A Different Kind of Forever

Chapter SEVEN

FINALS WEEK WAS the worst Diane could remember. She had been a full-time professor for six years, and had thought she had learned to weather the storm, but this year was horrific. The students were complaining non-stop, with one junior in particular who left e-mail messages that ran pages long. Emily and Megan were usually respectful of the pressure Diane was under and left her alone, but Emily had been asked to the senior prom by a young man, and wanted to spend the entire weekend down the Jersey shore with a group of seniors. Diane had said no. The battle was on. Megan, usually quiet and easy-going, wanted to spend a semester in France the following spring. Diane could not afford it. Kevin was balking. Megan was raging.

Diane was tired, ill-tempered and running out of patience with everyone and everything. She had finals to grade, evaluations to write up, and Rachel was still acting cool towards her. Diane could not wait for the week to be over. She could not wait to see Michael.

By Thursday, she was pretty much at her wits’ end. Then, Kevin called to say he was picking the girls up early, right after school on Friday. They were all going down to Long Beach Island to open up the shore house. She thanked him coolly, hung up the phone, and called Michael, telling him to meet her at four on Friday.

She got caught in a meeting Friday afternoon, then hit traffic. When she got home a sleek, silver car was parked in front of her house. A DeLorean. She walked around to the back of the house, and Michael was stretched out on a lounge chair, eyes closed. The faint jangle of the brass bell on her garden gate had not roused him. He seemed totally relaxed, dressed in jeans and a denim shirt. She watched him for a moment, still and quiet in the cool afternoon.

“Hey, is that your car out front?” she called, walking toward him.

He lifted his head and grinned. “Yeah - isn’t it fantastic?”

“It was my dream car for years.” He stood up and put both arms around her. She leaned against him with a sigh.

“This has been the worse week of my life. I’m so tired and miserable. I hate everybody.” She pulled back her head to look at him, kissing him hard. “Except you. You are the only person I can stand to be with right now.”

“Lucky for me. So, tell me what you need. A cold drink? Hot shower? Food? Sleep? Sex?”

“Yes. I need all that.” She kissed him again, slower this time, and her body began to burn. She stepped away from him. “A drink first, I think. We’ll go from there.”

He followed her into the house, declined her offer of a vodka martini, and opened a beer. She was wound up, talking nervously as she mixed her drink. She had kicked off her shoes and was pacing around the living room while he sat and watched her silently, letting her ramble. She finished her drink quickly.

“Look, I need a shower. And I really need to eat. Do you feel like a steak? Kevin used to say that stress made me carnivorous.”

“Sure. I’ll call Longacre’s and get a table for what, an hour?”

“Shit, it’s almost six. I can’t believe it’s this late. We’ll never get a table on a Friday night, not now.”

“I’ll call,” he said soothingly. “We’ll get a table. Shower. Change. Go.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Do you have an uncle at Longacre’s too?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. But I’ll use the name Mickey Flynn. That usually gets me what I want.”

She tilted her head at him. “I bet it does. Do you do that often?”

He shrugged. “Not so much anymore. There’s not a lot I want that badly.”

“But tonight you want a table at Longacre’s?”

“No. Tonight I want to make you happy.”

“Oh.” She chewed her lip. “You’ve already done that. I’ve had the week from hell, and I just kept thinking if I made it to Friday, I’d be with you and then everything would be all right again. You can’t believe how glad I am to see you.” She took a deep breath. “I need to shower now.” She turned and walked down the hall.

She felt better after she stood under the steaming water, and some of the tension left her. She grabbed a towel and wrapped herself in it, and looked out of the bathroom, still dripping.

“Did you call? How much time do we have?”

He appeared in the hallway, and began walking toward her.

“We’re in at seven. How long for you to get dressed?” he asked.

“In a pinch, ten minutes. Why?”

He was looking at her, her damp hair piled on top of her head, water glistening on her shoulders. “Perfect. Ten minutes to get dressed, ten minutes to get there. That means we’ve got about half an hour to spare.”

“Half an hour?”

“Yeah.” He reached for her, pulling off the towel. “That’s just about enough time.”



After dinner they walked up and down the streets of Milton, looking in shop windows, talking. Michael was stopped for an autograph by a bunch of teenage boys. He was friendly and gracious, answered their questions, but declined their offer to buy him coffee.

