Page 13 of Take Me to the Valley

Chapter 7

Evan

All I have been able to think about is the coffee I had with Calista yesterday. She is so easy to talk to, but then I had to go and make it awkward with that hug. Not to mention that everyone in town talked about it all day, to the point Cody even texted me to ask what was going on. When I told him about her doing Skye's hair and the coffee as a thank you, he blew it off.

It's too bad the rest of the town can't do that. Judy kept asking me questions like she was interrogating a suspect, waiting to see if my answers changed. They didn't. Even Maggie had heard about it by the time I picked Skye up from her house yesterday and thought it was so sweet of her to meet Skye and help out.

“Hey man, I saw that new commercial with Skye's mom in it,” my co-worker Rick says.

Rick is older than me by a few years. Even though he is milking the desk job like no one’s business, he is one of the best peopleto investigate using the internet. He can dig and find things that are instrumental in solving cases.

“Yeah, but we don't keep up with any of her appearances. But you know that,” I remind him.

When Skye's mom walked away from her, I cut her from our lives all the way. The town knows what happened and keeps up with her little career, but we haven't even seen a single commercial. Skye has zero interest in doing so, and when she does, then that’s a bridge I will cross.

“It's been seven years, and this commercial is the biggest gig with the most lines she's gotten. I'd say karma is taking care of her,” Rick says before he walks off.

Brittney had dreams of being a movie star, and she surely thought she'd be a household name seven years later. All she has been able to land is a handful of commercials, but she has left us alone, and that's all I want and am happy about it.

“Is there anything new on that drug case?” I ask Judy, who tends to hear things before they are even official.

“We might get some info on it later today. But I want to talk about the BBQ cook-off. You are entering, right?” Whiskey River is like all small towns, and we have a bunch of festivals and events to draw people in and make the town some money. The BBQ Competition is one that has been around for a long time.

While it does have a contest, that is a small part of the event. There will be craft booths, sales tables, and an entire section of tasting booths from about any business within a fifty-mile radius. All the stores participate offering special foods or sales for the event. There are decorations on Main Street, posters are up, and ads on the radio. It's a big affair and a moneymaker for everyone.

Every year since she was three, Skye and I have entered the competition with my dad's recipe. It's been more of a fun thing for us to do together. I didn't care much about winning or losing, but two years ago, we won third place. Then, last year, the police station sponsored our booth, and we won second.

Since the station is sponsoring us again, I'm not sure I have a choice whether to enter or not. But how could I possibly say no? In addition, we will be selling my bottled BBQ sauce. The station will vote on which charity any prize money will go to, and from the flurry around the station, nominations are rolling in.

“Of course. Skye is looking forward to it, maybe more than I am,” I say.

“Well, this year, you have a bigger kitchen to work with, but if you need help, you let me know. I am happy to rally the troops,” she says, walking off.

This year there will be more competition than ever before. It just keeps getting bigger. Since Cody and his brothers have the distillery open, they are using one of their whiskeys to make a BBQ sauce. If they place in the competition, they have braggingrights and can use it to help sell the sauce at their retail store and restaurant they are planning on opening.

I want them to place, and I want to raise money for charity. Regardless of whether we place or not, people will be buying our BBQ, and hopefully, our sauce. But it's more important for Cody to actually get in the top three.

Since I'm waiting for information from another cop on this drug case, I have some downtime. Normally, I'd clean out my email or catch up with Cody. Today, though, I'm reaching for my phone and find myself texting Calista.

Me:I wanted to thank you again for doing Skye's hair. She got many compliments.

I send it thinking I won't hear anything back right away, if at all. We aren't friends that text like this, but something in me wants to have that little thread of connection with her. I’m starting to clean out my email when my phone goes off. When I realize it's from her, I almost drop it on the floor.

Calista:I'm so glad she liked it. You know, I'm always happy to help. It seems like such a small thing, but it's a big deal when they are that young. Believe me, I remember.

Me:Well, she has named you her personal hair stylist from here on out, so be ready. The school picture circuit is more than just the yearbook photo nowadays.

Calista:Oh yeah?

Me:Yes, they have the yearbook photo, parents' photos for purchase, a class photo, a photo of the entire grade, plus photos for each activity, and all are shot on different days.

Calista:That sounds like pictures are a big event. Well, I am happy to meet her and do her hair for each photo. But you should look up some video tutorials and learn to do some yourself. There are some really easy ones out there.

Me:We have tried. I promise I'm hopeless. I can't even get a ponytail done right. Your mom has tried to teach me many times and has called me a lost cause.

Calista:Oh, it must be true because Mom is the authority on all things’ hair.

Even through the text, I can hear her sarcasm, and it makes me smile.

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