2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office (11 page)

"So what's it like running away to paradise?" I asked, feeling the lyrics to a song bubbling up in my brain.

Jack leaned in. "People ask me that all the time. 'What's it like, Jack, to run away and live your dreams?' You know what I tell 'em?" he asked with a conspiratorial smile.

I smiled back and shook my head no.

"It's not much different than before. Two main differences are it's warmer, and I don't do shit other people want me to do for money," he finished with a nod.

I sat back, letting Jack's idea of paradise sink in.

"I see you're disappointed." He shrugged. "Folks are sometimes. I guess they expect me to say it's changed my life, and I'm the happiest man on the planet. Truth is, I'm about as happy as I was before. Only I'm not pissed off at the weather eight months out of the year, and I only take orders from my wife instead of four levels of middle management assholes."

I finished my drink. "I'm not disappointed. I'm just letting what you said sink in. You have an interesting take on life."

He nodded and took my glass. "I'll take that as a compliment," he said, mixing me up another Barbie doll.

Mark came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed my bare neck. "You talk the bartender into running off with you yet?"

I giggled. "No, he was telling me the meaning of life."

"I can't wait to hear this one," he laughed, sitting down beside me.

"The secret is to live somewhere warm and don't do shit other people want you to do for money."

Mark thought about this for a second. "He's a wise man."

Jack leaned on the bar. "When your friends gettin' here, Di?" he asked.

I heard the crunch of gravel and knew our quiet moment was at an end. "Any minute now."

"What'cha figuring on playing tonight?" he asked.

One of the golfers called across the bar, "Hey, do you know 'The Rum Song?'"

Jack made a face and waved his hand dismissively. "I can't stand the guy who sings that song. Just gets under my skin."

Mark snorted in his beer.

"Yeah, me too," I said as a big black limo pulled up to the bar.

Jack watched with interest as Carlos and his entourage piled out. Andre, looking casual in a pale green oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and crisp linen slacks, was the first to emerge. He offered a hand to Carlos' sister, Margarite, who was dressed in an elaborate cocktail dress complete with high heel designer shoes and a fluffy dog with a pink tint to its fur.

I was surprised to see David following closely behind. He was supposed to have been on a plane back home today.

Mark groaned next to me.

Finally, Carlos stepped out sporting a loose white linen shirt and tight black skinny jeans with black boots. I wondered if he had a knife in one of his boots. He shook out his long, black hair and gave me an eager wave.

Behind him, were Roger and Phil. I gave them a dark glare.

"That guy looks just like a pirate," said Jack.

"Yep," Mark replied. "And he acts like one too."

"Those your friends?" Jack asked me.

"It's a little more complicated than just friends."

"It's Carlos Rodriguez," I heard one of the golfers whisper loudly across the bar.

"Who?" Jack asked, turning around to the other side of the bar.

"'The Rum Song' guy!" said the golfer more loudly.

"Well, I'll be damned," murmured Jack. "Is that who's playing with you tonight?"

I nodded.

"I gotta make some calls!" he cried, dashing under the bar and heading for his house.

"So much for him not liking Carlos," Mark observed.

"Hey, this is a business opportunity."

"Yeah, get the cameras ready. He's going to have plenty to sell to the tabloids tomorrow."

Carlos was reaching for my hand. "My lovely, Diana," he said, kissing me on both cheeks. "I believe you've met my sister, Margarite?"

Margarite smiled sweetly. "Jes. I am so sorry I took your guitar," she said. "It made such a mess, no? An' poor Carlos didn't get his present." She made a tsking sound.

Carlos smiled. "You see how my sister dotes on me?"

David was standing at Margarite's side. "Well, cuz, I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you. Seeing my dad again just made me lose my mind, I guess."

Mark was grinding his teeth next to me. "I accept your apology, David," he said formally. "Weren't you supposed be on your way home today?"

David waved his hand dismissively. "Changed my flight. Plenty of time to head back to the States, right Margarite?"

Margarite blushed prettily. "Senior David is sech a gentleman. An' he knows so much about business. Doesn't he Carlos?"

"Quite the wizard," Carlos replied off-handily.

Mark ran his hand through his hair. He looked ready to explode.

Phil and Roger were standing back, waiting for Carlos to finish.

