Buddy Carruthers, Wide Receiver Page 17

  But today, the view held no distraction, no allure. The trip was tiresome, and she couldn’t wait to lower her body into a bathtub full of hot, bubbly water.

  Stash was polite, but kept his distance. Lani had her nose in a book, but Paula appeared to pick up on the fact that something had changed. She put a movie on her computer and plugged in earbuds while sneaking a nervous glance at Emmy and Stash from time to time.

  Could I make it on my own without Stash? It’s not rocket science. I’m smart enough. If I don’t fire him, is a slap across the face going to become something worse? What if he gets more violent? I’ll be too afraid to fire him. Am I afraid now? Kinda.

  She chewed a pencil with one hand and held a crossword puzzle with the other. She shifted in her seat, took a sip of coffee, tugged on her sweater. The page didn’t hold her attention. Emmy’s mind wouldn’t settle down.

  That evening, she and Stash were civil to each other. There was no laughing, joking, or affection between them. Lani and Paula opted for a movie in the suite. Emmy went for a walk.

  I’ve lost Buddy for good. Fear raced through her. During the time they were separated, she had been driven by a desire to meet up with him again and flaunt her stardom in his face. Yet, their meeting hadn’t turned out as expected.

  Emmy had fallen back in love with Buddy, even more in love than she had been in college. Their lives had taken such parallel courses over the years, barreling toward overwhelming success. They fell together in sync, the way the black and white keys of the piano did, complementing each other perfectly. She was patient, he was not. He was funny, she was not. He was strong, she was gentle. He was protective, she was nurturing. Like the violin and the cello, together, their music was a symphony.

  Emmy had tried to substitute Stash for Buddy, but she had only been fooling herself. Her heart ached for the one man who could make her feel safe. Yet, Stash had driven him away, again. This time, Emmy wasn’t going to be passive. She’d take action. If Buddy doesn’t answer his phone, damn it, I’ll fly to New York, drive to Monroe, and confront him in person.

  Emotional exhaustion took its toll on her. A lackluster performance in Phoenix upset her. Her heart beat too fast, and she sweated. As she lay in bed, going over the evening, she resolved to get her act together and deal with her life. Take control. No more bad performances. I have to be my best.

  The next morning, the foursome boarded a flight for Washington, D.C. Emmy had planned to do a benefit concert to fight breast cancer. They were traveling early because she wanted to see the sights first. The crew planned to arrive with the bus and equipment in time for the performance.

  Stash was unusually affectionate and attentive on the plane—holding her hand, pouring champagne for her, giving her the window seat. Suspicion warred with gratitude in her heart. He never does anything without a payback. Good humor won out. She relaxed for the first time in weeks, enjoying Stash’s good mood. Learn to forgive, Emmy. He’s not all bad. Look what he’s done for you.

  “I’m not planning to do the tourist thing with you. Hope you know that,” Stash said.

  “It’s okay. Paula said she’d go with me. Aren’t you even curious to see the White House? We have a private tour there.”

  “Nope.”

  “The Treasury?”

  “Nope.”

  “The Capitol Building?”

  “Nope.”

  “The F.B.I?”

  “Well, there you have me. Yeah.”

  “We plan to go there last. The girls need some time off, and so do I.”

  “Me too.”

  “We’ve been working and traveling, non-stop.”

  He patted her hand. “Take some time, baby. You’ve earned it.”

  She narrowed her eyes as she watched him eat. Stash was much more agreeable than usual. He hadn’t criticized her for her low energy on the stage in Phoenix. His behavior raised suspicion in her. Or maybe he’s changed. Without Buddy to rely on, Emmy needed Stash. Resting her head on his shoulder, she dozed off.

  When they landed, he put her luggage in a limo and opened the door. “I have a few details to clear up before we hit D.C., baby. I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

  She nodded and got in. Stash slammed the door, and the driver pulled away from the curb. Emmy sat back, staring at the stars as the big car moved smoothly through sparse, late-night traffic to the heart of the city. The hotel doorman took her suitcases, and the front desk clerk checked her into a suite overlooking the Washington Monument. She hit the minibar, pouring herself a vodka and tonic. Paula’s bag was there, but Lani’s was missing. Anger bubbled up inside. If the airline has lost her luggage, it’s going to be a nightmare!

