A Wrench in the Works Page 17

  He squeezed his eyes shut as if he were trying to recall such a scenario ever happening. “Oh, yeah.” He chuckled. “How do you even remember stuff like that? It was years ago. We were just kids. Get over it.”

  “Maybe I’d be able to get over it if you hadn’t kept calling me and sending e-mails for the past ten years.”

  My mouth gaped. “Wait. What? He’s been calling you, too? And e-mailing? You didn’t tell me that.”

  She winced. “I was going to mention it the other night, but there was so much other stuff to tell you, I just forgot.”

  “So he’s been harassing you all this time?”

  “Hey, back off,” Richie said. “I was just trying to connect with an old friend.”

  “Connect is one word for it,” I said. “Stalking is another.”

  “Jeez, lighten up.”

  “What a colossal jerk,” I muttered, just loud enough to make sure he caught it.

  Richie shot me a dirty look, so I knew he heard me. I gave him an evil smile. “Look, you are not an old friend of Chloe’s. You are a creep and a liar. And you’re a thief, too.”

  “And you’re cramping my style.” He bumped my shoulder to push past me and moved right up to Chloe. Lowering his voice seductively, he said, “Come on, babe. Enough with playing hard-to-get.”

  “This isn’t hard-to-get, Richie,” she said. “This is trying-not-to-hurl.”

  “You don’t have to be insulting.”

  “Apparently I do.” She growled in exasperation. “Look, I don’t even want to breathe the same air as you, so I think you’d better go.”

  He gritted his teeth, growing annoyed. “I can’t believe you’re still pissed off about those stupid film cans. The owners never even knew about them, so what did it matter? Stop being such a tease and come with me for a drink. My treat.”

  “I was never a tease,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now I’m asking you to leave quietly. Otherwise I’ll have my crew physically remove you from the premises.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He stuck his chin out belligerently. “I dare you.”

  He really was an idiot. Every guy on my crew and even Chloe’s gang of Hollywood elves were tough, strong men who worked hard every day. Richie wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “Don’t push me, Richie,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed and his hands formed into fists. I thought, where was Rolly Wagner when you needed him? This guy had better back off. I started to move forward, but Chloe grabbed my arm.

  Richie got the message. “You’re going to be sorry you turned me down.”

  “I’m sorry I ever knew you.”

  He was clearly seething. “I can make sure you never work in television again.”

  Chloe moved right up into Richie’s face. “And I promise to see you dead first.”

  * * *

  • • •

  An hour later, we had finished taping four more segments on the front porch.

  “It’s going great, isn’t it?” Chloe said. “I think I got a little burst of energy from Richie showing up.”

  “I’m glad for you,” I said. “All he did for me was make my stomach churn.”

  “Sorry about that. But it just felt so good to confront him after all these years.”

  I could understand that. Most of the time I’d have loved to be able to tell off my old nemesis, Whitney Gallagher, but had to settle instead for dirty looks.

  “I hated to see him attack you like that.” I frowned. “He doesn’t have any connections in Hollywood, does he?”

  “Seriously?” She laughed. “You believed him? You think he could destroy my career?”

  “No, but he’s just so horrible.” I struggled to explain. “People like Richie have a whole different brain physiology and I can’t figure out what makes them tick. Makes it difficult to deal with them.”

  She shrugged. “You said it yourself, Shannon. He’s a freaking sociopath.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” It sounded even scarier now that I’d seen him in action.

  “Yes. So just stop worrying and let’s get to work on our next segment.”

  I gazed at the porch. “We’re running out of wood to tear off this poor house.”

  She glanced around. “There’s still so much work to do, it’s hard to narrow down the focus.”

  “I’ve got a great idea,” I said in triumph. “Let’s rebuild the front porch steps.”

  She knelt down to study them. “That’s perfect. This whole time I’ve been afraid of falling right through them.”

  “Me, too. I had already planned to redo them, even if it wasn’t filmed for the show. Lots of homeowners would like to know how to rebuild their own steps, right?” I had already asked Wade to cut planks for the steps in the unlikely event that he had some spare time. Not surprisingly, he had them ready by the time we were set to film the segment.

  “For now, we’ll keep the sides open,” I said, pointing to the edges of the staircase. “But eventually we should cover the openings with a piece of marine-grade plywood and maybe paint them a contrasting color.”

  “That would be fun,” Chloe said. “I’ll make sure to tell our viewers that. And we should add a railing on each side to make them safer and more attractive.”

  “That’s going to look great.”

  The director agreed with our plan and for the next hour, we talked it out and blocked the scene. Then Chloe and I started working and it was like the old days, when we both worked on our dad’s crew. We were still a good team. Only this time, we were talking to the camera, explaining our actions as we worked. By the time we stopped filming three hours later, the Bloom house had a brand-new front stairway.

  I pounded the last nail into the bottom plank and then Chloe gave her final lines to the camera. “All that’s left to do now is stain and weather-seal the wood and add the finishing touches, like a thin piece of molding along the sides and a pretty railing that matches the porch rail. And that’s how you rebuild an old staircase. On our next show, we’ll take you inside the Bloom house and, among other things, we’ll show you the secrets of updating an old powder room.”

