Something tapped against Karen’s hand, and she looked down to see a piece of folded paper on their table. “Where did that come from?”
“Hmmmm?” Will was busy looking around the dark room.
Karen picked up the paper and opened it.
If you want Michael off your back, I got something you need to see. Meet me tomorrow at Uncle Nasty’s at 3.
It was signed Kitty.
Karen tapped Will on the arm. “Look at this.”
“Ladies and…well, ladies!” the announcer boomed. “Are you ready for the most dynamite singer on the planet Earth?!?”
The crowd screamed and the room went pitch dark.
Will fumbled with the paper. “Damn it. I dropped it.”
Karen bent and fished around for the paper. She pushed her purse at Will. “Here, put this over there, it’s in the way.” Her fingers brushed against the paper and she picked it up.
The announcer howled and whooped. “Get ready for a night you’ll never forget. Give it up for…Liza!”
Lights on the stage flashed and Will tucked Karen’s purse under his arm, squinting at the paper through the glare. “Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know. I felt something hit my hand and there it was.”
“Oh, go on!” Liza ran up the steps onto the stage, waving a hand to the wild applause. “I mean it, girl. Go on!” She pranced around the stage, clapping and waving her arms.
“You mean someone threw it down here?” Will stood and looked into the crowd behind their table.
“Now would you look at that?” Liza said. “I just got on stage and already I have a standing ovation.”
Immediately the palm tree over Will and Karen’s table lit up.
Karen blinked and Will jerked.
“Hey good looking,” Liza said. “I like that bag. Looks dynamite with your shoes.”
Will looked down at the purse tucked under his arm, then tossed it at Karen as if it was a bomb.
The crowd laughed.
“That's okay, sweetie. We all understand, don't we girls?”
The crowd whooped and Karen laughed. Will looked like he was torn between sinking through the floor and punching someone.
Karen reached up and tugged at his sleeve. “Sit. We'll sneak out when she starts to sing.”
He glared, but sat back down. “Kitty’s here, and I’m being held hostage by a drag queen. I hate this.”
“I know. It's like when all the waiters come over and sing happy birthday.”
“Yeah, exactly like that.”
Karen laughed.
“I'm glad you find this amusing.”
Liza had moved on to someone else, and Will darted a glance around the room. “I’d have a better view of the room from back there, by the restrooms,” he whispered into her ear.
Karen shivered at the feel of his breath against her ear, her neck. She tried to focus. “What do you think she has that we ‘got to see’?”
“Who knows? But whatever it is, this means she’s ready to talk to us.”
“Should we wait till tomorrow at three?”
Liza cued the back of the room and the music started.
Will shook his head, then leaned over to say into Karen’s ear, “Risky. That gives her that much more time to change her mind, time for something to happen.”
“Let’s sneak up to the top of the room while Liza is singing. Maybe we can hide out in the parking lot and waylay her,” Karen said.
“That’s a good idea, Lefty.”
While Liza belted out “All That Jazz.” Karen scanned the room. “Hey, look at that.”
“What? Did you see her?”
“Michael's new girlfriend has a skirt exactly like that. The pink and green one with the slit up the thigh.” She pointed to a large brunette at the back of the room. “Do you see what I'm saying now? The bimbo dresses like a drag queen. What can he possibly see in her?”
“Can we forget ex-husband bashing and fashion commentary for one moment and look for Kitty? Come on, let’s get out of here while Liza is occupied.”
He stood and took her hand.
Liza waved a hand toward the back of the room, and the song stopped abruptly. “Hey now. Where you going?”
Will froze and ducked his head.
“Now don't go getting all shy on me. You were going to walk out in the middle of my song, weren't you?” She waited a beat, then stood, bearing down on them. “Weren't you?!?”
Will shrank back down. “Sorry.”
“That is so rude! What if I came to your work and just snubbed you like that? How would that make you feel?”
She waited, eyebrows raised, her chin on her palm. “Well?”
“Umm…sorry,” Will said. “We just - “
“You just have more important things to do, don't you? You think it's just fine to walk right out of a girl's first song. The first damn song of the night! Like It’s. Nothing.”
“Give him hell, honey,” came a call from the front.
Will looked at Karen helplessly. She shrugged.
“Tell me what you've got to do that's so important you can't sit down and listen to one damn song?” Liza tossed her head and planted her fist on her hip.
“What should I do?” Will said out of the side of his mouth.
“Don’t ask me,” Karen said. “She’s talking to you.”
Catcalls and hoots came from the audience. Liza shushed them. “No, no, I want to hear what the man has to say for himself. Go ahead, handsome.” She cupped a hand to her ear. “I’m all ears.”
“Please go on,” Will said, gesturing toward the microphone. “You were doing great. Really. Fantastic.”
“Don’t you try to flatter me now, hot stuff. Isn’t that just like a man, girls? Treat you like dirt and then try to sweet talk their way out of it.” The crowd roared with laughter. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, doll.”
“Umm…” Will looked desperately around.
“We were leaving because I begged him to take me home and make love to me,” Karen shouted, standing.
Will swiveled his head in her direction and stared.
