Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

T ully

I hit the button on the coffee maker and stood there in a stupor while it sputtered to life. Mama was in her bathrobe, munching on a giant muffin. I noticed she ate those frequently for breakfast, even though I tried to make mention of protein being necessary. She always waved me away and took another sip of her sweet-smelling latte from Crazy Beans. I shook my head and tried to remember what day it was. I came back to Blueball five days ago. I think. It was kind of hard to keep track of the days when all I did was mope in bed and yell at the television when a promo featuring that twatapotomus came on.

“Mama?” I asked with a frown, brain finally kicking in this early in the morning. “How do you always have coffee from Crazy Beans but you’re still in a robe? Please tell me you don’t go into town in your robe.”

I shouldn’t hassle her about it. Frankly, I should be happy she went into town at all. The woman had always been introverted, but Daddy’s death had twisted something in her. I’d done most of the shopping by the time I married Colson, a task I kept up even when I moved out of the house. She’d become essentially housebound the last few years, mostly because grocery delivery had become so easy and I paid a local woman to come by once a week and make sure she had everything she needed. I also sent Mama money every month, but other than basic house maintenance, I wasn’t sure what she did with it.

“Oh…” Mama waved her hand in the air, her usual move to brush off any comment of mine she didn’t want to answer.

I poured a cup of coffee before the pot was fully filled, dumping in a generous helping of cream and just a dusting of sugar. I may be moping and licking my wounds right now, but gaining a bunch of weight wouldn’t be helpful if I ever decided to get in front of the camera again. Hollywood was ruthless when it came to women and weight. Sitting down at the table with her, I pinned Mama with my no-nonsense look.

“What have you been doing with all the money I’ve been sending home? You haven’t bought a car. Or painted the exterior of the house. Or bought yourself some nice clothes.” I counted things off on my fingers. “I wanted you to use that money to make your life easier. Nicer.”

Mama wiped her mouth with the paper napkin with the picture of three dancing beans stamped in the corner. “I have a wonderful life, Tully. I don’t need anything nicer.”

I pointed in the general direction of the garage. “That SUV out there is almost as old as I am.”

Mama smiled. “Young as a spring chicken.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m forty-two. That’s practically elderly by most people’s standards.”

“You been socializing with the wrong people, then.” Her thin lips pressed together. Mama never raised her voice, but I could see the disappointment just the same.

I opened my mouth to get back on the topic of buying her a new car, one reliable enough to make the trek to Crazy Beans and back every morning, but my phone rang. I plucked it out of my sweatpants pocket and saw that it was my agent. Finally. We’d exchanged texts these last few days, but no phone calls.

I held up a finger to Mama and answered the phone. “Joselyn.” My tone was as snotty as I felt. The woman I’d paid good money to for years had left me high and dry when my professional world fell apart. I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly.

“Got a job for you, Starling!”

A wheeze squeezed from my lungs and out my mouth. Hope, the feeling that had been crushed, lit on fire, and then swept out to sea last week, came sputtering back to life. It already sounded weird for someone to use my stage name, Tully Starling, and it had only been a week since I lost my job.

“Now, it’s not a major show or anything and it pays horrifically, but it’s something.”

And there went that hope, gutting out entirely. I propped my elbows on the kitchen table and rubbed my forehead, wishing for a hole to crawl into. Joselyn, never one to check in on me even when things were going well, carried on like she wasn’t crushing my heart.

“You’re basically a non-starter in Hollywood right now. I mean, fired in your forties.” She chuckled. “That’s a tough one. Anyway, I got a call this morning about a place that needs a celebrity face for their new fundraiser. Someone who will work for peanuts. I instantly thought of you!”

My face collapsed into an outraged grimace, wishing I could reach through the phone and wrap my hands around her neck. Joselyn literally had no idea how insulting she was being. I’d bring it to her attention, but it would go right over her perfectly coifed head.

“But wait, it gets even better. It’s in your hometown! Isn’t that some weird twist of fate?”

That brought my attention back from ways I could kill someone from afar. “Blueball?”

“Yes!” I heard papers being shuffled and then she began listing off the duties of the job. “Make three appearances before the event, each no more than fifteen minutes. Then attend the fundraiser, introducing each firefighter. Easy peasy, baby!”

All the air in Mama’s house got sucked out in an instant. “Firefighters?”

Colson was a firefighter. In another town, thank goodness. He’d moved away from Blueball not long after I left. That I knew for sure. I’d kept tabs because I was a woman and we were the best sleuths outside of the goddamn FBI. I was a firm believer that all women should know about the goings-on of their significant exes.

“Yes, it’s for the Blueball Fire Department. The pay is terrible, but beggars can’t be choosers, babe. Since you’re back home, I’ll let them know you’re available.”

“Wait,” I interject.

“Wait for what? HGTV to call offering you a prime spot on their number one home improvement show? Come on, Tully, you know you need to take this. Get your face out there, even for a Podunk fire department, to show the world you’ve landed on your feet. We can work from there to get bigger and better gigs.”

Mama began to tap her fingers on the kitchen table, stealing my attention. I could tell she was irritated. She could probably hear Joselyn and took offense to the beggars comment. Or the Podunk comment. Hell, pretty much everything out of that woman’s mouth was offensive on some level.

But she was right. I had no other offers and needed to start from the ground up again. I’d done it once, I could do it again. At the very least, the idea of showing the studio I wasn’t wallowing (I was totally wallowing, but they didn’t need to know that) appealed greatly.

