by JM Dragon
Thea watched and listened, as Joanna’s eyes never strayed from her. The tender words of the song had touched her in a way that made tears brim in her eyes. Entranced by the sultry voice of her friend, she wondered what she was doing opposite George. She didn’t like him in the slightest as a person, never mind as a potential husband. God, she felt like laughing at the absurdity of her fate. She had always known her father had a keen sense of humor, but did he have to continue it even after his death?
“My, dear Thea, I asked you a question earlier, which I’m sure you recall. It was after all a very simple question that needs a very simple answer.”
Thea had made a decision as she left the motel that evening and it had been all cut and dried. Yet, now. Now. She didn’t know what to say. It really wasn’t that clear, after all.
“Yes, it does require a simple answer.” Thea’s voice held a desolation that would have tugged at most people’s heartstrings.
“Well, I’m waiting?” He leaned his hefty body toward her.
Thea felt as if her whole life was hanging by a thread. Time ticked by and the sounds of the up-tempo music did nothing to relieve the eerie silence that surrounded the table where she sat. She felt like a trapped animal that had no chance of escaping. She gulped and closed her eyes before she finally answered the question. “As this is primarily to do with a business proposition, would the marriage be a business situation, also?” Thea asked grimly.
George gave her a crooked smile, as his small, indented eyes studied her body with a calculated look. “If you wish to view it like that, Thea, then yes. Yes, in many ways, you could consider it so. You get to keep your precious motel and I…I get to have a wife in my bed. A willing wife.” His gaze was evil. “Not a frigid one, I might add.”
Thea turned her attention back to her new friend, who was singing and moving among the men who certainly relished the attention. “Will the deeds be in my name only?”
George shifted a little in his chair. “But of course, my dear, of course.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, she turned to him with dull eyes. “You have a deal, Mr. Andrews.” Her voice was flat and devoid of any emotion as she squelched the need to vomit at the revulsion she was feeling.
“Thank you, Thea, and since you will soon be my wife I insist you to call me George. Whatever would people think if you still called me Mr. Andrews now that we are engaged?”
Thea considered the remark and shook her head giving him a small smile, her thoughts very clear on that particular question. “They would think I didn’t much care for you, Mr. Andrews.” She inclined her head. “As you say, George.” Just saying his name made her want to vomit.
George called his entourage with the crook of a finger. It so happened to be the very man that had tried to buy her a drink a few weeks ago.
“Tony, find Bascome and get him to bring the champagne and two glasses. We have an engagement to celebrate. Ah, and, Tony, have Bascome give everyone a free drink in the place…the rounds are on me…especially the singer…most definitely the singer. Better still…get Bascome to invite her to our table to celebrate our good fortune once she’s done.”
Thea watched the man retreat.
“My dear, I’m sure your new friend will want to toast your happiness. Won’t she?” He gave her a keen glance and sneered.
Thea kept her head down. She didn’t want Joanna to hear about this from anyone but her and now thanks to the banker that was out of the question. Her heart felt as if it was breaking for she knew Joanna wouldn’t understand. No, she wouldn’t and if she analyzed her own thoughts, she didn’t understand it either. My God, what have I done?
George placed his hand on Thea’s and gave her a satisfied smile.
With a swift movement, she slid her hand across the table and into her lap, trying to tap down the panic she was now feeling.
†
John-Henry couldn’t believe his ears. Thea had given in to Andrews’s intimidation and crushed her spirit. He had done that to many others, but not like this. He was damn sure that was the only reason that Thea relented. Anger filled him at his inability to help Thea, so she didn’t have to stoop to marrying the bastard. He retrieved the ice-cold champagne and the two flute glasses and placed them on a silver tray that he had polished for special occasions. He supposed this warranted it, but it definitely wasn’t right, at all.
“Hey, John-Henry, get a move on. The boss will be roasting my nuts if you keep him waiting. If he does that, I sure won’t let you forget it either.” Tony slammed his fist on the polished bar.
