Shine On Oklahoma Read online

  “She liked you, too.”

  Kendra nodded, then seemed to shake herself. “Let’s go find something to eat. I’m starved.” She walked past him into the hall and down the stairs.

  He’d thought if he was honest with her, she might be inclined to reciprocate. But she was still keeping things from him. And from that reaction, they were big things. The look on her face when he’d mentioned his mother—hell, this was looking bad. This was looking worse by the minute.

  #

  It could’ve been awkward, staying for dinner and a movie with Kiley and Rob and Dax. Kendra had expected it to be awkward. But it wasn’t. It was almost nostalgic, being back in the house again. Even with all the updates and fresh paint and furniture, it was still the place where she and Kiley had spent their childhood. She felt at home there. They ate in front of the TV and watched a DVD of Planes, Trains and Automobiles. The film had cracked them up when they’d watched it every Thanksgiving as kids, and still did.

  Afterwards, the guys cleaned up, leaving her and Kiley alone in the big living room. They were more or less out of earshot, due to running water, rattling dishes and deep male voices. That was when Kiley finally said, “So how’s Dad?”

  Kendra should’ve been ready for the question, but she wasn’t. It rocked, because she didn’t know how Jack was. She didn’t even know for sure he was still alive. “Oh, you know Jack,” she said at length. It was an answer without being a lie.

  “Yeah, I do. He’s always okay, isn’t he?”

  “Somehow or other, he always is.”

  Kiley was quiet for a long moment. Then, “Does he hate me?”

  “Come, on, Kiley. Jack doesn’t hate. He’s an easy-going charmer.” She shrugged. “He was good and pissed once he realized how you’d played him. Broke the cardinal rule of scam.”

  “Never play family.” Kiley quoted it in her father’s exact inflections. “I know.”

  “He got over it, though. By the time we’d made it back to Jersey, he was saying you were just like Mom. And he loved her, so….”

  Kiley nodded. “He always said I was more like Mom, and you were more like him.”

  “It always made me crazy jealous, too,” Kendra admitted.

  “I was jealous of you. You always made him so proud, and I just always messed up.”

  “Why can’t parents just let their kids be who they are without feeling the need to comment and critique?” Kendra asked.

  “I’m gonna do that with Diana.”

  “That’s good, cause I’m gonna get her some things from the boy side of the sexist toy store. That nursery needs a little…balance.”

  Kiley blinked at her, then got the not so subtle message and nodded. “You’re right. It’s pretty princessed-up in there, isn’t it?”

  “A little bit,” Kendra said. “So what about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You and Jack. Do you hate him?”

  Kiley widened her eyes. “Of course I don’t hate him, he’s my father.” She hugged her belly with both arms as she said it.

  “If you don’t hate him, how can you not tell him he’s having a granddaughter?”

  Kiley pressed her lips tight. “I love my father, Kendra. But I love my baby more. Look at the life she’s going to have. Look at this place, at what Rob and I have waiting for her. A warm, safe home. A thriving business. A great big extended family. A hometown where she’ll never have to feel too ashamed to hold her head up. And two parents who adore her and each other.” She shook her head slowly and said, “Dad could mess it all up.”

  “And so could I. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

  Kiley lowered her head. “I was still deciding when and how to tell you. But I was going to. Rob knows I was, so does Dax. You can ask them. You know neither of them would lie.”

  “I don’t know anything of the kind. Rob asked Dax to find out what I was up to. Did you know that?”

  She sat straighter in her chair. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well, he did.”

  Kiley frowned toward the kitchen, then at her sister again. “He was trying to protect me and the baby.”

  “Protect you? From me? Kiley, I’m your sister, Diana’s aunt.”

  “We had a nice evening, Kendra. Why can’t you just let it be?”

  Kendra pressed her lips and tried to push down her hurt. She hadn’t realized just how deep it ran. Here she was lecturing her sister, who was only days away from giving birth, if that. It wasn’t the time.

  She took a deep breath, held it a second, then blew it out entirely. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you,” Kiley said. “I love you, and I’ve missed you. I didn’t know how much until you showed up again. I want you to stay for Thanksgiving.”

