Can't Help Falling in Love (2 page)

    
“No one by those names works here. This is the Bon Air Club.”

    
“The Bon Air Club?”

    
“Call back around
nine o’clock
. You might catch him then.”

    
Allison was taken aback. “
Nine o’clock
tonight? Did you say he’s
playing
there
?
Is
he a performer?”

    
“
Me
, the comics, and the bands are the only people who
use this phone, honey. If it’s one of them and you’re in the marketing
business, he’ll probably want to talk to you.”

    
“Would you leave a note that I called? I’ll try to call back.”

    
“Sure thing, honey.”
With that, the connection went
dead.

    
Allison chided herself.
Why didn’t you try to get more
information? Why didn’t you manage to ask any pertinent questions like you
usually do? I wonder what he wants anyway. Doesn’t sound like a big-time client
prospect.
There aren’t any big headliners at the Bon
Air Club!

    
After finishing her business with Bill, Allison returned to her office and
spent the entire afternoon reading her weekly copy of
Advertising
Age
and flipping through pages of a new book
on retail advertising that she had recently bought. She even toyed with the
idea of going to the Bon Air Club in person, but decided against it.
What
if I can’t even get to him? The whole trip would be a waste of time.
She
looked up at the clock.
5:45. Oh, he can call me in the
morning. Musicians are so unpredictable. This doesn’t sound like much of a new
prospect!

    
She got her coat and was half way out the door when she remembered her
briefcase.
No,
she insisted to herself,
I’m not taking any work home with
me.
She
sighed, closed the door, and heard the latch lock.

    
A few steps down the hall, she heard the telephone ring from inside. She
scurried back, unlocked the door, and flew inside, barely managing to grab the
phone without dropping her purse. “Hello?
Allison Webster
speaking.”

    
“Miss Webster?” The man’s voice sounded deep, soft, and southern. “I didn’t
know if you’d still be in, but . . . I’m the guy who called you from the Bon Air
Club. I’d like to spend some money with you. You see, I need your help.”

    
“I was sort of hoping I could get an appointment with you,” the performer
asked. “I’ve heard some good things about you. I’m sorry that things have been
kind of hectic lately, but I want to talk to you.”

    
“
Are you wanting
to talk to me about marketing?”

    
“Yes
ma’m
. . . sort of.”

    
For a moment, Allison hesitated. He sounded sweet but vague, more like a boy
from the country, not the kind of hard-nosed businessman she usually
encountered. But she quickly reverted to her professional demeanor and said,
“Let me check my schedule.”

    
“I—I’ll be out of town for the rest of the week. How would a week from
today—that is—next Monday work out?”

    
“I’m afraid next Monday is out of the question,” she replied. “I do have
Tuesday morning wide open, though. How’s
nine thirty
?”

    
“Fine, I guess. I’ll see you then. If you’re around the
Lamar-Airways
Shopping Center
tomorrow at
noon
, come by. I’ll be playing there. Bye.”

    
“Do you mind if I ask—”

    
Before she could say more, he hung up.

     
Is
he a musician or a comic?
she
asked herself.
He didn’t crack any
jokes, and he sure didn’t sound like he’d be any threat to Perry Como. But
there was something . . . something in his voice . . . the timbre and tone.
I’ve heard that voice somewhere!

    
The next morning, Allison did a little checking up on the
Lamar-Airways
Shopping Center
event. She learned that a band
was
going to play there and the lead
singer was a guitar player that the locals enjoyed. He had a style that
reminded some people of Black rhythm and blues singers, a startling contrast to
the norm. He wore his hair in a huge pompadour slicked up with rose water and
Vaseline, and he sometimes performed in shocking bright-colored suits. Some
people had said that he struck poses that were alarmingly indiscreet, while
others found him luridly ingratiating. Allison felt intrigued and somewhat
fascinated by him, and she decided to go see him for herself.

    
Finding a parking place proved more challenging than she imagined. Although the
band had apparently been playing small gigs in and around
Memphis
, they were the center of attention at
the Grand Opening that day. More than a hundred girls and an equal number of
teenage boys descended on the parking lot where a makeshift stage had been
erected. By the time the music show began, the impatient throng seemed to have
more than doubled. Allison was notably impressed by their enthusiasm and
excitement, however the band’s singer bore no resemblance to the seemingly mild
and polite man she had briefly spoken to on the telephone. 

    
The band was loudly amplified by two big speakers. A couple of teenage girls
were pressing in on Allison’s left and she overheard one of them say, “We’ve
got to go see him at the drugstore after the show!”

    
After their squealing calmed down a bit, Allison leaned nearer and said,
“Excuse me . . . did I hear you say that he’ll be making an appearance after
the show?”

    
“At the Katz Drugstore!”

    
“Where’s that?”

    
The girl giggled.
“Right across the street!”

    
Allison looked to where the girl pointed and said, “Thanks!” She glanced back
at the stage and decided
,
I’m going over there
now. If I can get up close enough, maybe I can . . . .
no
!
I won’t try to talk to him today. That’ll make me look too pushy, even though
he did invite me to come down. Besides, there are too many people to have a
meaningful talk. I already have an appointment to meet him face to face Tuesday
morning. I’ll wait until then, even though I want to see him now!

