Outside, she found herself in a service alley somewhere behind the arena she’d just played. The way her luck had been running, the door would lock behind her and she’d have to hoof it back around to the waiting limo. She tried it and, sure enough, it’d automatically locked.
Oh, well, she thought, already heading somewhere, anywhere, she hoped led to warmth. She’d wanted fresh air and now she had it—all fifteen degrees!
She rounded a corner to face three stoners garbed in leather and sprawled across a brown expanse of grass. “Dude,” a wiry guy with hair longer than hers called out.
“Dude,” she answered back, stepping over his legs to continue on her impromptu journey. She was rounding the arena’s south corner, hoping it would be the last before she found her ride, when a glint caught her eye.
On the street beside the service alley sat a primer-gray Lincoln, headlights on, exhaust cloud rising gray against the black night.
An object hanging from the rearview—a crystal, maybe—caught a far-off streetlight’s glow, sparking for just an instant, then fading to black.
The driver leaned his head out the window, waving another man over. The other guy didn’t fit. He was a pretty boy amid what had been, only an hour earlier, a sea of black leather and denim—the same pretty boy who’d offered her a hundred bucks to take him to Heaven.
“Got my cash?”
Pretty Boy shushed the driver, casting darting glances over his shoulders before jogging around to the passenger side and climbing in.
Continuing her trek along the edge of the building, her lips curved into a half-smile. First-timers were always nervous about drug deals. Since alcohol had always done the job for her, she’d never tried harder candy, but she had plenty of friends who had. And Talon—Talon popped treats for any and all occasions.
She cast one last look at the transaction, then rounded the arena’s next corner. Three limos waited alongside the equipment trucks.
“Hey, Rose!” one of the guys called out, his breath white in the thin night air. “Talon was just lookin’ for you.”
He was? She quickened her pace, rubbing her hands along her bare shoulders, suddenly ready for the lights, the party, the heat. Talon’s heat.
Back on Main Street, full sun raining heat on her suddenly chilled arms, Angel squeezed Lizzy tighter.
“I ain’t movin’ it,” Ed said. “Me and the boys all agree that—”
Sam said, “Move it or I’m ticketing your truck. Then I’m hauling you in for tampering with a suspected crime scene.”
“Aw, now, Sam, you wouldn’t go and do a dumb thing like—”
“You callin’ me dumb?” Sam snatched his cuffs off his utility belt, only to slap them onto Ed’s left wrist, then his right.
Jonah stepped in between the two of them. “Come on, Sam, I’m sure Ed didn’t mean—”
“The hell I didn’t.”
“Did!”
“Didn’t!”
Lizzy wailed.
“Would all of you stop!” Angel cried. “Look what you’ve done. You’ve scared poor Lizzy half to death.”
“Lizzy?” Ed wrinkled his forehead. “I thought Jonah’s kid’s name was Katie.”
Sam elbowed him in the ribs.
Thirty minutes later, Angel cupped her hand to her forehead, willing away the swirling noise and color. She rested on the sofa in the diner’s office.
Lizzy gummed blocks on the rag rug.
A knock sounded on the door, then Jonah stepped in. “Sam and Ed are gone—as is the arsonist’s car.”
“Good,” she said without opening her eyes. “That thing gave me the creeps.”
“Yeah, the ladies from the First Baptist Church Bible Study Group also came down to complain. Even the mayor stopped back by to make sure it was hauled away.”
At the end of the couch, Jonah wrapped his strong, warm hands around her ankles, lifting her legs to ease in under them. He massaged her bare feet which now rested on his lap. “Lizzy seems okay.”
“Are we?”
He stopped rubbing. “I don’t get the question.”
“Are we okay? You and me? Our relationship?”
Raising her left foot to his lips, he kissed all five toes. “These are cold. Better warm them.” With her foot still to his mouth, he fogged her tootsies with warm breath, then blanketed them with his hands. He did the same for her other foot before admitting, “I’ve never loved you more.”
“Forever love?”
“What’s up, Angel?”
She dropped her gaze. “I’m afraid.”
