That Man of Mine (27 page)

He'd tell Mimi his decision right after the festival. Which meant he was going home with his wife tonight.

“What are you so happy about?” someone yelled at him. He spotted Pilar Diaz-Rothman and Kitty Burke over by one of the food booths. They were eating corn dogs, which reminded him he hadn't had lunch today. It was almost dinnertime. He should find Mimi and see if she could take a break to get a quick bite to eat.

“Ladies,” Zeke said, jogging over to them. “What's not to be happy about?” He glanced around the festival grounds. Every inch of downtown Whispering Bay was packed. “Everything seems to be going great, doesn't it?”

“You don't know, do you?” Pilar said in a low voice.

“Know what?”

Kitty and Pilar exchanged a look. “We promised we wouldn't tell, but Mimi's about to be in big trouble,” Kitty said. “Fatback Bubba isn't going to show up tonight.”

Zeke felt his jaw clench. “Tell me everything you know.”

Z
eke got the address
of Fatback Bubba's studio from a friend on the Panama City police force. He used his siren the whole drive over. Not exactly ethical, but fuck ethics. Mimi was about to be lynched in front of the whole town, and if Kitty and Pilar got the story right, Doug Wentworth and Bruce Bailey had their slimy fingerprints all over the scheme. He'd deal with them later.

He pulled into the studio parking lot. He didn't bother knocking on the door. The place was in the process of some kind of turnover. Cardboard boxes littered the floor, making it impossible to strike a clear path. Male voices, lots of them from the sound of it, drifted from a backroom.

 A bald guy, early thirties, neck tattoo, approximately six foot tall and one hundred and ninety pounds (no other distinguishing marks), walked out of the room. He looked surprised to see a cop.

“Officer, what can I do for you?”

“I need to see whoever's in charge of the band called Fatback Bubba and the Rattlesnakes.”

He swallowed hard. “Is there some kind of problem? Because I know the boys can get a little rowdy from time to time but I promise you, they haven't done anything to warrant a visit from the police.”

“Who are you?”

The man extended his hand. Zeke hesitated just long enough before he shook it to make him sweat a little. “Keith Calloway. I'm the manager for the band.”

Ah
. So this was the fucker who winked at Mimi after telling her he was keeping the deposit. It was too bad Zeke was short on time, otherwise he'd teach the guy (in a non-violent way, of course) how to properly talk to his wife.

“Zeke Grant, chief of police for Whispering Bay.” At the last name, Calloway's eyes flickered in recognition.
Yeah. Now you're gonna deal with me, buddy
. “I believe my wife came to see you the other day.”

“Listen, man, I know she was probably upset, but my hands are tied. A contract is a contract. Not much I can do about that.”

Laughter spilled from the back room, making both of them turn their heads toward the sound.

“Who's back there?” he asked in his best
what-the-fuck's-going-on
police voice. He wasn't here in an official capacity. Calloway could tell him to get the hell out and Zeke would have no recourse but to do what the prick said. But there was no harm in using a little friendly intimidation here.

“It's just the boys doing some celebrating. Last night they opened for Billy Brenton in Tallahassee. We're gettin' ready to hit the road tomorrow morning to go on a national tour with the guy. It's our big break.”

“Congratulations,” Zeke said. “So, they're free tonight?”

Calloway immediately saw his error. “Technically, yes, but we got a whole lot of packing to do before tomorrow.”

Zeke made a show of slowly perusing all the sealed up cardboard boxes. “What's in all these boxes?”

“Just a bunch of promotional stuff. And some personal stuff, too.”

“Musical equipment?”

“Ah, hell no. We wouldn't box that. That goes in the tour bus with the boys.”

“I see. So, technically,” Zeke said, using Calloway's own expression back at him, “The
boys
are free tonight.”

“Look,” Calloway said, starting to grow a pair, “I know what you're getting at, but it's impossible. We can't do the festival and that's that.”

“Calloway! Get your ass back here before the wings get cold!” someone shouted from the back room. A few seconds later, two men came out to investigate.

