Jay frowned. “Stay for the next set, and then afterwards, I can walk you to your van.”
“We didn’t bring our van,” Angela said.
“How did you get here?” Jay asked.
“A limo dropped us off,” Angela said.
“But we plan to take a taxi from here,” I said.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll take you, my pleasure.”
“No, I don’t think…”
He interrupted, “We’ll be out of here in less than thirty minutes.”
Before I could object, he kissed my cheek, then headed back to the bandstand.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Jay steered his jeep toward the Belle Viella. “A cop’s in your driveway.”
I told him about the intruder.
“You mean you found a stranger in the bedroom?” He slapped the steering wheel.
“Billy Joe, thinks it was probably the handyman who works here.”
“And he drives a green truck like the one your friend was riding in when he fell out,” Angela said.
“Was it the same truck?” Jay asked.
“They looked identical. But we can’t be sure because the driver, who neither of us saw, left the scene before we could get the license number,” I said.
Jay cut the ignition, then rested his left elbow on the steering wheel as he twisted around to face me. “Good thing that cop’s here.” He shifted his eyes to the patrol car.
“I’m not concerned about the handyman,” I said. “Mrs. Viella told me he’s now visiting his brother out of state.”
“Mother, I’m tired.” Angela held out her hand and yawned. She was waiting for me to give her the door key. I had taken it from the flower pot because I suspected someone had rifled through our stuff the other night while we were gone, probably Comeaux, but I didn’t tell Angela this.
I pulled out the long tubular key from the side zipper compartment of my purse and gave it to her.
She jumped out of the back seat before Jay could walk around to open her door. “Thanks for driving us home, Jay. Enjoyed your show. See you later.” She grabbed her lavish skirt, pulling it up toward her waist, exposing her long legs as she ran up the outside stairwell.
Jay waved good-bye to Angela, then opened my door and without warning, swooped me up in his arms and cradled me like a baby.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking,” I said as he carried me up the stairs.
“Anythin’ wrong, Ma’am,” the officer from St. John’s Parish said. I’d never seen him before--about six-two, heavy-set with dark hair. His harsh voice, scraped the night like a fingernail on chalkboard.
“I think my friend here is under the impression I called for Rhett Butler.” I smiled to indicate I was joking.
The officer stood beside his patrol car and stared at us for a moment. “All right, just making sure.”
“I can walk from here,” I said when we reached the large, open gallery on the third floor.
“It’s great to be with you,” Jay whispered as he lowered me. “What a night.”
We stared up at the stars and watched a translucent cloud drift over the bowed moon. I shivered from the cool breeze blowing off the river.
Jay put his arms around me. “Wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know what you said about Angela being in the house.”
I gazed at his handsome face. His hair haloed in the starlight like a Greek god’s. “Thanks for driving us back.”
He looked directly into my eyes. “My pleasure. I hope you know if I couldn’t do anything but hold your hand, I’d still want to be with you. I haven’t felt this way about anybody in a long, long time.” He bit his lower lip slightly. “What are you feeling, Lilah?”
“My head’s still spinning from everything that’s happened, and I don’t know if I’m capable of expressing my feelings at this moment.”
“I understand. I often have trouble sharing my feelings too. But you’re important to me and I’d like to try, even though I’m not good at using words to say what’s inside. I suppose I haven’t had a lot of practice. Don’t have many close friends, except Duffy and my family. And they’ve known me forever so,” he paused, pulling me close.
I wrapped my arms around his back and felt the heat of his body.
“What I’m trying to say is, I get lost in myself and I forget I need people. But there’s always an empty, lonely feeling. I usually manage to keep busy with my music and forget about it. When I met you, it was like coming home after a long absence. Only, instead of finding a fire in the hearth, the fire’s inside.” He placed a hand over his heart. “What I mean is, even though we met a few days ago, I feel like I’ve known you before, somewhere, somehow...”
“You mean like reincarnation?”
“Who knows, could be. Sharon, my sister-in-law, believes it’s possible. She’s married to my older brother Tony. Has a doctorate in metaphysics. Sharon says I’m an old soul.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “And what were you in your previous life?”
“A flute player in Babylonia, and a few thousand years later, a gladiator for the king, according to Sharon.”
“Very similar to your life today as a boxer and musician,” I said, laughing. “Do you think perhaps I might have been the king you knew eons ago?”
“No. You were the fair princess I loved madly.” His blue eyes sparkled, reading mine.
“Sharon didn’t tell you that.” I said, skeptically.
“No, not about the princess. That’s entirely my theory.” He sighed, then surprised me with a deep, long kiss. It made my knees weak, and I leaned against the gallery railing for balance.
From my lips, he worked his way downward to my neck and breast. I held his head there enjoying the sensation of his mouth and tongue on my skin, but when he pulled my bodice down and started nuzzling my nipples I stopped him.
“No. Jay, don’t.” I yanked up the front of my dress, afraid Angela or the policeman might see. Jay backed away. “I’m sorry, Baby. I’m losing it. I’d better leave.” He stared at me lovingly, then caressed my face. “Before I go, though, I’d like to know how you feel about us.”