  “Only if we order takeout. You’re in no condition to make a feast, sis, and you know I don’t cook.”

  “I’m not making it. It’s a family thing. The Brand half of the family used to do it out at Bobby Joe and Vidalia’s farmhouse, but the clan has outgrown it. This year they’re closing down The Long Branch for the day and we’re all gathering there.”

  Kendra lowered her head. “I’d fit into that like a hooker in church.”

  “I want you there. It feels odd not having anyone from my past, my family. I’m tired of it.”

  She knew she wasn’t going to stay for Thanksgiving, but figured she had upset her pregnant sister enough for one night. “We’ll see. That’s as much of a commitment as you’re gonna get out of me right now.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s getting late,” she said. “I’m gonna head back, let you get some sleep.”

  Kiley started to get up, but Kendra beat her to it, hopped to her feet and leaned over her, kissed her cheek. “Night, Kiley.” Then she laid a hand on her bulging belly. “Night, Diana.”

  Something thumped against her palm, and a bubble of delight expanded in her chest. “I think she just high-fived me,” she said. “Clearly she agrees about that girlie nursery.” She softened the words with a wink, and then headed out through the kitchen to say goodbye to Rob.

  Dax said, “I’ll walk you out.”

  #

  They sauntered along, side by side, to her little Corvette. His Charger was parked beside it. He’d enjoyed the evening with Rob and Kiley, and his heart yearned to have what his best friend had. A wife. A home. A family.

  “So?” he asked. “Things okay with you and Kiley?”

  She shrugged. “I think so, yeah.”

  “You ever gonna tell me the story behind your sweet ride?”

  “You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me,” he said.

  She sighed. “It’s the first thing I bought with my honestly earned-money.”

  He frowned at her, because she was completely sincere. Not a sign of the mask other people couldn’t see through. And she sounded proud.

  “Told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “I…I kind of do.”

  “It’s true. You play your cards right, I might even let you drive it.”

  “We can take it up on the back roads. There’s a spot up there makes a nice dirt track, if you ever want to burn off some steam.”

  “Yeah? You do that? Race around a dirt track to burn off steam?”

  “Better than drinking,” he said.

  She smiled and it felt easy between them, somehow. “You heading home, too?” she asked, and then before he could answer, “Where is home, anyway? I just realized, I don’t even know where you live.”

  “I’m renting a trailer about a mile that-a-way,” he said, nodding in the general direction. “Nothing fancy. I’ve been kind of drifting here. Not sure where I was going or what I wanted to do with my life.”

  “And now?” she asked.

  “Now, I know exactly what I want.” He looked at her and smiled. “A goodnight kiss. You am
enable?” He turned toward her, leaned down, expecting her to lean up.

  Instead, she opened the car door and slid inside, started it, and drove away. Her window lowered and she gave a sassy finger wave back at him.

  He stood there until her taillights vanished in the distance.

  #

  When Kendra pulled into The Long Branch, the parking lot was packed. Yellow light and country music spilled out of the place like honey dripping from a beehive. She drove around back, where the owners and tenants parked. But she didn’t go up the outside stairs to her room. Instead, she walked around to the front, moseyed on through the batwing doors, paused and took a look around. Last night she’d listened to the success of this place. Tonight, she was going to see it firsthand.

  Cowboys, locals, she’d bet, in their finest authentic western wear, out to score a few tourist honeys, and there were tourist honeys by the carload.

  She crossed to the bar. A smiling blonde she didn’t know was behind it, and brought her a whiskey almost as quick as she’d asked for one. Kendra slammed it, and tapped her finger on the glass.

  The waitress brought her another. “You okay?” she asked as she set the shot glass down.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  Her phone buzzed. She downed the second shot, and the bar chick held up the bottle and her eyebrows. Kendra held up a forefinger for “just one more” and pulled her phone out of her jeans. She knew that number, glowing on the screen. It was the same number the bastard holding her father had called from before. Seeing it made her stomach clench. She tapped the green button, brought the phone to her ear. “Give me a minute to get private.”

  She picked up the refilled glass, and said, “Can I take this one to my room?”

  “Sure can,” the waitress replied.