The crowd went wild, and Karen shrugged.
Liza let the crowd settle down, then nodded. “In that case, allow me to apologize, sweet thing. If I’d known I was interrupting a man getting lucky, I would have let you go in peace.” She turned and strutted back toward the center of the stage. “But if you ask me, I think she’s the one getting lucky.”
The crowd erupted again, and Liza cued the music to start. As soon as it did, Karen grabbed Will’s hand.
“Come on, let’s go.”
He wasn’t about to argue with her. They made their way through the maze of tables.
“Everybody say night-night to the pretty boy and his lady,” Liza called out. “Give her a good one for us, honey!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Karen waited until they were in the parking lot before she started to laugh. But when she did, she didn’t stop.
Will let her laugh. It was a release of tension more than real humor, but he didn’t care. She needed the release, and he needed to hear her laugh.
“Do you still want to wait for Kitty out here?” she asked when she finally caught her breath.
“I think I’ve had enough of He’s Not Here for one night,” Will said. “Tomorrow at 3 sounds like a plan to me.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here. I don’t want to have to rescue you again.”
She laughed so hard she could barely walk. Will took the keys. “I think I’d better drive.”
“Not a bad idea,” Karen said. “With everything that’s happened today – hell, this week! – I think I’m in need of a small break.”
She sat back in the seat and let her mind wander through the day. She looked at her watch. She had tried to call Cait three times over the course of the day, but hadn’t gotten an answer. That wasn’t so unusual; Cait kept the phone silent while she was in class and often forgot to t
urn the ringer back on. But Karen would feel a lot better once she talked to her.
She would call Terri’s house as soon as she got home. Should she tell Cait about the call from Larry this morning? No, not over the phone. Something like that had to be said face to face. And maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to tell Cait at all. Maybe Kitty had something that really would get Michael off their backs and make this whole nightmare go away.
What would Kitty want in return? Karen couldn’t even imagine what she might have that a stripper/drug planter might want. Money? She didn’t have much, but Kitty was welcome to every dime if it meant Cait stayed at home.
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t realize Will was driving to her house. She sat up and said, “I thought I’d take you home first.”
“I thought I’d take you home. You’re going to need help with those muffins.”
“Oh lord. I forgot all about the muffins.” She leaned back again and sighed. “Oh well, I don’t even care right now. Kitty has something we ‘got to see.’ Things are looking up. Don’t you think things are looking up?” She didn’t want to get her hopes up if she didn’t have good reason to.
“Things are definitely looking up,” he said. “Why would she send that note if she wasn’t ready to talk to us? I’m sure word has gotten back to her that we’re looking for her. If she were completely happy with whatever Michael’s paid her, we’d never hear from her. Obviously, she’s not happy. Which means we swoop in for the kill.”
“Grrrrrrr,” Karen said, like a cat after a mouse.
“Exactly.” He turned to her and smiled, those white teeth flashing in the dashboard lights.
The moment stretched out, both of them jubilant over the prospect of good news from Kitty, relieved that they’d finally gotten a break. Karen shifted, tucked her knees up on the seat and slid her hands between her knees. “I’m not going to lose my daughter.”
“Absolutely not. Excuse me. Abso-frigging-lutely not.”
She smiled and rested her head on the seat back. For a soft moment she allowed herself to daydream that they were more than just partners thrown together to save their respective necks, that she and Will were really friends. More than friends.
In any other circumstances, she thought, they could be. They got along great. She enjoyed his company and knew that he enjoyed hers. If Michael wasn’t between them…
During her marriage she’d tried not to think about how different her life would be if she’d never met Michael Way. She had a nice life and no right to complain. She had two healthy, wonderful daughters that she adored even when they irritated the hell out of her. She had a roof over her head, a nice roof. She had work she enjoyed. Good friends. Her old body back, finally. She had so much more than a lot of people had.
So what if she didn’t have that romantic kind of love movies were made about, songs written for? You couldn’t have everything. Yes, there was a time a few years ago when she started wondering what if. What if she’d never met Michael? She would have been free to meet someone she was actually compatible with. Someone who would like her, enjoy her company, understand her. Someone fun, who would get her jokes, who would look at her with love in his eyes and not as some kind of life sentence. Someone who would love her. Someone she would love in return.
But she wouldn’t have Pam and Cait then, would she? In fact, there were just as many possible bad outcomes to the what if game as there were good ones. Maybe she would have met someone worse than Michael. Someone who didn’t tolerate her at all, instead of just barely, as Michael did. Or she could have remained alone. No kids. No family. Just her and a house full of cats.
But during that time when she’d allowed herself to wonder, she found herself growing more and more resentful of Michael. For years she’d felt guilty that she’d forced him to marry her. Not that she’d wanted to get married when she found out she was pregnant. But everyone – meaning her parents and Michael’s parents – agreed that marriage was the best choice. It was understood that it was best for her, of course. After all, how else would someone like her end up with someone like Michael Way?
But when she allowed her mind to invent a different life for herself, she realized that not only could things have been better for Michael if they’d never met, they could possibly have been better for her, too.