    
She lingered a while longer. The music, the beat, his voice, and his wild
movements soon merged into an infectious, primal enticement that ensnared
everyone in the audience. Allison could not help but notice how the young
throng literally swayed with the tunes, and at one point, she caught herself
moving along with them, a trifle matter that left her surprised and more than a
little embarrassed.

    
She tried to understand why she was reacting that way and felt defensive.
The
fact is that a show business performer could become an extremely lucrative
client.
But he’s, after all, only one
account. Still, none of my other clients have ever made me feel this way
before! What is it that’s so special about him? Maybe it’s the glamour and
excitement. I shouldn’t feel this way. I haven’t even met him yet!

    
She continued to argue with herself, mostly because of the influence he seemed
to be having on her psyche, something akin to the schoolgirl romance from afar
that she once had with Frank Sinatra. Still, she could not ignore the fact that
she knew enough about him to know “a catch” when she saw one. His
photograph—albeit an amateurish-looking one—had graced the pages of the local
newspaper more than once during the last few weeks. He was always working at
various popular venues in town. He wore the latest clothes, and he was lean and
handsome. He could just be a flash in the pan, but he was certainly working in
an industry where fame and fortune could reach a pinnacle fast and then spiral
into a nosedive, crash, and burn all in a single year.
Maybe
he truly needs my help,
she considered. 

    
Allison was bravely determined to obtain a closer inspection of the music hero
that had so strongly entrenched his hold on the teenagers at the outdoor
concert. When the show ended, she made a beeline to the Katz
Drugstore,
and none too soon. The area quickly became swamped with more than a hundred
giddy girls, all of whom seemed to have the same aim as Allison—to see him up
close.

    
They did not have to wait long for their dreamboat’s arrival, but Allison’s
astute marketing skills clued her in on the fact that his appearance there that
day had been strategically plotted to promote the one single record he seemed
to have to his credit, which just happened to be readily in stock inside the
drugstore in an end cap on the record aisle.

    
The quartette jumped up on a flatbed truck that had been parked in front of the
drugstore, and they performed the A and B sides of their single once, with his
band struggling to provide backup without any amplification. The nearly three
hundred people—mostly teenage girls—responded with enough enthusiasm to
encourage them to sing those same two songs over and over. Allison noted that
they seemed to crave the excitement and mood, not the music so much, plus there
was a decidedly sexual charge to the atmosphere that was so thick you could cut
the voltage with a knife.

    
Finally, an announcement was made by Sleepy-Eyed John, a local disc jockey.
“Maybe this is the first time some of you’ve had to enjoy these boys. I want to
invite all of you to his next date at the Eagle's Nest on Friday night!”

    
That pronouncement caused the girls to erupt in a deafening roar. Allison had
seen and heard enough for now. The horde pressed in on her and she could not
get near enough to introduce herself to him.
I might as well go
while I can still manage to drive down the street,
she thought.
Now, at least, I can put a face to
the name, and he certainly seems to possess a good luck charm that works a
spell on these girls. That’s for sure!
 

    
The following Tuesday arrived with Allison’s alarm clock ringing and nearly
rattling off her bedside table. She pressed the off button.
Part
of her was glad that she would be meeting a possible new client, but part
of her dreaded the appointment.

    
As she lay snug beneath the sheets and drifted in and out of that
half-consciousness that always heralded the start of a new day, her thoughts
kept drifting to the extremely special appointment she had made.
Here
I am fretting about meeting that guy and wishing I didn’t have to, when I know
there’s probably hundreds of other girls right here in
Memphis
who would give anything to be in my place!

    
She chastised herself for dwelling so apprehensively over the matter, and
pulled herself from bed. She and her younger sister, Karen, had shared an
apartment for about a year. Having grown up together in
Memphis
, the two of them enjoyed an unusually
close friendship. Karen had been on vacation for a week, and the apartment
seemed empty without her. Allison found herself wandering about the apartment,
peering into her sister’s room, and forcing herself to think about surprising
Karen by cleaning their goldfish tank—anything to keep her mind from wandering
back to that uncomfortably nagging apprehension that hung over her like a dark
cloud. 

    
Why
does she need to be away just when I really need to talk with her?
Allison wondered, miffed.
I
might not want to tell Karen anything about this worrisome obsession I’m
harboring until I’m sure that I’m completely in control of whatever might be
about to happen. It’s so very important to be in control, and I feel like I’m
being forced to stand afoot on a spinning merry-go-round! I’ve never felt this
way before. It’s so uncharacteristic of me, and I don’t think I like it!

    
The morning passed in a haze of going through the usual motions of dressing.
She had plenty of time to bathe and have a leisurely breakfast. She sauntered
back into her own room and went over to her closet. She gazed at her clothes
and considered the pros and cons of each outfit in her wardrobe.
I
should have made a decision earlier what to wear!
she
chastised herself.
I think I can safely
narrow the choice down to two outfits—the gray ultra suede dress or the red
mohair suit. The red mohair suit might be just the ticket.
May
as well look my very best, businesslike and professional.
No sense in
showing up in a too-attractive dress that could give him the wrong impression!

    
She poured two capfuls of bath oil into the tub and ran a steamy, hot bath.
Luxuriating in the water finally soothed her mind until she lost track of the
time and nearly fell back to sleep. She languidly glanced at a clock on the
wall.
8:30
!
She snapped to and sat upright, making a big splash that
sent water cascading over the tub to the tile. She swiftly got out, dried off,
and sat down in front of her makeup table.