Optical Delusions in Deadwood (30 page)

      “Mom isn’t interested in men,” Layne said around a mouthful of raspberry tart. He narrowed his hazel eyes. “Are you?”

      Only one. “Not really.” I crossed my fingers behind my back.

      Harvey snorted. “Could have fooled me.”

      I gave the old coot my evilest stink-eye.

      Harvey’s snickers followed me across the street to my Bronco. Ten minutes later, I climbed the stairs to Chuckwagon Charlie’s lounge, my short navy skirt swishing with each step, the hem tickling the skin above my knees. At the top,
Charles’ Club
was etched in a fancy font on the frosted glass doors. Inside, a cushy carpeted reception area greeted me. I checked out the digs while I searched for Douglas, the lollipop lookalike.

      Downstairs in Chuckwagon Charlie’s, wagon wheels of all sizes decorated the room. They hung from the ceiling, lined the walls, and served as centerpieces. Red and white checkered tablecloths brightened the wood accents; old tin plates and cups added a chuckwagon touch.

      Up here in the lounge, dark and moody was the name of the game—luxurious greens, deep maroons, rich golds. Velvet-backed chairs and candlelit tables filled the front room. An elegantly carved mahogany bar ran the length of one wall. In the back, down a pair of steps, were three red-felt pool tables, Tiffany glass chandeliers hanging over each one. The place was reminiscent of an old gentlemen’s club—the English upper-class kind from centuries ago, not the strip clubs of today. Not that I’d been in either. Well, not lately, anyway.

      The wait staff wore white shirts with maroon pants, their legs blending in with the carpet. The young hostess dazzled patrons with her voluptuous figure highlighted in a shiny gold lamé dress. Her long blonde tresses flowed around her, partly covering her cute face. She was a fair-haired version of Jessica Rabbit, and I felt like the old woman who lived in a shoe, but I threw on a smile and approached her anyway.

      “I’m supposed to meet Douglas Mann here.”

      “Mr. Mann is waiting for you.” Her smile was too perfect. Had one of the Stepford wives escaped?

      I followed her to our table. Douglas stood as we approached. Dressed in Johnny Cash style, tonight he looked more like a black pencil with a big rubber eraser than a lollipop.

      His glance at my legs didn’t go unnoticed. “Sorry, I’m all out of black,” I explained, tucking my skirt under me as I sat in the chair he held. “I’ve been busy with funerals lately.”

      He returned to his chair. “I haven’t been to a funeral in months, thank God. Between you and me, I find them a bit melodramatic.”

      I thought of him squeezing Lila’s ass and smiled. “Me, too.” Picking up the menu, I snatched the opportunity at hand. “Do you know George and Eddie Mudder?”

      “Of course. They’re cornerstones of the community.”

      Or headstones. “What are they like outside the funeral home?”

      “The same as they are inside—quiet, unobtrusive, and a little odd. Why do you ask?”

     
Because they and my coworker are selling body parts.
At least, that was my most recent theory. I lowered my menu. “Just curious.”

      “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

      “Lucky for me I have nine lives, eh?” Make that eight after my misadventures at Wolfgang’s.

      “Lucky indeed. Are you ready to order?” At my nod, Douglas signaled the waiter.

      As soon as the waiter left, I got down to business. “So, what’s the offer you’d like to place on the Carhart house?” I was purposely holding off mentioning that another offer existed until I heard his answer.

      “Are we done with small talk already?”

      “I figured we exchanged plenty yesterday.”

      He unrolled his linen napkin and placed it on his lap. “You know how I feel about talking business while I’m eating.”

      “I do, but my babysitter is on a timer tonight and our dinner hasn’t arrived yet,” I lied with ease, one step ahead of him. I figured he’d try to drag this out. I’d even stopped by the office and grabbed an unsigned copy of the offer paperwork that I’d typed up this morning while I waited for Zeke and Zelda to show up at Calamity Jane’s. “So you’ll have to make an exception.”

      “Okay, I’ll compromise this time.”

     
This time
? What made him think there would be another time?

      “What do you think of Lead?” he asked.

      I usually didn’t, except for the homes for sale there. “Well,” I stalled a little, knowing he was on the chamber of commerce and I should choose my words carefully. “It has a lot of potential.”

      “Exactly!” He leaned forward, his eyes wide and lit up. “That’s what I see.”

      “Yeah, just like Deadwood.”