“Does this happen to you a lot?” she asked after the boys had moved on.

“No. I’m lucky. The only people who recognize me are the fans. It’s not like I’m an actor, where thousands of people see my face on television or whatever. And here, the fans are cool. I’m the hometown kid. They tend to give me some space.” He thought a moment about the woman at Rollie’s, and felt a pang of guilt.

Diane had been watching him, and saw a flicker across his face. “What?” she asked.

He told her about the blonde, how she had come on to him so strongly. He told her about standing in the middle of Hoboken, with a stranger’s arms around him, and how he thought about taking her into his truck for a quick release, knowing that all that the woman wanted anyway was to be able to tell her friends that she had f*cked Mickey Flynn.

They found a café, still open, with a few tables on the sidewalk. Michael had another beer and Diane sipped white wine.

“So,” Diane asked finally, “why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t in the mood for generic sex,” he said.

Diane raised an eyebrow. “Generic sex? As opposed to name brand sex? Did you just make that up?”

“No.” He looked embarrassed. “I had just left you. I wanted you. I didn’t want a substitute.”

Diane felt herself grinning happily. “Oh.”

He was silent for a minute. “Are you done with school?”

Diane shook her head. “No. I still have to post grades, evaluations, and finish reports, just paperwork. All my finals are done, thank God. I’ll have to put in a few mornings next week to clean things up. Then I can work on my rose garden.”

“Ah, yes, that impressive rectangle of dirt I was looking at this afternoon,” Michael said, teasing.

She looked at him sternly. “It takes a lot of work to get good dirt. I can now actually begin to plant things. I can even set down the pavers, because the ground is perfectly even. Of course, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. I’m going to have the biggest mud puddle in the state.”

“And the most beautifully prepared.” He stood up. “Are you ready to head home?”

“Yes. Do you have a toothbrush in this car as well?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“So, would you care to stay at my place again?”

“I would love to stay at your place again.”

“I have to finish grading exams tomorrow.”

“Can I watch the Mets?”

“Sure. Then I could cook you dinner.”

“That sounds great.” He took her hand as they walked. “Do you want to sail again Sunday? Or we could go down to New Hope. I like walking around down there.”

“New Hope? Really?”

“They have a couple of great places for old toys and collectables. My niece’s birthday is coming up. She’ll be fourteen. She likes all that retro stuff.”

“That would be fun. But I’ve got to be home by six.”

“Yes, Cinderella.”





She spent Monday and Tuesday in her office. Michael called Tuesday night, just after nine.

“I’m ten minutes away. Can I see you?”

“Michael, the girls are here.”

“So, they’re upstairs, right? I’ll sneak in the back door.”

“Michael, I don’t know.”

“I miss you. Just for ten minutes, I swear.”

“Ten?”

He chuckled. “Absolutely”

She lowered her voice. “I miss you, too.”

“So, fifteen minutes. Twenty tops. Please?”

“Yes. Come around back.”

She stared at the phone in her hand. He was coming over. Desire moved through her like a slow pulse, pounding in her chest, deep in her gut. She stood at the foot of the stairs. Both the upstairs doors were closed. She could hear the television faintly. She went to the French doors and opened them, walking out onto the patio. She sat in the darkness. She did not hear his car. She did not hear the bell at the back yard gate. He was suddenly there, walking out of the darkness, and she led him back into her bedroom, locking the door behind them. They fumbled with their clothes in the darkness, falling together onto the bed.

“Is this our first quickie?” She whispered finally, feeling the red tide of pleasure wash through.

“I guess. How was it?”

“Pretty amazing.”

“Yeah. The best ninety seconds of the day.”

She covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. “Don’t make me laugh,” she whispered furiously.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back.

“I have to work tomorrow. Are you busy Thursday?”

“I have to go to Kennedy Airport. Seth and I are picking up a guy, David Go. He’s from Ireland. He’s orchestrating the movie.”

“Then I won’t see you?”

“No.”

“Can you come here for lunch Friday?”

“Sure. What time?”

“Well, the girls are out by eight. You could come right after that.”

He smiled in the darkness. “That’s more like breakfast.”

“So, come for breakfast, stay till lunch.”

“And what will we do in all the time in between?”

“I was going to clean the bathroom and go to the dry cleaners.”