  So Kendra took the third whiskey toward the dining room and up those elegant, carpeted stairs that fanned out at the bottom. It was a damn pretty place.

  Once back in her room, she figured less than the requested minute had passed. She sat on the bed, put the glass on the nightstand, and heeled off her shoes. It had been a long freaking day. She was exhausted.

  Twisting her mouth in distaste, she picked up her phone again. “Okay, I can talk now.”

  “It’s about time. I want a status report.”

  Vester Caine’s voice was high pitched, for a man. It always sounded vaguely whiny to her, which was funny, because Vester Caine didn’t whine. He was the biggest bully in the schoolyard. He made other people whine.

  “I want to talk to Jack.”

  “I want a report. Now. Have you convinced him to accept his inheritance?”

  She sighed, but didn’t want to do anything to set the bastard off. “The lawyers are coming out here to deal with the will.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. It’s almost Thanksgiving, you know, people take time off—”

  “Then help ‘em to see the urgency of the situation.”

  “I’m trying.” She was angry. This guy was going to die slow when she got her hands on him. She’d never thought she had it in her to hurt someone physically, but she was pretty sure she could make an exception for this pig.

  “The track bookkeeper says Russell’s got an outside accountant snooping around the books. Get him to call it off.”

  “The track’s regular bookkeeper works for you?” So it was something to do with finances behind Caine’s interest in Aurora Downs.

  “Get him to call the guy off,” he repeated.

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

  “Figure it out. Or maybe your old man sleeps naked in the meat locker tonight.”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Good girl. Just get Dax Russell to accept that inheritance, relax and let business go on as it always has. You get him to stand down, Kendra, or your old man dies. You got me? I’ll kill him.” He ended the call.

  Kendra put her phone on the nightstand and picked up the whiskey.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jack Kellogg had a full house, and a face that was his best weapon. It was handsome, the face of a lovable rogue, when he wanted it to be. That was the one women usually fell for, and when necessary, he could morph into heartbroken hero or rugged protector. But lovable was his favorite. It made for a fun boyfriend stage and usually a bigger payoff in the end.

  His poker face was legendary. He didn’t sit stoic as a rock, wearing a blank stare. He didn’t change a thing. Just kept on being Jack Kellogg, rapier-witted ladies’ man, a living legend among both flim and flam, currently a guest in an ordinary farmhouse in Middle-of-Nowhere, Oklahoma.

  Vester Caine kept the place for when he needed an off-the-grid spot to conduct the messier parts of his business. Which was fairly often, Jack figured. Caine was one of the top heroin importers in the northeast. But you don’t defecate where you eat, as the saying goes. And this place was close to the current action.

  Jack pushed a few more poker chips to the center of the table, leaned back in his seat, and wished he hadn’t given up cigars. The other guys were puffing away on some Cubans that smelled like heaven.

  “Maybe I’ll have to talk to my daughter myself,” he said. “You’re just pissing her off.”

  “You’d give it away.” Vester sucked the cigar slow and deep, rolled the smoke around on his tongue without letting any escape. “She knows you too well.”

  “Me. I’d give it away.” Deadpan. “This was my idea. I’m not gonna be the one to blow it.” Jack took a cigar from the nearby humidor—it was okay because Caine had offered one earlier—and ran it under his nose, sniffing it up like good cocaine. Not that he did that anymore, either.

  Getting older sucked. And you couldn’t con Father Time, no matter how good you were.

  “Kendra starts to doubt my well-being, you don’t know what she might do,” he added for good measure.

  “I could bench press her with one hand. What’s she gonna do?” Caine set his cigar on the edge of an ashtray, still studying his cards.

  “Bench pressing my kid isn’t part of our deal.” If he thought Vester Caine might actually kill him, as he’d threatened to do on the phone with Kendra, he wouldn’t have been quite so relaxed. That wasn’t going to happen, though. He had approached Caine with a plan to get the man something he needed, and would pay very well for. Caine had been laundering heroin money through Aurora Downs for fifteen years. If Dax Russell didn’t inherit his father’s track, it would go to the State Racing Association, they’d go through the books and find tens of millions of dollars worth of discrepencies. So Caine needed Dax to inherit. And Jack knew his daughter could get Dax to do anything she wanted him to do. The guy was nuts about her.

