Tina and I sat down at a tall round table toward the back. I didn’t really want to attract attention. Hopefully the shiny diamond on Tina’s finger would keep random boys at bay.
And I didn’t need to know what I was going to be missing out on for the next nine months. It seemed weird to do hookups with a bun in the oven. Although if Chance dissed me, then who knew? I guess I could do whatever.
A queasy feeling came over me, and I wasn’t sure if it was the baby or the bar or the idea of Chance rejecting me. A cocktail waitress came up and asked what we were drinking. I told her water and she raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Then what are you doing in this dump?”
The order got Tina’s attention too. “That’s not like you, Jenny,” she said. “You’re going to need some liquid courage. Bring us both a margarita.”
Great. Now I would have the temptation right at my chin.
Still, I said nothing.
The band launched into “Tell Me Something Good” and the nostalgia of hearing it at the party hit me in the gut. I could see Chance standing at the base of the stage, drumming his hands. A wave of melancholy passed over me. I had to get hold of these emotions. I was becoming somebody else already.
Somebody’s mother.
Tina nodded her head in time with the song. “They don’t suck,” she said.
I watched the lead singer strum his guitar, his purple sunglasses flashing with the stage lights as he moved. I wondered if this was the Paul who wrote me, or if it was another member of the band. They’d introduced themselves onstage at the party, but I hadn’t paid any attention to any names other than Chance. In addition to the singer, there was a bass guitarist, who never looked up from his instrument, a keyboardist in a ball cap, and a drummer.
When they ended this number, the scant crowd clapped for them, which was better than the response to the last one.
“Thank you, thank you,” the lead singer said. “I’m Paul, and we’re the Sonic Kings. We’re going to take a little break and then we’ll be back with more blues and funk for your listening pleasure.”
So that was Paul. He stepped away from the mike.
“Should we go up to them now?” Tina asked.
The waitress set the drinks on the table and I picked mine up, almost taking a sip before I remembered not to. I faked it instead, and set the glass down. Tina paid for the round.
The guys from the band hung out at the end of the bar in a dark corner.
“Yeah, let’s go talk,” I said.
We picked up our drinks and headed for the boys. I casually lowered the glass and dumped part of it in an abandoned beer mug as we passed.
Their faces lit up that we were approaching them, then Paul nodded in understanding. “It’s you.”
“Yeah,” I said.
The drummer turned around on his stool. “Man, Chance gave up a night with Vanessa freaking Price because of you.”
I almost dropped my drink when he said that, so I set it on the bar. “What are you talking about?”
“She tried to get him to stay the night with her,” Paul said. “But he said, ‘No dice.’”
My heart hammered. He hadn’t been with Vanessa?
“Tell me everything that happened,” I said quickly.
“What’s your deal?” Paul said. “I don’t want to give my boy over to a stalker chick.”
The keyboard player smacked his arm. “She’s not a stalker. She’s just got the feels.”
Paul stared at me. “Some girls are crazy.”
Tina shoved Paul in the chest. “Well, this one’s not. Just tell us what you know.”
Paul took a step back. “No need for violence, ladies,” he said. “We picked up Tennessee at a truck stop outside LA. We were on our way to the party that this here fine upstanding young lady attended.”
The bass guitar player coughed into his hand to cover his laugh.
“Don’t make me kick your ass,” Tina said.
“Well, I was in the tabloids,” I told her. “I get it.”
“Did your sugar daddy movie director ditch you after he saw the pix of your sweet naked booty?” the drummer asked. He was obviously out to protect Chance. This made me wonder if he wasn’t still around, and my heart sped up. He could even be here!
I took a deep breath. I couldn’t blow the cover for Frankie, not even now. “We had already split up,” I said. “I just went to the party with him so he would have a date.”
Paul held up his palms. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me. The fact of the matter is, we picked him up, he played with us.” He pointed at the drummer. “He stayed with Jazz a night, and then he blew out of town like a Tasmanian devil.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He saw the newspaper, baby,” Paul said. “It said you were with that director. And cavorting with a crooner on the side. That was too much for a fresh-faced country boy.”
Damn it. I knew it. “How can I find him? I need to find him. It’s important.” My words were a rush.
“Beats me,” Paul said. “He got some messages that morning at breakfast and he got plumb spooked. Turned a little green around the gills.”