Jingle Bell Rock (18 page)

“It’s not a good idea,” Laura insisted, but her voice, and maybe her resolve, had softened.

“I’m not leaving until you agree,” he said to the door. “It’s the least... you owe me that much.”

He held his breath through the silence that followed. What would he do if she said no? What would he do if she said yes, and then decided to sneak out early in the morning anyway?

No. Laura was volatile when she was angry, but she was true to her word. If she said she’d be here in the morning, she’d be here.

“All right,” she whispered. “One day.”

Chapter Six

She should’ve left before dawn, breaking her word and escaping from Memphis while she still could. Why had she agreed to this ridiculous proposition? What kind of torture did Michael have planned for her today?

And it would be torture, no matter what they did, no matter how pleasant he tried to make the day. She still loved him, liar that he was, but there was no way they could make this work. She couldn’t even tell him about Megan, not now. Could she?

Her jeans and baggy sweatshirt were intended to put him off. There would be no primping before the mirror before meeting Michael today, no critical examination of her makeup and hair, no slinky dress and high heels to impress him.

Her heart lurched at the realization that this was so final. It was good-bye at last, and this time she wouldn’t be coming back. This time, when she returned to her apartment, she’d have to give up her too-frequent daydreams of reconciliation and happily ever after. Heaven help her, she didn’t want to let those daydreams go.

He knocked on her door right on time, twelve o’clock on the dot. Megan and Jennifer were playing on the floor. She’d left them money for lunch in the Hound Dog Cafe. Elvis was conspicuously absent this morning, and Laura said a silent prayer that the King was gone for good.

As Laura reached out to open the door, Megan proved that her prayers were in vain. “Elbis says you look mighty fine,” she said nonchalantly, her eyes on her little people. “But he liked the black dress better.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Laura mumbled as she opened the door.

Michael had outdone himself, but then what should she have expected from a man with his theatrical nature? He held a bouquet of red roses in one hand, and a huge box of chocolates in the other. His hair didn’t hang limply around his face, but had been carelessly styled and combed back. He stepped into the room, and his eyes went immediately to Megan. With a finger on the hand that held the chocolates he pointed to his head as he whispered to her.

“Brylcreem.”

Megan was delighted with this bit of trivia, and after an enchanting giggle she answered. “Elbis says...” And then she popped her thumb up in an encouraging salute.

Laura knew it was best to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. She placed the roses in a plastic pitcher she found in the bathroom, and as she set the pitcher on the end table she gave the girls instructions on how much of the candy they could eat.

Michael looked great, as always, even though he wasn’t any more finely dressed than she was. There was something about a tight pair of black jeans that did things for the man. As she passed the dresser mirror she caught a glimpse of herself and wished she’d picked something a little more flattering to wear. For him, for this one last time. What a fool she was, still.

Michael didn’t take her arm and escort her into the hallway, but walked over to the girls and placed his hands on his hips as he looked down at their play family and Lego house. “Well? Aren’t you ladies ready to go?”

Megan looked up, eyes big and bright. “We can go, too?”

“Of course,” Michael said, as if he couldn’t believe they would assume otherwise. “You can even bring Elvis, if you’d like.”

Megan shook her head slowly. “He just left. Sometimes he has other things to do, you know.”

“Too bad. Can you call him back? I’d love to have him come along.”

Laura sighed loudly, hopefully loud enough for Michael to hear. How dare he encourage Megan’s fantasies like this? If he heard her, he didn’t show it.

“No,” Megan said, standing and beginning the search for her shoes. “I don’t think he’s in the hotel right now.”

Michael flashed a smile in Laura’s direction. “Did you hear that? Elvis has left the building.”

Jennifer and Megan were very pleased to be invited along for the day’s adventure, and Laura was glad of the buffer between her and Michael. Things weren’t likely to get out of control with the girls along.

He had planned a walking tour of Blues Street and Beale, starting with a stop at a live Nativity scene next to the hotel. Megan was delighted with the animals, but she was even more fascinated with the Elvis-like wise men in their spangles and sculpted hair, and she squealed over the real live infant who was playing the role of baby Jesus.