  So he brought his idea to Caine within hours of hearing about the elder Russell’s death. He and Caine were both businessmen. This was a civilized, mutually beneficial arrangement. It should go off without a hitch.

  On the other hand, Vester Caine was a killer, and patience was not his strong suit.

  Jack tucked the cigar into his breast pocket. I’ll just keep you nearby, Stogie, in case this thing goes south.

  Ace laid his cards down. “I’m ou-ou-out.” Then he sneezed. Again.

  Ace looked like you’d expect a guy with a nickname like Ace to look. He embraced the whole gangster-greaser cliché without apology. Slicked hair, leather jacket, inked forearms. But his chronic allergies blew the image to hell. He ran into the bathroom for another Benadryl. The guy started sneezing and snotting every eight hours like clockwork, then popped an allergy capsule and got over it.

  “I call.” The dough-faced ginger named Phil was Vester’s right-hand man. You didn’t see too many dough-faced gingers named Phil in the heroin business, but that was probably a benefit. Phil pushed in a stack of chips. He looked like the kind of guy who’d fold every hand. But Jack had seen him stab a man to death with a rusty metal file because he didn’t have a knife handy. He was brutal.

  And he was smart, too. Dangerous combin
ation.

  Jack dropped two cards into his lap, produced two more from his sleeve, and programmed his handsome features to reflect abject disappointment. “You saw right through my bluff, didn’t you Phil?”

  “Every fucking time.” Grinning, Phil hauled all his chips in. “You better be good for this, Kellogg.”

  “I’m good for it, and you know it.”

  “How do I know it?”

  “Because your boss is gonna be paying me handsomely once Kendra’s boy-toy inherits his old man’s racetrack.”

  “That’s right,” Vester said. “And if she fails, you don’t need to worry about collecting, Phil. We’ll take it out of his hide.”

  “Hey, hey, now, that’s not part of the deal either,” Jack said.

  Vester sent him a wink. “Relax. You said your girl could charm this Russell fellow out of his liver if she put her mind to it. You telling me that wasn’t true?”

  “I’m not stupid enough to lie to you, Caine.”

  “Then you got nothing to worry about. And it’s Mister Caine. Show some respect.”

  #

  “Change of plans,” the text message said. “Meet at OK Corral.” It came from a number Kendra didn’t recognize, and had a cc line of a thousand.

  Okay, four.

  “Same time?” someone texted back.

  Thumbs-up sign. “C U there.”

  She knew Sophie and Emily would be there, and assumed one of them was the initial sender. Maybe Allie Wakeland, the pregnant friend, was the third. But she wondered who the fourth number on the cc line belonged to. She supposed she’d find out when she got there.

  She turned the ‘Vette onto Main Street and slowed to a crawl as she watched the town she’d grown up in take shape around her. First she passed the giant circle of park. The road split around it, one lane circling it on the right, the other on the left, and then met again on the other side. Nothing much had changed on Main Street. The Big Falls Diner looked just like it had when they’d moved east. Rosie was running the place like she always had, and never seemed to age. Everyone called her Aunt Rosie. It was a Big Falls thing. The bank hadn’t changed its window décor since the 1890s, by the look of it. The drug store was still where it belonged. Someone had put in a comic book store—she’d have to check that out. And that photo studio was new must be Allie Wakeland’s. It used to be a hardware store, she thought. Edie Brand was the only other photographer in town, but her studio was in her home out by the Falls. The bakery was still the only business that sported a pink and white striped awning instead of green and white like everyone else. It had always been a bakery with the wrong color awning. It had been Myrtle’s before it was Sunny’s, back when Kendra and Kiley were kids. Someone had put up a coffee shop on the corner, the kind that served fancy brews, but not a chain. They didn’t allow chains in Big Falls. But she could see how that might change now that the place had a couple of bona fide tourist attractions. She hoped not, though. Big Falls wasn’t a chain kind of a town. It was more of a Norman-Rockwell-goes-west kind of a town. More an honest-upright-people-live-here kind of a town.