“Sounds fun. But if I think of another plan, you won’t be upset, will you?”

“No. Not at all. You have to go.”

“I know.” He sighed and got off the bed.

“The girls will be gone in three weeks,” Diane told him. “They’ll be with their father all summer.”

“Really?” He looked down at her. “You’ll miss them.”

She got up and reached for her robe, hanging in the closet. “Yes, I will. But hopefully you’ll be around more. That will make it easier.” She knotted the belt.

He put his arms around her. “You mean I won’t have to park my car around the block and sneak in for a nibble?”

She giggled softly. “No. Shh. Let me see what’s going on.” She went out and walked into the living room. The sound of the television was still coming down from Emily’s room. She waved to Michael, and he followed her back outside.

“Listen, if your neighbors call the cops about the stranger sneaking through their yards, you’ll come and bail me out, right?”

“Promise.” She grinned. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Anytime. See you Friday.”

“Okay. Good night.”





Marianne Thomas stopped by her office the next morning. “Hi. I’m glad I got a chance to see you. Have you got everything you need for next year?” Marianne asked.

“You mean the grad class? Yes, I think so. When do you leave for Greece?”

“July.” She watched as Diane packed some potted plants into a box. “You never told me about the musician. The one who wants to live in Montana? How is that going?”

“Very well, thanks.” Diane glanced over. “Why?”

“Just curious. Are you still seeing him? Usually by the second or third date you find out he’s married or a kleptomaniac or worships pygmies or something equally bizarre.”

“We’ve seen a lot of each other. So far, very good.”

“Really? How nice for you. How old is he?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Really? And in a band of some sort?”

“Yes, Marianne. He’s actually kind of famous.”

“Then bring him to the picnic next week. You’ll have the entire faculty in an uproar. Is he really outrageous? Blue hair, lots of tattoos, that sort of thing?”

Diane laughed. “Sorry. Truthfully, I have more tattoos and piercings than he does. And he dresses like an Ivy League grad student. If you’re looking for shock value, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Does he at least drive a fancy sports car?”

“Yes. A DeLorean.”

Marianne sighed. “Well, that’s something. Invite him. I’m sure he’ll be a fascinating addition.”

“I’ll ask. Thank you.”

“Wait. Does he have a posse?”

Diane rolled her eyes. “Good-bye, Marianne.”





On Thursday, Diane answered her front door and found a pick-up truck in her driveway and a large man in khakis and a tee shirt on her front step, holding a clipboard and a potted rose bush.

“I have a bunch of stuff here for Diane Matthews. Is that you?”

Diane looked past him. There were three men in work clothes standing by the truck. “What kind of stuff?”

“Forty-two slate blocks, nine rose bushes, two flats of – “

“Wait a minute.” Diane took the clipboard from his hands and looked at it. Underneath the order sheet was a print-out of the rose garden plan she had made on Michael’s computer.

“Where did you get this?” She asked.

“I do Mike Carlucci’s place. He asked me to get the stuff and bring it over. Now my guys would be happy to set everything in for you, especially those slates, they’re heavy. But Mike said we just deliver, nothin’ else, unless you ask.” He looked down at her. “Mike’s a good guy. I’m Ed, by the way. You can call him and check it out.”

She touched the rose bush. The tag said Lagerfeld. The bush was a healthy green with tiny, tight buds. She walked out of the house and peered into the back of the truck. It was filled with everything she needed, including bags of bone meal, compost, and edging blocks. Ed had followed her.

“We could unload right here on the side yard, but I’d let us haul this stuff in the back for you, I’m tellin’ you, it’s heavy,” Ed advised.

Diane nodded. “Sure, that would be great. Follow me.” She took him to the back yard and showed him her prepared ground. Ed nodded approvingly.

“You did a good job. And you’ll get plenty of sun. This little slope here, good drainage. Nothin’ should die. But if it does, call Mike. Our stuff is guaranteed.”

He walked off, shouting to his men, and Diane watched as they unloaded flats, bags of stone, slate blocks, pavers, a small stone bench. There was even a shining silver wish ball for the center of the garden. He had remembered everything.

When they were done, she went inside and called Michael.

“Hey,” she said, “a man just filled my back yard with half a million bucks worth of roses.”

“Half a million bucks worth? Really? Dammit, he charged me a full million.”

