Desperado: Deep in the Heart, Book 2 (12 page)

His jaw dropped. “You’re going to take your movie deal to Wrong-Way?”

“Of course.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s got the land. I need a fast deal. It all works out.”

“You’re going to accept his deal without talking to Annie first?”

Oops. She’d forgotten about that. “Well, I haven’t looked at her message yet. I forgot to get them on the way up.” Of course she had. Losing her job had made any messages in her box pretty much moot.

Cody’s taking her things up to her room had swept any thought of messages clean from her brain.

Irate, he pointed toward the hall. “Well, your messages are in your box. I assure you there’s one from her in there.”

“Well…” How could she tell him that it was better for everyone if she was in Shiloh? “I think what I saw in Shiloh suited our needs exactly.”

“He made you sick and you’re going to do a deal with him? Terrific.”

“Tate didn’t exactly make me sick. I didn’t know not to eat in Shiloh, which you could have told me just as well.”

“I warned you about him, but you didn’t listen. Of course, now you’re going clean contrary to what you should be doing, which is making a deal with Annie.” He snorted, jamming his hat on his head. “Loyalty is obviously not a strong suit in the entertainment industry.”

He poked his head back around the door. “And I think that if you’re doing business with Shiloh, Desperado shouldn’t be picking up your hotel tab.”

“They weren’t in the first place,” she snapped. “My company takes care of that. Desperado hasn’t paid for so much as a soda for me so far. Annie’s hospitality is about all I’ve seen.” It wasn’t exactly true. Cody and his mother had taken good care of her. But that hadn’t been business.

It had been the beginning of something which hadn’t had a chance. She kept her chin high as she returned Cody’s stare.

Without a word, he stomped out of her room. She listened for the sound of his boots on the stairs, which she heard moving faster than she would have liked. Down, down, down, her heart sinking with every step.

If Stormy didn’t have a loyal bone in her body, by golly, he did. Cody headed off to find two codgers sitting on their park bench in front of the post office, which gave them a front-row seat into everybody’s business.

Sure enough, Curvy and Pick sat on the bench, damn their interfering hides. Cody got out of his truck and went over to take a seat on the bench.

“Howdy, Cody,” they said at once.

“How’s the cow business?” Curvy asked.

“Be a hell of a lot better if Annie was going to be opening her restaurant,” he replied, going straight to the point.

Pick and Curvy instantly glanced at each other. Right on the money, Cody told himself.

“Too bad about that,” Pick said.

“Too bad you had to stick your noses in where it didn’t belong.” Cody leveled them with a stare.

“What do you mean?” Curvy asked innocently.

“I mean that everything was going along fine until you heard that Annie wasn’t of a mind to have that movie made on her land. Suddenly, a host of problems the likes of which I’ve never heard are discovered, which impede her opening her restaurant. Shame on both of you.” He refused to release them from his glare.

“Now, Cody, business is business. We might as well give that spot to someone whose business will bring in more money for Desperado. Starting up a restaurant is a dicey business. Could be it’d go over well, could be it’d bomb. There’s more security in letting the Michaels brothers expand their funeral home into that space. They’re wanting to get into the casket business big-time, as folks from several cities around know they can get the best deal from them.”

“Yeah. Death is always profitable. Of course, then you have a funeral home and its services as the highlight of the creek, instead of Annie’s restaurant where tourists could eat after a day browsing in the mom-and-pop shops.” He paused for a moment. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Stormy Nixon is taking her movie to Shiloh.”

“What!” Curvy and Pick exclaimed.

“Yes. She’s decided Shiloh better suits her needs. But,” he said, standing to brush off his jeans, “that’s business.”

“Now we’ll be a casket and a potty stop,” Pick commented.

“Cody, you gotta do something,” Curvy said.

“What could I do, Mayor?”

“I don’t know! Talk to that cantankerous woman. Change her mind.”

“Annie’s not cantankerous,” he said smoothly.

“I’m talking ’bout Stormy!” Curvy cried.

“Well, I’m talking about Annie, a woman who’s lived here all her life and done good things for this town.”

“Now, Cody.” Curvy backed up a pace. “Let’s not compare these two sichy-ations.”

“These days, I’ve been thinking a lot about loyalty.” Cody put one boot up on the bench beside the codgers. “If you won’t do right by Annie, who’s done so much for Desperado, why should I expect any better?” He held up a hand to ward off Curvy’s sputtering. “I bring my cows in for cow patty bingo and for the calf catch. I’ve been known to give my money to worthwhile projects in this town. Occasionally, I’ve even been known to sponsor charity events. Ma spends days cooking for every special event Desperado has.” He slowed down for emphasis. “But maybe one day I need something from this town. Maybe all I’ll hear is ‘no, Cody, we’ve got better business over here’.”

“All right! Annie can have her restaurant!” Curvy cried.

“Thank you, Mayor. Can I have your
word
on that, or do I need it in writing?”

They’d collected a couple of eavesdroppers by now, and Curvy was eager to retain his self-respect. “I think the mayor’s word is as good as stone.”

“I hope so. I’d hate to have to use one on you.” Cody slid his boot off the bench and began walking away.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” he asked, throwing a glance behind him.

“Are you going to change that Nixon woman’s mind or not?”

He got into his truck. “Nope. That’s up to the good mayor of Desperado to take care of.” He nodded at the bent-over little man. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mayor.”

Actually, Cody thought as he drove away, he wasn’t sure he could change Stormy’s mind. Moreover, he didn’t think he wanted to. The less time Trouble spent in his town was likely for the best.

Unfortunately, he’d kissed her. And as long as his mind kept returning to how her lips felt under his, he was destined to suffer.

His suffering intensified when he walked through the door of his own home. Mary and Carmen sat in the kitchen, trying to act as though nothing had happened.

