My Boogie Woogie Bugle Guy

by D. L. Jackson

  “Color guard? That’s a long way from Green Beret. So, how did you know Geordie?”

  She sank back into the chair, letting it swallow her while she resumed her previous pose, with her leg draped over the arm, and what a nice leg it was. The other wasn’t half bad either.

  “And?”

  Huh? Frank blinked, jerking his attention back to her face. “He came into the NCO club one night while I played for a retirement party. You know, the usual ho-hum sheet music you see at those functions. Half the crowd looked catatonic, and nothing we tried seemed to put any pep in them. Then your brother and some of his buddies walked in. He didn’t bother to ask, but hopped up on the stage and took over like he was part of the band, pounding out the drum solo for Bennie Goodman’s Sing, Sing, Sing. We were friends from then on.”

  “God, it livened that placed up. I think I saw the lace on more old women’s panties that night, than I ever care to see again. He had them hopping. I didn’t think those old broads could move like that.” He chuckled. “Your brother was a good guy, a damn fine drum player, and funny as hell.”

  “Yeah, he was. I can believe he got up there and did that. He could play about any instrument you put in his hands and always loved to be center stage. He could sing, too, had a set of killer vocals, but mostly rock songs.” She smiled. “Sometimes he’d break away from the norm and would hit the jazz clubs and take over the scene. Whenever his band did that, I made a point of being there. They put on a show you didn’t want to miss, made it bigger than life. I’ve always favored the big band brass and sass—Geordie, too. My mother swore the two of us were born in the wrong decade.” She sipped her coffee and looked over the rim at him with enormous green eyes. “So, was that why you were in the cemetery?”

  “Yes and no.”

  She furrowed her brow.

  “Actually, I was looking for you.”

  “In the cemetery?”

  “I didn’t know your first name, only that Geo had a twin sister. I tried searching for you in the phone book, but do you have any clue how many Daniels there are in the Boston area and outlying towns?”

  “So you went to the cemetery on the anniversary of his death, hoping to find me.”

  “Geo said you were close. I figured you’d show. Got tired of waiting, decided to have a drink in his honor, and one thing led to another. I must have fallen asleep on the roof. When I came to, it was dark, and I felt like playing.”

  “Yeah, if you call that playing. So….” She leaned forward, holding his gaze. “Why were you looking for me again?”

  “Yeah, that would be because of the letter. I guess Geo made arrangements for us to meet before he died. It’s in the saddlebags on my bike.”

  She perked up. “Geordie wrote you a letter?”

  “No, it came from a Madame Eve, who runs a business called 1Night Stand. There are tickets to a party at the Castillo Hotel in downtown Boston tonight. A big band era bash.”

  “One-night stand. What?”

  Frank put his hand up. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’d like to take you, regardless where it does or doesn’t go. Geo went out of his way, and according to the invitation, to a great deal of expense to set us up. Let’s not disappoint him. I’d like to honor his request. Come dance with me. We’ll have a good time and remember Geo while we’re at it. When else do you get to dress in forties clothes and cut loose?”

  Her face bore a wary expression. “I want to see this letter first.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t get one.”

  “I….” Her gaze shifted over to a pile of mail on her table. She got up, walked over to the stack and began to sift through it, stopping on an ivory envelope with gold trim, a twin to the one he’d received. She set her coffee cup down and held it up. “This?”

  “That’s what mine looks like.”

  She stroked her finger along the embossed print and tapped it on the table before tossing it back down. “Okay. It’s a date.” She turned to him and smiled. “I have to go for a run. Why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ve left a new toothbrush by the sink, and I apologize for the girly soap ahead of time. It’s all I’ve got. Once I get back, we’ll go get your bike.” She grabbed an MP3 player, plugged her headphones into her ears, and went out the front door.

  Frank threw the blanket off and hustled to the window to watch her run away. His cock began to throb. “Okay, Gracie. It’s a date, and I’m going to make it a night you won’t forget.” He turned and moved for her bathroom.