“Thank you very much, Michael,” she said softly. “I’m not very good at taking things from people.”

“I noticed. I hope I didn’t step on your toes.”

“No. Not at all. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble.”

“No trouble.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes.

She hung up and spun around the room, laughing with delight, and danced back into her yard.





The next morning Emily was cheerful and Megan was pouting. Emily was going to the prom, and down to the shore. One of the parents was going down with the group, and Diane had relented. Emily had been beaming for three days. Megan was still fighting with her father over the trip to France. Diane was staying out of it, but her daughter’s mood spilled over onto everything.

Megan was staring into the back yard, chewing a bagel. “I thought you didn’t have the money for all that stuff,” she grumbled, looking at the rose bushes and bags of compost. “I thought you could only do a little at a time.”

“I got my state tax refund,” Diane lied calmly. “I had forgotten all about it.”

“Do we have to help you with all that?” Emily asked. “You know I hate all that gardening stuff.”

“No. It will be my project. It will give me something besides work to do while you girls are gone all summer.”

“Maybe you should find a boyfriend,” Megan suggested.

Diane turned and stared at her. “What?”

Megan shrugged. “Well, you should think about it. You’re still pretty.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Diane said, hiding a smile.

“How about Dale Watson’s father?” Emily suggested.

“Bill Watson?” Bill Watson was about fifty, thinning hair, very shy and painfully thin. Diane looked from one girl to the other. “Is that the kind of boyfriend I should get?”

“Well, he’s nice,” Emily offered. “And tall.”

“Besides, Mom,” Megan pointed out, “you’re not so lucky with guys.”

Diane chewed her lip to keep from smiling. Michael would be there in twenty minutes. “Tell you what. You girls work on saving some money this summer. I’ll work on my rose garden. We’ll leave the whole boyfriend thing to fate, okay?”

Emily shrugged. “You’re not getting any younger, Mom. You don’t want to end up one of those ladies with a bunch of cats,” she said.

“Like Mrs. Winship,” Megan added.

Diane looked up at the clock. “Isn’t it time for you girls to go?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emily swung her backpack over her shoulder. “What are you doing today?”

“What? What do you mean?” Diane asked, flustered.

“You look nice. Are you going somewhere?”

“No. I’m just hanging around here all morning.”

“Okay. Bye.” Emily slouched out. Megan kissed Diane quickly and followed her. Diane listened as the front screen door slammed shut, then leaned back against the kitchen counter in relief.

“Bill Watson,” she said aloud. “Oh, my God.”

She heard the front door swing open. He was early. She looked out of the kitchen and Sharon Ingoe was smiling at her.

“Hey, talking to yourself so early in the morning?” Sharon said cheerfully. “About what?” She tossed a file folder on the counter. “Here’s that stuff for Megan’s project you needed.”

“Thanks,” Diane said as she poured coffee. “My daughters think I should get a boyfriend. They have placed Bill Watson’s name up for consideration.”

Sharon made a face. “Boy, are they way off base.

Diane shook her head. “No, they’re right on base. He’s exactly the kind of guy I should be dating. He’s my age, nice, stable, divorced with kids, so he knows that whole trip. He’s got a good job, we’re both from the same community, and we know the same people. He’s pretty much perfect for me.”

Sharon leaned her hip against the counter. “What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were dating Michael the Cute.”

Diane stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “I’m forty-five, divorced, with three kids. I should feel lucky to get a guy like Bill Watson. What am I doing with a twenty-six year old poster boy who goes on tour for a living?”

“I thought you liked Michael.”

“I do. God, yes, he’s incredible. But he is so far removed from the kind of man I thought I’d be with at this point in my life. If you were single right now, what kind of man would you want?”

Sharon pursed her lips. “I’d want a man I don’t have to explain Paulie’s ADHD to. Somebody who understands why I’m at a soccer game instead of making dinner. Somebody who knows why I’m miserable about putting my mother in a nursing home.”

“Exactly. Bill Watson. Does Michael even come close to any of that?”

“Listen, you’ve been going out with one form of Bill Watson or another for the past few years. Without much success, I might add. The only man who’s managed to float your boat since your divorce was that English guy, and he wasn’t very Bill Watson-like. What’s so wrong with a guy who’s incredible?”

“I don’t know. I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.”

“By a poster boy? Well, that’s understandable.”

