Chapter Eleven
When they returned to her apartment, Roxie couldn’t boot up her laptop fast enough.
She logged in and quickly searched her in-box.
Somebody out there had been looking for a family of girls only a few months ago.
She knew the chances of it being her, Lexie, and Maxie were slim, but she had a gut feeling.
Moonlight kept popping into her head. That cat had been trying to tell her something.
She settled in and checked out the responses she’d received since she and Billy had put a new post on the board.
Unfortunately, none of them panned out. She searched back into the board’s history as far as she could go but didn’t find anything that clicked.
Soon, there was nothing she could do but wait for new posts.
She started checking for them every ten minutes. Then it was once every hour.
Soon her positive outlook faded.
“You knew this could take a while,” Billy reminded her a few days later when her excitement had run out. They were in the bar, where everything seemed to be running slow from the tap to the kitchen to Whitey. The regular’s bum knee was acting up again.
“I know,” she said grumpily. It had already taken twenty-six years, but it was almost as if she could feel the clock ticking down.
And not towards a happy ending.
She passed Martha a new package of darts and returned to the computer she’d propped up next to the cash register.
She should have felt like she was getting closer to the truth, but instead, she could feel everything pulling away.
Whoever might have been out there didn’t seem to be looking anymore—and she and Billy had done all they could.
He’d said he’d help her with the computer stuff, and they’d poked around downtown.
There was nothing else keeping him here.
She glanced at him across the bar through her eyelashes.
He’d been here for nearly a week, an eternity compared to his previous visits, but how much longer would it last?
Things between them were starting to get tense.
The sex was becoming hot and desperate, almost as if they both knew the other shoe was about to drop.
It always had before. There was no reason to expect it to be different this time. Their basic problems hadn’t gone away. When it came right down to crunch time, they weren’t strong enough as a couple.
A nasty pang caught her mid-chest.
That damn duffel bag. He never had brought it to her place. He kept it in that empty second floor apartment, going back and forth every morning. She was just a stay-over, and he was ready to go on a moment’s notice.
Soon, he’d be gone.
Because it was “probably for the best.”
The door to the bar opened, letting rays from the setting sun streak across her computer screen. She sent a scowl over her shoulder.
“Back for another round of pool?” Skeeter asked the customer.
“I thought I’d collect on my winnings.”
“She’s at the bar.”
“Hey, Kanga,” Roxie called. She hadn’t seen him for days. She’d thought maybe he wasn’t coming back.
The kid shook his head. “It’s Roux.”
He headed to the bar like a shadow sliding across the floor and climbed onto a stool a few seats down from Billy.
Billy stopped with a beer halfway lifted. “Did you actually beat her, kid?”
“I did.”
“That’s big talk,” Roxie said. “If I recall correctly, we were tied one game apiece. You owe me an order of potato wedges.”
“And you owe me teeny weenies,” he said, his face flaring when he realized what he’d said.
Billy took a drink of his draft beer. “Unfortunate name, but tasty if you can get ’em.”
Roux folded his arms on the bar top and finally met her gaze. “I thought I’d better pay up before you sent someone out to collect.”
“Oh, I don’t send people. I collect on my own.” Roxie turned to the waitress. “Bring my guest some potato wedges and a bourbon burger, on the house.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Sure, I do,” she murmured. Opening the icebox, she stirred the cubes to keep them from clumping. “I embarrassed you the other night.”
She held up her hand to stop the protests. “Not at pool, but when I started talking about setting you up.”
“Oh, that.” Roux rubbed the back of his neck. “You said something about a sister?”
“Your sister?” Billy cut in.
“Blaire,” Roxie clarified. “You haven’t met her yet. She’s super cute.”
Roux turned to Billy. “There are others?” he asked the older man.
“Not for you.” Roxie rolled her eyes at Billy. “Kanga here came in because of the billboard.”
She zeroed in again on the college kid, pointing in warning. “Now just because I posed for that thing, don’t be getting any ideas. Blaire doesn’t wear push-up bras out in public. She’s a nice girl.”
“Okay, I get it.” Roux lifted his hands in defense. “So, what are you going to do for marketing now that the billboard has been taken down?”
Roxie’s head whipped around. “Taken down?”
Roux went still, feeling the tension that had just dropped over the room. “Yeah. They ripped it down today.”