  She toed off her shoes, sank down on the sofa, and faced the picture window, taking in the twinkling lights of the Nation’s Capital. Emmy planned to enjoy Washington like any other tourist. She smiled as she thumbed through brochure after brochure, making a list of locations and hours of operation for each attraction she wanted to visit. It’s a clean city, easy to get around, good food, and all the beautiful, marble government buildings.

  Resting her head back on the cushion, she dozed for a bit. About four hours later, she awoke with a start. Something wasn’t right. It was the middle of the night. Emmy padded into one of the bedrooms. Paula was asleep with the covers up around her shoulders, but Lani’s bed was empty. The hair on the back of Emmy’s neck stood up. Stash?

  Walking fast, she threw open the door of Stash’s room, only to find no luggage and no Stash. He’s out. Tomcatting. But the uneasy feeling creeping down her neck didn’t go away. Where is he? I need him.

  Her head got hot, and she began to sweat. Her heartbeat increased until she could feel it pounding and hear it in her ears. What if something happened to him? What if he was in an accident? He’s gotta be okay.

  She opened her laptop, then her cell, but there was no message from him. She paced, looking at the skyline, watching sunrise slowly work its way over the buildings. Sleep! Shit. I’ve got to sleep. She forced herself into bed and closed her eyes. Worry and exhaustion took over, and she was out.

  At noon, the ringing of the hotel phone woke her up. She padded into the living room and nearly ran into her friend.

  “I’ll get it,” Paula said.

  “That’s okay.” Emmy yawned and cradled the instrument. Paula returned to her room.

  “Miss Meacham, we don’t quite know how to say this, but do you possibly have another credit card? The one you gave us yesterday didn’t go through.”

  “I…I…what do you mean? Did you try it again?” she stammered, reaching for her purse.

  “Yes, ma’am. We tried it several times. Believe me, no one wants to make a call like this.”

  “Okay, okay. Wait just a moment.” Emmy pawed through the junk in her bag until she found her wallet. She plucked out an old, personal credit card she hadn’t used in months. “Try this.” She read off the number.

  There was a moment of silence. Then, the voice of the clerk, “That worked just fine.”

  “Wait a minute! Wait. We’ll be moving. I’d like to get a cheaper room.”

  “Of course, Miss Meacham. How many in the party?”

  “Three? No, wait. I’ll call you back.”

  “We’ll have a new room for you by two o’clock.”

  “Thank you very much.” Emmy took a deep breath, but her chest hurt. What’s going on? She returned to her room. Snatching up her robe, she tied the sash as she barged into the girls’ room. Paula sat on one bed. The other was still made up. “Where’s Lani?”

  “I don’t know.” Paula’s brows knit. Her eyes registered worry and filled with tears. “Maybe something’s happened to her?”

  “Or something’s going to happen to her,” Emmy growled under her breath. She stormed into the living room and headed straight for Stash’s room. After flinging open the door, she was greeted with the same sight as the night before. The room was empty! No suitcase and the bed hadn’t been touched.

/>   Paula was right behind her. “He’s not here, either?”

  “They’ve gone together,” Emmy said through gritted teeth.

  “No, no. Something must have happened to Lani.”

  “Shut up, Paula! Face it. Stash and Lani have run off together. Oh shit! How much money did they take with them?”

  Emmy ran back to her bedroom and yanked her laptop from its case. “Get me coffee. No, vodka. Yeah. Vodka and orange juice. Oh, and coffee too.” Her fingers shook as she booted up the machine. Her heart pounded as she typed in her main password. Stash has access to all my accounts. He wouldn’t.

  Paula put a drink on the table in front of the rock star. Emmy clasped the glass with both hands and raised it to her lips. She glanced at Paula before returning her gaze to the computer screen. “Pray, Paula. Pray.”

  Every nerve vibrated. She held her breath as she clicked onto her White and Lyon account. This one held the most money. Her shaking fingers made typing difficult, but she managed to get her user name and password in. After expelling a breath, she inhaled and held it as she clicked on “log in.”