I checked my dress to ensure I was covered. “It must be obvious I’m very attracted to you. Perhaps I’ll be able to express my thoughts later.”
Jay squeezed my hands. “Okay. And if you need me, call. You have my number, don’t you?”
“Yes, it’s in Dan’s book.”
“Lilah, you left that book and the one with the pictures at my place.”
I pulled out my reporter’s notebook and a pen from my purse.
Jay scribbled his telephone number in it.
“Jay, I hope you don’t mind if I get Dan’s books before I fly off to Baltimore Monday morning.”
“You’re flying to Baltimore?”
“Only for the day. I need to take pictures of John Gable’s old home place and interview people who knew him. It’s for the article I’m writing. And I thought, while I’m in the area, I might as well pick up the diary from your hideout. Dan mentioned it so it must be important. He may want it.”
“Why don’t you wait until after Mardi Gras and I’ll take some time off, go with you?” Jay smiled.
“I can’t wait, Jay.”
“Lilah, that cave at Loch Raven isn’t safe. Dan even told me a while back that a family of bats lives there. And I’d worry about you going alone. And besides, how do you know there’s even a diary to get?”
“We’ll talk about it when I see you later, Jay. I’m very tired and I know you must be, too.” I looked at my watch. “It’s almost three-thirty.” I kissed Jay’s cheek. “Get some sleep and be careful going home.”
Jay sighed, communicating his reluctance to leave. “See you soon. Five o’clock,” he reminded me, squeezing my hands again before turning to walk down the stairs.
I watched him as he pulled out of the driveway.
Chapter Thirty-eight
The neighborhood was quiet when Jay walked into his townhous
e. He knew sleeping was out of the question for him, thanks to his high frustration level. Stripping to his briefs, he dropped down to the floor and did one-hundred pushups. Next, he flipped over for the same number of stomach crunches. Lastly, he bench-pressed his weight, 170 pounds, twelve times and circuit-trained on his nautilus equipment through three sets.
After the workout, Jay jogged upstairs to the shower and let the warm water flow over him. He stroked his erect knight’s head until it erupted like a volcano, spewing white fire. “Man,” he moaned, grabbing the shower stall handle for support.
Jay savored the moment, unwinding in the hot spraying water before drying off and going to bed. He tried to relax the lonely knot in his gut by taking deep breaths and hugging the spare pillow.
He remembered what his father said about his mother: “Before we were married, your mother’s folks wouldn’t let us spend much time alone. They didn’t trust me because I played trumpet in a band. I’d have to bring her back home by ten. It was never long enough and they wouldn’t even let us park outside the house. We’d have to sit in the front room until her mother came in to say it was past Jeanne’s bedtime and I’d have to leave. It was painful, very painful.”
Jay thought he understood exactly.
Chapter Thirty-nine
I freed my hair from the top knot and unfastened my gown, then the corset. It took some time to unhook and untie everything, and I was almost too exhausted to walk when I finally got out of it all and slipped into a comfortable night shirt.
“Mother,” Angela called.
I walked into the room where she lay under the mosquito netting.
“About time you made it in.”
“You realize, don’t you, that you’re sounding more and more like me,” I said.
“Must be the mother-daughter curse.” Angela propped up on her elbows. “What time is it?”
“Too early or too late, take your pick.”
“Why don’t you hop in and let’s talk.” Angela patted the small space beside her.
I started to beg off in favor of sleep, but if my daughter needed to talk, I didn’t want to discourage her. “Not much room. One of us is likely to end up on the floor.” I slid under the mosquito net and sank my head into a pillow.
“You like Jay a lot, don’t you?” Angela inquired.
I closed my eyes. This was not a subject I wished to discuss with my daughter. “Would that be so terrible?”
“Not terrible at all. I was just curious. He really likes you.”
“How can you tell?”
“Oh, Mother, please. You know he does. He looks at you like a love-sick puppy.” Angela turned her face around and rolled her eyes. She reminded me of our beloved, now deceased, beagle, Good Ole Boy.
“You’re exaggerating,” I said, sleepily.
“He’s a cool guy, Mama.”
“I know, you’ve already told me.”
“But he doesn’t talk much.”
“I thought I was the one who didn’t talk,” I said.
“I saw how you badgered him with questions, so you could hide.”
“Did I do that?”
“You know you did.”
“Honey, I’m worn to a frazzle. And I have that interview with Lotta Love tomorrow. Can we continue this conversation later?”
“You don’t like being put on the defensive, do you, Mother?”
“No one does.”
“I was just curious about how you feel.”
“That’s funny. Jay said the same thing. He wanted to know how I feel.”
“What did you say?”
“I told Jay I was attracted to him. I’m sure most women would be and...”
Angela interrupted. “But he’s a musician. That’s a strike against him. He probably has groupies hanging around.”
I turned my back to her, hoping our girl-talk session was over. “That certainly something to think about. Now, goodnight, Angel. Sleep tight. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Mama. I love you too.”
Chapter Forty
Sunday, February 12
Dr. Nathan Huxley
“Nathan? John Gable.”
Dr. Nathan Huxley wondered why his most influential psychiatric patient bothered to introduce himself. Who could mistake the deep, melodious voice? And besides, no other patient except the Vice President had Huxley’s private emergency phone number.
