Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(15)

Gracie had a small knot in the pit of her stomach by the time she had finished listening to another five minutes of warnings about what would happen if she didn’t have Bobby Tom in Telarosa by eight o’clock Monday morning.

He replaced the phone. “She really give you the business, huh?”

“She expects me to do the job I was hired for.”

“Has it occurred to anybody at Windmill Studios that sending you after me was pretty much like sending a lamb to the slaughter?”

“I don’t see it that way. I happen to be exceptionally competent.”

She heard a chuckle that sounded faintly diabolic, but was quickly drowned out as he flipped the volume back up on the radio.

Listening to the raucous sounds of rock and roll instead of the innocuous music heard around Shady Acres gave her a moment of such delicious pleasure that her tension faded and she nearly shivered with delight. Her senses seemed especially acute. She felt dizzy from the woodsy scent of Bobby Tom’s after-shave, while her hands unconsciously stroked the soft leather seats of what he had informed her was a restored 1957 Thunderbird. If only the car had a pair of fuzzy pink dice swinging from the rearview mirror, it would be perfect.

She’d had so little sleep the night before that her head began to nod, but even so, her eyes wouldn’t stay closed for long. The fact that Bobby Tom had allowed her to come along on the first leg of his trip didn’t lull her into thinking she could easily persuade him to change his mind about letting her stay with him. Unless she was very much mistaken, he planned to get rid of her as soon as he had the chance, which meant she couldn’t let him out of her sight, no matter what.

The car phone buzzed. With a sigh, Bobby Tom pushed the button that activated the speaker.

“Hey, B.T., it’s Luther Baines,” a boisterous voice proclaimed. “Damn, boy, I just about give up runnin’ you to ground.”

The pained expression on Bobby Tom’s face told Gracie he wished Luther hadn’t succeeded. “How you doin’, Mr. Mayor.”

“Right as rain. I lost ten pounds since I last saw you, B.T. Lighter beer and younger women. Works every time. ‘Course we don’t have to tell Mrs. Baines about that.”

“No, sir, we sure don’t.”

“Buddy’s lookin’ forward to seein’ you.”

“I’m anxious to see him, too.”

“Now, B.T., the folks on the Heavenfest organizing committee are gettin’ a little nervous. We were expectin’ you in Telarosa last week, and we need to be sure that you’re getting all your friends lined up for the Bobby Tom Denton Celebrity Golf Tournament. I know Heavenfest isn’t till October, but we have to get some advance publicity going, and it sure would be nice to put a few of those big names up on the posters. You heard from Michael Jordan and Joe Montana yet?”

“I’ve been kinda busy. They’ll probably make it, though.”

“You know we picked that weekend because the Stars and the Cowboys aren’t playing. What about Troy Aikman?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’ll be there.”

“That’s good. That’s real good.” Gracie heard a deep-pitched chortle. “Toolee told me not to say anything until you get down here, but I wanted you to know right away.” Another chortle. “We took over the lease to the house just last week. We’re going to kick off Heavenfest with the dedication of the Bobby Tom Denton Birthplace!”

“Awww, man…Luther, that whole idea is crazy! I don’t want my birthplace dedicated. For one thing, I was born in a hospital like everybody else, so it doesn’t even make sense. I just grew up in that house. I thought you were going to put a stop to this.”

“I’m surprised and hurt by your attitude. People been sayin’ it’s only a matter of time before being famous went to your head, but I kept tellin’ them they were wrong. Now I have to wonder. You know how bad the economy is down here, and with that lowlife sumbitch planning to pull out Rosatech, we’re facing disaster. Our only hope is to turn Telarosa into a tourist mecca.”

“Putting a plaque on that old house is not going to turn Telarosa into a tourist mecca! Luther, I wasn’t the president of the United States. I was a football player!”

“I think you lived up North too long, B.T. It’s ruined your perspective. You were the best wideout in the history of the game. Down here, we don’t forget something like that.”

Bobby Tom squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. When he opened them again, he spoke with infinite patience. “Luther, I said I’d help set up the golf tournament, and I will. But I’m warning all of you right now that I’m not going to have anything to do with this “birthplace thing.”

“Course you are. Toolee’s plannin’ to restore your childhood bedroom exactly like it was when you were growin’ up.”

“Luther…”

“By the way, the auxiliary’s puttin’ together a Bobby Tom cookbook to sell in the gift shop, and they want to include a special celebrity section at the end. Evonne Emerly says for you to call Cher and Kevin Costner and some of those other Hollywood people you know for their meat loaf recipes and such.”

Bobby Tom stared bleakly ahead at the empty stretch of highway. “I’m heading into a tunnel, Luther, and I’m gonna lose the signal. I’ll have to call you later.”