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Riley’s stunned expression indicated she wasn’t used to anyone sticking up for her, which Blue found sad. She noticed the other customers were openly eavesdropping.
Instead of backing down, Nita Garrison puffed up like an angry cat. “You’re another one of those people who lets kids behave however they want, aren’t you? Lets them say whatever they want. Well, you aren’t doing her any favors. Just look at her. She’s fat, but you let her sit there wolfing down French fries.”
Riley’s face turned bright red. Mortified, she dipped her head and stared at the tabletop. Blue had heard more than enough. “Riley is perfect, Mrs. Garrison,” she said quietly. “And her manners are a lot better than yours. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d find another table. We’d like to finish our lunch alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I own this place.”
Even though they hadn’t finished eating, Blue had no choice but to get up. “All right then. Come on, Riley.”
Unfortunately, Riley was trapped in the booth and Mrs. Garrison wasn’t moving. She sneered, revealing lipstick-smeared teeth. “You’re as disrespectful as she is.”
Now Blue was burning. She jabbed her finger toward the floor. “Out, Riley. Right now.”
Riley got the message and managed to squeeze from under the table with her backpack. Nita Garrison’s eyes narrowed to irate dashes. “Nobody walks away from me. You’ll be sorry.”
“Wow, I’m scared. I don’t care how old you are, Mrs. Garrison, or how rich. You’re just plain mean.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“No, I really won’t.” She threw down April’s twenty, which about killed her, since their lunch had only come to twelve-fifty, wrapped her arm around Riley’s shoulders, and led her through the now silent restaurant and out onto the sidewalk.
“Do you think we could go back to the farm now?” Riley whispered when they’d moved far enough past the door.
Blue had hoped to make some more job inquiries, but that would have to wait. She hugged Riley. “Sure we can. Don’t let that old woman bother you. She feeds off being mean. You could see it in her eyes.”
“I guess.”
Blue continued trying to soothe her as they got in the Saab and pulled out onto the main street. Riley made all the right responses, but Blue knew the hurtful words had struck home.
They’d nearly reached the city limit sign when she heard the siren. She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw a police squad car bearing down. She wasn’t speeding, and she hadn’t run any red lights, so it took her a moment to figure out the cop was after her.
An hour later, she was in jail.
Chapter Ten
April and Dean both came into town to get her. April handed over Blue’s driver’s license and claimed the Saab. Dean bailed Blue out of jail and yelled at her. “I leave you alone for a couple of hours, and what do you do? You get yourself arrested! I feel like I’m living in an I Love Lucy rerun.”
“I was framed!” Blue’s shoulder banged against the door of the Vanquish as he took a curve too fast. She was so angry she wanted to hit something, starting with him for not being as indignant as she was. “Since when have you heard of anybody being thrown in jail for driving without a license? Especially somebody who has a perfectly valid license.”
“Which you didn’t have on you at the time.”
“But which I could have produced if they’d given me half a chance.”
The police hadn’t questioned Blue’s statement that Riley was a family friend visiting the farm, and while Blue had been seething in her cell, Riley was sipping a Coke and watching Jerry Springer on the waiting room television. Still, it had been one more scary experience for the eleven-year-old, and April had driven her back to the farm as soon as the police turned over the Saab’s keys.
“This whole thing was totally bogus.” Blue glared across the passenger seat at Dean, whose blue-gray eyes had turned the exact color of an ocean storm.
He wheeled around another curve. “You had no license, and you were driving an out-of-state car registered to someone else. How does that constitute being framed?”
“I swear to God, all those fashion magazines have destroyed your brain. Think about it. Ten minutes after I went head to head with Nita Garrison, the police pulled me over with a lame excuse about random seat belt checks. How do you explain that?”
He switched from anger to condescension. “So what you’re saying is that you got into a fight with an old lady, who then forced the police to arrest you?”
“You haven’t met her,” she countered. “Nita Garrison is mean to the bone, and she has the town in her pocket.”
“You’re a walking catastrophe. Ever since I picked you up on—”
“Stop making such a big deal out of it. You’re a professional football player. You have to have spent some time in jail yourself.”