One of them, a big guy with a beer belly and a handlebar mustache stilled for a moment when he saw the uniform. “What's going on?” he asked Calloway.

“This guy's wife is Mimi Grant. She's the one who hired us to play at the festival tonight in Whispering Bay.”

The guy put out his hand. Once again, Zeke hesitated before shaking it. “Bubba Collins. Sorry about the misunderstanding, but I'm sure you know the contract was breached. Not much we can do about that.”

“Yeah, I seem to be hearing that a lot lately.”

Bubba aka “Fatback” tugged on his strained belt buckle. “Look, do you have like a warrant or anything? Because if you don't, we'd like to get back to our party.”

“Is there a reason I need a warrant?” Zeke asked mildly.

“Look, man, we get it. Your wife is pissed because—”

“My
wife
is not pissed. Nor does she know that I'm even here. I, on the other hand, am very unhappy. Do you fuckers have any idea how hard she worked on this festival? This is her first year as mayor and this festival is a make it or break it for her. She's running around right now trying to figure out how to keep the town from going into riot mode when they discover in,” he stopped to glance at his watch, “about one hour and sixteen minutes, that Fatback Bubba and the Rattlesnakes are a no-show. I get why you don't need to play this festival. You boys have just made it big. Good for you. But even if your word means shit, think about all those fans of yours who drove out today to see you. I hope they're still fans when I get on that stage and tell them what assholes you are.”

“Hey, you can't talk to us that way!” Calloway said.

Bubba jumped in to agree. “Yeah, who the hell do you think—”

“Boys, boys, let's all calm down here,” said the other man, who up to now hadn't said anything. He was tall like Bubba, but lean with curly brown hair that poked out from the edges of the baseball cap he wore on his head. “Let me get this straight.” He glanced between Calloway and Bubba. “You boys promised to play at a festival tonight?”

“It's like thirty minutes from here in some little nowhere town no one cares about,” Calloway said.

“Aw, I like little nowhere towns. Came from one myself.”

Zeke frowned at the guy. Something about him seemed familiar.

Calloway went pale. “Sure, I love little towns, too. Doesn't everyone? It's just—”

“I don't know about going on the road with someone who doesn't keep their word,” said the guy with the baseball cap. “Seems like bad mojo to me.”

“But, they didn't pay us the rest of the money they owed! What were we supposed to do?” Bubba said.

“Sounds to me like this fine officer's wife was counting on you and you let her down. Let the whole town down. I sure hope all that bad publicity doesn't rub off on me.”

Calloway was sweating now. “Maybe we can swing by?” he said to Zeke. “Play for like thirty minutes or something?”

“Oh, I think we can do better than that.” The man turned to Zeke and put out his hand. This time, Zeke didn't hesitate to take it.

*~*~*

M
imi ran into the
nearest porta potty and threw up. After an entire day of not eating, she'd grabbed a hot dog and was now paying the price. But most likely anything she ate right now would go down wrong. In exactly five minutes, tickets would go on sale for Fatback Bubba and the Rattlesnakes and she couldn't let that happen. Which meant she needed to make her announcement
now
.

Is this how Bruce Bailey felt last year? Mimi could almost feel sorry for him, except she was pretty sure he'd put Doug up to the check scheme, so, no, she didn't feel sorry for him at all. She could only feel sorry for herself right now.

She took a swig from her bottle of water and rinsed out her mouth. It was time to woman up. She was going to march out there and get on that loudspeaker and make an announcement. It was the only thing she could do.

Mimi worked her way through the crowd. The concert ticket line was so long it went all the way around the food booths. She had no idea Fatback Bubba was
this
popular. It had been a brilliant idea to get him. If only she hadn't screwed up, today would have gone down in history as the most successful
Spring Into Summer
festival ever. Instead, it would probably go down as one of the worst, only second to last year's fiasco. At least she hadn't promised to bring in Billy Brenton.