“He should be here any minute.”

“Oh?”

Diane blushed. “I’m making him breakfast.”

“Uh huh.” Sharon’s eyes danced over the rim of her coffee cup. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?”

Diane was smiling. “We are kind of in that can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other phase,” she admitted.

“I am so jealous. Really. He’s how old?”

“Oh, stop it. He had all the stuff I need for my roses sent over. A guy delivered everything yesterday. Can you believe it?”

Sharon looked into the back yard. “Now, there’s class for you. Most men send a dozen long-stemmed roses after that first big night. He sends a whole garden.”

“I know. I’m so lucky.”

“Hey, so is he,” Sharon said stoutly, “and don’t forget it.” She was still looking into the back yard. “Is that him?”

Michael had come around and was standing in the patio, looking at the pile of slate, roses and bagged compost. He smiled as the two women came out, kissing Diane and nodding to Sharon.

“Hello. I’m Michael.” He held out his hand.

Sharon shook it warmly. “Nice to see meet you. I’m Sharon. I was on my way out.”

Michael held up his hands. “Wait. Don’t leave on my account. Want to have breakfast with us?”

Sharon grinned at Diane. “Isn’t he sweet?” She turned back to Michael. “No, thank you,” she told him as she headed for the back gate. Once behind Michael’s back, she turned around to her friend and mouthed, ‘He’s so cute’, before leaving them alone.

Diane kissed him. “See. All the stuff is here. Everything is going to be beautiful,” she declared.

“Will you please let me help you with this?” he pleaded. “At least today? I mean it. You’ve already proven what a great hole-digger you are. We’ll get some things in the ground, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you. That’s what we can do this morning.”

“Now, about tonight. Do you like to dance? Ever hear of the 1896 Club?”

“I love the 1896. We were just there, in March - for my birthday. All the girls.”

“The girls? Emily and Megan?”

“No. Sue and Sharon and Carol and Clair and Ginny. The girls.”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Well, how about tonight with the boys? Seth wants to take David there. Some people we know are playing. Great music. Even some Motown.”

“I’d love to go.”

“Good. So what’s for breakfast?”

“Blueberry pancakes, sausage, coffee, juice. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good.”

“But I thought,” she said slowly, sliding her hands under his shirt, “we could do something else first.”

He smiled. “Something else sounds good too.”





She heard his truck drive up, and came out the door to meet him. He was wearing a cowboy hat made of finely braided straw, with a thin band and a small blue feather. She met him in the middle of her walk and kissed him warmly.

“Are you in disguise?” She asked politely.

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” he explained as they walked to the truck. “The 1896 is the kind of place where I’ll get recognized. I’m not in the mood. I figure in a club famous for R&B, they’ll leave the jerk in the cowboy hat alone.” He started the truck. “What do you think?”

She was looking at his feet. “Boots too?”

“Hell, yeah. Hand made by a guy outside Austin. They’re beautiful, really. And they add an extra two inches.”

“Michael,” she said wickedly, “you don’t need an extra two inches.”

He turned bright red. “Thanks. But I was actually referring to adding two inches to my height.”

“Oh. Well. My mistake.” She was grinning at him. “Couldn’t you find a big silver belt buckle? Maybe in the shape of a cow’s head?’

“Ha. Ha. Keep it up. I’m tough.”

“Isn’t this a little early for the 1896?”

“Yes, but I figured we’d eat first. Are you hungry?”

“Of course. Are you going to wear the hat in the restaurant too?”

“I can’t believe you don’t like my hat. I’m crushed. Really. The girl who sold it to me told me it made me look sexy.’

“Michael, if you looked any sexier, we’d never get out of bed.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You look great, by the way.”

She smiled. She was wearing a denim skirt and a red sleeveless tee shirt, with an oversized black linen shirt as a jacket. “Thank you. If I had known we were playing dress-up, I’d have worn my fringed leather jacket.”

“You have a fringed leather jacket?”

“Since high school. It’s older than you are.”

“Oh.”

The 1896 Club was an old mansion that had been built in the twenties. The address was 1896 Main Street, and since the mid-seventies it had been a known primarily for the blues bands that came through on their way to the Big Apple. The owner, Bobby St. John, was an aging hippie who was on a first name basis with some world class musicians. NinetySeven had played there often, before they made it big.

