All or Nothing

by Deborah Cooke

  “How about something a little more upbeat?” Murray suggested to Jen. “You could do a second song, something to get them dancing.”

  “A second song?” Lucy demanded. “Here we go, here’s the escalation that we knew was inevitable.” She nudged Jen, who didn’t agree.

  “We’ve done every song the machine has,” Jen said, trying to remember the list without taking the time to look.

  “Except Elvis,” Murray observed.

  Jen gave him a look. “I refuse to wear fake sideburns.”

  “How about the white jumpsuit?” Lucy teased.

  “I could never hit the low notes anyway.” Jen shook her head. “Maybe a Beatles tune.” She was skeptical, though, unable to think of one that would be what Murray wanted. “How about I Hear A Symphony?”

  “Works for me,” Lucy said.

  “I thought you were against doing a second one,” Murray said.

  Lucy tossed her hair. “It’s not the same. I know the words to that one now.”

  “Dance music,” Murray muttered. “I want them dancing, because that makes them thirsty.”

  “Then you should have loaded the machine with Donna Summers,” Lucy replied. She patted Jen on the shoulder. “You sing what you want, Jen, and don’t let him give you a hard time. This stupid karaoke machine is only a success because of you, and don’t you let Murray try to make you forget it.”

  “Hey…” Murray started to protest.

  Lucy silenced him with a glare. “Give her a hard time and none of us will sing.”

  Murray glowered and wiped the bar. “A little dancing never hurt anyone,” he muttered, but no one was listening.

  If Jen had thought about it, she would have realized that he gave it up more easily than was characteristic.

  But she didn’t.

  Not until much, much later.

  * * *

  Eight o’clock came quickly that night, with no lull between dinner and the crowd for karaoke. Mulligan’s was dark, crowded and already getting warm. Jen propped open the door to the street to get a breeze.

  At Murray’s whistle, she scurried to join Kathy and Lucy, and when she took the stage, some of the regulars cheered.

  “Demand a raise,” Lucy advised.

  But singing was reward enough. Jen took a bow, blushing, then they launched into Come See About Me. Murray had pre-programmed the machine and it rolled directly into I Hear a Symphony. The trio barely missed a beat. The Bossanova step had become second nature to the three of them, Lucy and Kathy finger-snapped together, and it was as if they’d been singing together for years.

  It was fun.

  “C’mon, let’s do another,” Kathy said, waving to the guys in her section who were egging her on.

  Lucy hesitated.

  “C’mon,” Kathy urged and Jen saw Lucy relent.

  “Itching,” Jen shouted to Murray and he punched up Love is an Itching in My Heart.

  Being bitten by the love bug was about the size of it. Jen let her voice go. She was happy.

  The crowd cheered and moved closer to the stage. Lots of fingers and toes were tapping, and Murray cranked up the volume. The six women from eighteen took to the dance floor together and were joined by two couples. Murray gave Jen a big thumbs-up.

  The song was over all too soon. The trio was taking their bows when a motorcycle could be heard outside.

  “The lazy bugger is driving it right up to the damn door,” Lucy muttered in disapproval, then hurried back to her section.

  Whoever was riding the bike did drive it up to the door: Jen could see his shadow through the etched glass in the pub windows as she went back to her section. The bike engine was given one last loud rev, as if the rider wanted to fill the pub with the smell of gas fumes. Or if he wanted to make sure everyone knew he had arrived.

  That part worked.

  Everyone glanced toward the door, although Jen’s heart was probably the only one that stopped cold. A tall guy in black biking leathers paused on the threshold for effect.

  She had a sneaking suspicion who the guy was, given his athletic build and apparent love of drama, and her heart began to gallop. She was pretty sure she remembered that battered leather jacket.

  “Yum,” Kathy whispered from the far side of the bar. “Be still my heart.” Her voice carried in the comparative quiet and launched a ripple of female laughter. Or agreement. The guy pulled off his helmet and Jen’s knees nearly gave out.