Michael squinted as he stared at the scene. “Is that Annie Fallon and her little brothers?” A smile broke across his face. “I’ll be damned! What are they doing out here?”

Laura glanced to the side, wondering why Michael was smiling so widely. “You know an entire family of Elvis impersonators?” She took in the Nativity scene again, noting with a sinking heart that this Annie was obviously a very attractive woman beneath the hair and makeup. In fact, she looked a little familiar. Laura was almost certain she’d seen Annie Fallon in Forever Blue on Monday night. Michael hadn’t noticed her then—but he certainly noticed her now. “Complete with Priscilla?” she finished.

“They’re not Elvis impersonators, they’re farmers.”

“Farmers?” she repeated incredulously.

Michael’s smile faded. “What, do farmers rank even lower than musicians on your list?”

“No,” she said horrified. “It’s just that they don’t look like farmers.”

After a few minutes of rapt wonder, Megan wondered aloud why Mommy couldn’t have hair as big as the “Birgin” Mary’s. Megan would have watched the Nativity scene all day if Michael hadn’t hurried her along. Before they left he dropped a fifty-dollar bill in the pot at the front of the Nativity scene.

They walked through shops and an art gallery or two, playing tourists and browsing through Elvis memorabilia, listening to Michael’s recited history of Beale Street. The tour ended nearly an hour later at Forever Blue. The shades were down, and the sign said CLOSED, but someone had been busy in the club. Tables had been pushed together and were piled high with barbecue, hamburgers, fried shrimp, hot dogs, French fries, onion rings, fruit salad, and four kinds of dessert. As she stared at the feast, Michael leaned near to whisper into her ear,

“I didn’t know what Megan and Jennifer would like, so I told Jackie to bring a little bit of everything he thought kids would eat.”

She saw the big black man, then, who’d been bending down behind the bar. Four different kinds of soft drinks and two kinds of juice were lined up before him. He smiled sheepishly at Laura, and raised one eyebrow in a rakish manner. She smiled back, and he seemed to be relieved by her response.

“You can’t close your business for this,” she protested as Michael led her to her seat.

“We don’t open until four.”

“Four in the afternoon?” she asked, every business instinct within her appalled. “No wonder you don’t make much of a profit here. You should open for lunch, maybe bring in some tourists with sandwiches and ice cream.”

He shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned with money as always. “We do okay. This is a piano bar, not a restaurant. We can come up with chili and sandwiches for a hungry customer, and Susan can heat up a decent frozen pizza. That’s it.”

She resolved to stay out of his business, and gave him an unconcerned shrug of her own.

“But if you stay I’ll let you count all my beans, and if you think we should open for lunch...”

“It’s none of my concern.”

“It should be,” he whispered. “Everything I do and say and think should involve you.”

Laura ignored the provocative statement, and watched as Megan and Jennifer piled their plates high and found a table for two to the side. Jackie asked the girls what they wanted to drink, and it took them several minutes to make up their minds. Megan changed her mind four times within the space of two minutes, and the big man never so much as blinked. He was, she decided, a very patient man.

Michael ate, but Laura just picked at the food on her plate. Her stomach was one big knot. She should’ve run, she never should’ve come here, she was a complete and total idiot for sitting here like nothing had happened. Michael was blatantly trying to get to her through Megan, and maybe even through Jennifer, trying to show her what a great guy he was. Ha!

Megan was finished before anyone else, and her attention shifted to the grand piano that was the centerpiece of the room. She pointed a finger that was sticky with barbecue sauce toward the stage. “Can I play with that?”

Jackie burst out laughing, for some reason, loud, maniacal cackling. His laughter died abruptly when Michael said, “Sure.”

He did make her wash her hands first, and he was there to supervise, of course. Michael left the remains of his lunch to sit on the piano bench and lift Megan onto his lap. She laid one finger on the piano, and was elated by the resulting sound. Within five minutes Michael had Megan playing simple scales, and neither of them seemed to notice that Jackie stared with his jaw dropping toward the floor, or that Jennifer was eating fries off her cousin’s plate, or that Laura was doing her damnedest not to cry like a baby.