“Of what? For once, everything looks great. Lizzy’s healthy and happy. The diner’s making a profit.”
“Let’s get married tonight.”
“Why? We’re already married.” And, in Jonah’s heart of hearts, his last statement wasn’t a lie. He loved this woman more than he’d ever thought it possible to love. “Besides…” he tried lightening the mood by tickling the toes he’d just kissed, “what about your fans? They’ve come to expect your singing meat loaf.”
The headache, the voices, were back.
“What about your fans, Rose? You can’t let them down. You have to go onstage.”
“What about me, Grant? I’m tired. I’m seven months pregnant. I can’t keep this up.”
Her manager’s expression hardened. “You signed contracts, Rose. This concert isn’t something you can call off on a whim. We’re talking at least fifty thousand rabid fans out there.”
“It’s not a whim. I’m exhausted. We’ve been touring for months. Night after night, putting up with Talon’s BS, squeezing my D-cup boobs into this stupid C-cup leather joke. The drinking, the drugs, the sex. I can’t do it anymore. I won’t.”
His answer was a cold laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong, babe. You will, because I say you will.”
“No!” Angel jerked her feet from Jonah’s lap, clinging to her end of the long couch. “I’m not singing. Not tonight. Not ever.”
Jonah’s stomach sank. “But the diner. Your singing is what’s bringing people back. You don’t think they’re in here for my cooking, do you? They’re all hoping for a glimpse of you.”
She stood, hands on her hips, and said, “What don’t you get about the word no? I thought you were different, Jonah. Better. But you’re not. You’re just the same. Only after me for one damned thing. I thought you loved me. I thought—”
He was instantly on his feet, gripping her shoulders. “Let’s get one thing straight. Yes, I love what your singing has done for this old place but, more than that, I love what it’s done for me—what you’ve done for me. When I wake in the mornings and you’re crooning lullabies to my daughter...” He framed her face with his hands, drawing her closer for a lingering kiss. “That’s what matters—what’s important. Not the diner. Not whether old Earl’s gonna get his panties in a wad if he doesn’t hear you singing Patsy Cline while he’s slurping his grits. You, sweetheart. You’re the only thing that matters.”
Tears streamed down Angel’s cheeks, and damn if Jonah didn’t feel close to shedding a few of his own. What was up with her?
She wasn’t herself, but then the joke was on him, because he’d never known her true self. The woman she was today was due in large part to his molding. What if this latest outburst was her way of rallying against that molding?
Was he using her to keep the diner open, just like he’d used her to feed Katie?
Kissing Angel, stroking her hair, the curve of her hips, he told himself over and over, no, he wasn’t using her. He would never use her. But, if that were true, then how come his old friend guilt was back? How come he felt as if everything he’d spent these past weeks working toward was nothing more than a house of cards on the verge of collapse?
“Marry me, Jonah.” She clung to him.
“Angel?” Still gripping her shoulders, but searching her eyes, he asked, “What’s going on with you? You’re shaking.”
She was once again crying. “I’m afraid.”<
br />
“Of what?”
“Losing you.”
Funny, since he was afraid of losing her. “Babe, that’s one thing you never have to be afraid of. Trust me,” he wiped her tears. “I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”
“Promise?” When she gazed up at him with eyes impossibly blue, his heart shattered. “No matter what?”
“No matter what.” He hated himself for that lie. But, in the moment, he’d have hated himself even more for not giving her the answer she not only wanted, but needed.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Geneva scowled. “Shame on you, Jonah. When you break that promise, you’ll break Blondie’s heart.”
Teach popped himself onto her cloud. “What about you, Geneva? What responsibility do you claim in all of this mess?”
“I thought all I had to do was get them together. Don’t they have to sort out the rest?”
He sighed. “Have you learned nothing?”
“What do you mean, ‘Have I learned nothing?’” she mocked his haughty tone. “I’ve worked my a—butt off trying to get those two together, keeping eagle-eyed Sam off Angel’s case. I’ve learned a lot about not only those two, but myself. Haven’t you heard all my serenades?”
