“But that was because we didn’t have a big ticket item like Fatback Bubba. Our Facebook page is practically exploding because of him!”
He smiled again, but this time she could see the smile for what it really was. A sneery looking grin.
Doreen was right. Doug was a snake. She thought about all the times they’d talked about the festival and how he’d seemed so eager to help her. She also remembered how Doreen had warned her about not being tricked.
Doug had known all along that he wasn’t going to cut a city check on behalf of the festival, and she’d walked right into his trap. Something told her he hadn’t thought this up by himself, though.
“Tell me, Doug. Did you and Bruce cook up this little scheme to try to discredit me?”
“Someone sounds paranoid,” he said still keeping up the pleasant tone in his voice.
“Maybe you’re the one who should be paranoid. I have a call through to Brian Watts in Old Explorer’s Bay. I can’t wait for him to call me back.”
That wiped the grin off his face faster than Mimi could blink.
“There’s nothing he can say to you. And if he does, I’ll sue his ass for slander.”
“Wow. I don’t think I need Brian to call me back. That little statement of yours tells me almost everything I need to know.”
“Whatever.” He picked up his briefcase. “Are we done here?”
“Oh, believe me, we’re finished.”
*~*~*
Mimi did her best to keep to the speed limit, but it was after four-thirty and the directions she’d been given to Fatback Bubba’s studio were confusing. Her stomach felt twisted up in knots. If she had the money in her checking account then it would be a simple matter of writing them a personal check and paying herself back after the festival. But she and Zeke didn’t normally keep that kind of money in their everyday account. Not to mention she’d just written a check to the florist for the wedding next week.
She turned on the radio to try to calm her nerves. Luke Bryan’s That’s My Kind of Night was playing. It momentarily distracted her as she sang along, then it came to the part about the catfish dinner and she almost retched right in her mouth. Normally, she liked catfish, but it sounded so…fishy right now, and there was that stomach of hers acting like it belonged to someone else.
If only she’d managed to confront Doug sooner, then she would have had more notice and she could have transferred money from their savings money market. But that took a minimum of two days. Plus, it would be risky, because that money wasn’t hers alone. It also belonged to Zeke and it was supposed to be for emergencies only. This was an emergency, all right, but not the kind she and Zeke had scrimped and saved for.
She pulled into the parking lot with ten minutes to spare. After a quick peek in the minivan’s rearview mirror to make sure she didn’t look like a wild woman, she hustled into the studio. A man in his early thirties greeted her at the door. He was bald with a neck tattoo and wore a cowboy hat.
“You must be Mimi Grant,” he said in a not-too-friendly way. “I’m Keith Calloway, the manager for the band. You got the check?”
“Actually, I don’t, but I can explain,” she rushed to say.
Instead of looking displeased, however, he smiled like he was relieved. “Sorry, but no check, no performance.”
“I understand, but we have some…complicated circumstances. I can pay you the rest on Monday, plus a bonus for the inconvenience. Say, another five hundred dollars to make it eight thousand even?” She was one hundred percent positive they’d make the money. The entire town was talking about the festival with a degree of enthusiasm that Mimi hadn’t heard in years. And if by some miniscule chance, they didn’t make the money…well, she could always throw herself off the Bay Bridge.
“A contract is a contract. Like I said, no check. No band.”
“But there’s hundreds of people who’ll be expecting Fatback Bubba to play! We’ve put up banners and done Facebook promotions. Look, we’re a non-profit organization, can’t you cut us some slack?”
“No can do. Now, if we’re through here, I need to lock up the studio. I got a lot of work to do and I have to drive to Tallahassee tonight, then drive back here to start packing up.”
“Packing up?” Mimi had been so frazzled she hadn’t noticed all the moving boxes. “Where are you going?”
“Fatback Bubba has just been signed on to open for Billy Brenton,” he said proudly. “Their first show is tonight and we only have a day to pack things up before we head to Pensacola on tour.”
No wonder this Keith wasn’t so keen on the Spring Into Summer festival. His band was about to hit the road with country music’s biggest star! Mimi tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Isn’t there some way we can resolve this? Maybe if…they played for just thirty minutes? I can even help with the packing.”
He chuckled. “Sorry, lady, but a deal’s a deal.”
She felt like all the air had been sucked from her lungs. How was she going to fix this? The town was expecting a well-known country western band at the festival. She had less than forty-eight hours to come up with a substitute. But how?