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“Oh, that. Not my fault. I had a deal with his manager. Yep. I had it all set up for him to come play and then at the last minute, he backed out.”
“Wasn’t there some kind of legal ramification to that? Can’t the city sue him?”
Not that Mimi wanted to sue Billy Brenton (she was his biggest fan!), but if he’d really signed on to do a concert then backed out at the last minute like Bruce claimed, then he should take fiscal responsibility for the mess he’d created. As much as she hated the idea of suing anyone, her first responsibility was to Whispering Bay.
“Can you give me a copy of the contract? I can get Pilar to take a look at it and she can advise us on our best course of action.”
A trickle of sweat ran down the side of Bruce’s cheek. He slipped a handkerchief out of his pocket and blotted his head. “I hope you don’t say anything about this, because what I’m going to tell you is pretty damn embarrassing, but it was more of a verbal agreement. Should have known better, I know, but getting that far with him was already a major feather in my cap. I was just trying to do what was best for the city. Of course, it all blew up in my face.”
Mimi almost felt sorry for him. She thought Bruce had more business savvy. He’d advertised Billy Brenton on a verbal agreement? No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about it before.
“I’m sorry it all fell apart, Bruce, but maybe considering what happened last year, he might want to make it up to us by playing at this year’s festival. I know it’s a long shot, especially since we’re less than four months out now, but I want to give it a try.”
Bruce seemed reluctant at first, but then he opened a drawer in his desk and handed her a business card. “This is the name of the company who manages him. The contact person’s name is Crystal.” He must have sensed her distrust, because he added, “I know you think I’m still bitter about the election, but you couldn’t be more wrong. I only want to do what’s best for this town, and if you can get Billy Brenton to play at the Spring Into Summer festival, then I’ll be the first in line to congratulate you.”
For a second, all Mimi could do was stare at the card. Bruce was actually going to help her? Boy, had she pegged him all wrong.
Mimi tucked the card away in her tote. “Thanks, Bruce. I really appreciate this.”
*~*~*
How friggin’ hard could it be to get ahold of one country music singer? Okay, so the country music singer was world famous and probably Nashville’s biggest male star of the moment, but seriously, someone had to know how to get in touch with someone who could get in touch with him. Or at the very least, this Crystal person. This was America. Home of the Free and Land of the Brave, as well as People magazine, the Internet and Twitter. Nothing was sacred anymore.
Mimi hung up the phone in frustration. The number Bruce had given her was for a music management company in Nashville. She’d been shuffled from assistant to assistant for the past hour with no real hope in sight. It was useless. She might as well have been trying to call the man on the moon. She’d been at it all week and she was no closer to getting Billy Brenton than when she’d started.
Harry Tuba and his polka band were looking better and better. Except, if that was the best she could do she might just be driven out of town with pitchforks. And the Spring Into Summer festival was the least of her problems. Every day someone called wanting something from her. More parking spots at the city library. A new trashcan next to the public beach access. Her personal favorite, though, was a call from Mr. Quinton from the Dolphin Estates Neighborhood Association demanding that the doggie poop pick-up law be enforced with threat of jail time. That had been a conversation Mimi never hoped to repeat.
Why had she ever thought running for mayor would be a fun thing to do? Poor Bruce. Is this what his life had been like the past twelve years? He said he didn’t harbor any ill feelings toward her for beating him out in the last election. He was probably secretly glad.
Besides her mayoral duties there was also Allie’s wedding to help plan. She’d given Mimi her guest list. It was a smallish number to work with—about seventy-five guests in all. The church and the date were taken care of but there was still the dress and the reception venue to consider. A while ago Mimi had mentioned to Allie that her grandmother’s dress was still in storage. It was a beautiful dress, all organza and lace and it would look gorgeous on her, but it would need alterations. Someone who knew how to work with old material and whom they could trust. Mimi had a good idea where they could find that someone. Now she just had to get Allie on board.
Today’s copy of the Whispering Bay Gazette featured Allie and Tom’s engagement announcement splashed across page three. It was a gorgeous picture of the two of them with their arms around one another with the gulf in the background. They were just three and half months away from the wedding. Mimi had booked a lunch at The Harbor House to discuss possibly using their banquet room for the reception.
She glanced at her watch. It was time to call it a night. She’d been in the office nearly all day, except for the three times she’d gone home to check on Toby and Buttercup. On her last visit home, Toby had left a huge drool mark on the carpet in the living room and Buttercup had discovered she had claws. Luckily, the pillow she’d decided to shred was an old one Mimi had been about to toss anyway.
She fiddled around the computer for a few more minutes, checking her email and her Facebook page to see if any of her friends had posted anything worth reading. On a whim, she decided to check out Rusty’s page. Zeke had said he was staying at Rusty’s cousin’s fishing cabin. Right there on Rusty’s profile picture was a shot of him and another man holding up a large mouth bass. A few more clicks and she found out the other man was Benny Newton, none other than Rusty’s cousin of the fishing cabin fame.
A few more clicks and she pulled up a picture of said cabin and a location. It was scary how someone with minimal computer skills like herself could find out so much with so little effort. According to the map the fishing cabin was located north of Whispering Bay near the Intercoastal. Mimi figured it was at least ten miles away.
She logged herself out of her computer and grabbed her jean jacket, ready to head home. Zeke was taking the kids over to Tom’s to spend the evening with Allie and Henry. They were ordering pizza and watching movies. Which sounded like fun. Like something they’d done once as a family. Tomorrow, it would be two weeks since she’d told Zeke she’d consider going back to counseling. It had been hard to think of anything else, really. It wasn’t fair to keep him waiting for an answer, but she didn’t want to go through a repeat of last year. If they went back to counseling, Zeke would have to prove that he was serious about it this time.
Maybe tonight she’d get her own takeout and watch a movie, too. Something completely romantic. Like Casablanca or When Harry Met Sally. Something that would blot out the frustrations of the past week. She’d get ice cream. And popcorn. And wine. Only, she’d stick to one glass, because the night of the margaritas was still too fresh to consider more than that.
She walked past the empty receptionist’s desk. It was Friday afternoon and after five o’clock, so the city building was nearly deserted. She’d almost made it to her car when she spotted Doug in the parking lot. He waved and jogged over.
“Hey,” he said. His gaze went to her leather work tote. Which had seemed cute when she’d bought it, but now Mimi realized it was wholly impractical. Her Spring Into Summer work folder, overflowing with papers, barely fit inside. “Looks like someone’s bringing home a load of work for the weekend.”
“I think I’m spinning my wheels with this festival.”
“Want to talk about it? Maybe I can help.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his denim jeans. A cool breeze ruffled the top of his brown hair. Mimi had to admit, casual Fridays looked good on Doug.
Considering she was getting nowhere with the Billy Brenton thing, his offer of help sounded like a lifeline. She thought about the animals. She’d checked on them a little over two hours ago. Surely, they could be alone a couple hours more. “How about that coffee you promised?”
“How about dinner?” he shot back. She hesitated long enough that he said, “Or not. You probably have kids to get home to, huh?”
“Actually, I don’t. And dinner sounds good. I’m anxious to pick your brain about something.”
He grinned. “Then let’s go.”