  It was Zach.

  With big black fake sideburns and sunglasses.

  He handed his helmet to a woman sitting at the table closest to the door with nonchalance. She smiled up at him in adoration.

  “Thank you, thank you very much,” he said in a passable imitation of Elvis. Jen bit back a giggle. The man was a lunatic.

  And she was far too glad to see him again.

  Zach swaggered down to the bar, winked at Murray, then took the stage. He held the microphone with casual ease.

  Come to think of it, he was built a lot like the young Elvis. His dark blonde hair was a bit incongruous with the dark sideburns, but he’d styled it with some kind of gel that made it look darker.

  “It’s mighty fine to be here tonight,” he drawled. The women began to whisper and edge closer to the stage. Zach peeked over his sunglasses and winked at Jen. She smiled back at him, unable to help herself.

  Then the karaoke machine began to play Jailhouse Rock.

  Jen choked back a laugh, then stared—just like every other female in the bar. Not only could Zach sing—and hit those low notes—but he could dance. He mimicked Elvis’s hip moves so well that the temperature in the bar practically doubled. The women from table eighteen crowded the stage, clapping and hooting with appreciation.

  The man knew how to make an entrance: she’d give him that.

  But why had he bothered?

  Chapter Eleven

  Jen went back to the bar to get her drinks and found Murray tapping his fingers as he watched with approval. He was not surprised by Zach’s sudden appearance.

  “You knew,” Jen accused.

  Murray shrugged. “He phoned. He came in when you were off. He wanted to check what songs we had.”

  ‘You never told me.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to. Come on, Jen, who am I to argue with this?” Murray shook his head in admiration, then Lucy demanded her four margaritas from the far side of the bar.

  “Here I thought Elvis was in a donut shop in Kalamazoo,” Jen said, unable to keep herself from turning to watch.

  “Lucky for us,” Kathy said.

  Zach was gyrating low and the women were going wild. He was eating it up, obviously in his element. One of the women from eighteen was jitterbugging with him as the others bounced in excitement.

  “I thought this wasn’t that kind of a bar,” Lucy said, though there was little censure in her tone. “What do we do when the women start throwing their underwear at him?”

  “Kick the undies aside so they don’t block the view,” Kathy said.

  “He’s going to split those pants,” Lucy observed.

  “That’s what we’re all waiting for,” Kathy said with a grin.

  “Here I just thought you were appreciating his voice,” Jen said. She wasn’t sure what to think of this, besides enjoying the view. Why had Zach come here to do this?

  Was he teasing her?

  Or was he trying to show her mistake in walking away from him? If he thought having teams of other women drooling over him was going to change Jen’s mind, he could think again.

  He was so unpredictable, though, that she couldn’t be sure what his plan had been. He spun, dancing with the microphone again, then peeled off his black leather jacket and tossed it straight at Jen with a flourish.

  She caught it instinctively, and the women from table eighteen glowered at her with dislike. The coat was warm and to Jen’s surprise, even knowing that it was made from the hides of dead cows which probably would have preferred to keep their hides, she wa
sn’t anxious to let go of it.

  Zach was wearing a tight white T-shirt—very James Dean—which showed his muscular build. The women from eighteen were so busy swooning that they forgot to hate Jen.

  Kathy rolled her eyes. “You’d have to be dead to not be thinking about what other good stuff he has.”

  Jen looked again, because she wasn’t dead.

  Not by a long shot. She fingered Zach’s jacket and couldn’t help hoping that this performance was for her benefit.

  And she liked it a bit too much to be sure of what she’d do next. The bar, in fact, had become really warm. She passed Zach’s jacket to Murray, giving it one last instinctive stroke. Then she hefted her tray, forced her way through the crowd and tried not to think about how much fun it would be to jitterbug.

  She had work to do.

  Although that didn’t preclude her sneaking the occasional peek at the eye candy Zach provided. On her way through the crowd, Jen noticed people pulling out their cell phones, more people than were usually using them in the bar, and wondered how they could hear anything.