  ***

  Grace jogged down the street, her mind racing. Where had Geordie gotten the money to pay for the date? Frank said it had been expensive. Was that why he’d sold his Camaro? He’d claimed it was because he was always deployed and couldn’t enjoy it. Had he used the money to set up this date? That rat bastard. It would be like him to waste a pile of money on something like that.

  She’d yell at him if she could, but even if he were alive, he wouldn’t listen. Frank seemed like a nice enough guy when sober, and he shared her love of big band music, even played a trumpet. Yeah, the sample she’d received wasn’t great, but if the Army had him playing for heroes’ funerals, he must be really good when not shit-faced.

  For the life of her, she didn’t know why she’d agreed to this one-night stand. Certainly not to get laid, not that the thought didn’t appeal. It had been a while since she had, and the guy wasn’t anyone she’d kick out of bed. Still, it felt weird, going out on a date with her brother’s buddy. But then again, maybe setting this up was his way of telling her he’d approved of Frank.

  At this point, she could only guess. So, she told herself she did this for her brother, to honor his memory on this anniversary of his death. She’d go out with his friend, someone he liked and trusted. That’s what Geordie would have wanted. He’d certainly be pissed if he knew she’d been crying over his grave. That so wasn’t his style. This date, the music and party, that’s the way Geordie liked to cut loose.

  But what to wear? She didn’t have any of those twirly skirts she used to wear to the jazz concerts, had gotten rid of all the dresses. She did have the heels though. The shoes’ style was very 40s retro. Red heels, red panties, and she’d set the night ablaze.

  With a good dancer, she could really tear up the dance floor, and maybe that had been Geordie’s game. He knew how she loved it.

  She stopped in the middle of the street. Shit. She had to get the shoes back from Maggie.

  ***

  Frank picked up his phone and dialed the directory. “Boston. Florist shops. Thanks.” He let them dial. As soon as a friendly voice said Good morning, Boston Florals, he spoke up. “My name is Frank Winters. I’d like to order a dozen—red. Have them delivered to the Castillo Hotel. Thanks. Yeah, got it right here.” He pulled out his wallet and read her his credit card. Next he dialed the number for the Castillo from a business card he’d tucked away. “Can I get the name of the band playing tonight? I appreciate it.” Frank smiled and hung up, stuffing the phone in his pocket. He’d showered, changed, and left a note for Grace that he’d be back to pick her up for the date later.

  Only one last thing to do. Wash her car before she got back. He looked under the sink, found a bucket, some cleaning solution, and headed outside. Three steps into the sunlight, Frank froze as he stared at the squad car.

  She was a police officer? That might be why he’d had that dream about being cuffed to the bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Not good. What had he said to her while intoxicated? Certainly his drunken mind would have concocted something sordid. He’d always loved women in uniform, and seeing her had to have triggered some response. His imagination ran wild with the possibilities, none of them good.

  Since he was here, and she hadn’t hauled him in, he couldn’t have been too vulgar. Well, he could do one thing to help the situation. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the bright light, and headed for the mess he’d made.

  Fifteen minutes later, the vinyl flooring in her car was spotle
ss, the smell gone, and he’d taken the extra step to wash the exterior. Thanks to the whiskey, he didn’t have a clue how much he had to make up for. It was better to start making up for it now. What a stupid thing he’d done.

  Nothing to be proud of. He’d made a hell of a mess and it was amazing he hadn’t ended up in jail. The woman had the patience of a saint. It was hard to believe a woman like that would be single. Lucky him, Geo thought to fix him up with his sister. Hell knew he wouldn’t have had the courage to ask her out himself, and best buddies didn’t date their friend’s sister. With a press of his thumb, he called a cab to take him to the cemetery.

  As Frank tucked his phone away, he felt he was being watched and looked up. Across the street, a curtain was drawn back and an old woman with fluffy white hair like a giant cotton ball, peered out. That would be the neighborhood watch. He lifted his hand and waved. The curtain dropped shut. Wait until he came to pick Grace up; he’d really give her something to gawk at. The Castillos had gone all out, hiring 1940s limos from all over the country to bring their guests to the party. There’d be chatter for weeks in the retirement homes.