“Keep your hair on, Tony. Andrews will want it presented just so, if I know him. Waiting that extra couple of minutes isn’t going to change things any, is it?” John-Henry looked at the smug expression on Andrews face and the averted face of the young woman who had finally said yes to his proposal.
Damn shame.
“Oh. Get on with it will ya? Can’t understand why he bothers so much with the frigid bitch. Let’s face it, she isn’t exactly the warmest woman in town, don’t know anyone who has ever dated her, never mind got in her knickers. She and that singer you have make a fine pair if you ask me. She’s about as accommodating as an icicle, too.” Tony turned his narrow gaze to Jo.
John-Henry couldn’t help the small smile at the comment. Never a truer word said. “Could be, but then again icicles under the right temperature are known to thaw. It depends who offers the right temperature, I guess.”
Tony scowled. “Come on, John-Henry, I haven’t got all day. Oh, and talking of icicle lady, the boss said to get her to come to the table for a drink with them after she’s done. Boss doesn’t take kindly to no as an answer. You might tell her that.”
He picked up the tray and sauntered back toward George, leaving John-Henry disconcerted by the request.
Jo leisurely walked to the bar and sat down on a stool vacated by an eager ranch hand. She gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and sat down heavily upon it. “I’ll have a beer and then I’m out of here, John-Henry, as we agreed.
John-Henry nodded. “Let me get these, give me a minute,” he said indicating the drinks he was serving. When he came back to her, he was feeling a bit sheepish and tugged at his chin. He didn’t know exactly how Jo would react when she heard the news but he had a good idea. “Sure, it’s okay with me, Jo,” he said and hesitated. “But I’ve had a personal request for your company.”
Jo raised her eyebrows. “I don’t do personal requests for anyone. Thought you knew that.”
“Yeah, sorry. Wrong choice of words.” John-Henry sucked in a breath. “Andrews the banker would like you to join him and Ms. Danvers to celebrate with a glass of champagne.” John-Henry watched Jo’s eyes cloud before shifting their gaze to the corner table.
“As I said, I don’t do personal requests…for anyone.” Jo moved from her stool.
“You never asked what they were celebrating.”
Okay, here it comes.
John-Henry held his breath and watched Jo raise her eyebrow again.
“Okay. What are they celebrating?”
“Andrews and Ms. Danvers have just become engaged this very evening.” He waited for her reaction.
†
Jo couldn’t believe her ears. True, earlier in her set she saw Thea deep in conversation with the man. The sight brought a decidedly ugly hatred to her gut but this this couldn’t be true. It felt that someone had punched her in the diaphragm making it difficult to breathe.
No way. No fucking way was Thea engaged to that bastard. She doesn’t even like him.
Jo could feel her breathing become ragged and everywhere she looked it felt like the walls were closing in on her. She needed to get away as quickly as possible but she needed to know why first. “Pull the other one, John-Henry. What would she want to marry him for?”
“I explained what the situation was to you earlier. Remember?” The man said softly. “She might not have a choice in the matter.”
“Yeah, yeah sure.”
Jo gave him a strange vacant look.
“He doesn’t take kindly to people saying no to him you know,” John-Henry said gently.
Jo looked around in a disinterested fashion and her eyes met the young man who had gallantly offered her the stool. He couldn’t be more than a boy really.
He’s barely out of diapers in the adult world. He’ll do.
“Hey, want to join me in celebrating a friend’s engagement?” Jo flashed her impossibly long lashes at the man and grinned when he beamed at her. She knew that all the men in town had been angling to be with her and it was his lucky night to be on the receiving end.
“Sure…sure,” he stuttered, looking at her with what looked like devotion.
Jesus, do men only ever think with their dicks?
Jo snaked a long arm around his shoulders and placed a warm kiss on his surprised lips before leading him toward the corner table. Jo had practiced at keeping men attentive and the wolf whistles that accompanied her and the young man as they made a very public display of kissing on the way through the other customers, made for a very interesting sight.
