Page 22 of Call Back

Chapter 5

We foundanother restaurant in Belle Meade, but Brady was quiet and tense. After we ordered our food, I reached across the table and grabbed his hand, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Contrary to your perception of me,” I said quietly, “I’m not fragile, either emotionally or physically, and I can be a good listener. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I can handle it.” Was Bill James connected to the issue Brady had been discussing with Owen? I wasn’t sure I believed that Brady’s suspicions of the man had nothing to do with my father.

He turned his hand over and clasped mine. “I never said you were fragile.”

“No, but the way you’ve treated me . . . you’ve been so nice . . .”

“That’s because I like you. I’ve made no secret of that. If you decide you just want to be friends, I’ll accept that, but we both know there’s a connection between us, and I won’t lie and say I won’t be disappointed if you decide to ignore it. But our kiss . . .” His troubled gaze held mine. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated in any way.”

“I don’t.”

“I wanted you to stay with me because I was worried about you. It wasn’t some sneaky attempt to get you to sleep with me.”

I gave him a soft smile. “I know. I kissed you back because it felt right. No other reason.”

Relief washed over his face.

“Is that what’s bothering you?” It didn’t seem likely. His agitation had started with his phone call—and increased after we saw Bill James.

“Partially.” He grabbed his water glass and took a big drink before setting it down. “No more work talk. Tell me a story about your work in the theatre world.”

I was dying to know more, but knew he’d never tell me—at least not if I came at it straight on—so I launched into a story about an off-Broadway play I’d been in. The director, a man with early-onset dementia, had kept changing the blocking.

“On opening night, he changed it again, except the only person he told was the lead actress. There was a scene where she was supposed to do a trust fall, only the actor wasn’t in the right place to catch her, so she fell right off the stage into the audience.”

“Oh, no. Was she okay?”

“The audience wasn’t your typical audience—the play was way off Broadway—and they thought it was part of the show. They caught her with their hands, and she crowd surfed for a good half-minute.”

He grinned. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head and laughed. “Nope. Word got out and the next night we had a crowd waiting for the crowd-surfing scene, but the director had changed it again. Regrettably—or not—the play only lasted a week.”

“And how many plays have you done?”

“Good question . . . maybe forty? Forty-five? Some died in rehearsal and never made it to the stage. Mostly ensemble parts in the beginning. I worked my way up.”

“How many Broadway plays?”

“Four. Once I hit Broadway three years ago, I quit my waitressing job.”

“Did you always know you wanted to be an actress?” he asked.

Talking about my past was dangerous—it would inevitably lead to questions, and Colt was right. Since Brady was a cop, he’d notice any inconsistencies in my story. But I found myself trusting Brady more and more. Would it be so bad to tell him more? “No. I thought I wanted to marry my high school sweetheart, Tanner McKee, and become a teacher here in Franklin.”

“When did you change your mind?”

Dangerous ground, Magnolia.“I decided life was too short and I needed an adventure before I settled down,” I lied, then decided to tell him a small truth to corroborate my story. “So I took off for New York City the day after my high school graduation.”

“How did your mother take it?”

“Not well. She barely spoke to me for years afterward, and my brother never forgave me.”

“Sounds like it must have been awkward when you came home for visits.”

I could lie, but I decided against it. It was easier to get tripped up by lies than the truth, and I could make this one work. “I never came home until the day of Luke Powell’s party.”

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