Huxley struggled with his glasses, trying to read his clock radio: 3:30 a.m. in San Clemente, California.
“How are you, John?”
“Rubio’s making me miserable,” Gable said, panic edging his voice.
Huxley spoke calmly, inflecting a monotone. “When did he come back into your life, John?”
“When I arrived in New Orleans,” Gable whispered. “He’s masquerading again.”
“You’ve told me Rubio sometimes masquerades during Mardi Gras. How is this time different?”
“He’s more uncontrollable.”
“Tell me about it. What is he doing to make you miserable?”
Gable read Dan’s letter.
Huxley listened, though he was familiar with most every event in Gable’s life and nothing surprised him any more. “Explain to me exactly how Rubio is upsetting you now?”
Gable described Rubio’s behavior in detail, then asked Huxley to fly to New Orleans. “I need your help with him, Nathan.”
Huxley sighed, knowing he couldn’t refuse the Vice President of the United States. “All right, but I’m afraid I can’t leave until Tuesday morning. I’ve promised to emcee a charity telethon tomorrow night. Will Tuesday be soon enough, John?”
“Try to make it sooner if possible.”
“I will. Meanwhile, stay calm, John, and know that at any time, you can tell Rubio to get out of your life.”
“See you soon, Nathan.” Gable slammed the phone down.
Huxley tried, but couldn’t go back to sleep. He walked out onto his bedroom patio, a small section of his sprawling Italianate estate. In the dark, he listened to the ocean slap a rocky cliff and thought about the Vice President’s disturbing call.
He and Gable had enjoyed a long association, beginning when Huxley was a struggling psychology major at UCLA. To earn money one summer, he’d worked as an extra in Gable’s most famous film, Red River Courage. Over the years, the two men had grown close.
However, their relationship had become more doctor/patient than buddy, buddy. Huxley often regretted the metamorphosis, and the enormous amount of time Gable demanded. If this continued, Huxley couldn’t possibly keep up with his full professorship at UCLA and juggle his private practice which included some of the most emotionally challenged celebrities in Hollywood.
Chapter Forty-one
The last person Ben Comeaux expected to hear from when he grabbed the telephone on his bed stand was Josephine, his ex-wife. “What took you so long to answer, Ben?” Josephine asked in her unmistakable, nasal twang.
“I got a divorce decree saying that’s none of your business,” Ben shot back, implying he was with a woman when he wasn’t.
“This ain’t a social call...”
“You got that right,” Ben interrupted. “It means the devil’s got his ass in my face.”
“I’m not going to get into a pissing contest with a skunk so I’ll make this quick,” Josephine snapped. “Speaking of our divorce papers, you’re supposed to give me back my silver-blue ostrich. You claimed you didn’t have it, but I know you hid it from me when I came to pick up my stuff.”
“Good God, woman, you’ve already stole me blind. I’m still tryin’ to pay off your damn credit cards. What would I want with that faggy-looking bird?” Ben glanced at the 1880 lapis ostrich atop an antique Korean chest in his bedroom. “You already picked it up. You just forgot about it and your wimpy, lover-boy hocked it someplace.”
“I didn’t call to argue. I...”
“Now there’s a first.”
“I know you got my ostrich.”
�
�Why would I want the stupid thing?”
“It’s worth a lot of money. And you know I love it and even though you hate it, you can’t stand for me to have anythin’ I love ‘cause you’re a mean son of a bitch. But it ain’t gonna do any good to fight me over it ‘cause I know you got it.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Mama and me saw it yesterday through your bedroom window just as pretty as you please.”
“I’ll get you for trespassing, bitch.”
“Like I said, Mama’s my witness, and if you wanna play hard ball we can. I’m sure the guys down at the station would get a kick out of arresting you for stealing.”
Ben was quiet, knowing Josephine had trapped him, as usual.
“I’ll be by this afternoon to pick it up. Don’t try any funny stuff or you’ll be sorry.”
“I’m gonna be busy. I’ll leave the fuckin’ ostrich outside the door.” Ben slammed the phone down.
Chapter Forty-two
“I’m runnin’ behind too, Sweetie,” Lotta said after I’d called to apologize for being late.
“Can’t believe it’s eleven already,” she said. “Take your time. I’m hot and sweaty from my morning run.” She then gave me directions to her place from Belle Viella. “Call me if you have any trouble finding it. Don’t think you will. Look for the pink French doors and my big black Lincoln.”
Angela refused to be rushed. She took her time packing an over-night bag after deciding at the last minute to spend the night with Melissa.
As we walked out the door, she stalled again. “I hate this outfit. She was wearing a pale yellow, mini-skirt and sleeveless, V-neck blouse.
“I look like a dead goose. My hair’s all stringy. I didn’t have time to wash it, we got up too late.” She stomped back inside the belle and came out with her hair in a pony tail.
Meanwhile, I absorbed her nervousness. The back of my head started to throb as I drove to the end of Esplanade past the Bayou Cemetery. “I usually make a mental note to wake up at a certain time and don’t need an alarm. But not this morning.”
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