  A small cry came from her throat. Her eyes widened, and her mouth went dry. She counted the number of zeroes, two, three, four times. There were several missing. She took a drink of coffee, then of vodka, then coffee, and popped up to pace in front of the picture window. “No, no, no, no, no. It can’t be. It’s a mistake. No, no, no.”

  “What? What, Emmy? What?”

  “He took it. He took it. Every cent. He took it,” she mumbled over and over.

  Paula grabbed the singer by the shoulders and shook her. “Who took what?”

  “Stash. He took all my money. He emptied out the account. There’s one thousand dollars left in that one.”

  “How much? How much did you have? How much did he take?”

  “I had three million dollars in it. This was our operating account. The money we use to pay everyone was kept in there. There’s none left to pay the crew or the musicians for the benefit. Nothing to pay you either! He took it all. Stash took it all.” As if someone had removed her bones, Emmy collapsed like a rag doll. She slid to the floor, weeping uncontrollably.

  Paula snatched a box of tissues from the dresser and joined her. “There must be a mistake?”

  “No, no mistake. Wait. I gotta see how long he’s been bleeding this account.” Emmy grabbed a handful of tissues and returned to her laptop. She clicked on “transactions.” There they were, weekly. A couple thousand here, a hundred thousand there. He had systematically bled the account dry. The last transfer of funds had happened the day before.

  “That’s what he was doing while we were in the airport.” Anger like she had never felt before possessed her body. She leapt up, seized whatever was near, and threw it against the wall. It was a glass, which shattered into a million pieces. Then, she threw a vase, and then, a chair.

  The only thing that stopped her was a knock on the door. Paula peeked through the peephole. It was hotel security. She opened the door.

  A big, burly man in a uniform entered. “What’s the trouble, ladies?”

  Emmy dissolved on the sofa, half screaming and half crying. “Call the police. Send the police. I’ve been robbed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next twenty-four hours were surreal. Emmy vowed to pay the hotel for the damage. The police came and listened to her spin the sad tale. The venue called, asking when the checks for the musicians, security, and local crew would be dropped off. Emmy lied, saying she’d have them in a couple of days. I’ve never canceled a concert, and I’m not going to start now. Damn you, Stash! After two hours, she stopped dialing Stash and Lani. After getting no answer every time, Emmy guessed they had dumped their old phones.

  The police called the F.B.I. Two agents, Bob Townsend and Cathy Hicks, showed up. They went over the records on the operating account.

  “Ms. Meacham, do you have any other accounts?”

  “I have a personal account. I have several. One with White and Lyon, one with American Eagle Funds, and a checking account. But Stash wouldn’t touch those.”

  The agents glanced at each other. Cathy shifted in her seat. “In cases like this, where there’s revenge mixed in with the theft, the perp is most likely to empty all the accounts.”

  Blood rushed from Emmy’s head. Her stomach got queasy, and her vision blurred.

  “Stop! Stop a minute. Emmy, are you okay?” Paula asked, touching her shoulder. When she didn’t respond, her friend spoke up, “I think she needs to lie down.”

  “Okay. We have to check in,” Bob said, opening his cell phone and walking toward the window. Cathy took Emmy’s arm.

  “That’s okay. I can stand,” the rock star said, leaning on Paula. She lay down on the bed, and her assistant covered her with the spread. “Lani went with him, didn’t she?”

  “Looks that way. Look, Emmy, I know I’m Stash’s sister, but I had no idea any of this was happening. Hey, I’m left high and dry too. Stash has been supporting me. Now, he’s gone, and there’s no money to pay me.”

  Emmy looked into her friend’s brown eyes, which were filling with tears. “I believe you.”

  “Let me help you. Please. I want to. You’ve always been good to me.”

  “Stay with me. I need you.”

  The young woman nodded.

  “Why? Why would he do this? He said he loved me. I’m afraid to look at those other accounts. What if they’re empty? I have nothing. I can’t go crawling back to my stepmother. Where will I go?”

  “Call Buddy.”

