Keep Dancing

by Leslie Wells

  Jack started making his way through the crowd. Everyone he passed wanted to touch him, fawn over him, extract a piece of him. A pack of women approached him with a feral gleam in their eyes, as if they wanted to pounce on him and devour him whole. Two six-foot-tall ladies with suspiciously big Adams’ apples swooped over and managed to kiss both Jack and Patrick full on the lips before Mary Jo had them escorted out.

  Finally Jack made it to my side. “Do I have lipstick on me face?” he asked.

  “A little.” I wiped it off with my finger.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed by a man before,” he mused.

  “How was it?” I asked.

  “Not half bad, except I got whisker burn.”

  He seemed to have forgotten the gossip rag for the time being, so I tried to do the same. “I loved the slow number in the middle,” I said. “The emotion in it gave me the chills. You really sounded fantastic.”

  “Yeah, but Patrick’s voice was a little weak, don’t you think? And he definitely lacked groove.” He laughed at my forlorn expression. “Just kidding. Forget about that dumb article. C’mon, let’s get the others and head out. We aren’t gonna bother trying to eat anywhere.”

  On the way back to the hotel, the limo got caught in a massive traffic pileup. “Sorry about this,” the driver said as we sat stalled in an endless line of cars. “Looks like the stoplight’s broken.”

  “Let’s do ‘what’s your favorite’,” Sammy suggested, breaking the seal on a bottle of whiskey from the car’s side pocket. “We haven’t done it with Julia yet.”

  Suzanne looked at me pityingly. “Julia may never come back if she gets a taste of what you’re like with a captive audience.” I was relieved that the others didn’t seem to be concerned about the supposed Judas in their midst—or perhaps they just figured Patrick had it coming.

  “May as well, since we’ll be stuck here for a while,” Sammy said. He took a gulp and handed the bottle to Jack. “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Filet mignon.” Jack swigged and passed the bottle to Mark.

  They all looked at me. “Um, Jack’s scrambled eggs.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet, but you’re bullshittin’. They’re not that good.” Sammy took another sip.

  “I don’t serve ’em to you with what I give Julia,” Jack said. “A nice big sausage.”

  Sammy frowned. “Damn right you don’t. I don’t bat for the other team.”

  “Let’s move this along. Mine is tuna nicoise.” Suzanne shook out a cigarette from her pack.

  “Bangers and mash,” Mark said. The car ahead of us lurched forward, and again we were moving.

  “All right,” Sammy said. “Favorite sex position.”

  “Woman on top!” all three men shouted at once.

  “Well, that was unanimous.” Mark looked at me. “Julia?”

  “You don’t have to say,” Suzanne added. “Really, you don’t.”

  I thought about it. “I’m not sure if it fits in this category, or Jack’s favorite things to eat.”

  For a moment there was silence, then they all burst into laughter. “She shoots, she scores!” Mark said.

  “Nice one, sweetheart.” Jack put his arm around me as I blushed.

  Sammy gave me a thumbs-up. “Now there’s a vote for your tuna nicoise. Julia, I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”

  “You’re rubbing off on her,” Suzanne said to Jack. “Which is not necessarily a good thing.”

  “You haven’t said yours,” Jack commented.

  “I’d have to go with Julia’s choice,” she said primly. “But with Mark, of course.”

  Jack smiled. “Don’t knock what you haven’t tried.”

  “You know the four types of orgasms, don’t you?” Sammy asked.

  I hesitated. “I’m not sure I do.”

  “There’s the good ones: ‘Oh yes, oh yes.’ Then the bad ones: ‘Oh no, oh no.’ The religious ones scream, ‘Oh God, oh God!’” Sammy leaned in toward me. “And the fake ones say, ‘Oh Jack, oh Jack!’”

  I laughed as the others groaned. Jack just shook his head.

  “If you think this is bad, wait ’til you’re cooped up with them in a hotel room for eight hours straight,” Suzanne warned me. “Just prepare yourself. It isn’t pretty.”

  Jack glanced out the window as we went by a 55 mph sign. “Hey, we just passed a double nickel.”

