Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(27)

“Only temporarily. He had to have shoulder surgery not long ago, and he agreed to take on the job of acting PGA commissioner while he recovered. The organization wanted to take its time finding the right person to fill the position permanently, and he was one of the few people everybody mistakenly trusted to hold the position until then. He didn’t much want to do it, but certain people persuaded him.” He frowned.

“You being one of them?”

“The stupidest thing I’ve ever done, considering the fact that the job gives him more ways to abuse power than a South American dictator, and he’s used every one of them against me.”

“That’s hard to believe. Francesca makes Dallie sound like the kindest, most amiable man.”

“He’s a bloodthirsty, power-loving, manipulative, arrogant son of a bitch, is what he is. Now, can we talk about something else? I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast, but you’ve just about made me lose my appetite.”

“The waitress at the country club today said something about signing a petition to get you back on the tour. Does that mean you’re not actively playing at the moment?”

“I’ve been suspended indefinitely,” he said tightly. Those violet eyes turned hard as flint.

“By Dal—By Francesca’s husband.”

He gave a short nod.

“Why?”

“Stuff happens, that’s all.”

When he made no effort to elaborate, she regarded him more closely. “How do I fit into this?”

The arrival of the appetizers gave him an excuse to ignore her. He busied himself with the stuffed jalape?os while she sipped her frozen margarita. A few grains of salt caught on her bottom lip. She flicked them away with the tip of her tongue. “All I have to do is ask Francesca.”

He stared at her bottom lip so long that she was afraid something was wrong. She blotted it with her napkin.

He blinked his eyes. “Francesca has a lot of influence with her husband.”

“And?”

“She’s going to use it to get me back on the tour.”

“I see.” Now she did see. “But only if you agreed to help me.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

There was something missing. Why would Francesca care so much about having Kenny escort her? It made no sense. “What could she have been thinking of? She must have known we’d be oil and water.”

“All her years on that talk show have done something sadistic to her brain. She likes putting unlikely people together, then watching them kill each other so she can feast on the remains.”

That didn’t sound like Francesca. There were definitely a few missing pieces here, but she was unlikely to find out what they were from Kenny.

He gazed at her with displeasure. “You going to eat or just keep licking your lip like that?”

“Licking my lip?”

“I’m not one to cast stones, since I have my own share of bad habits, but you need to leave that bottom lip of yours alone. You’re always nibbling at it or licking it or something. It’s distracting.”

“You know, Kenny, I’m getting more than a little annoyed with your criticism.”

“Uh-huh.” He slid the tortilla chip he’d just loaded up into her mouth.

The salsa was hot and, by the time she’d gotten her breath back, the rest of their food had arrived. While they ate, Kenny entertained her with local lore, and she soon found herself laughing at his stories. He could be a charming companion when he set his mind to it, or perhaps it was simply the glow of her colossal-sized margarita because she found herself enveloped in a fuzzy-headed blur.

She excused herself to go to the loo, and, when she returned, another margarita was waiting for her. This one had a slightly different taste, but was equally delicious. Remembering the needles, she gave herself permission to indulge. Multicolored rainbows began dancing on the stucco walls.

Finally, Kenny pushed away the last bits of his cinnamon-dusted fried ice cream and paid the bill, even though she’d told him the meal was her treat. “It’s getting close to ten,” he said. “We’d better be on our way. That is if you’re still intent on doing this.”

“Oh, yes.” Her voice was a little loud, and she attempted to lower it. “I haven’t changed my mind.” She stood, and the room began to spin.

“Steady, now.” He took her arm and guided her through the restaurant. On their way to the door, he returned the greetings of the fans who wanted to catch his attention.

She expected the fresh air to revive her, but it didn’t, and as the lights of the parking lot spun around her, she tried to make herself care that she’d had far too much to drink. “Kenny, you never told me what you did to get suspended from the tour.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t like the answer.”

She wanted to spread her arms, embrace the night, embrace him. “Tonight there’s nothing I wouldn’t like.”

“All right then . . . among other things, I punched a woman.”

It was the last thing she remembered.

*

Emma heard water running and realized the second form students had turned the hose on again outside her cottage. They liked to fill her birdbath, but they didn’t always remember to turn off the spigot. She frowned and tried to shape the words to remind them, but couldn’t manage.