†
“I see your new friend is proving the old saying about how free and easy these singers are with their favors.” George had a smug I told you so expression on his pudgy face.
Thea turned to see where he was looking and her heart stuck in her mouth as she saw Joanna kissing a man as they made their way toward the table. It was a very passionate kiss and she didn’t know how to answer the question. She wanted to refute the situation as ridiculous.
Jo and the man—a boy really—arrived at the table where Thea was sitting. Joanna’s blue eyes were cold when she looked at her and even colder when she looked at George.
“According to John-Henry, you wanted to buy me a drink.”
“Yes, that’s right. As you and my future bride appear to be friends, I thought you might want to toast our good news.”
Thea watched to see if her friend’s expression changed. It did.
Joanna gave out a howl of laughter before smiling sickly sweet at George. Her hand clutched the boy she still held. “Whatever gave you that idea? Ms. Danvers and I are merely acquaintances as we share the same building at night,” Jo said sarcastically.
“Well, in that case, what’s your poison?” Andrews asked.
Thea cringed at the situation. Her heart pounded at what she suspected was that Joanna felt betrayed. Why didn’t I tell her when I had the chance? Daisy told me that she was looking for me. Now everything good in my life is crashing around me.
“If I tell you that, I’d be dead tomorrow, now, wouldn’t I,” Joanna spit out.
“If you say so, but I was merely asking what drink you would like to have to celebrate our engagement. Isn’t that so, darling? Now, what will it be?”
Thea refused to look at either of them. She was too ashamed to look at Joanna and couldn’t stand the distaste she felt when looking at George. She cringed at George’s words and wanted to do nothing more than crawl into a ball and hide away somewhere safe. Shame filled her. She had finally given in to the pressure of the man she detested and now she let down the only person who had backed her up and wanted nothing in return. It wasn’t fair. What had she ever done in her life to make her go through this? It really was unjust.
“Yes, Mr. An…George, that’s correct.” Her voice sounded very small to her ears. She doubted that anyone heard her.
“Sorry, but,” Joanna asked the young man at her side. “What’s your name?” It was loud enough for them to hear.
The boy whispered back and Joanna grinned and gave him a swift kiss on the mouth. “Sam and I have other business. Maybe another time.” Joanna turned quickly, pulling the startled Sam with her heading out of the bar.
George turned to Thea. “Told you so, my dear. The woman didn’t even know his name. She will probably not even wait to get to a bed before she has her way with him.”
Thea tried desperately to staunch the tears and failed as they slid down her cheeks. She needed to find a way to stop the sinking feeling in her heart and picking up the champagne glass, she swallowed it all in one gulp.
Maybe if I get drunk, I will feel better. Probably not but it is worth a try.
†
Jo sank heavily down on her bed half an hour later and tried to understand why she cared so much about Thea’s engagement. It wasn’t as if they were good friends. Right? Hardly more than strangers really, but—she thought the woman had more backbone. She remembered how Thea looked sitting there next to the gloating banker. A woman who had just accepted an offer of marriage shouldn’t look sad.
Why? Is she marrying for money?
Jo thought back to John-Henry’s words—maybe she doesn’t have a choice.
It was then that she realized that Thea was marrying the bastard to keep her family’s motel.
What a fuckin’ waste. Why didn’t she just go somewhere else and not marry someone she didn’t love and from the looks of it, didn’t even like much. Who would? He was a troll.
Jo managed to divert Sam, the boy she had used as a ruse to get out of the bar, who probably thought he was in for a night with her, with hollow promises of later. She wouldn’t be going through with any of them. He’d been a nice kid though, and he was too wet behind the ears to know any different. The only education he was going to get was about fickle women.