  The cell phones made sense when more people started pushing their way through the door. Suddenly, Mulligan’s was crazy-busy and it was all Jen could do to get drinks to her section.

  “We’re getting killed!” Murray shouted with glee, grinning from ear to ear and giggling to himself for the first time Jen could remember.

  All Shook Up was next. Zach tossed the microphone from hand to hand as he danced and feigned the thump of his heart with one hand. At least the women in Jen’s section didn’t care how long it took for their drinks to come.

  Jen caught Zach’s eye, entirely by accident, and he lowered his sunglasses to give her another slow wink. The patrons in her vicinity turned to look at her, and although she tried to pretend she was indifferent, her blush gave her away.

  At least the music was loud enough that no one could hear the thump of her own heart.

  “Oh my God,” Kathy breathed as the karaoke machine segued into Twist and Shout. She was standing at the bar when Jen got back there, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide as she stared.

  Jen decided it would be safer not to look.

  “Those women are salivating on the dance floor,” Lucy commented as she banged her own tray on the bar. “Make sure you don’t slip on your way to your section.”

  “Thanks for that safety tip,” Kathy said. “Maybe I’ll just stand here and enjoy the view instead. Um!”

  “Maybe you’ll take care of your section or you’ll be cut out of the tip pool,” Murray said.

  Kathy gave him a glance. “Might be worth it.”

  “Not tonight,” Murray said with a shake of his head.

  Meanwhile, Zach claimed a bar stool and perched upon it. He peeled off his sunglasses and chucked them into the crowd with a theatrical gesture. The women from eighteen squealed and there was screaming as one caught them.

  “This one’s for a special lady,” he said in his Elvis voice, then started into I Want You, I Love You, I Need You. He worked the low notes and Jen felt the back of her neck burning, but told herself not to look.

  He could not be singing to her.

  Not after what she’d said to him.

  But the feeling that she was being watched only grew. Murray’s grin and Lucy’s nudge were also big clues. Jen was sure that her face was as red as a beet, she was so hot. She surrendered at the second verse, and looked.

  Zach was singing straight to her.

  At her.

  For her.

  She would have to assume that he had forgiven and forgotten.

  The details weren’t important. The man looked good enough to eat with a spoon. Or without one. She remembered how he kissed and her mouth went dry.

  Jen stood, a tray with three margaritas and two glasses of red wine on her shoulder, and could not for the life of her remember where she had been going. Or why.

  “Give me that,” Lucy said, spinning the tray out of Jen’s hand. “You’ll lose your tips.”

  “I can do it.”

  “Not when your feet are rooted to the floor.”

  It was true. “Table twenty-two,” Jen whispered, unable to look away from the gleam of Zach’s eyes. “I think.”

  “Yup, twenty-two,” Murray confirmed.

  Lucy paused to whisper in her ear. “Remember that it’s not often a man will make an ass of himself for a woman.”

  “Even this one?”

  Lucy glanced at Zach before she smiled at Jen again. “Especially this one,” she whispered, then made off with Jen’s tray.

  But was that true? Most men would never have pretended to be Elvis, but with Zach, who knew? What was too much for a man who did everything to excess?

  One who would do anything to provoke a reaction?

  Zach drew out the last note and the women cheered. He did his ‘thank you very much’ routine, then turned to address Jen. His eyes were sparkling and his lips were curved, as if he was on the verge of laughter, as if he was laughing at himself.

  Those fake black sideburns were enough to make Jen smile back at him.

  (Or maybe it was something else that made her smile.)

  “And now a duet,” Zach said over the clamor for more. “But for this song, I have to be a Temptation—” the women cheered, but Zach just offered his hand to Jen “—and I’ll be needing a Supreme.” He was pretty much daring her to join him on stage, and Jen didn’t think twice before she took his challenge.

