“Stop being so negative. You sounded better this morning than you did yesterday, and you like singing jazz.”
She glanced at the lyrics to “Georgia on My Mind.” “There’s a big difference between singing Ray Charles and launching into an F-natural for Amneris’s “Quale insolita gioia nel tuo sguardo.” At his quizzical expression, she translated. “‘What rare joy shines on your face.’”
“Thanks.”
“Not your face. Radamès’s face. And he’s thinking about his love for Aida, not any passion he holds for Amneris, worse luck for her.”
“Shows what happens when a woman gets too serious about someone, even in ancient Egypt.”
“Exactly.” She thought of Adam. Of Aida. Of the way Amneris sends Radamès to his death. She snatched the phone from him and began to sing. “Georgia . . . Georgia . . .”
Thad closed his eyes and listened.
This was jazz, not opera, and her chest constriction eased. Not enough to produce the sounds she needed to perform. Far from it. But as he’d said, better than yesterday.
*
Thad had promised to take some of his Nashville buddies out that night, but he’d committed before he’d gotten tangled up with keeping The Diva safe. He couldn’t see himself dragging her along into another noisy bar. She’d have to strain her voice to talk, and she was under enough stress. Besides, it was guys only, and he was supposed to meet them in an hour.
As he pondered his options, he wandered into her adjoining suite where she was doing some yoga sun salutations by the windows. He sprawled on the couch and pretended to look at his phone when, in fact, he was admiring her strength right along with the stretch of her yoga pants over her butt.
He considered his dilemma. He owed these guys, and he didn’t want to cancel, but Henri was busy and Paisley was useless.
The suite’s doorbell rang. Thad blocked her from answering and opened the door himself.
Clint Garrett stood on the other side. “I was visiting a girlfriend in Memphis, and I thought I’d drop in.”
“Memphis is a couple of hundred miles away,” Thad pointed out.
Clint shrugged. “Whatever.”
For once, Garrett’s timing was exactly right. “Come on in.”
“Hey, Clint.” The Diva waved at him and returned to her sun salutations.
“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” Clint said. “I saw that crap in the papers, and I heard Phoebe’s all stirred up about it. I want you to know I’m here for you, T-Bo.”
Thad slapped him on the back. “Appreciate it. As a matter of fact, I’m glad you’re here.”
Clint regarded him suspiciously. “Why’s that?”
“I have to go out, and I need you to stay with Liv.”
Olivia came out of her down dog. “I don’t need anybody to stay with me.”
“Yeah, she does.” He gave Clint more details of the New Orleans attack and mentioned the threatening letters. “There’s been some other nastiness. A phone call, a couple of packages. She also has a stalker named Rupert.”
Olivia reared up. “Rupert is not a—”
Thad continued, ignoring her. “I don’t trust hotel security. Point of fact—you didn’t have any trouble getting up here. Plus, she has a habit of running off.”
“I do not—”
“I need to slip out for a couple of hours.” He gave Clint another tap on the back. “Can you keep an eye on her?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” the yogi huffed from the window.
“She’s slippery,” Thad said. “Don’t let her get away from you.”
“I am not slip—”
“Got it,” Clint said. “Can I make out with her?”
Bastard. “You can try. Doubt you’ll succeed.” On the other hand, Clint was a good-looking guy, and he met The Diva’s most important requirement in a lover: no possibility of a relationship.
Thad eyeballed The Diva. “Clint’s not the brightest guy in the world, and sex is the only way he knows how to relate to women. I don’t think you’ll fall for his routine, but if you do . . . make sure he’s got that herpes outbreak under control.”
Clint laughed and pounded Thad extra hard on the back. “You’re one of a kind, dude.”
The Diva smiled. “I don’t need a babysitter, but it would be lovely to be with someone who’s not bossing me around.”
“I know what you mean,” Clint said. “Boy, do I ever know what you mean.”
Thad glared at him. “Do not let her out of your sight.”
“Roger that.”
Thad met his pals that night, but he didn’t have a good time. He was too busy thinking about what might be going on back at the hotel.
*
“That part always gets me.” Clint’s voice was suspiciously woolly with emotion. “‘You complete me.’ Everybody talks about that other thing. That ‘had me at hello’ thing, but when he says, ‘You complete me.’ What kind of dude says something like that? But still . . . It gets me.”
Olivia wiped her eyes as the credits rolled on Jerry Maguire. “Why have I never seen this movie? I know why. Because I thought it was about football.”
“Not enough action.” Recovering from his brief emotional display, he draped his arm over the back of the couch. “If T-Bo asks, tell him we watched The Waterboy.”
The leg she’d been sitting on had gone to sleep, and she pulled it out from under her. “Isn’t that one of those Adam Sandler movies?”
He nodded. “It’s most players’ favorite.”
“Because Jerry Maguire is too girlie, right?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“Then what would you say?”
“It’s too girlie.”
She laughed and rose from the couch, wriggling her numb leg to get the blood moving again. “I’m going to bed, and you don’t have to stay. Really. Thad’s being ridiculous.”
“S’okay. I’ll just hang out here for a while.”
“Don’t be such a wimp. You’re not his bitch.”
“Says you.”
“You shouldn’t let him talk to you like he does.” She sat back down. “I did a little research, and you have a higher quarterback rating after your second season than Dean Robillard did, and I know he’s supposed to have been this big shot Stars player. But Thad treats you like you’re a high school kid.”
Clint nodded. “In football, you have to earn respect.”
“And you haven’t done that?”
“Not the kind of respect I want from him.”
“But you’re a better player than he is. That’s what I don’t understand. You’re the starter. Not him.”
“It’s not that simple. I’m faster than he is, and my arm’s stronger. But T-Bo . . . He’s this wizard. Even with his vision thing, he can find a receiver where nobody else can, and the way he reads a defense . . . It’s like he’s got ESP. I have to learn how to do what he does.”
“Even if it means putting up with his abuse?”
“Me and T-Bo . . . We have an understanding. I love the guy.” He regarded her more sharply. “Now when it comes to T-Bo and women . . . you might want to be careful.”
“You don’t have to warn me. I’ve never been more clearheaded about anyone. No man is going to derail me.” She could see he didn’t believe her, and she tried to explain. “The three of us . . . You, Thad, me . . . We’re not like most other people. Our work comes first.”
He nodded and then grinned. “Do you want to mess with him?”
She tilted her head. “What do you have in mind?”
*
Where the hell was she? When he’d returned to the hotel and found the suite empty, he’d texted her and gotten no response. Then he’d texted the idiot he’d stupidly left to watch her.
Crickets.
He stalked to the lobby and talked to a bellman who’d seen Garrett drive off with The Diva in his Maserati GT convertible.
Thad told himself she’d be fine. The idiot wasn’t an idiot. He’d keep her safe. But . . .
She should have been sound asleep here in the suite with Garrett standing guard outside her bedroom door.
He paced the floor like a parent waiting for a kid who’d violated curfew.