      “No, better than Deadwood and its ridiculous past. While Deadwood’s finest were busy whoring and partying, the people of Lead built the area’s infrastructure, provided stability with jobs and money. Without Lead, Deadwood is just a ghost town.”

      Which would work well for Doc, I thought.

      “Have you visited the Black Hills Mining Museum?” Douglas asked.

      “I took my son there a couple of months ago. He’s an avid historian.”

      “Then you know about all the gold and silver filling Lead’s underbelly.”

      Funny, I hadn’t really thought about Lead or Deadwood having an underbelly.

      The waiter delivered our drinks and a loaf of warm sourdough bread.

      Douglas buttered a slice of bread. “I’m so tired of Deadwood getting all the attention.”

      Jeez. He was hung up on this like a jealous sibling.

      “Lead has so much more to offer,” he said.

      “Besides that huge open hole in the ground?” Oops, that slipped out before I could edit it.

      “Especially that huge open hole in the ground.” Douglas leaned forward, his cheeks ruddier than usual. “It’s our very own Grand Canyon, don’t you see? We just need to market it that way.”

      The Grand Canyon? I tried not to roll my eyes. “I suppose it’s all in the spin.”

      “Exactly.” He sat back with a satisfied smirk on his face. “I knew you’d understand. You’re a businesswoman, after all.”

      Why did I feel as if I’d just passed some test?

      I was tired of talking about Lead. “So, what’s the offer you’d like to place on—”

      A loud, familiar gut-laugh coming from the bar interrupted me and made my ears perk up.
Harvey
? I looked over. Sure enough, there sat the gold-toothed troublemaker. What was he doing here?
Who was watching my kids?

      I stood, my gaze on Harvey. “Douglas, please excuse me for a mom—”

      Harvey leaned over the bar, reaching for something the bartender held out, and I caught a glimpse of another familiar profile.
Natalie?

      She sat on the stool on the other side of Harvey, drinking from a longneck beer.

      What in the hell was going on?

      “I’ll be right back,” I told Douglas and weaved my way over to them, my palms clammy. How was Natalie going to react to the sight of me? Would she tackle me and pull my hair, or grab an ice pick from behind the bar and stab me through the heart? At least I wasn’t here with Doc tonight, rubbing salt in her wound.

      Natalie turned her head and saw me. Her smile melted away all my cold worries. Relief made my knees weak. She didn’t hate me. Thank God!

      She didn’t seem surprised at all to see me. “Hey, girlfriend. Douglas is keeping his hands to himself, isn’t he? The tablecloth is too long for us to see what’s going on under there.”

      I gave her a shoulder hug, touchy with happiness. “The only thing Douglas wants from me is my help buying a house.”

      Harvey snorted. “Yeah, right.”

      “What are you two doing here?” I poked Harvey in the arm. “Who’s watching my kids?”

      “Ms. Geary,” Natalie answered. “I stopped by your aunt’s to see what you’ve been up to and Harvey came over and told me you needed our help.”

      “Help with Douglas? He’s harmless.”

      Harvey snorted again. “You’re such a greenhorn. He’s just playing you.” The way Harvey echoed Doc on this subject made me want to snap his suspenders.

      I settled with “Quit snorting at me,” and then turned to Natalie. “Why didn’t you return my calls?”

      “I dropped my cell phone in the toilet the night you and I went out. A perfect way to end that shitty day.” She raised her beer bottle in a mock toast. “I didn’t have a chance to get down to Rapid for a new one until this afternoon.”

      I’d been in hell for two long freaking days all because of a stupid toilet. Criminy.

      That confirmed beyond a doubt that Natalie didn’t carve
SLUT!
on my Bronco door. Who did it, then? Was I the victim of a drive-by keying? Yeah, right, and a drive-by tire slashing, too. Not likely. My suspicion centered on a certain raven haired bitch, but I still didn’t know why she would. Just because I didn’t kowtow to her like Millie and Wanda? There had to be something more to it than that, didn’t there? And what was with the weird symbolism in the exclamation mark?

      The salads had arrived at my table. Douglas had his cell phone out, frowning down at the screen. “Listen, I need to get back. Don’t—”

      “Oh. My. God,” Natalie said under her breath and grabbed my arm. “Look who’s here.”