Roxie wrapped her fingers around the edge of the bar, one by one. “Who ripped it down?”
“I thought you had it done. Maybe it was the sign company?” He eased back. “I just noticed it.”
“No.” Roxie refused to believe it was true, yet the urge to move came over her so suddenly, she literally bumped into the bar. “No, no, no.”
Leaving her post, she stepped out into the main bar area. She quickly pivoted back to grab her computer. There had to be some mistake.
“Rox?” Billy said softly.
Right. Why would she need the computer?
Spinning around again, she headed to her office like a locomotive on rails.
Heads were going to roll for this. Was that preachy little librarian behind this?
Had activists gotten up there and defaced her sign?
Because if they had, by God, for the first time in her life, she was going to go to the police.
What had that patrolman’s name been? The tough-looking one?
Her laptop hit the desk with a none-too-gentle thunk, and she whipped open her lower desk drawer so fast, she hit herself in the shin. “Ow, damn it.”
“Roxie.”
Billy filled her doorway, blocking the light with his wide shoulders. Roxie swore under her breath as she grabbed her purse. It swung around and nailed her in the back as she headed towards him.
This was wrong. Had the sign company taken it down? They’d be in violation of their stinking contract if they’d let themselves be goaded into it.
“Contract,” she hissed, turning again.
Tearing open a file cabinet, she flipped through papers until she found what she was looking for. Lowering her chin, she let her gaze cut through Billy as she bore down on him.
He held up his hands and cleared out of the way.
“I will take them to court for freedom of speech,” she hissed. Flames were flying on the grill as she passed, but even they shied away as she stomped her way into the bar.
Her heels clomped against the wood flooring, and she deliberately kicked her feet down to get the sound she wanted. Damn backup boots.
“Roxie,” Billy said more firmly.
A solid tug on her purse pulled her up short, and she whirled around on him. He deftly swiped the keys from her hand.
“I’ll drive.”
“Fine.” It would give her time to bitch out whomever was responsible for this.
Tearing down her sign!
Anger bubbled up inside her, hissing through her veins. She was so riled; she could barely see the words on the contract she was poring through as Billy settled her into the pickup.
A phone number. Ha!
She dialed it with stiff fingers. Her temper only got darker when nobody answered.
She tracked down the advertiser’s personal cell number as Billy was driving across the bridge. Twisting in her seat, Roxie peered across the lanes to the billboards on the other side of the road.
Bitter tears pressed at her eyes when she saw that Roux was right. Going the wrong direction, she couldn’t see clearly what was going on, but she knew what she didn’t see.
Her face, her eyes, her boobs…
The advertiser chose that inopportune moment to come on the line. “Hello?”
“Where is my billboard?” Roxie snapped.
“Who is this?”
“Roxie Cannon from The Ruckus. Where is my sign?”
“Oh, Ms. Cannon.” From the sigh in the man’s voice, she could tell he knew exactly who she was. “We didn’t receive payment from you to continue for another three months. Your lease was up.”
Payment. Lease. The words were like daggers. Roxie’s air came in rough, jagged pants as she skimmed the contract, her finger keeping place of where she was.
Expiration date. There.
A knot formed in her throat, making the ache worse. The date had passed. How could she have missed it?
“You didn’t put up anything new,” she snapped back, clutching at straws.
The billboard had been blank—tatters, really, of previous posters. Since when did they rush out and tear things down the moment they came due? Why hadn’t anyone called her? Especially if they didn’t have a backup sponsor?
The man on the other end of the line hemmed and hawed. Finally, he grumbled, “With the hubbub it was causing, we thought it best to take the whole thing down.”
Roxie literally growled. The sound just came out. The truck was now bouncing along the dirt of Fisherman’s Road. Looking up, she saw the remnants of her billboard. They waved in the wind, looking defeated and hopeless.
“Don’t expect repeat business from me,” she hissed, punching the button to end the call. By that point, her throat had nearly closed off.
They were sitting right under the sign now. Her sign. Billy shifted into park and watched her, saying nothing.
Roxie shook her head. Damn it, she couldn’t explain it, but her heart was breaking.
She lurched out of the cab of the truck. The wind lifted her hair and made it lash against her face. Her chin quivered as she looked up at nothing.
It was gone. All gone.