It was almost nine by the time Michael and Diane got there, and there was already a small crowd gathered on the front porch. Michael was ignored as he made his way to the front table, and as he paid their way in he asked if Bobby was around. The bouncer had been leaning up against the wall. He was big, over six feet tall, heavy and brutish. At Michael’s question, he walked over and stood beside him, looming. He glared at Michael.

“Bobby who?”

Michael looked up at him. “Bobby who signs your paycheck,” he said patiently.

“How the f*ck do you know Bobby?”

Michael looked at Diane. Her eyes were big and dark. He carefully put his wallet into his back pocket. He looked back up.

“I know Bobby,” he said calmly. “I’ve played here before. Is he upstairs?”

The bouncer shrugged and took another step toward Michael. The people in line behind them were watching. Michael took Diane’s arm.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly. The bouncer glared, looked around at everyone, and stepped aside. Michael and Diane went inside.

The place was crowded, but most of the people were milling around. Michael made for a table off in a corner. As they sat down, he looked around.

“This is a good spot. Too close to the speakers and you’ll loose your hearing for a week. What do you want to drink?”

Diane was looking at him, still wide-eyed. “What was that all about?”

Michael shrugged. “It was about him being the size of Duluth and me being a small guy he thinks he can intimidate. What are you drinking?”

“But that was shitty. Why did he do that?”

“Because,” Michael said patiently. “He can do that. He’s big and tough and he can be as shitty as he wants to be, because he figures I can’t stop him. And he’s right. Drink?”

“But,” she began, then stopped.

“But what?” he asked.

“Does it bother you?”

“Yeah, it bothers me. But I figure I’ve made more money so far this year than he’ll make in his lifetime. A month ago I had lunch with Mick Jagger. I’m spending my Friday night with a lovely, gracious woman instead of standing guard at a nightclub. Now. What do you want to drink?”

“Just club soda.”

Michael stood up and turned as a short, stocky man with a long white pony-tail grabbed him from behind, growling, picking him up off the ground.

Michael grinned. “Hello, Bobby.”

Bobby St. John dropped Michael and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. “When Jackie said some douche-bag in a cowboy hat was giving him a hard time, I figured it was you.”

“Jackie needs a leash,” Michael said mildly. “Behave yourself, Bobby, this is Diane. And this is Bobby St. John.”

Bobby looked at Diane carefully. “You’ve been here before,” he declared.

Diane nodded. “Yes. A couple of months ago.”

“I remember. A bunch of women. A tall blonde got Will Richenbach to play ‘Happy Birthday’.”

Diane smiled. “Yes. You have a very good memory. It was my birthday, actually.”

Bobby pursed his lips. “I remember good-looking women. The blonde was hot.”

“Carol. I’ll tell her you said so.”

Bobby squinted at Michael. “What’s with the hat?”

Michael sighed. “Please sit, Bobby. I don’t want to deal with any more shit tonight.”

Bobby sat down heavily and signaled the waitress. “Sure, Mike. Jackie is just an a*shole. Hey, Seth and the Irishman are upstairs doin’ lines with the boys. Why don’t we go up?”

Michael shook his head. “No, thanks. We’re here to listen.”

Bobby shrugged. “Sure.” To the waitress. “A shot and a beer for me and Tex, whatever the lady wants, and no tab, okay?” The girl took the order and left. Bobby leaned toward Michael. “Just one number, towards the end? Jonelle would love it. She sounds great. Been clean for almost a year.”

Michael shook his head again. “Seth will sing with her.”

Bobby shrugged his shoulders, resigned. The drinks arrived. Michael and Bobby took their shots together, talking. Diane watched them, and the crowd around them. No one even glanced in their direction. Suddenly, there was a murmur and Seth Bascomb came up to the table, followed by a very short, balding man. Both were grinning.

Seth grabbed a few chairs from the next table and sat down. He smiled at Diane and introduced David Go, who was clearly stoned and obviously enjoying himself very much. Bobby left after a few minutes, and then the band started playing.

They played old R&B covers, Motown, reggae. She and Michael danced. He was loose and graceful. She was having a wonderful time. For the third number, the guitar player who had been singing stepped aside and tiny black woman got up and sang, an old Staple Singers hit, in a deep, sexy voice.