      I followed her gaze down to the pool tables and sucked in a breath at the sight of Doc leaning over the table, lining up for a shot. His black jeans hung low, hugging his hips. His white shirt was just a tad snug, teasing me with glimpses of muscles under the cover of cotton.   

      “What are the chances of running into him here of all places?” Natalie said. “It must be fate.”

      “Or
blonde
luck,” Harvey muttered.

      I flicked him on the forearm while Natalie wasn’t looking.

      Douglas was waving me over, pointing at our salads. Duty called, but Doc was bending over for another shot and lust didn’t want to listen.

      “Damn, Doc looks hot tonight,” Natalie said.

      I barely heard her. My imagination was busy picturing him bending over me like that.

      She slid off her stool, careful with her booted cast. “I’m gonna go talk to him.”

      “No!”

      Natalie frowned at me. “Why not?”

      “Uhhhh, because...”
He’s mine!
I flailed for a few nanoseconds, the truth hovering on the tip of my tongue. “You have lipstick on your teeth.”

      “Eww. Thanks.” She scrubbed her teeth with her napkin and then showed me her pearly whites. “All clear?”

      I wanted to hit her upside the head with her longneck beer. “You’re good to go.”

      “Wish me luck.” She sashayed down the steps, or at least tried as best she could with a chunk of plaster wrapped around her calf. I couldn’t look away as she approached the pool table and leaned a flirty hip against it, right where Doc was aiming.

      “You gonna stand here and let that happen?” Harvey asked, not a trace of humor in his voice.

      Doc made the shot and then stood, grinning, charming as hell, damn him. “What choice do I have?”

      “Plenty. Go stop it.”

      “I’ll lose my best friend.”

      “If you don’t stop screwin’ around, you’re gonna lose a good man.”

      Across the room, Doc shrugged at something Natalie said. She selected a pool stick from the rack on the far wall. “I don’t even have him yet.”

      It was as if Doc heard me. He looked over at me, and we locked gazes. I took a step back at the fury radiating from his dark eyes. 

      “Woo-wee, he’s as pissed as a castrated wolverine.” Harvey spoke for my ears only. “He’s got it bad for you.”

      My heart throbbed clear to the ends of my fingers and toes. “What are you talking about? He wants to hang me from a tree limb.”

      “A man doesn’t get that hot and bothered over friendship.”

      Doc still had me in his sights. His jaw ticked as he chalked up his cue. I could hear Natalie’s sexy giggles as she playfully bumped him to the side so she could shoot. My gut wrenched.

      “Not to mention he’s here keepin’ an eye on you,” Harvey added, “in spite of you smoochin’ Jeff.”

      I cast a glare at Harvey. “I wasn’t kissing Jeff.”

      Harvey pointed his beer in Doc’s direction. “Tell him, not me.”

      “It’s not that easy.”

      “Sure, it is. Just open your big mouth and say it.”

      Harvey was right. Somehow, I needed to get Doc alone to explain, to apologize, to fix this mess I’d made. So what if Natalie wondered what was going on. So what if she’d staked a claim. I liked Doc. I needed him. I wanted to sink into him, wrap his arms around me, and feel his heart under my cheek. I should go over there right now and ...

      Harvey interrupted my pep rally. “Your date is trying to get your attention.”

     
Date
? Oh, yeah. Crapola. I checked on Douglas, who lifted his hands in the air, obviously wondering what the holdup was. I gave him the one-minute finger.

      I turned back to Doc, my chest aching as I watched Natalie pretend she needed to be taught how to shoot. She’d been playing pool in her dad’s basement since she’d worn training pants. Damn her and her little flirting games.

      “I have to get back to Douglas.”

      “You sure?”

      No. “Do me a favor. Go over there and rescue Doc.”

      “I don’t like pool.”

      “I’ll bake you something.”

      “You already owe me a pot roast and a pie, and you don’t even bake.”

      I glared at Harvey. Now was not the time to throw that in my face. “How about dinner and a movie next week?”

      “In your living room, again?”

      “Down in Rapid.”

      “Deal.” He slid off the stool, beer in hand. “Now go make some money, because I’m not a cheap date.”

      Yeah, I’d noticed. Lead-footed, I returned to my dinner table. “Sorry about that,” I said to Douglas as I sat down and picked up my fork, fighting the urge to glance over at the pool tables. I stabbed the hell out of my salad and crammed it into my mouth, barely tasting the balsamic vinaigrette dressing.