“Fine, I’ll do it, but?—”

“Great! I’ll send over the contract right now. Sign and get it back to me. They want to go over all the details in person this afternoon.” Then Joselyn hung up.

Mama cleared her throat. I held up my hand, gripping the phone in my other while I tried to process everything. “Don’t say it.”

She lifted the coffee cup to her mouth and took a long swig. Mama and I had agreed not to talk about a lot of things over the years. She didn’t care about the celebrities I’d met and I didn’t ask about her nonexistent social life. She didn’t inquire about my dating experience in Hollywood and I didn’t ask her about her continued involvement with Colson. I knew they’d been close and that he still came around for awhile after our divorce. She and I always argued about him, so for our continued relationship, we’d agreed to leave him out of the conversation. It was just better that way.

“I have to get ready.” I pushed back from the table and carried my coffee into the bathroom where I took an everything shower. When I was clean, shaved, and ready to style my hair, I took a long hard look in the mirror and asked myself a question I hadn’t asked since the day I filed for divorce and left Blueball.

“What is it you want out of life, Tully Cassio?”

My reflection held a few more lines than it did nineteen years ago, even with the facials, filler, and Botox I faithfully did in Hollywood. She looked older, yes. But also wiser. More jaded and less na?ve. Like a woman who knew what she wanted and wouldn’t put up with shit on her way to get it.

Except I had no answer.

I had no idea what I wanted out of life anymore. Sadly, that was more pathetic than being fired at forty-two.

“Holy shit, I’m hallucinating!” Joey Corsi nearly dropped the hose he was wrapping up as I walked to the open bay of the fire station in downtown Blueball. “Tully Wolfe.”

The addition of my old married name made my steps falter. My smile went wider and I pulled on my years of acting experience to keep walking into the station in my high heels and deep blue business suit.

“Tully Starling, reporting for duty,” I said with a mock salute.

Joey ditched the hose he’d been using to wash the rig and came over, wrapping me in a hug I wasn’t expecting. People in LA didn’t hug like this. Air kisses and fake smiles, perhaps, but not this warm embrace for someone he used to know in high school. Joey and Colson had been best friends all through school. He’d also been the best man in our courthouse wedding.

“You’re an honest-to-God firefighter now?” I asked, pulling back and cataloging the ways in which he’d aged too. His dark hair lay in perfect curls, long on top, short on the sides. His forehead crinkled in lines as he spoke. He’d certainly filled out in the years I’d been gone, going from lanky young man to fully grown adult.

He winked at me. “Don’t know about honest, but I am a firefighter. Gabi will be so excited to see you. I had no idea you were back.” His smile seemed to indicate he was happy to see me, which stunned me, honestly. I figured he and Gabi would hate me for leaving Colson the way I did. He looked over his shoulder. Two other firefighters stood in the open bay, watching us shamelessly. “Frank, Danny. Get over here. Meet Tully Starling.”

The two men ambled over to shake my hand. Absentmindedly, I ran through a list of about four Hollywood directors who’d love to get their hands on these men for a daytime soap opera. Big strapping muscles, granite jawlines, and swagger for days. Everyone knew firefighters were handsome, but these three men were cut from a different cloth.

“My wife is obsessed with your show.” Danny frowned. “In fact, you’re the reason I’ve had to build a she-shed on my property. Thanks for that.”

I cringed, keeping a smile intact. “Sorry, not sorry. Tell your wife she needs an accent wall next.”

Danny shook his head, grinning ruefully. “I most certainly will not.”

Frank elbowed Danny out of the way to take my hand in his. And not for a handshake. The man held my hand and leaned down to kiss it, lifting back up with a flirty smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Ms. Starling?”

I had no intention of entering into a flirtation with any man from Blueball, but I couldn’t lie. The attention was nice.

“I’m here to help y’all with your fundraiser.” I let my trademark smile dazzle them. “I’m your celebrity spokesperson.”

Joey coughed, his hand over his chest like this was news to him. And maybe not happy news. Frank swept his thumb across the back of my hand, still not letting me take it back. He was staring at me intently. Joey batted Frank away and our hands finally dropped. Joey put his arm around my shoulders and walked me into the station, the other two trailing behind us.

“How about you talk to Captain about all that?”

“Wait!” Danny stopped us, holding up his phone. “Can I get a selfie? My wife will freak out when I tell her I met you.”

I grinned, used to this reaction. I turned and cozied up next to Danny. He held the phone out and snapped a few pictures. Frank stepped up to crowd me in from the other side, a firefighter sandwich of muscly proportions. He swept my hair from my shoulder and let his fingers trace against my neck. I snapped my head in his direction. I wasn’t liking the twinkle in his eyes. I wasn’t here for that, no matter how pretty the man was.

“How about we give you a tour? You can slide down our pole.” He waggled his eyebrows while Danny stepped away with his hands up, like he wasn’t part of that offer. Which he shouldn’t, being a married man!

A door at the back of the bay slammed against the wall, grabbing everyone’s attention at once. Colson, my ex-husband, once love of my life, stood there framed in the doorway, hands clenched into fists at his side, hair tousled like he just ran his fingers through it. A mustache covered his beautiful lips, but did nothing to hide the enraged scowl.

He opened his mouth and an animalistic growl snapped across the space. “Step away from my wife, assholes.”