“She’s great,” Diane said into Michael’s ear. He nodded, smiling, pulling her closer. Over his shoulder, she could see Seth. He had been dancing with a tall redhead, then had switched to a heavy-set black woman. Seth was the center of attention on the dance floor, grinning and happily putting on a show. No one had even glanced at Michael.

The music slowed, and she and Michael moved together closely. He was slightly taller now, and she had to tilt her head to look into his eyes, very blue and serious under the rim of his hat.

“You’re making me crazy, you know,” he said into her ear, his hands on her hips. He kissed her hair softly. “Let’s get some air.”

They went out onto the front porch. The air was slightly chilled, and the street was quiet. People were smoking and talking, and they found an empty space on the steps to sit.

“Having fun?” he asked, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

“I always have fun with you. You’re a good dancer. The band is great. Do you know them well?”

“Yeah. Jonelle has an amazing voice. We were kinda close. She got pretty f*cked up for a while. Seth is tight with the percussionist. They spend too much time stoned. They’ll never be more than a cover band, but they’re a great cover band. Lots of fun.”

“Have you played with them before?”

“Yes. They’re talented. It’s fun to play with different people. And they’re really into blues. I love playing blues.”

“So play with them.”

He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Seth is having fun.”

“Seth is always on. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Your hat really is sexy.”

“God, we need a room. Now.”

“Listen. About next week,” she looked sheepishly at him. “You’ve been invited to a picnic. The chairman of my Department, Marianne Thomas, who is also a good friend, asked me to ask you to her annual year-end extravaganza. I told her about us, and she wants to meet you. I also think she’s hoping to shock the rest of her guests, but I warned her that you’re very normal.”

“Normal? Shit, that’s deadly. Sure, I’d love to come. Can I wear my hat?”

“No, you may not. Maybe the boots.”

“I have something to ask you, too. My father wants to meet you. Lunch at the Country Club was his suggestion.”

“Really? Oh, my. The Club. I’d love to meet your father. Any day will be fine.”

“Fantastic. I’ll let you know. Stand up - the set’s over. We’ll get trampled.”

She stood up quickly and leaned against the railing as people surged out the door and onto the sidewalk. Diane was watching them when she heard someone say Michael’s name. She turned and saw Jonelle, the singer from the band, wrap her arms around Michael’s neck and give him a slow, deliberate kiss in his lips.

“Michael, baby, you look fine,” Jonelle cooed. Michael smiled.

“Hello Jonelle. You all sound great.”

“Yeah, we’re doin’ good.” She was leaning against his side, one arm around his shoulders. She was petite, pretty, with close-cropped hair and dark, honey-colored skin. Diane watched her with interest. She could tell by the way Jonelle acted, her careless familiarity with Michael, the intimate smile, that they had been lovers.

“What’s with the hat, baby?” Jonelle teased, her hand rubbing Michael’s chest. You goin’ to the dark side?”

Michael chuckled and shook his head. Jonelle turned deliberately to Diane.

“Seth said you had a new lady,” she said flatly, looking Diane up and down.

“Yes. This is Diane.”

Jonelle turned back to Michael, ignoring Diane. “You gonna play later, baby? We used to play good together.”

Michael smiled faintly. “Maybe,” he said, a slight edge to his voice.

Jonelle took her arm away. “So, ask the new girlfriend. Maybe we could do a request.” She looked at Diane again. “You got a request?” she asked.

Michael looked over to Diane. She smiled innocently. “How about ‘The Man That Got Away’?”

Michael’s mouth twitched. Jonelle cocked her head. “Two points for you, honey.” To Michael, “That would be good, right baby?”

He nodded, grinning. “Sure. But no intro, okay?”

“Sure, baby. But lose the hat. Ain’t nothin’ so sad as a rich white boy in a cowboy hat playing blues, okay?” She turned on her heel and left. Diane looked at Michael with her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, man, I’m going to be in trouble for this, I can tell,” Michael said, laughing and taking her hand. “Come on, let’s get back. I need another drink.”

Seth and David were at the table, Seth in deep conversation with the redhead he had been dancing with earlier. David was smiling and drinking heavily, watching the people around him. When Diane sat next to him, he immediately brightened and launched into a discussion of American blues. Diane sipped club soda and tried to hear through his thick, slurred accent as Michael watched, grinning. Then the band started up again, and they were back on the dance floor, now more crowded than ever.