  Chapter Three

  “You have a date to a forties swing party?” Maggie started laughing. “Omigod. Could this guy be any more perfect for you? I can’t wait. We’ll give you one of those finger waves, no, a Veronica Lake up-do. We have to go shopping, hit the thrift shops. You’ll need a dress. We can take a grease pencil and draw lines down the back of your legs like they used to when nylon was rationed, and there’s got to be some vintage—”

  “I need the shoes.”

  “But I just got them.” Grace didn’t need to look her in the face to know she was pouting. Her tone wore it better than any expression ever could.

  “Please. You can have them for keeps when I’m done.”

  “You’re serious about this date.”

  “Yes. Something about him feels…I don’t know.”

  “Right?”

  “Maybe.” Grace eyed her watch. Four hours. Not a lot of time to throw an outfit together, but with Maggie on the job, there’d be no need to panic. Besides, she’d wanted to talk to her since she’d found out about the setup, get something off her mind that had been bothering her. “Do you suppose Geordie knew he was going to die?”

  “Grace Daniels, why the hell would you say something like that?”

  “It seems like this date was planned as a going away gift. He sold his car, set me up with his best friend. Seriously, it was never like Geordie to let any of his friends near me. He was so protective. It’s like he’s still trying to take care of me. Frank’s the kind of guy I always told my brother I wanted to marry. Funny. Strong. Loves music. It’s not that Frank feels right—he feels comfortable, like I’ve known him all my life, even though I only talked to him for half an hour.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know what it is,” Grace blew out a breath. “Weird, how I feel so connected. For now, I’m focusing on the date and having a good time. It’s been forever since I’ve done that.” Her stomach tumbled in nervousness. Frank said it didn’t have to include sex, the one-night stand. He was a total stranger and yet—he wasn’t. The sex part made her the most nervous.

  “It’s about time. I’m glad you’re coming out of your shell and going out.” Maggie grabbed her arm. “We’d better get going. We need to get you decked out for a party.”

  ***

  Two hours later Grace stood in front of the mirror, staring at an image from the past. She wore a navy sailor’s style blouse with a square collar in the back and a tie at the front. Her hair was down, but drawn up at the sides and full on top. The white A-line skirt flared out from her waist. It was the kind of fabric that would spin with her as she moved across the floor.

  “Holy shit, Grace. You look like a silver screen movie star.”

  She smoothed the fabric. A nervous twist in her stomach forced her to swallow hard. The last time she even remotely looked like this, she’d been out on the town with her brother and their friends. It had been two months after they’d moved to Boston to help him grow his music career. Their mother and father told them the city could be dangerous, but their words had gone in one ear and out the other, never taken seriously. They were from a small town and knew nothing about the city. It had a heartbeat. Excitement. So different from the rural life she’d grown up in. And she’d been foolish to ignore their warnings.

  That night, a man recently paroled attacked her when she’d walked down the block to her car. If not for her brother, who’d stepped out of the club and into the alley for a smoke at the same time the man grabbed her, she’d be dead. Her attacker had managed to rip her top and pull her behind a dumpster. When he’d shoved her to the ground, she’d hit her head and blacked out. Geordie claimed he’d gotten no further, and the doctors confirmed it. Still, it had damaged her more than physically.

  The attempted rapist put her in the hospital. Geordie nearly put him in the ground, was arrested and tried for grievous bodily harm. The judge went easy on her brother, citing that he was defending his sister and his actions justifiable, though he’d gone overboard and nearly beaten the man to death after he’d pulled him off her. Even so, the judge didn’t let him completely off the hook. He stated that Geordie had anger issues he needed to get a grip on before they landed him in prison.

  Since her brother was only twenty-one at the time, still young and moldable, the judge ordered him to attend a special boot camp designed to help him get control. If he did, the assault charge would be dismissed. Since the camp was run by ex-Marine Recon and former Navy SEALS, the idea was they’d work the anger out of him. With Geordie, they’d only served to show him his calling, where he belonged.