"So the guys have something for you, Diana," Carlos said, waving the two forward. They handed Carlos an envelope, and he handed it to me.

I looked down at the envelope and then up at him again. "What's this?"

"Why your share of the booty, of course!" said Carlos, clapping his hands together like a kid at Christmas.

I narrowed my eyes and shook the envelope at Roger and Phil. "I don't want your hush money!" I cried. The bar suddenly went quiet. A teenager a couple of tables away started filming me with her iPhone.

"It's your cut," said Roger, coming forward. "From the first quarter of sales minus the development costs incurred in L.A. last summer."

I made a face. "Convenient that you decide to give me my fair share after I chased you all the way to Puerto Rico. Don't stand here and make it sound like you were just filling out the proper forms before letting me know you'd stolen my song!"

The crowd, which had been steadily gathering, uttered a collective gasp.

Phil chimed in, "Our agreement clearly stated that we would pay you royalties forty-five days after the end of each quarter. We are giving this to you early as a show of good faith."

Mark took the envelope out of my hand and opened it up.

"You shouldn't have let it come to this. I may mess a lot of things up, but I sure as hell wrote a best-selling song. Why couldn't you have included me?" I demanded.

"We screwed up, Diana," Roger said. "We were pissed about Billy and scrambling to replace him on the tour. We found Carlos and ran with him. We had no idea until about two months ago that this song had legs." Which was musician speak for a song that has enough momentum to move up the charts. Unknown singers with unknown songs didn't have much in the way of legs.

"We used Puerto Rico as a spring board to see if we had enough for a full tour," Phil added. "Never expected it to get this big this quick."

Carlos smiled and nodded his head, as if he'd always known.

Mark whistled. "This is her cut from one quarter?"

Roger nodded. "Look guys," he began in his best sales pitch voice, "we love the idea of you two doing some songs together. But as you can see, this thing is big. Carlos is red hot right now, and we don't want to mess up a good thing by making a lot of changes."

"The money is irrelevant," Carlos said grandly. "Diana must be included."

I smiled appreciatively at Carlos.

Mark waved the check in my face. "Hold on. You need to see this," he said, handing it to me.

I stared at the check and then at the paperwork that accompanied it. Mark led me to a grouping of tables that the waitress had assembled for us and handed me my drink. I took a long sip.

"I can't believe this. Fifty-seven thousand dollars?" I asked.

"Well, that's minus the expenses in L.A.," Roger added apologetically.

"This is just from Puerto Rico sales?"

Phil replied, "Yes, the song's starting to catch on stateside, but most of it's from the sales here. We haven't even started marketing in the U.S. yet."

I glanced around the room, still reeling from the windfall of money. I took a deep breath. Maybe I should just sit back and let Carlos do all the work, collect checks, and write more songs.

Jack came over to the table. "Nice to have island royalty here tonight," he joked to Carlos. "You guys going to play us a few tunes. I have quite a crowd stopping by later."

I heard some of the drunk golfers chanting, "Rum Song, Rum Song."

"Look, Carlos," Roger began, flashing his uber-white teeth, "like we said before, we think it's an awesome idea to include Diana. But we think it'll be confusing for fans if a girl shows up singing the song next to you and telling everyone it's her song."

I stared at him for a few seconds. I couldn't believe what he had just said. "It is my song!" I cried.

Roger waved his hands. "Let's not re-hash that again, Diana. We know it. We just don't think that Carlos' fans are ready to know it."

I stood up and walked over to my guitar. I pulled it out and strummed a few chords of "The Rum Song." "Maybe we should let the fans decide. Get your guitar Carlos."

"Aye, aye, m'lady!" Carlos yelled and grabbed his case.

Phil had developed a tick over his right eye. "Please don't use pirate lingo in public, Carlos," he said between clinched teeth.

"Maybe we should let the fans decide about that, too," I said.

We positioned ourselves on the bar seats in front of the pass-through window, so the golfers on the other side had a clear view. I strummed a few cords of "The Rum Song," and the audience of twenty or so roared to life. As I picked through the opening notes, I saw a line of cars slowing to a crawl as they passed by. It looked like more patrons were on their way.

I leapt into the first verse, followed by Carlos in Spanish on the next. We harmonized on the chorus, alternating between my edgy tone and his island vibe. The golfers behind provided backup vocals and pounded the signature beat on the bar top with their fists. It was the most fun I'd ever had performing that song. And, as I glanced over at Carlos, I realized this was exactly where I was supposed to be. Things happen for a reason, don't they?

