Highway Song: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (33 page)

The sense of betrayal kicked me in the gut like a mule. How could she do that? Especially after we
’
d caught our break. Did she have no idea what this would do to my career, let alone the band
’
s? Fuck the bitch! Damn her to hell.

Instinctively, I knew this was why I
’
d never allowed myself to become involved deeply with a woman before her. A woman could destroy me, and this one had. At the same time, I wanted more than anything to be able to hold and comfort her. I
’
d promised her everything would be okay, but this blindsided me. I hadn
’
t protected her, and look what happened. The bad guys had found her, even if the bad guys turned out to be the FBI.

Axel and Cole were talking at me, but I couldn
’
t hear anything except the roaring in my ears. Eventually, they took my arms and heaved me to my feet to face the label
’
s minder.

“
This is a fucking disaster,
”
he said, the words coming to me as if I were hearing them under water.
“
We
’
ll have to cancel the tour. Why didn
’
t we know about this? You people are in breach of contract. I
’
ll see you in hell, shithead. You should have warned us about her.
”

The injustice of it stunned me again, but the asshole in front of me pissed me off enough to shake out of my fog. If Axel hadn
’
t had hold of my right arm, I
’
d have punched the dude.
“
Do you think any of us knew about this? Fuck you, too. Let go of me, guys. I need to get my head straight. I
’
m leaving.
”

I caught the worried exchange of glances between my two old friends, and the bewilderment of the two band members we
’
d recently brought into this, only to have it turn to ashes on the night that should have been ours to celebrate. I should have been there for them as the leader.

All I could do, though, was get by myself and work through how this could have happened. What had I done to deserve the shit-storm that would undoubtedly arrive with the morning newspapers? How could we make it go away?

But then, murder charges never just went away. We
’
d have to deal with that first. Then maybe I could make sense of how I
’
d managed to fall in love with my stepsister.

TWENTY-THREE

Amy
“
H
ey! Hey,
you
! You gonna eat your breakfast?
”

The voice interrupted a dream where Rex and I were singing to thousands of people from a huge stage. When it didn
’
t stop, I forced my eyes open, to find a pretty black face inches from mine. I couldn
’
t suppress the startle reflex that jerked my entire body, since my head was resting on something hard and had nowhere to go. She startled in turn, and the face disappeared from my view.

I took a moment to examine my surroundings without moving, but there were no hints. I slowly turned my head away from the wall at my side and let my eyes wander the rest of the space. Across a span of maybe ten feet, the girl sat on a shelf-like bed
’
s thin mattress, her feet drawn up next to her butt and her arms around the folded legs. She looked terrified. I knew how she felt.

“
What is this?
”
I asked. My question was directed at the room where I now knew I lay on a bed similar to the one across the way.

“
You don
’
t know where you at? Tha
’
s funny,
”
the girl returned. I looked over at her again. She wore a pair of orange pants and matching top that looked like hospital scrubs.

“
A hospital?
”
I ventured. Her response was to let go of her legs and slap one vigorously as she forced a laugh. Not a hospital, then.

Just then a rattle of keys announced the opening of the door.
“
Bruno? Front and center. You got a date with the man.
”
The words were just as baffling to me as the surroundings. I didn
’
t move until that new voice sounded again, this time with impatience.
“
Bruno! Get the fuck up.
”

No one had addressed me by that name in years, so I was slow to respond. My roommate, if that
’
s what the girl was, whispered urgently.
“
Tha
’
s you, girlfriend. Get up,
‘
fore she comes in and yanks you by the arm. Go on, now.
”

I stood shakily and stepped toward the open door.

“
Hurry up! Don
’
t got all day, princess. Let
’
s go.
”

From the corner of my eye as I stepped hesitantly through the door, I saw my roomie dart toward my bed. I guess I wasn
’
t going to eat that breakfast.

I
’
d never spent much time in a jail before, only on occasion when I
’
d been picked up for streetwalking, before Octavio could post my bail. Nevertheless, as I came to full consciousness, I finally realized that
’
s where I was. But why? That part didn
’
t make sense. Why was I in jail, and where was Rex? I shuffled along behind the matron as she led me to an interview room, muttered that I wasn
’
t much of a security risk, and thrust me inside before closing the door with a clang. The click of the lock engaging made me flinch.