  Even though the rapist didn’t succeed, Geordie became overprotective, calling home whenever he could, having his friends keep an eye on her when he couldn’t. Rarely was there a day Grace could step out of her house without a tail.

  When Geordie joined the Army, he paid for self-defense classes, insisting she go. At first she’d dug her heels in, tired of the babysitting, but when he told her he needed her to be okay when he wasn’t around and gave her his infamous puppy-dog eyes, she conceded and joined the local dojo.

  Before that, Grace had withdrawn into herself, hiding at home, not enjoying life the way she used to. If not for her martial arts classes four days a week, she would have never left her apartment. Her sensei, a police officer in Lowell figured out that she was hiding, convinced her to stop being a victim and do something to help victims. Now she served as an officer in Westford, where her grandparents left her a house, and loved every minute of it. Still, she hadn’t had the courage to date again, especially without Geordie around to watch out for her.

  “Did you hear me?” Maggie poked her in the shoulder. “You look freaking gorgeous. You’ll blow his mind.”

  Grace smiled into the mirror. “I will, won’t I? All right, Bugle Guy, come and get it if you dare.” On the outside she was all gusto. On the inside, she was a train wreck waiting to happen. Could she do it?

  ***

  Frank adjusted the khaki green tie. His grandfather’s uniform from WWII hadn’t been worn for over seventy years, but was as serviceable as the day he’d stored it. He’d dropped it off at the dry cleaners, asking them to put creases in the tan pants that could cut anyone who touched them. And they had. It looked sharp, crisp. With Frank’s medals—it had a modern touch.

  His grandfather had been a sergeant, like Frank, and like Frank, he’d been a man of stature, tall, broad across the shoulders. The uniform fit him like it had fit his grandfather. If he didn’t know the year, he’d swear it was 1942 and he could hear the boogie woogie brass of Glen Miller’s In the Mood belting out in the background. He’d never been this excited about a date. The woman was beyond perfect, more than he ever would have imagined she could be. Funny he wouldn’t have believed it a year before when Geo tried to set him up. He’d been the first one to throw up
his hands and say, whoa. Now that he’d met her, he’d have a hard time not going after her. What man in his right mind wouldn’t?

  “I want you to meet my sister,” Geo said. “When I get back.”

  “Sorry, no can do. You don’t date your buddy’s sister. It’s in the code.”

  “I’m serious, Frank. I think you’d be good for her. She needs a guy like you.”

  “A guy like me?”

  “Exactly like you.” He slapped him on the back and grinned. “You’re perfect for her. It’s too late to change your mind anyway. I’ve already set you up.”

  “Fucker.”

  A sense of panic had seized him. Friends were important to him, and George was no exception. Sisters were off limits, and Geo’s sister was more than his sister, she was his twin, and that made her even more forbidden. He’d figured he had a whole year to talk his way out of it since Geo would be deployed for ten months.

  When Geo was killed in action two months later, Frank had forgotten about the setup until the letter arrived. Hadn’t that been a surprise? At first he’d been pissed, and then he realized this was the friend who thought he was worthy of his sister, wanted her to meet him bad enough he’d sold his 2011 Camaro and paid for a fancy dating service to give them the night of their lives. How could he say no? Not with the tickets in hand and the date arranged.

  It wasn’t without a catch. The only thing the woman who went only by Madame Eve required him to do, was introduce himself to Ms. Daniels. An address or first name would have been nice, but she’d said that George specifically requested he figure it out. If he’d listened to enough details about his sister, he’d know how to find her. Right. He needed to learn to be a better listener. Hell he didn’t even know what town she lived in. Somewhere near Boston.

  So he took leave the day before the anniversary of Geo’s death and hauled ass across five states on his Indian 841, to the cemetery, figuring if they were as close as Geo claimed, she’d be there. And so he’d waited, and waited, and after eight hours decided to have a toast to his friend and a drink to calm his nerves, and then another toast, and so on, and so on. By the time she came along, he’d polished off a good portion of his liquid courage and didn’t make quite the first impression he’d hoped to.