  “Buddy doesn’t want anything to do with me. I canceled the European contracts. I never intended to go. That was Stash’s idea. But Buddy doesn’t know that. He hasn’t returned my phone calls or messages.”

  “I know. I think Stash wanted to get you away from Buddy. Thought Europe would make you forget him.”

  “He thought Europe would make me leave Buddy?” Emmy laughed a mirthless laugh. “He doesn’t know anything about real love.”

  “I’m afraid not. Call Buddy,” Paula repeated.

  “He won’t talk to me. I’ve tried to reach him. Texted even. No response.”

  “Send an S.O.S.”

  “It’s too late now. I’m ruined. I have nothing. I am nothing. I’m finished. My career is over.”

  “No, no, don’t say that!” Paula rubbed the rock star’s arm. “Don’t say that. Don’t give up.”

  Emmy rolled over to face the wall. Paula settled in a chair by the window while she dozed. Bad dreams cut her nap short. She awoke shaking. Paula was asleep. She’s innocent. Stash screwed her too. His own sister. Damn. Emmy pulled a robe around her body and padded out to the living room. The F.B.I agents were on the sofa, talking on their phones. She squeezed between them.

  “Can I get this money back?” she asked. The note of hope was strong in her voice.

  “Since Mr. Mullins had the password and was approved to transfer money into and out of this account, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Oh my God, really? You can’t help me?”

  “We can try to apprehend him. Bring him to justice and return whatever money he still has that we can find.”

  “Try?”

  “It’s not as simple as it sounds. He’s transferred the money to an account, and we can trace that. But it’s in the Cayman Islands, and it’s already been emptied into another one. He may have scattered that money into fifty different accounts. It’ll take time to untangle this web.”

  “What you’re saying is that I should kiss this money goodbye, right?”

  The agents glanced at each other. Their faces wore grim expressions. “At least for now, Ms. Meacham,” Bob said.

  “Why don’t we look at your other accounts?” Cathy suggested.

  Emmy glanced at Paula, who had just joined them. “I need a drink.” Paula nodded and poured a vodka and tonic while Emmy typed, with trembling fingers, her user name and password. She closed her eyes and held her breath when s
he hit “return.”

  A gasp from Cathy made Emmy crack an eye open. She gaped at the screen, her mouth open. Quickly, she opened another tab, typed in an address then a user name and password. The pulse in her neck throbbed, and she couldn’t breathe, waiting for the final account screen to pop up.

  The agents and Paula were silent.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Emmy murmured under her breath.

  * * * *

  After the team lost the game to The Gamblers by one point, Buddy sighed heavily as he headed for the locker room. He took the shower stall next to his best friend and turned on the water.

  “How about coming over for dinner tonight?” Griff asked, soaping himself down under the spray.

  “I don’t know. I’m not hanging out with people right now,” Buddy poured shampoo on his head.

  “Don’t be an asshole. Cutting yourself off from your friends is stupid. You’re coming tonight. I already told Lauren. She’s making extra food.” Griff rinsed off.

  Buddy sighed and grumbled something unintelligible.

  “Come on. Don’t be a dickhead.”

  “Okay, okay.” Buddy rinsed the soap out of his hair.

  The men turned off the water at almost the same time. Each grabbed a towel and fastened it around his waist. They dressed in silence and headed for their cars together.

  “What’s for dinner?”

  “Beef stew. I put it in the crockpot myself this morning.”

  “You’re cooking? Wow. Pretty domestic for an ex-man-whore.”

  “You should talk. At least I help.”

  “Lauren needs it, doesn’t she?”

  “I started when she was pregnant. The pregnancy was stressful. She was worried every single day.”

  “Can you blame her?”

  “Nope. I had more confidence. But I didn’t live through that first thing with her.”

  They separated. Buddy put his vehicle in gear and roared out of the parking lot. Griff showed up seconds after the wide receiver. Buddy waited then followed his friend inside.

  Lauren had the baby on her hip when she greeted her husband with a long kiss. She handed the little slugger off to Griff, who lifted the infant high in the air then kissed him. Lauren threw her arms around Buddy, clasping him in her version of a bear hug.