She glanced around, hoping to see Zeke or one of the other uniformed officers, but all she could see were the familiar faces of everyone she'd grown up with. There were lots of unfamiliar faces, as well. Those were the ones she was most worried about. The people in Whispering Bay might not vote her back in as mayor, but they would eventually forgive her. The out-of-towners who'd driven up especially for the festival? They wouldn't be as charitable. She cringed, thinking of the reaction her announcement would incite.

She walked up to the stage and plucked a mic off the pedestal, then tapped it a couple of times to make sure it was working. The tapping instantly drew the crowd's attention.

A trickle of sweat ran down her back and into the waistband of her khaki knee length shorts.
Here goes nothing
. “May I have your attention, please?”

Everyone who wasn't looking before, looked now. A crowd gathered as close as possible to the ropes sectioning off the grassy concert area. Mimi squinted, trying to make out individual faces. Momma and Daddy waved to her from the cotton candy booth. Bruce and Doug edged their way to the front in a clear effort to get the best view possible, like leering hecklers at an execution.

She could see Bettina and Viola and the rest of the festival committee trying to keep the ticket booth line in control.
Oh God
. She should have told them before coming up here. She'd meant to. Now they were going to find out about Fatback Bubba with the rest of the crowd, and as members of the committee, the crowd would undoubtedly blame
them
as well.

The weight of hundreds of curious eyes stared back at her. Only Pilar and Kitty and Shea and the rest of the Bunco Babes knew what she was about to say. She searched the crowd for them, but there were too many people to make them out. She could feel their presence, though, and that helped some. She wished she had found Zeke. Having him next to her wouldn't change the outcome, but it would make her feel a lot less vulnerable.

“First off,” she said into the mic, “I want to thank all of you for coming out today. Despite the rain, we had a terrific turnout at the 10K run and I want to congratulate all the winners and everyone who put in such a great effort.” The crowd clapped politely.

“And of course, I want to extend a great big thank you to all the volunteers. Without them, this festival wouldn't be possible. And especially to the members of the Whispering Bay police force who donated their time today to keep us safe.”

The crowd clapped louder this time. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with tissue paper.

“So…you all know this was my first year as mayor and as head of the festival committee. Now, I'm not one to put the blame on anyone or anything, so everything that's happened here today, and, um… that
will happen,
is totally on me. I'm responsible for
everything
. No one else. Just me. As my husband Zeke likes to say, the buck stops here.”

The crowd stared back at her, waiting.

“And, so, here's the thing.” She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't look. She just couldn't. It was like a band aid you had to rip off. Better fast and furious than slow and tortuous. “Fatback Bubba won't be here tonight,” she blurted.

The crowd went silent.

“What did she say?” someone yelled.

“Yeah, what did you say?” yelled a man wearing a cowboy hat. From this distance, she couldn't tell for certain, but Mimi thought it was Brooks Farina, the head butcher at the Piggly Wiggly. Just last week he'd hand-cut her some prime rib-eye steaks after he'd gushed over her role in getting Fatback Bubba and the Rattlesnakes for the festival. After tonight she'd probably be lucky if they even let her
back
in the Piggly Wiggly.

“I…yes, I'm sorry, but I think you all heard me right. Fatback Bubba won't be here. It's all my fault.
All mine
. No one else's. The rest of the festival committee has no idea what's going on.”

The noise level jumped from zero to one hundred gazillion (if such a number even existed). Mimi's heart was beating so fast she was sure the mic would pick it up. Maybe if she had a heart attack, then everyone would feel bad for her and she could get off the stage alive. Of course, she'd have to survive the heart attack for that to happen.

Suddenly, the crowd went quiet again. Footsteps coming from the left of the stage drew her attention. Too freaked out to do much more than stare at the ground, Mimi caught a glimpse of cowboy boots. She looked up a little higher. Worn jeans. She followed the jeans all the way up to a plaid shirt and to a man who looked exactly like…

OH. MY. GOD.

He smiled at her and put his hand out. “You mind?” he said, motioning to the mic.

“
You're
…
you're
…
him
!” She sounded like a bleating goat. She had to be hallucinating. Or maybe she did have that heart attack and she was in that place where everyone saw the white light…