to help seniors, huh?”

“That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Here.” He handed her a few of the cards. “Those are instant winners. Do me a favor and rub them with a coin for me.” He handed her a quarter. “My fingers are a little arthritic today.”

Skye felt badly for him. “I shouldn’t have gotten this kind, then. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. So what did you get?”

“I have no idea.” She held up the ticket to him.

“Not a winner. Try another one.”

“You do realize that the chances of your winning is probably something like one in a billion.”

“Actually, for this game, the odds are a little better.”

“You call this a game?” she scoffed. “Baseball is a game. This is a waste of time.”

“Let me see.”

Skye showed him.

“Not a winner. There’s one left,” he said.

“You know what you are?” After rubbing with the coin, Skye didn’t even bother looking at the card before showing it to him. “You’re an eternal optimist.”

“Son of a buck! You know what you are? You’re a
winner
!”

Chapter Four

“Right.
It’s kind of you to say so, but I’ve got to go—”

“I’m not kidding!” Owen’s face was turning red with excitement. Or maybe he was having a stroke . . .

Great. She’d given him a gift that gave him heart trouble.

“Calm down,” she urged him. “Take a deep breath.”

“Are you listening to me? You’re a winner!”

“Here, sit down.” Skye hurried to his side and lowered Owen into the office chair.

He popped right back up. “I don’t need to sit down.”

“Okay, okay.” She was aiming for a soothing voice, but that wasn’t one she used very often. She sure didn’t want to sound bossy like her good-girl sister.

“You’re not hearing me.”

Skye tried to be sympathetic. “That’s a problem for a lot of people these days, the feeling that they’re not being heard. That their views and emotions aren’t valued.”

“I’m not talking about my views or emotions! I’m talking about the lottery!”

“Which you take seriously.” She patted his arm. “I get that. Really I do.”

“And do you get that this is a winning ticket?” He waved the card right in front of her nose, his arthritic knuckles almost hitting her. “An instant million-dollar winner!”

“Yeah, right. Very funny, Owen.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Let me see.” The way he was flapping that card around, she couldn’t read a word.

A second later, Owen was the one leading a shaken Skye to a chair. She jumped up a second later and hugged him. “I’m so glad for you!”

He blinked. “For me?”

“You’re a millionaire!”