  Maybe she was hoping to surprise him. She had a definite sense that he’d been thinking he’d have to persuade her. The crowd parted as she strode to the stage and she recognized the music as it started.

  I’m Gonna Make You Love Me.

  It was a frightening possibility, but Zach didn’t have to know that.

  “You won’t,” she whispered, smiling despite herself.

  “Never underestimate the power of persistence,” he murmured with a wicked grin.

  “You’re like Tigger the Tiger,” she complained and he laughed.

  “Remember that the wonderful thing about Tiggers is that I’m the only one,” he said, quoting the character’s signature tune.

  Jen didn’t say anything, because she suspected it was true. There couldn’t be another man like Zach anywhere.

  And he was singing with her.

  Meanwhile, Zach sang the first verse, pledging all the things he would do as he looked into Jen’s eyes as if he meant it. She halfway thought she wouldn’t be able to sing the chorus, her mouth was so dry.

  But their voices fit together pretty well. Once she got going, she had a great time. Even her solo verses were easy, because Zach mugged for the crowd. It was as if they’d sung together a hundred times. Jen was half-laughing, half-singing, and it was a good thing she knew the words as well as she did.

  She was alive and even better, she was enjoying it.

  When the music faded and the crowd began to cheer, she had one warning glimpse of the mischief in Zach’s eyes before he caught her around the waist, dipped her low and winked. “Having fun?”

  Jen had a heartbeat to realize that she was. She laughed, but before she could answer, Zach bent lower. He kissed her quickly and she pushed at his shoulder, embarrassed to be the center of attention. “Don’t. Not here.”

  He arched a brow, his expression wicked. “Afraid you’ll lose control in front of witnesses, because you missed me so much?”

  “As if,” Jen retorted. She curled a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. “Brother Zach.”

  He laughed then, but Jen gave him a lasting kiss, tasting his surprise as she did so. When she might have broken the kiss, Zach deepened it, kissing her as if he’d never get enough of her.

  Jen was dizzy.

  And she didn’t care. She just closed her eyes and hung on.

  * * *

  Zach’s plan was going well so far.

  Really well.

  It was going better even than expected,
which was saying something. He’d come with three objectives: to see Jen again, to make her laugh, and to persuade her to attend Christmas dinner. That last one was going to be sticky—especially as he didn’t particularly want to attend himself—but he thought he was doing pretty well so far.

  The way she had stared at him without expression when he’d arrived had spooked him a bit. Maybe she’d been incredulous. Maybe she’d been skeptical. Maybe she’d really meant all that stuff she’d said. None were particularly encouraging options. Her response had had a serious impact on his sense of triumph.

  He’d thought then that his good news should wait.

  It had been better when Jen started to sing. He loved how joyous she looked when she sang, loved how she sparkled like a diamond when she was happy.

  The kiss was a total bonus.

  He spun her triumphantly after breaking their kiss, liking the color in her cheeks and the way her lips were swollen. Her hair was disheveled and he had a definite sense that he’d jangled the order of her universe a bit.

  That had to be a good thing.

  “We need to talk,” he whispered to her.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, but there wasn’t a lot of conviction in her tone. She looked too happy for him to be deterred. “I thought you were gone for good.”

  “I was working.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “No rest for the wicked,” he said with a grin. “Proof positive I’ve been busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  Zach decided to go with the truth. “I’ve been working on this adult thing. I think I’m doing pretty well, for a novice.”

  “With no shortage of confidence,” Jen said wryly.

  Zach laughed. “Hey, we make our own reality. Believe you can do it and you can, etc. etc.”

  “Now, I am worried. You sound like my mother.”

  “No need to worry. We just need to talk.”

  Jen folded her arms across her chest. “Why?”

  “You still owe me and I’ve come to negotiate.”

  Jen’s protest came low and fast. “You had your turkey dinner…”

  “See? I told you we needed to talk.”

  Jen gave him a quelling look. “We’re not going on a date. We’re not going to start seeing each other…”