Something had. Mary’s long black hair was now the color of old carrots.

“What in the hell have you done now?” He strode over and lifted Mary’s hair to run it through his hand. “It looks like something got sick real bad in your hair.”

Mary started to cry. Cody shifted on his feet, wondering if he hadn’t been sensitive to a situation that required it.

“I just wanted to look like Stormy!” Mary cried.

“Stormy’s hair doesn’t look like this. It’s purple, not orange.” He was totally confused.

“She wanted it to be as beautiful as Stormy’s,” his mother explained. “So she tried dying it herself.”

“Is there anything we can do to fix it?” He held his breath, hoping his mother wouldn’t say it had to grow out on its own. “Your mother’s not going to be too happy having to look at you like that.”
And she did it under my roof. That’ll give Annie confidence in my abilities to watch over Mary while they’re having their second honeymoon.

“She’ll have to go to the beauty salon.”

“Okay.” He sighed heavily. “Hop in the truck, ladybug. I’ll run you over to Hera’s. Will you call Hera, Ma, and tell her we’re on the way for an emergency appointment?”

Twenty minutes later, Hera shook her head dolefully at Cody.

“This is a mess. I can try to get it back to black, but I just don’t know.”

“I want to look like Stormy,” Mary said stubbornly.

“Who is this Stormy?” Hera asked.

“The movie scout who’s in Desperado. I went swimming with her at the Stagecoach.” Mary was proud of herself.

“Well, I gotta know what color her hair is if I’m gonna make you look like her.” Hera took a long drag on a cigarette as she considered Mary’s hair.

“Dark red,” Mary said, while Cody replied, “Purple.”

“Ya’ll gotta make up your mind.” Hera pointed toward a phone. “Cody, call Stormy and ask what color rinse her beautician uses on her hair.”

“Call and ask her
what
? No way. Mary, you call her.”

“Okay. I want to ask her if it hurts to have ears pierced with three earrings, too.”

“Never mind!” Cody snatched the phone away. “I’ll talk to her.” He rang the desk at the Stagecoach, all the while glaring at his niece. His whole body warmed at the sound of Stormy’s voice.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you, Cody.”

What an irritating woman. Most beat around the bush and wouldn’t say anything more than, “Oh, Cody, I’m so glad you called,” or something else polite.
She
had to stick the knife in and give it a twist.

“Gotta question I have to ask you,” he said abruptly.

“Okay.”

“We’re at the beauty salon and Hera wants to know something.” He faltered, wondering if there were social rules against inquiring into the color of a woman’s hair.

“Well, the braid is somewhat archaic, but I like it on you. It makes you look like a throwback to another generation, but that goes along with your personality,” she told him. “Rock stars wear braids to achieve a certain macho look. On you, it comes across as archaic. But almost a fashion statement.”

“What in the
hell
are you going on about?” Everyone in the beauty salon turned to stare at him.

“You said you were at the beauty salon and your beautician wanted to know something.”

“Listen, Stormy,” he growled, turning his back to the audience and cupping the mouthpiece with his hand so not a word reached interested ears, “I’m not at the beauty parlor for a day out with the girls, okay? I’m here because my niece decided she wanted to look like you and turned her hair the color of a baby’s spit after it’s been eating carrots.”

“Oh, dear. But my hair isn’t orange.”

“That’s the point of this phone call. Hera wants to know what color rinse you use on your hair.” He was completely out of patience with the whole matter, and anxious to get out of this beauty parlor. Something about all the faces with curlers around them was particularly hard on his eyes.

“Let me talk to Mary.”

“What for?”

“So I can explain it to her,” she snapped.

“Fine.” He handed the phone to his niece, thinking it was probably better this way. Talking to Stormy wasn’t helpful if he was trying to forget her. And her sassy mouth, with those wonderful, clinging lips.

“Maple. Stormy says a rinse called Maple is put on her hair,” Mary announced to the room at large. “But she says that, for me to audition for the part, I definitely need to go back to the color my hair was—only have it cut into a pixie style.”

“I can’t believe it.” Something inside Cody snapped as he looked at the eighteen inches of his niece’s once-beautiful hair. Everything—absolutely everything—had changed since Stormy Nixon had come to town with her nutso way of life. “You are not cutting off your hair to try out for some stupid part you probably won’t get. And it’s being filmed in Shiloh, so why would you even consider such a crazy notion?”

“Somebody will drive me over there so that I can try out.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Won’t you, Uncle?”

“Oh, for the love of—” He glared at her. “Please don’t cut your hair off. If you get the part and you still want to, then fine. But don’t do it until then, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Hera. How long does Mary need to be here for that rinse thing you’re going to do?”

“I need about an hour and a half to work on her.” Hera put out her cigarette and put gnarled hands into Mary’s hair. “Maybe two, so I can trim the ends and shape it up. It’s pretty rough.”

He pointed a finger at his niece. “Don’t you dare leave this salon.”

“I won’t, Uncle Cody. Where are you going?”

He shook his head at her. “Call me on my cell phone when you’re done, Mary, and I’ll pick you up.”

Mary watched as her uncle left the salon. “He’s going to see Stormy,” she told the room at large.

“Does he like her?” Hera asked. “Be kinda strange if Cody fell for a woman.”

“It’s a real unusual situation,” Mary replied. “They argue like mad half the time, ’cause Stormy’s always in Uncle’s face about something. Funny thing about it is, he never really seems all that mad at her.”

“Ah,” all the women in the parlor said. Knowing looks were passed around the room.

“Maybe three hours. It may take me three hours to fix your hair, Mary,” Hera murmured with a grin. “Grab a magazine and sit over there while I finish Ula’s hair.”