“Certainly. But what I’ve also heard is your fascination with Blue Moon’s dapper police chief getting the best of you. Do you have any idea how short you’re running on time?”
“What? I’ve got two whole weeks. Jonah’s already proposed. As long as he never finds out who Angel really is, I think it’s a done deal.”
“You think? All your life, Geneva, you have only considered what you think. Now you are being tutored in the fine art of considering what others think. For instance, how would your former husband feel if he learned the woman he thinks he’s in love with is in reality you—only a thousand times worse?”
“Hey!” She leapt from the couch, then planted her hands on her hips. “Take that back! I was never even half as bad as her—at least not until the night… Well, you know.”
“Yes, how well I know.” He rolled his eyes. “Which is precisely why I’m now wondering if maybe Jonah and Angel aren’t truly meant for each other at all? In fact, what if you made a mistake and Angel isn’t the true soul mate he’s supposed to be with?”
“I made a mistake? I’ve only got fourteen days to find out if I get to rush that big sorority in the sky and now you’re telling me I might have to start over?”
He shrugged.
“Answer me! Don’t just sit there like an overfilled jelly doughnut.”
“The answers are for you to find, my dear.”
“I’ve had it with your hoity-toity euphemisms.” Snatching him by the lapels of his fancy-schmancy black suit, she demanded, “Either tell me if Angel’s the real woman for Jonah or else!”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Angel stared at the TV sitcom but didn’t really watch.
Her perfect husband hummed while washing dinner dishes.
After her outburst at the diner, he’d packed up Lizzy, called in still more newly hired reinforcements—two friends of Precious’s who sang in her high school and church choirs—then ushered Angel to the truck, strapping in the baby before driving them both home, where he’d pampered them like crazy. He’d made Angel her favorite orange spice tea and let Lizzy play extra-long in the tub. He’d even prepared an extra-special dinner of fresh trout that one of their customers had brought in as a gift.
Working side-by-side to make a salad, they’d shared heated glances and touches and soft, nibbling kisses, giggles and sighs. He’d once again told her he loved her but, if that were true, why wouldn’t he take that love all the way? Why wouldn’t he renew their vows immediately? Why, when she merely mentioned the idea of them sleeping together, did he practically leap away?
And what was with these visions she kept having?
Were they dreams? Nightmares? Snatches of her former self? And if that were the case, how did she reconcile the woman she was today with the woman in those sometimes shocking images? That wasn’t the kind of person she’d ever wanted to be. Was that why she and Jonah had grown apart?
She slid her fingers into her hair and pulled. Physical pain was preferable to this constant confusion.
“Thought you might be thirsty.” She forced a smile when Jonah set his mother’s best silver tray on the coffee table.
Gazing up at his dear, handsome face, at those dreamy dark eyes and angular jaw always in need of a shave, she grinned, her mood lifting a hundred times over just to see him. “Want me to float away?”
“Never.” He kissed her forehead before sitting beside her on the sofa. “Because then I’d have to swim after you—and I’ve never been all that keen on swimming.”
Tucking her legs beneath her, she angled to face him. “You know how, don’t you?”
“Of course I know how. Just had a bad skinny-dipping incident as a teen.”
“Mmm, got caught, did you?
“Oh, yeah—and by Sam’s predecessor.”
“Scandalicious,” she teased. “A case of I fought the law and the law won?”
“You know it.” He dragged her giggling onto his lap.
“Know what I think?” she asked, reclining with her legs hooked over the sofa arm and her head on Jonah’s lap.
“I’m almost afraid you’re going to tell me.”
She jabbed his stomach, but his reflexes were faster and he hardened up, reminding her—as if she needed reminding—of his tight abs. “What I think,” she said, breathless from more laughing, “is that you just haven’t been skinny-dipping with the right girl. I never get caught.”
“And you know this how?”
“Come on, Darren, just jump. We won’t get caught.” She already stood on the impeccably manicured lawn of Sulphur’s richest citizens—the Philmoores. La dee da. Like they’d even notice if she and Darren took a quick dip in their pool.