Within only a few minutes, two men came in. They looked familiar. Not until they spoke again, did it all come flooding back. They
’
d arrested me for Frank
’
s murder right after the concert was over. Oh, my God, had the fans seen? They
’
d said my name! Where was Rex? I panicked, and began to scream.

One of the men yanked the door open and exited the room quickly. The other placed his hand on my arm.
“
Calm down, Ms. Bruno. No one is going to hurt you. We need to get some things settled, and then everything will be okay. Calm down, okay?
”
As he spoke in a kind, soothing voice, my panic subsided, and I was able to stop screaming, though my body still shook like an aspen leaf in a breeze. In a moment, the other man was back, along with a third man who crossed to sit beside me at the table.

“
Ms. Bruno, my name is Blake Castle. I
’
m your attorney, if you approve. These gentlemen are from the FBI. They
’
re going to let us talk for a minute, and then they
’
ll ask you some questions. Will that be okay?
”

Nothing was okay. I wanted to tell them they
’
d made a mistake. I hadn
’
t killed Frank, or anyone else. Once they knew they had the wrong person, it would all be all right. They
’
d let me go, and I could go to Rex and beg his forgiveness. He must be so angry! Otherwise, he
’
d be here.

“
I didn
’
t kill Frank,
”
I said.

“
Ms. Bruno. I must insist you say no more until we can talk.
”
Mr. Castle seemed mad at me.
“
Gentlemen, my client is clearly confused. I insist you allow me to consult with her in private, as is her right.
”

Mr. Castle might be on my side. I thought so. If only I could think straight, but it was like I
’
d been drugged
…
oh, no! Had someone given me something? Damn it, I
’
d worked too hard to get straight to have it all happen again.

“
What the fuck is going on?
”
I demanded.

That
’
s when the FBI agents got up and went out the door, leaving me with Mr. Castle. What was his fancy-pants first name? Blake. That was it. He was asking me a question.

“
May I call you Amanda?
”

“
Call me Amy. If I can call you Blake.
”

Rex

M
idnight
—
the witching hour
—
had come and gone, and we were none the wiser about what had happened to Amy. I told the band members I
’
d call or text when I got to see her at the hospital, but that never happened. By the time I got there, she
’
d been treated for shock and released into police custody.

At the jail I was turned away. Visiting hours were for detainees who
’
d been arraigned and were awaiting a hearing. And they certainly didn
’
t happen at one or two in the morning.

Frantic, I tried to explain that she
’
d been taken away unconscious, without benefit of her rights being read. My insistence got me nothing except a warning that if I didn
’
t leave immediately I
’
d be placed under arrest and into a jail cell myself.

Defeated, I called Amy
’
s tax attorney in Los Angeles, who wasn
’
t amused to be awakened in the middle of the night by a distraught and incoherent non-client. When I finally made him understand I was calling for a referral to a criminal attorney in Phoenix, he dropped the attitude and told me he
’
d call back right away.

A few minutes later I had the name and the answering service number for Blake Castle. It sounded like a historical monument more than a person
’
s name. But Mr. Castle proved helpful by calling back within five minutes of my speaking to his service. An hour later, I knew there was no chance of seeing Amy before her arraignment, which wouldn
’
t happen until later today. But Mr. Castle assured me he would be there for her.

I returned to my hotel room, cold and empty without Amy, around four in the morning. Sleep eluded me for a while. What a fucking mess! Aside from my personal feelings, there were bound to be consequences for the band.

With Perseid
’
s representative already making dire threats, it was probably a good idea to get in touch with the lawyer who
’
d been less than helpful in reviewing our contracts. I didn
’
t trust him, but there was little choice in an emergency. As soon as the fallout from Amy
’
s arrest settled, I
’
d make it my business to find someone who was more firmly on our side.

I couldn
’
t avoid the personal issues, either. Once I was convinced that Amy was in fact Amanda, my ex-stepsister, ugly thoughts chased by despair circled in my exhausted brain. She
had
to have known, even though I
’
d changed my name for the stage. I didn
’
t look that much different than I had at seventeen. Surely she
’
d have recognized me? On the other hand, she
’
d only been ten or so to the best of my memory. Could she have forgotten me? I certainly didn
’
t recognize the little girl in the woman she
’
d become.