Seth sang with the band a couple of times, to great applause. Finally, Jonelle waved the crowd quiet and invited her ‘good friend’ up to join them. Michael took off his hat and set it on Diane’s head with a long kiss. He went on stage and sat at the upright piano. The crowd was noisy and restless, but after he hit a few chords, they were silent, listening.

Michael played alone, the rest of the band members silent, and Jonelle sat beside him on the piano bench, her voice soft and sexy. When they were done, and the crowd was screaming, she whispered in his ear and he nodded, and they began another number, familiar to Diane, an old love song. This time, the bass player started in, and the drummer hit the snare. When they were done, Michael stood up and walked off-stage, grabbing Diane’s hand as he hurried out.

“Can you drive?” he asked her as they walked toward the truck. She nodded, got behind the wheel and watched him as he took off his hat and sank down into the seat.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling away from the curb.

“Yeah. Just tired. That last beer and shot didn’t help.”

“You could do that all night, couldn’t you? Just sit behind a piano and play for somebody like Jonelle.”

“Easily. I’d love it. If the band ever breaks up, that’s what I’d probably do, get a nice steady gig someplace, work weekends, no hassles.”

“What about writing music?”

“I’d always do that. But I write for myself. If somebody else plays it, or hears it, then I’ll get paid. But the fun is in the writing. I can’t wait to start this movie thing. I’ve got so many ideas. David is really sharp. He’s going to be a big help.”

“You’re pretty amazing, aren’t you? I’m used to smart people, and talented people. I work with them. But you are something special.”

“Shucks. Now I’m embarrassed.”

“Cut it out. You know how good you are.”

He looked at her, curious. “Do you think I’m arrogant?”

“No, not at all. You’re very comfortable with who you are. You’re one of the most self-assured people I’ve ever met. I mean, that guy tonight? Jackie? Most men I know would have had to make a point, somehow.”

“I did make a point. Bobby will fire him.”

“Really?”

“Not because he pulled that shit on me, but because he pulled that shit, period. When people pay money to listen to good music and have a nice time, they shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of a*shole.”

She glanced over at him. His eyes were closed, his face looked very young and peaceful. He opened one eye.

“What?”

She grinned. “So, you and Jonelle were kinda close?”

He closed his eye and sighed. “You picked up on that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I met her when I was just eighteen. She felt there were certain, ah, gaps in my education.”

“I see. So is there anything in particular I should have thanked her for?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. When I started my senior year in high school, the prettiest girl in the whole class, hell she was head cheerleader, asked me over to her house to watch ‘General Hospital’ after school. She made a pass. I was shocked. She had never so much as looked at me before, but her sister had seen us playing over the summer, and I guess she thought it would be cool to screw a guy in a band. She didn’t want anyone to know. Not only was I the shortest guy around, but I’d skipped third grade, so I was younger than everybody else. It really sucked. But two or three afternoons a week, we’d be at it. Unfortunately, she lacked imagination, and any time I suggested anything other than the missionary position, she freaked. When I met Jonelle, my technique was rather limited. Jonelle, on the other hand, had been hopping in and out of bed for years. Twenty going on forty-five, you know? She gave me a rather advanced tutorial.”

“Remind me to send her flowers.”

He yawned. “I’d like to think I’d have eventually improved on my own. There’s a Marriott just ahead. Pull in. We’ll get a room.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It’ll take us at least forty minutes to get home. It’ll be fun. Besides, you’ve been getting me hot and bothered all night.”

She turned the truck into the parking lot. “I thought you were tired.”

“Not that tired.”

She shut off the truck and turned in her seat to face him. “And you can’t wait?”

“I’ve been waiting all night.” He got out and walked around to the other side of truck, opening her door and pulling her out.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she scolded, walking past him. He grabbed her and pulled her back to him, pressing her against the truck. He kissed her very slowly, one hand sliding up her skirt, the other against her breast. He kissed her again, more deeply, and her arms went around him, and she opened her legs as his hand crept further up her thigh. Abruptly, he pulled back, and she leaned back against the side of the truck, blood pounding, her lips swollen.

“So, you want to drive home or what?”

She licked her lips. Her skin felt on fire. She couldn’t catch her breath. “You son of a bitch.”

He grinned. “It’s the hat.”