  “And . . . we’re clear,” the stage manager shouted. “That’s a wrap for today, people.”

  Chloe and I grinned at each other as applause broke out from the crowd still gathered on the sidewalks and along the driveway.

  “That was so good,” she said. “But I’m exhausted. I wish I hadn’t promised Peggy I’d come over tonight because all I really want is a hot bath and a pizza.”

  “Me, too. In that order.” I gave her a sympathetic look. “Can you postpone the dinner with Peggy?”

  “No, I need to get it over with.”

  “I understand.” Chloe planned to tell Peggy the whole story about the film cans that were stolen from her home ten years ago by Richie Rich. I just hoped she didn’t experience a burst of guilt and offer to pay Peggy for the films. That payment needed to come from Richie.

  “Hey, who’s that?” Chloe asked, staring ahead.

  I followed her gaze and almost groaned out loud. A thin woman wearing a black sequined top, black leggings, and black stilettos walked toward us, stepping gingerly on the grass.

  “Kill me now,” I muttered. “It’s Whitney Reid Gallagher.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her. Oh no. Looks like she’s headed our way.”

  “Of course she is. And here we were having such a nice time.” The only thing worse than finding another dead body was having to deal with Whitney Gallagher.

  “Why is she all dolled up?”

  “Because . . . it’s a day of the week ending in ‘y’?” I shook my head. “I don’t know why. She’s just weird.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Mac approach quickly behind Whitney. And then Wade dashed over from the opposite side of the h
ouse. My heroes, I thought fondly. Were they here to save me from evil queen Whitney?

  Apparently not, because they came to a stop a few yards back as Whitney continued her relentless toddle toward me on those stiletto heels that kept getting stuck in the dirt beneath the soft grass.

  So the guys were just here to watch the show. Well, Whitney and I were usually capable of delivering a doozy.

  “Whitney,” I said when she halted in front of me. “Always a pleasure.”

  “Don’t pretend you’re happy to see me,” she said.

  “Okay, I won’t.” I turned and walked away.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” she said.

  I laughed as I turned around. “So what do you want?” I had a feeling I knew, but I would wait for it.

  “I want your slutty sister to leave my cousin alone.”

  “Hold on there,” I said, waving my finger toward her. “You’re going to want to rephrase that, before I shove your face in the dirt.”

  She sputtered. “What did you say?”

  I was willing to put up with a lot from Whitney. Mostly because I simply didn’t care what she thought about anything—though I continued to wonder how sweet, affable Tommy put up with his venomous wife. But there was just no way I would stand there and watch her turn her talons on Chloe.

  “You heard me,” I said. “Right in the dirt. Although I’d really hate to ruin that sparkly top you’re wearing.” I paused, tipped my head to one side, and studied her. “I’m kidding. I’d love to ruin it. Because seriously? Who wears freaking sequins to a construction site in the middle of the afternoon? Not to mention those ridiculous shoes.”

  “They’re Jimmy Choos,” she protested.

  I shook my head in disgust. “I bet he never meant them for hiking boots.”

  “Fine,” she said, tossing her hair back. She took a long, deep breath. “Let me rephrase what I came here to say. Your sister propositioned my cousin and I won’t have it.”

  “No one would proposition Richie!” Chloe shouted. “That’s totally gross.”

  I patted Chloe’s arm while staring daggers at Whitney. “Excuse me? You won’t have it? Well, here’s what I won’t have: your horrible little cousin telling lies and making up stories about my sister. He’s the one who begged her to go out with him and she turned him down flat.”

  She laughed. “Oh, right. He’s rich and good-looking. No woman turns him down. No way.”

  “Yeah, way,” I said. “I was here. I heard him. But you don’t have to take my word for it. My crew was here and saw the whole thing. He made his move and got shot down. And you know why she turned him down?”

  She sniffed, thrusting her nose in the air like a bad actress. “Of course I know why. Because she’s a low-class townie.”

  “No,” I said. “Because he’s a flaming jackass. He’s never told the truth in his entire life and my sister wouldn’t be caught dead with him. And another thing. The fact that he went whining and crying to you speaks volumes. The guy can’t even fight his own battles. What a pathetic coward.”

  She gasped dramatically. “How dare you?”

  I pointed to all the people lined up on the driveway. “You ask anyone standing here. They all saw and heard it for themselves. So maybe you should go find your smack-talking little cousin and wash his mouth out with soap for lying to you. Because he’s making a big fat fool out of you as we speak.”

  “You’re impossible,” she said, stomping her foot and driving her stiletto so deep into the grass that now she was standing lopsided. I admit it. I laughed.

  “I should’ve known you’d be crass and rude,” she said. “Just the type of behavior I expect from a townie.”

  I could hear Chloe growling as though she might tear Whitney’s arm off and beat her with it. I personally was on the verge of ripping the woman’s hair out of her skull, so I sucked in a few lungs’ worth of air to calm down. On a side note, I knew what the expression seeing red meant, because Whitney Reid Gallagher had driven me to that state. Not for the first time.