He hopped the fence, but still didn’t look happy about their mission.
“Come on,” she dragged him by his hand toward the glowing blue water. Dew had already settled on the grass, soaking her thin canvas sneakers. They were new. A welcome-to-our-home gift from her latest foster family. They were nice—the shoes—and she guessed the family was okay. But their kids wore the hottest leather Nikes and, there she was, stuck with plain old white canvas—and they weren’t even Keds, but some cheap, knockoff brand. The rubber rim around the soles wasn’t even the same height all the way around.
“Rose, damned if you aren’t going to get us in trouble again.”
“I thought you had fun that night.”
“I did, but”—he glanced over his shoulder—“you sure these people don’t have guard dogs?”
She rolled her eyes, dragging him deeper into the yard, deeper into their illegal escapade. Finally they were poolside, so she pulled the one stunt that always reeled Darren all the way in.
She stripped.
The pool was quite a distance from the house.
Closer than the tennis court, but farther than the putting green. So she took her time, tugging her T-shirt up nice and slow, loving the kiss of summer night air against her belly and breasts. She wore no bra—didn’t have to, much to the happiness of her last foster dad, who had a penchant for copping feels.
His motto had been, more than a mouthful’s a waste. She swallowed the bile rising at the all-too-fresh memory of the time he’d tried putting that motto to the test.
Centering herself in the here and now, Rose forgot about him. He was gone. Darren was the only one who mattered now. Pleasing him. Making him love her like she loved him.
With a pop of her hip, she carried on with her own motto—no matter what, the show must go on.
“Oh, baby,” Darren settled onto a lounge chair, slipping his hands down his cargo shorts to palm his erection. “That’s what I like…”
She swayed to a slow Prince song playing in her head.
The music.
It w
as always about the music with her. Music was her security blanket. Music would one day be her ticket out.
Unhooking the button on her frayed jean cutoffs, she slid those down, too, taking her worn white cotton panties along for the ride, wishing they were a silky scrap of lace so she could use them as a prop to work Darren into a genuine lather. Not that it would’ve mattered. He was already right where she wanted him, his attention off the remote chance of them getting caught, and solely, completely, on her.
“Angel?” Her husband waved his hand in front of her. “Where’d you go? And how do you know you never get caught.”
“I j-just don’t.”
“Baby? You okay?”
“Don’t call me baby.”
He flinched, searching her face. “Sure. Whatever you want. Sweetie, okay?”
She half-smiled, hoping, praying, he couldn’t see the real her—whoever that was. “That’ll be fine.” One of his big hands rested on her left thigh, the other played in her hair. She slid his lower hand up the length of her until he covered her breast. Just as her nipple hardened, so did he. She felt him swelling against the back of her head.
Yes. I’m back in control.
Now, if I just had a damned drink, I’d be—
Jonah slid his hand back to her thigh, giving her a gentle squeeze. His erection lost its sharp edge. “No,” he said softly, still twirling a lock of her hair.
She swallowed hard.
I’m losing him. Just like Darren. And Talon. Just like every other man I've loved, I’m losing him.
Grabbing a throw pillow from the opposite end of the couch, he bunched it beneath her head before sliding out from under her.
“Where’re you going?” she asked when he abandoned her on the sofa.
His gaze met hers and they stared at each other for a good, long time. She felt him searching her face and desperately wanted to know what it was he was searching for.
Signs that I’m not your wife, but the same lost little girl I’ve always been? Struggling most of my life to claim some small space of my own in this lonely world? No one has ever loved me for me. They loved what I could give them. What housing me and feeding me would do for their fine, upstanding reputations. In middle school I was a master at stealing candy for my gang of hoodlum friends. As a teen I mastered sex. As an adult, still more sex, until stupidly falling for Talon. But then I immersed myself in song. And, for a while, that was good. Almost enough. But then things changed. And somewhere along the line I got lost. Lost in too few true friends, too much booze.
Angel Baby (Heaven Can Wait) Page 22