  Back in our suite, again it was a crowd of five. Jack got out his eight-track cassette player and inserted an Etta James tape.

  “How ’bout a little poker?” Sammy grabbed a deck of cards from the table as Mark pulled up a chair.

  “I’m not very good. I only played once or twice in college,” I said as Etta growled the low notes.

  “Always more interesting when someone loses big.” Sammy shuffled the cards. “Down to underwear, or everything off?”

  “No stripping.” Jack flopped next to me on the sofa.

  Sammy looked so disappointed, I had to laugh. “Aw, that’s no fun,” he said. “How about if just us guys strip? The girls can keep their stuff on. Or maybe take off their tops.”

  “Any excuse to remove his clothes,” Jack commented.

  “Can’t blame me for trying,” Sammy said. The guys felt in their pockets and dumped their change on the table.

  Sammy dealt as Suzanne slid ten pennies over to each of us. “That’s for your bets, Julia. Don’t go too crazy,” she said. They each pushed one cent into the middle.

  Jack looked at my cards. “The person with the lowest card bets. That would be you, Sammy. Bring it.”

  The others played their hands, Jack showing me what to do.

  “I’m out.” Sammy started unbuttoning his shirt. “What?” he asked, looking at Jack. “I thought we were playin’ down to our boxers.”

  “You don’t have on any boxers,” Suzanne said. “Just stop at your shirt. Julia doesn’t want to see your birthday suit.”

  “Thank you, Suzanne. I’m gonna call.” Jack slid two pennies over.

  “All right, down and dirty now.” Sammy dealt a last card to each of us.

  Suzanne flipped hers over. “Three of a kind.” She slid the mound of pennies to her side of the table.

  “Scoop it up. I’ve lost me shirt,” Jack said, unbuttoning. “I’m gonna get you next time,” he added to Suzanne. I admired the flex of his bare arm as he lifted the bottle and took a drink. “My turn to deal.”

  “You’ve gotta watch him,” Sammy said. “You should see how he cheats in Monopoly.”

  “I do not.” Jack shuffled the deck.

  “How come you always wind up with Boardwalk?” Sammy asked.

  “Lucky, I guess.” Jack grinned. He looked incredibly sexy sitting next to me with his shirt off, long legs crossed barefoot at the ankles and thick choppy hair going every which way. I put my hand on his thigh and felt his muscles tighten. As his fingers splayed around my waist, I fought a powerful urge to climb into his lap. The game ended with Jack winning the last hand.

  “All right, time to split.” Mark stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna hit the bar.”

  “Why don’t you just come to bed?” Suzanne asked fretfully.

  “I’ll be back in a while.” Mark hurried out, Sammy in tow.

  Suzanne looked like she was about to cry. “I’m too zonked to follow him around anymore. Good night.” She went out the door.

  “I thought they’d never leave,” Jack said as he reached for me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Another One Bites the Dust

  A hunched old man with a scraggly beard leaned over a railroad track, hammering at an iron bar. He muttered to himself in French, paying no attention to me, but I could tell something horrible was about to happen. I awoke in a cold sweat and realized that someone was pounding on the door. Jack was conked out next to me. I looked at my watch. We weren’t leaving for Orlando until the afternoon; who in hell could it be? Pulling on my jeans, I went to see.

  Suz
anne was standing there. Her face was smeary with tears, her beautiful red hair matted.

  “What happened? Are you all right?” I asked, drawing her inside. “Is Mark okay?”

  Suzanne shook her head. “I’m leaving. I wanted to tell you before I go. I can’t take it anymore!” she wailed. I put my arms around her, feeling her tremble.

  “Are you sure? Do you want to stay here with us?”

  “He’s been fucking the makeup girl!” she cried. “Right under my nose! I’m used to him picking up groupies; one-night stands with his little Floor Whores. But he’s been screwing her the whole time!” She drooped onto my shoulder.

  “You’re right. You do need to leave him.” I felt awful for her, and also realized how this would change everything.