What she really needed about now was a stiff drink. She’d been keeping a bottle of scotch in the bottom of the wardrobe for such an occasion. She was pleased with herself that she hadn’t hit the bottle before now. Things had been going well—too well. After pulling out the bottle, she twisted off the cap and immediately wrinkled her nose at the aroma. She actually hated the smell, but once you got past the first drink, it grew on you.
After her fifth shot of the scotch, she heard the soft footfalls of the woman she had been thinking non-stop about since arriving back in her room. The steps slowed and Jo was sure that Thea was going to knock on the door and explain what was going on. After all, she had offered her services as protector and she was damn sure Thea needed protecting from Andrews.
The steps proceeded onward the few short yards to her room. She listened as a door creaked open. Jo closed her eyes at the sound of the door metaphorically shutting on any conversation between the two of them.
Damn woman is playing with me and she doesn’t even know it.
She reached for her half-empty glass, filled it to the brim before swallowing it in one go. The scotch, having the desired dulling effect burned her throat. Jo refilled the glass and looked at the bottle in her hand—three-quarters empty. With the next glass, she was bound to sleep.
It was time to leave this hick town and its residents. Or was it one resident in particular? “What does it matter? It is time to leave,” she murmured before passing out.
Chapter Eight
Jo had a hangover. Not a run of the mill hangover either. It was a hell of a good one and to cap it all, she looked like she had a hangover, too. Her eyes were bloodshot and as the sunlight streamed in from another glorious day, her eyelids closed at the explosion of pain it caused. The headache that twisted inside her head made her nauseous.
Normally when she’d tied one on, there was a good excuse. It usually meant she wasn’t sleeping alone. She was sure Freud would probably have something to say about that. Today, she tentatively turned, looked at the empty space beside her, and felt the enormous relief of not having to share morning platitudes with a stranger. Her ears went into bat mode as she failed to pick up any sound from the bathroom. Thank you, God. Jo settled her pounding head against the pillow.
Her eyes traced to the small bedside table before she squinted at the small travel clock. To her amazement, it was barely eight-o-clock in the morning. Then she grimaced, wondering if it was the next morning or if she’d slept and lost a day. In the past when drugs were part of her life, it had happened. Not in recent times though.
A debate went on in her head as
she considered the pros and cons of getting out of bed and eventually decided that it was a good idea. Maybe decent coffee and a good breakfast would make her feel more human. Her stomach instantly began doing flying cartwheels as the thought registered.
With small steps, she gingerly made her way to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, and deposited herself unceremoniously under the water. It did, however, have the requisite effect of making her feel a little better. After stepping out of the shower and drying off, she rummaged around for a clean pair of jeans and a shirt.
With a sickly feeling in her stomach like a lead weight, she left her room and went toward the lobby. As she did, the reason for her overindulgence came back to her full force. She reeled at the sense of loss she felt. The last thing she wanted to do was to run into the woman who had caused her to lose herself in the bottle. Usually only men had that effect on her, although there had been a woman or two. She exited the building and slowly made her way toward the diner. At least Lucy would make sure she ate the right things to make her feel better. That is what she hoped.
†
Thea sat at her desk and looked at the numerous bills that had arrived that morning. Although she was looking at the paper, she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried, read any of the contents. She sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. Her thoughts wandered to the guest in room five. Joanna. She had thought they might become friends. Joanna had promised her protection. Yet, she had thrown that protection to the winds and possibly the tender developing friendship, as well, last evening. It should have been so easy to tell Joanna that she had no choice in the matter. Her increasing debts for the motel would have brought about bankruptcy and then what would she have done?
Thea had no immediate family—at least none that had bothered with her in years. When had been the last time her mother had sent a note or even acknowledged her existence? Far too long, there had been no hope from that slim chance of her mother coming back into her life. The only person who had helped in recent years was Joanna. It was clear she had no means beyond her singing and that only brought enough for her to live on. How could she have helped financially, even if she wanted to? As her thoughts continued to picture the smiling face of her friend from their lunch yesterday, it was entirely too painful to imagine not having Joanna’s friendship.
