2
TALLY
A hysterical laughwrenches from my throat as I pull over. The panic that’s been suspiciously absent crashes down on me like a wave.
Fuck this day. Fuck this town. Fuck this universe.
The police cruiser stops behind me and I’m fixin’ to lose my ever-lovin’ mind.
God, keep it together, Tally! This ain’t the time to have a come apart.
A bulky man gets out, lumbering toward me. He pauses at the trunk and I think my heart is about to fall out of my ass.
He knows. He must know.
I bet he’s got some kind of K-9 mutant level olfactory sense.
Fuck, I hope he doesn’t recognize me. If he does, my visit to Redbird Creek is gonna be top news in the tabloids tomorrow. Though to my surprise, I found out that people don’t realize who I am when I ditch my celebrity persona.
As country star Tally Creed, Rex insists that I wear blue contacts and blond wigs teased to the high heavens.Something about the higher the hair, the closer to God or whatever. In addition, I use tinted gel to match my ginger brows to the darker roots of my signature ombre look.
Then one day, I had enough and gave my bodyguard the slip to sneak out on a coffee run. It was the first time in years I dared to go anywhere without dressing up.
I wore my natural red curls and no contacts to hide my green eyes.
The results?
People treated me like a normal human being, not a larger-than-life doll they can touch and pose and take pictures of anytime they want. Nobody had a clue who I was. But a guy who grew up alongside me would definitely still make the connection.
The cop comes up to the window and smiles, his enormous mustache curling upward like two caterpillars under his nose. I exhale. Thank fuck. He’s not from around here. I’d put him around my age, and I’d remember his face if we went to the same school.
Don’t let your guard down. Officer Friendly might not seem like a man about to ruin your life but looks can be deceiving.
I roll down the window. The humid summer air smells like rain and the muffled sound of music and drunk laughter reaches my ears. I realize I’m parked right across from the Coal Bucket, the only bar in town.
“Evenin’, ma’am!” the cop chirps, his high-pitched voice unbefitting a man of his imposing stature.
A cold sweat coats my brow as I bare my teeth in a psychopathic grin. “Evening.”
“Deputy George. You doin’ alright?”
“Ohhhh, yes! Perfect. I’m perfect. Just…” I wave my hands like I’m fighting off a swarm of bees. “Enjoying the… everything.”
Theeverything? Really? I’m an award-winning songwriter and that’s the best I could come up with?
Deputy George squints. “I pulled you over cause I gotta talk to you about your back end, ma’am.”
Please, please, please let him be talking about my ass.
This is the one time I’d ever want a man to make an inappropriate comment about my body and only because it’s slightly better than life in prison.
“Is there something wrong with my suspension? Is it perhaps sagging with… dead weight?” I ask.
I’m overcome with the urge to slam my head into the steering wheel and hope the airbag takes me out. Now why the fucking fuck would I say that?Dead weight? I might as well put the cuffs on myself.
Deputy George chuckles. “No, ma’am. Your suspension seems fine. It’s your taillight. You blew a bulb on the passenger side.”
Dizzying relief has me slumping in my seat. “I had no idea. Thank you.”