  Suzanne wiped her streaming eyes on her sleeve. “I hate to desert you in the middle of the cock-up about that newspaper article. Julia, listen to me. Mary Jo’s trying to get you banned from the tour. Before the show last night, she and Patrick spent half an hour trying to convince Jack that you planted it.”

  My stomach sank. “Can they ban me if Jack doesn’t agree to it?” God, this is turning into a nightmare!

  “I don’t think so, but don’t underestimate Mary Jo. She’s really devious; she’s stirred up all kinds of trouble before. She’s the one that hired that little makeup floozy in the first place.” Suzanne’s face crumpled. “This time I’m really going to leave him for good.”

  “I’m so sorry, Suzanne. But I think you’re doing the right thing. Should I get Jack up?”

  “No, let him sleep. He’d probably just try to talk me into staying.” She reached in her bag for a tissue and blew her nose. “I’m going to stay with my Mum for a while in London. I’ll call you when I’m back in New York. At least you and I can still be friends.”

  “Of course we can. We’ll have dinner when you get back.”

  “I’m sorry to bail on you. Just keep your eyes open. Don’t let Mary Jo pull any more of her stunts. I don’t know what’s wrong with that woman; she isn’t satisfied unless she’s making someone miserable.”

  We embraced again, and she left. Feeling abandoned, I got back into bed and looked at Jack’s slumbering face on the pillow. He’d made a joke about the article, but what was he really thinking? He was smooth enough to act like he didn’t believe I’d done it—but deep down, did he suspect me? And how would I convince him of my innocence without sounding like I was protesting too much? As Jack began to stir, I decided to just leave it for the time being. Instead, I told him about Suzanne’s defection.

  “She’s left him before. She’ll be back.” Jack swiped his face tiredly.

  His nonchalant tone pissed me off. “Don’t you think it’s awful the way Mark treats her? She’s his wife. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  Jack looked at me blearily. “Obviously it means something to you. Can we talk about this later? My head’s killing me.”

  “You never want to discuss anything difficult. Or that you don’t agree with.” I crossed my arms.

  “Last night I spent an hour defending you to Mary Jo and Patrick.” His voice got louder. “That was pretty difficult.”

  “Are you implying I spoke to that reporter?” I raised my voice to match his.

  “Give it a rest. I’m sick of the whole thing.” Jack sat up, pulled on a shirt and jeans, and to my dismay, stomped out.

  After several hours of tossing and turning, I finally drifted off while trying to read Anna K. Around two in the afternoon, I was awakened by the ringing phone.

  “Can you come get Jack? He isn’t feeling well,” Patrick said in a low voice. “You’d better take him back to your room.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I dunno, he seems kind of sick. You’d better hurry. Room 969.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” I hoped Jack wasn’t coming down with something bad; I knew a few of the roadies were MIA with the flu. Although we’d just quarreled, I didn’t wish that on him.

  I took the elevator to the ninth floor, found the room and tapped on the door, which was cracked. “Come in,” I heard Patrick say. Pushing it open, I stepped inside.

  Patrick was standing behind a naked woman sprawled face-down on the bed. A purple sleep mask covered her eyes, and next to her was a mirror crosshatched with lines of cocaine. Mark was sprawled back in a chair, nude beneath his robe.

  “Jack, it’s your turn!” Patrick called out. He smiled at me. “Want to join us? We’re playing Guess the Cock.”

  Before I could react, Jack came out of the bathroom. He stopped in his tracks. “What are—”

  “You bastard!” I shrieked. I shoved out the door, flew across the hall and took the stairs. Racing down the flights, I didn’t bother stifling my screams. My hands were shaking so much, I could hardly get the key in the lock. I ran into the bedroom and started throwing my things into a suitcase. You’ve got to get out of here before he comes back! I told myself. As tears dripped down my face, the thought occurred to me: I wonder if he’ll even bother to come downstairs.

  The door slammed. “Julia!”

  I turned to face him. “I’ll be out of your hair in five minutes. You can go back to your sleazy friends!”

  Jack came toward me, arms outstretched. “Calm down.”