She’d dreamed of this moment, closed her eyes and imagined it in difficult times when she didn’t know how she was going to make it to the next day. The man she loved and the child they’d created, together at last.

Like it or not, she had to tell Michael the truth, and once he knew he would want to be a part of Megan’s life. That was the plan, right? Megan wanted a daddy; she wanted to be like the other little girls in her school. If Laura could give her that she had no right to refuse it. But how could she stand having Michael come in and out of her life?

When Megan tired of her lessons—about ten minutes after they started—Michael set her down and began to play a familiar song. Now he had Jennifer’s attention.

“That’s a Jimmy Blue song,” she said when she’d finished chewing her barbecue. “It’s one of my very favorites.”

Michael smiled. “I wrote it.”

Jennifer laughed out loud. “You did not.”

Jackie was making the rounds, picking up dirty plates and glasses. He leaned over slightly as he passed Jennifer’s table. “Yes, he did. Young lady, you are lookin’ at the one and only heartbreak kid of Beale Street.” He chuckled and whispered confidingly, “He hates it when I call him that.”

Jennifer looked at Michael then with wide-eyed awe. “You actually wrote that?”

Michael kept playing, but he nodded once.

“Omigod,” she said with a long exhale of breath. “You know him, don’t you?”

“Know who?”

“Jimmy Blue,” Jennifer said with very little evident patience.

“Sure.”

Jennifer melted. Laura smiled. And Megan started to sing. She missed a few of the words, but she had the general idea and she got most of the song right. She had the chorus down pat.

It was a sentimental love song, all broken hearts and whispered promises, lost souls and lonely nights. When she listened to the words she could hear Michael, in the beat, in the phrasing. Even when Megan solemnly sang about “heartbeeps,” Laura felt dangerously near tears.

Michael kept playing and locked his eyes to hers. “Listening to country these days?”

Laura shook her head. “You know me; I’m strictly a rock-and-roll girl. She must have heard it at a friend’s house, or at school.”

Megan stopped singing long enough to comment. “Elbis sang it to me. He said it’s a pwetty good song.”

The song came to an end, and Michael left his perch. “Next time you talk to him, tell him I said thanks. I’m glad he likes it.”

Laura groaned. “Don’t encourage her,” she whispered when Michael sat beside her.

“Megan doesn’t seem to need any encouragement.”

It was a pleasant, safe afternoon, but somewhere along the way she remembered why she’d fallen in love with Michael in the first place: his smile that made her forget everything else, the soothing voice that made her heart warm, those eyes that looked right through her. All she had to do was look at him to know she wasn’t alone in this world. She could deny it all she liked, but he was a part of her and always would be. Heaven help her, she didn’t need this now. She needed distance, stability, sanity.

Susan, the cocktail waitress who’d been present the night before, came in about three, letting herself in with her own key. She was an attractive woman, dark haired and dark eyed, with a come-hither smile, a short skirt, and heels that were much too high for a woman who had to remain on her feet for hours. Laura couldn’t help but wonder, when she smiled at Michael, if there had ever been anything...

Like it mattered. Michael was handsome, rich, talented, and completely unencumbered. Laura knew, had always known, that there had probably been countless women in his life since she’d left. It just didn’t hurt so much when she didn’t have to watch.

Susan looked with apparent surprise at the scene before her. “You want me to come back later, boss?”

Michael shook his head. “We’ll be clearing out of here soon, and you need to set up. Hungry? We’ve got plenty.”

The shapely woman wrinkled her nose at the fun but not necessarily healthy spread. “Trust me, there’s nothing here I can eat,” she muttered, and Laura suddenly felt guilty that there was a half-eaten sparerib on her plate.

Antsy and apparently unhappy with the situation, Susan had something to say. Laura recognized that fact, even if Michael didn’t. Finally, after depositing her purse and coat in the office, the cocktail waitress wagged a finger at her boss, and Michael went without hesitation.

Laura didn’t want to watch, so she picked at the strawberry shortcake before her. She could mull it over all she wanted, but her choices were limited. She could tell Michael about Megan, or remain a coward and light out of Memphis tonight like there was a fire on her tail.