That was a dangerous road to go down, she’d decided back then. A waste of time. What was done was done, she wasn’t divorcing Michael because she’d promised in front of God and her family that she’d be with him till the day she died. So what if she was in the prime of her life and if she waited any longer she would be too old to catch a man’s eye? No sense dwelling on it.
So she’d bought a pet store. A much more sensible choice than divorce. She made up her mind to quit thinking about what if.
But now…now she watched Will drive and wondered what would have happened if that night when she’d gone to the frat party and met Michael she’d met Will instead. What if she’d spent the past twenty years with someone she liked being around? What if she’d spent the past twenty years with someone she could actually love?
She sat bolt upright and blinked. Someone she could love?
It was too soon to be thinking about love. She wasn’t even officially divorced from Michael yet, and thoughts about love had no business being inside her head. She wanted to tilt her head and knock it out like she would a few drops of water. Someone she could love? That was…that was just…
“What’s the matter?” Will asked. He reached over and placed a warm hand on her knee.
Aww. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so farfetched that she could feel something for someone like Will. Something significant. Something important. Not love, necessarily. But something. Something…well, she wasn’t sure what. But it wouldn’t be love. Probably.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I just wondered what a drunk apricot is like. You don’t suppose they’re mean drunks, do you?”
He shook his head as he pulled into her driveway. “Not on brandy. Tequila maybe, but not brandy.”
He grinned that crooked, charming grin, and suddenly she didn’t care what label she could put on what she felt. Whatever it was, it was good. Her stomach had been in knots for three days straight and it looked like things might actually be turning around. Michael was not going to win this battle, and she was not going to lose custody of her daughter. There was a sexy man driving her car into her garage, getting ready to help her make muffins. Why? She didn’t think it was because he got off on baking.
And she was a big girl who could make her own decisions. If she wanted to relax and enjoy herself for once, she would. To hell with love and being responsible and all the rest of it. Tonight she was going to pop a few drunk apricots in her mouth and relax.
“Let me give Cait a quick call before we get started,” she said as she dropped her purse on the kitchen table. “Her Geometry midterm was today and she was nervous about it. Of course, she probably wouldn't tell me if she aced it. Or flunked it.” She dialed Terri’s number while she tore the plastic off the disposable muffin pans she'd bought.
She frowned when she heard the answering machine, then realized it was Friday night and Terri and her family would all be at the high school football game, as would Cait. She left a quick message and asked Terri to have Cait call her when they got back.
Will studied Midge's recipe. “Your friend is a little uptight.”
“Tell me,” Karen said, dragging the flour canister across the counter toward her. “I'm sure her instructions are very detailed. And I'm sure my muffins won't be quite up to snuff. But do I care?” She smiled and sifted two cups of flour into the bowl.
Will drew a knife out of the block on the counter and began chopping almonds. His hands were strong, long fingers with square, blunt tips. She remembered how those fingers had felt on her breast. For a moment she briefly wondered what it would be like to be one of the oh-so-many dancers she’d seen over the last two days, blatantly advertising h
er sexuality, inviting a man to openly appreciate and admire her. To just be done with all the pretense and subtleties and say “Look at me, I'm sexy, don't you want to touch me? Don't you want to be with me?”
While she mixed she imagined doing a little pole dance for Will. Knowing her, she'd be so nervous her palms would sweat and she wouldn't be able to hold on to it. She would sprawl in the floor and he'd end up feeling sorry for her, not hot for her. But…maybe she could be sexy. Michael had always been repulsed by her attempts to spice things up in the bedroom. Mr. Once-A-Month, Missionary-Position-Only Michael.
To hell with Michael. He wanted her to stay home, stay fat and wear ugly clothes.
Maybe it was all the naked people she’d been watching over the past two days, but she couldn't quit thinking about Will and the kiss they’d shared the other night. His lips. His hands. How her heart had pounded and her breath come short.
He was silent as he chopped almonds, and she wondered if he was wishing he had just gone home and let her handle this. Probably for someone like him, playing bake sale wasn't on the list of most exciting nights of his life. “You don't really have to stay, you know.”
A voice inside her complained that if he went, she'd be alone. She firmly said to that voice, Yeah? So what? Grow up, and smiled at Will. “I know this can't be very exciting for you.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I wouldn't call it exciting, exactly, but I'm not ready to go yet.”
She couldn't take her eyes off his hands. Sure hands. Long fingers.
“What? Am I doing it wrong? Her note says one-eighth of an inch.”
“No, no, that looks fine. It's just…”
“Just what? Are you getting worried again?”
“No, actually I was just thinking how long it's been since I've tried to come on to a man.”
His hand froze in mid-chop and he watched her, one eyebrow raised.
“I mean, I never was very good at it, and I've been married since I was nineteen so I missed out on some fairly important training.”
He laid the knife on the counter.
“I don't even have a clue what to say. Should it be like an invitation? You are cordially invited to spend the night in my bed. Or maybe more like a clambake or backyard picnic kind of tone. Come on over, join us for a night of cool drinks and hot fun. Bring a cooler and your beach towel.”
Her Something Impetuous Page 19