  “Calm down? Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shouted.

  “I wasn’t doing anything.” He lifted his hands and dropped them to his sides. “Listen to me for a minute. I was just doing some blow. I figured I’d have one last binge before I go home.”

  “How can you expect me to believe that!” I felt like my brain was about to explode.

  “I didn’t do anything with her.” Jack sat on the edge of the mattress. “We were hanging out in Patrick’s room. She had on a robe the whole time; I was only there for the flake. I went to use the bathroom. When Patrick called out to me, I thought it was my turn to do a line. He must have set it up just to shock you.”

  “‘Shock’ doesn’t really do it justice.” My mind was working overtime. How am I supposed to know what’s the truth? God, is this just a slick lie?

  “I swear on my grandfather’s grave. I wasn’t doing anything.” Still sitting, he gazed up at me. Looking into his deep brown eyes, I tried to gauge his sincerity.

  “Listen, Julia. For whatever reason, Patrick sees you as a threat. He has, ever since he realized I was really into you.” Jack sighed. “He likes me to hang out with him on tour. My hotel room’s always been the party room, but now it’s not. He isn’t too happy about that.”

  “But he’s always with different people. Why does he care who you’re with?” I sniffled.

  “That’s just the point. He doesn’t care if I’m with a different girl every night. It’s one woman that makes him feel threatened.”

  Jack stood up and put his arms around me. “My band mate’s a cunt. And I shouldn’t have run out on you earlier. I was really hung over.” He leaned in to kiss me, and I let him part my lips. His tongue met mine gently, and then passionately. I was only just starting to believe him, but my body was way ahead of my mind.

  Jack pulled away and squeezed my waist. “I wouldn’t be with someone else when I’ve got my own woman right here with me.”

  I managed a wan smile.

  “Hot in here.” He took off his shirt. “Let me get you something.” He went to the fridge and opened a beer. I drank thirstily, my throat scraped raw from crying.

  “That’s my girl.” He pulled me close, and I could feel his heart thumping. Again I looked into his dark eyes lowered to mine, jet-black lashes brushing his high cheekbones.

  I guess I’m going to believe him. He said he wouldn’t do that while I was here. But does that mean he would if I wasn’t here?

  Jack’s lips brushed my neck. “Do you want to rest?” he murmured. “I don’t mean to jump you right after…”

  I slid my arms around him. “I don’t want to rest.”

  In a way, I was glad to get on the plane
back to New York. Going to the concert in Orlando without Suzanne made me sad, and I was stuck sitting next to Mary Jo in all her huffy disapproval. I’d tried to explain again that I hadn’t spoken to any reporters, but she turned her back on me, and I just sat there feeling dumb. I would miss Jack horribly for the next three weeks, and I wondered what he’d be up to when I wasn’t around. But I’d had it with his self-righteous manager and vile band mate.

  Chapter Twenty

  Just What I Needed

  Dermot Chase had promised me the entire first draft of his novel when I got back, so I was excited about meeting him for a drink that following Thursday. I was relieved that he was finally handing it in—especially since I’d fudged telling my boss that I hadn’t even seen the first chapter yet.

  I left the office at six and sprinted through the freezing March rain to the upscale bar that Dermot had suggested. I spotted him sitting at a table, looking suavely handsome in a dark suit and white shirt. His glossy brown hair fell in a wave over his forehead, giving him a boyish air despite his sophisticated duds. He got up as I approached, and extended his arms.

  “Ju-li-i-a.” He crooned my name to the tune of the John Lennon song. His voice wasn’t bad, but of course it was nothing compared to Jack’s. “Did you have a nice visit with your family?” He put his hands on my shoulders.

  “I had a good week.” Prepared for his Continental-style kiss this time around, I avoided bumping noses.

  “You do look relaxed.” His gaze swept up and down, making me flush. His flirting wasn’t really appropriate, but what could it hurt? Live a little, I told myself.

  “It was nice to have some time off. How was your week?” I asked. We took our seats at the small table, our knees touching. I started to move mine away, but then decided not to be so uptight.