  It took me a few more seconds before I could trust myself to speak, but finally I did. “As long as you put so much stock in the fact that you’re better than me and my family because we’re townies, Whitney, let me explain something to you. Your three children are townies. Your husband is a townie. You’ve been living here almost twenty years and you know what that makes you? A townie.”

  Her face was pale and turning ghostly, but I was on a roll and kept going. “My sister, on the other hand, has lived in Los Angeles for the past ten years, which makes her anything but a townie. And you know what the dumbest word in the English language is? It’s townie. So the next time you feel like calling someone a name that you believe makes them less of a human being than yourself, you might think again, because all it’ll do is make you look as stupid and mean as you look right now. Townie.”

  I grabbed Chloe’s arm and we flounced away from her, over to the catering table where Emily stood applauding quietly. “Well done, my friend.”

  I curtsied. “Thank you.” But I was still shaking with anger. I took a second to look over my shoulder and snorted when I saw Whitney bent over, tugging her heel out of the ground.

  Chloe hugged me so tightly, I was afraid I’d lose consciousness. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, honeybun.”

  “That was the best speech ever,” Mac murmured in my ear.

  I looked up and beamed at him. I wasn’t sure he was right because as comebacks went, it wasn’t my most brilliant. But I had to admit that after all these years of putting up with her insults, calling Whitney Reid Gallagher a townie had felt really, really good.

  Chapter Ten

  That night, Chloe went over to her friend Peggy Connolly’s house for dinner. I knew my little sister wasn’t looking forward to confessing to Peggy’s family what had happened to the film cans that were stolen from the family, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

  Those stupid film cans! Every time I thought about them, I pictured that smarmy Richie Rich and all the years of grief he had caused my sister. I hated him so much right now. But I brushed off those negative feelings and tried to concentrate on something more positive instead. Namely, the fact that my sister was the most courageous person I knew for having the guts to face the Connollys and confess everything.

  “Chloe,” I said, just before she walked out of the house. “If they want to be paid for the films, you should tell them to go after Richie. Please don’t offer to pay them yourself.”

  “I won’t, I promise. They can hunt down Richie and squeeze the money from him. Good luck with that, though.”

  “True. He’ll probably deny taking them anyway.” I gave her a hug. “Love you. Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Love you, too.”

  I heard the truck engine start and a few seconds later she drove off. Now I was alone in the house with too many ways to keep busy, and I didn’t want to do anything but chill. Chloe had planted the idea of a hot bath and a pizza in my head and it just wouldn’t go away.

  I had hoped that Mac would come over for dinner tonight, but he had a very important poker game to go to. Some of his old Navy SEAL buddies played serious cards once a month and there was no way I would expect him to cancel his plans. Besides, the thought of spending the evening alone with a pizza and a glass of wine was growing more appealing by the minute.

  Jogging upstairs, I started the bathwater and tossed in a gallon of fragrant bath salts. Just before I climbed in, I called to order a pizza and a salad to be delivered from Bella Rossa. They were busy but promised to have it here in half an hour, so I pinned up my hair, set my phone alarm for twenty minutes, and slid into the hot, bubbly water.

  “Oh, bliss,” I said, and sank down until only my head was above the water.

  When the timer went off, I jol
ted. Completely disoriented, I looked around. I was in the bathtub. I had to work to recall how I’d gotten here.

  “Wow, I fell asleep hard.” Hard? I was lucky I didn’t drown.

  Robbie barked happily and I realized that he and Tiger were sitting on the bathroom rug, watching my every move.

  “My lifeguards. Why didn’t you guys wake me up?”

  Robbie barked again, enthralled to be having a conversation with his human. Tiger ignored us both and began to lick her paws.

  Still a little discombobulated from the nap, I forced myself to pull the plug, then stood up and dried off. I climbed out of the tub and walked into my room to throw on clean sweatpants and a thick henley.

  When the doorbell rang, I was already downstairs feeding the pets.

  “Pizza pizza!” I cried as Robbie barked like a crazy hound.

  I peeked through the curtain and saw the kid on the porch holding a pizza box and a small bag. At that moment I was pitifully grateful that I’d thought to order dinner before I stepped into the bath. Sometimes I was even smarter than I thought I was.

  After fixing a plate full of pizza and salad and pouring myself a glass of Cabernet, I settled into the couch to watch television while I ate.

  I couldn’t recall ever being this exhausted after a long day of construction work. Okay sure, there was also a murder investigation going on, but to be fair, that was nothing new for me. So why was I extra tired today? Was it possible that Chloe’s job was even more grueling than my own?

  “Oh no.” I could never admit it to her!

  “But it’s true,” I mumbled after taking another delicious bite of sausage, onion, and mushroom pizza.

  Maybe it was the stress of being on camera, because to be honest, I had barely done any actual construction work all day. As soon as I would start to hammer a nail or pry off a piece of wood, the stage manager would yell that we were done with the shot. And that was when the crew guys—and gals—would move in and do the actual work. It was bizarre. Of course, we did manage to build a set of stairs at the end of the day. But that wasn’t particularly hard work. So why was I completely worn out?