I was sitting near the middle of the pack in an aisle seat right next to Harmony, who'd brought along her foster parents, Doug and Mindy Miller. I leaned closer to the girl and raised my voice so she could hear me over the hubbub.
"Your grandmother is loving every minute of this."
In keeping with her newfound wealth, Harmony sported a rhinestone-studded ring in her eyebrow. She laughed. "Whatever! You mean she would be loving this. You know, when I found out they thought she wrote it, I read the book. My grandmother must have been pretty cool."
I turned my attention back to the stage and to the woman who had lived—and died—in her sister's shadow. "Yeah," I said. "She really is."
By this time, Ella was holding up a hand for silence, and though it took a while coming, things finally settled down. A voice called out from the back of the theater. "Then who did write the book?"
Ella cleared her throat again.
"The truth is finally out," she said, and I swear, it must have been sheer coincidence because as she did, she looked to her right, exactly at the spot where Didi was standing. "We have an original copy of the manuscript, and its authenticity has been verified thanks to the age of the paper and a sample of the author's handwriting we were able to obtain." At this, she smiled in my direction. "The real author of So Far the Dawn is none other than Merilee's sister, Didi Bowman. It's Didi we have to thank for the story that has captured our hearts and our imaginations. Ladies and gentlemen…" Ella raised her champagne glass and, as one, the crowd got to its feet. "Here's to Didi Bowman."
"Didi Bowman!"
The name echoed off the high ceiling, and at the risk of sounding like a softie, I have to admit, the moment sent tingles through me.
I could tell it did the same for Didi. With tears in her eyes, she bowed and waved at the crowd, and as we downed our champagne, she blew kisses at the audience.
Maybe my champagne was too strong?
I looked from my glass to Didi, and even as I watched, she got fuzzy around the edges. Like a TV picture fading, the color of her gown got paler, her face blurred. After a moment, the only color I could see was a soft pink, like the sky immediately before sunrise.
Right before she winked out, Didi looked my way. "Thank you," she said, and when she turned to walk offstage, Kurt Benjamin was waiting in his Union officer's uniform. She wound her arm through his, waved, and the two of them disappeared into a wispy haze of pink light.
"Hey!"
The sound of Harmony's voice caused me to shake myself out of my daze. I saw that the rest of the audience was seated and the lights in the theater had gone down. She tugged at my sleeve. "The movie's going to start."
It did, and did Harmony wonder why I had tears in my eyes as the So Far the Dawn title rolled across the screen?
I could always say I had a soft spot for women in gowns and guys in uniform. Oh yeah, and horses.
By the time it was all over, it was late into the night. No longer secretary to the world's über-est über-author, I no longer had the benefit of limo service. I'd driven to the premiere and parked in a lot near the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, next door to the Science Center, and even though Harmony offered me a ride in the jazzy silver Jaguar she'd rented for Doug and Mindy (with the promise that they'd have one of their very own soon), I decided to walk to my car. The night was warm, and I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself. I needed a little downtime. I watched the moonlight glint off the lake and the distinctive pyramid-shaped Rock Hall, and took a look at the huge billboard outside the museum.
STILL ROCKIN' AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, it said, and it featured two pictures of the same rock group. One of the photos showed five old guys with pouchy stomachs and wide grins that flashed a message that said they were lucky to have lived through the sex and drugs and rock and roll years. The other photo showed four of the same guys—plus one different one—and it must have been taken decades earlier. In that photo, the rockers were kids with shoulder-length hair and a gleam in their eyes that said the sex and drugs and rock and roll… well, that's what it was all about.
I wouldn't have paid any attention.
Except for the guy who was in the old picture but not in the new one. The photo was ancient history, but facts were facts. And fact is, this guy was to die for.
He had long, dark hair, wavy and sleek. His eyes were dark, too, his chest was bare, and he was poured into a pair of leather pants tight enough to ignite every fantasy I'd ever had.
I smiled my approval. Right before I shivered in a sudden chilly breeze that brought with it a sweet and pungent aroma it was hard to place at first. Until I remembered the frat parties I'd attended back in college.
Pot.
I looked around for its source, and that's when I saw a man standing in the halo of a security light over near the door to the hall.
He had long, dark hair. It was wavy and sleek, and he was wearing leather pants that showed off an equally tight butt. His eyes were dark. His chest was bare.
My heart slammed against my ribs, and I looked from the man to the billboard and back again.
It couldn't be! And yet—
"Sure you don't want a ride?"
I hadn't realized a car had pulled up beside me, and I yelped my surprise and whirled to find Doug, Mindy, and Harmony in the Jag.
"Come on!" Harmony hung her head out the back window. "We're going out for burgers to celebrate. We'll bring you back later to pick up your car."
It was a kind and generous offer, but I wasn't exactly thinking straight. Instead of saying yes or no, I pointed at the billboard. "You guys are—"
I looked at Doug and Mindy—nice middle-aged people—and gulped down the old that had nearly escaped my lips. "You guys probably know more about rock and roll than I do. Who's that guy? The one in the front of the picture?"
Mindy leaned forward for a better look. "That's Damon Curtis. You know, the rock legend. He was with the group Mind at Large. I hear they're going to be giving some huge concert here at the Rock Hall. Gosh, Damon Curtis…" She studied the picture and smiled. "I haven't thought about him and his group forever. He's been dead for forty years."
Dead.
Yeah.
Kind of what I thought.
And exactly why I jumped into the Jag to make a quick exit. As we pulled away from the curb, I glanced back toward the hall.
Yeah, Damon Curtis was still there. And yeah, he was still the hottest thing I'd seen in as long as I could remember.
But in this case, hot was just a descriptive term. Because even before Mindy confirmed it, I suspected that this was one cold dude.
And he was watching me.
Oh, shit.
The Chick and the Dead Page 25