We finished the song with a flourish, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Carlos held up his hands to quiet them.

"Thank you so much for being here to see our debut performance," he began. "I have the honor of introducing you to Diana Hudson, the writer of 'The Rum Song.'"

The audience clapped and cheered. Jack gave me a catcall from behind the bar. I felt like I was back at McGlynn's, the Annapolis bar where I played every week. I looked into the audience that had continued to grow as we played. Mark caught my eye and gave me a big smile. Andre gave me a thumbs-up. Roger and Phil gave me their greatest compliment: their heads were bent together deep in conversation, no doubt plotting our debut concert.

I accompanied Carlos on a couple more songs and even ran through several more of my originals with Carlos adding backup vocals. An hour in, I turned our makeshift stage over to Carlos to take a bathroom break and check in with Mark.

Andre caught me along the dark garden path on the way back from the bathroom.

"I need to talk to you," he said, touching my arm.

"There's nothing to talk about, Andre," I replied. "You're married with a child, and I'm with Mark. That's the end of it."

"I'm in love with you," he said simply.

I sighed. "I know. You made that quite clear in front of my boyfriend."

He put his hands on my arms and gently pulled me closer. "Please, don't make this any harder. I know you're with Mark, and I know I don't have a chance. At least right now," he added.

Before I could mention his wife again, he said, "And, I know this is my fault. If I'd divorced my wife when we decided that we weren't going to live like a married couple, then you and I would've had a shot together. At least give me that."

I nodded slightly. "Yes. I admit that if you hadn't been married last summer, we might've been together now. But that doesn't change the way things are now."

"That was some week, wasn't it?" he asked with a seductive chuckle.

My body responded involuntarily to his laugh. Warmth radiated from where his hands held my arms. I had this insane desire to press myself against him. I couldn't help remembering that time on the beach, against the rocks… 

He must've read my mind, because the next minute he was kissing me and pulling me off the garden path.

"Stop!" I whispered furiously. "This is not going to happen, Andre."

"I know you're thinking about the rocks," he whispered against my lips. "Remember how we found that secluded spot on the way back from the restaurant. And I bent you over that rock, pulled up your skirt…" His hands found their way under my skirt.

I wrenched myself away. Just barely. The memory of that time on the beach was one of my best sexcapades.

"This doesn't happen again. Ever," I said, smoothing my hair and walking back to the bar. I paused for a few seconds to catch my breath and settle my nerves. What the heck had just happened?

I found Mark sitting alone at the table while David and Margarite twirled around the make-shift dance floor to Carlos' beautiful Spanish ballad.

Mark took one look at me, and then at Andre brushing past us on his way to the limo, and shook his head, muttering, "Really, Diana?"

I looked up. "What?" I asked, my response sounding guilty even to my own ears.

"Just keep having to beat them off with a stick, huh?" he asked sarcastically.

"Nothing happened," I said, not meeting his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure nothing did," he continued, "God knows it was hard enough to get you alone and in bed. I'm not too worried about Andre getting lucky on the way to the john. But it still burns me up to watch him try."

"He still has feelings. We didn't end things on a very good note last summer," I tried to explain.

"When does it ever end on a good note? You break up. You fight. You have hard feelings and get on with your life. But not with you," he said pointing a finger at me.

I rolled my eyes.

He continued. "No, your exes turn up like bad pennies everywhere we go. You must put some kind of spell on them." He gave me a long appraising look.

"Oh, keep it up, and you'll find out alright," I ground out.

Mark leaned back in his chair and laughed spontaneously. "You are such a kook!"

I sucked in my breath at the insult. "Better a kook, than a spook! At least I don't hide my kookiness!"

Mark was still laughing at the absurdity of our situation. Finally, he wiped his eyes on his napkin and scooted his chair closer to mine. I scooted mine farther away. He laughed again and grabbed hold of my chair, pulling me over to him.

I turned away and watched Carlos finish the song. There was no space between David and Margarite as they swayed in the soft light.

"Hard to believe they're hitting it off so well," I said, making a stab at changing the subject.

Mark shook his head. "I bet they both got one eye on the other's bank account."