Between Friends (33 page)

“What if she’s not?” Dallas suggested.

He shrugged. “Then I get over it. I move on.”

Dallas took a deep breath and pursed her lips. “What about Alex? Does he know how you feel? Do you know how he feels about Valerie?”

Ross sighed. “Does Alex know how I feel? I hope not. I don’t want to stand in the way if he feels he really wants her. I’m not sure of Valerie’s motives.”

“You sound like you don’t think they’re pure,” Dallas surmised. Ross laughed lightly.

“I gotta be careful around you. You’re very observant. Alex said you’re a really talented writer.”

“Did he?” she said in surprise, and then quickly recovered. Talking about herself and Alex was dangerous. Dallas looked openly at Ross again. “Look, Valerie is my best friend. I don’t know what it is she wants, but I certainly won’t say anything to her about—you know—what you said to me.”

He reached for the dessert plates, balancing two in each hand as he headed back to the dining room. “I know.”

“How do you know?” Dallas asked, forestalling his departure.

“I’m very observant, too. I think you can be trusted. Okay … I think they’ve had enough time alone, don’t you?”

Dallas made up a tray with the cups, sugar, and cream. She thought about the brief conversation with Ross and wondered if Valerie had any idea how he felt about her, let alone Alex. And she wondered, once again, what was she doing in the middle of Valerie’s concerns when her own were in such terrible shape.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She stiffened at the sound of Alex’s voice, but she gave him only a cursory glance, feeling the need to maintain a distance more appropriate to their circumstances. She could hear Val’s and Ross’s voices from the dining room. “What do you mean?”

“Something’s bothering you. You were pretty quiet during dinner,” he said, coming toward her.

His cowboy boots thudded softly on the tile floor. He stood just behind her left shoulder, watching her prepare to pour the coffee.

Dallas shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay,” she conceded, “then it’s something I don’t want to talk about. I’m sorry if I’m spoiling the evening.”

He dismissed the idea. “You’re not spoiling anything. I just wanted to know if I could help in some way.”

“Thanks for asking, Alex. But I don’t think so.”

“Would you tell me if there was?”

Dallas turned to face him. “I appreciate you asking, but I think it’s about time I handle some of my own problems. Besides …” She glanced toward the direction of the dining room and the other voices. “You have other things on your mind.”

Alex looked a little uncomfortable. He sighed and leaned toward her. “I’m not going to push. But you remember one thing.”

She searched Alex’s face, his dark, steady gaze and the flexing in his jaw as he talked.

“I know you, Dallas, and I don’t want you to ever forget that we’re friends.”

She shook her head, and her voice dropped to a quiet, firm tone. “Sooner or later we’re going to have to put it behind us. No one else knows we’ve met before. How do you think Valerie is going to feel if she finds out? Or Ross?”

He didn’t answer, and they continued to regard each other silently.

“Dallas, what are you doing? Where’s the—”

Valerie stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead when she saw Alex and Dallas so close. She laughed uneasily.

“I came to see what happened to the rest of dessert.” She came over and looped her arm through Alex’s. “And where you were.” Valerie smiled up at Alex. Then she focused her attention on Dallas, her smile fixed. “What’s going on here?”

Dallas was aware of the real question that Valerie was asking, but knew that her suspicions were unjustified. “Alex came in to see if he could help. Especially since Ross cleared the table and you did all the cooking.”

Alex reached in front of Dallas and picked up the heavy tray. “And Dallas brought dessert. Let’s go to it. This looks good.”

He disappeared through the door, and Dallas carefully placed the remaining cake back into its box and put it into the refrigerator. She licked a glob of frosting from her thumb. “There’s plenty left for Megan.”

“She’ll probably eat the rest of it,” Valerie said absently, watching her.

“Better her than us. Come on. I’ll help you clean up later.”

“Dallas?”

Dallas was already at the kitchen entrance. She looked at Val askance. Valerie caught up to her at the doorway.

“Alex means a lot to me. You don’t understand how important this is.”

“I think I do, Val,” Dallas said honestly. “Why do you feel you have to tell me that?”

Valerie frowned. “I don’t know. He’s different from any other man I’ve ever known. You can see that, can’t you?”

Dallas looked at the uncertainty in Val’s green eyes. But there was also a determination and, she was sure, a little bit of fear. Dallas knew that no matter what, she and Alex could never let Valerie know anything about their past. Ross would have to fend for himself. She nodded with a smile, and lightly shook her friend’s shoulder.

“You don’t have anything to worry about. He seems to feel the same way.”

“Will you listen to them?” Eleanor muttered with displeasure as she glared at the three young women seated near the performance area. “Don’t they know any better than to talk and laugh while the band is playing?”

“Ssshhh,” Lyle Oliver whispered to his wife. “You can’t hear a thing they’re saying, and neither can anyone else. The music’s too loud.”

Eleanor narrowed her gaze on her husband. “I don’t think they came to hear the music anyway. I’ve never seen such a shameless display in my life.”

“They’re here to have a good time. Just like
you’re
supposed to be,” Lyle reminded his wife.

“They’re pretty,” Dallas observed, leaning forward to see past her stepmother. She also guessed that they were not at the club to hear the band but to check out the men and the musicians. And to be seen. They had a certain nonchalant boldness that Dallas envied and which she herself had never been able to master.

“I don’t think any of them is Dean’s type,” Eleanor said to no one in particular.

“Ellie …” Lyle said patiently. “You don’t have a clue what Dean’s type is. Now leave those girls alone and just enjoy the music.”

Eleanor sighed in exasperation and tried to give her attention to the four musicians and one female soloist in the spotlight in the darkened club. But her stepmother was less interested in the new age jazz than she was in seeing her son perform.

Dallas had been surprised when Dean had included an invitation to hear his group as part of his mother’s birthday celebration. Ever since Dean had become interested in the guitar at age sixteen, Eleanor and her father had indulged him. He’d taught himself to play, learned to read music, and formed his first band at eighteen. They’d called themselves Toxix. Dallas didn’t think her parents had ever heard their son play before, but even if they didn’t like the music, they were proud to see Dean perform for an audience.

She remembered the first time she and Burke had come to hear her brother play. He’d teased her that she was angling for a record deal for Dean. The thought had never entered her mind. In any case, Burke had not liked the music. It wasn’t mainstream enough.

The memory reminded Dallas that Burke had left several voice-mail messages for her that she had yet to answer. But sooner or later she would have to. And she would have to decide what she wanted from him.

The audience broke out in applause as the number ended. One of the young women got up and walked to the edge of the stage. She leaned over to get Dean’s attention and whispered in his ear. She was dressed, and moved her body, as only someone who was self-conscious but fearless could. To get attention. Dean nodded and smiled and whispered something back. Out of the corner of her eye Dallas caught Eleanor nudging her husband’s arm.

“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Dean said graciously into the mike. “We’re going to take a little break and return in about ten.”

There was more applause as the group put aside their instruments and chatted with people coming forward to ask questions or comment on their playing.

Dean searched across the room until he spotted them, and he nodded and waved briefly, acknowledging their presence. Dallas watched as Dean and the drummer stepped to the table with the three young women and were greeted with light hugs and kisses.

“I told you so,” Eleanor said under her breath.

“Ellie, I think I’d like to get started home,” Lyle said to his wife. “Do you mind if we skip the rest?”

“Do you have a headache?” Dallas asked.

He nodded his head, rubbing his left arm. “Yeah, a little bit. And I’m feeling cold.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had that second beer,” Eleanor suggested. “I think I have some aspirin.” She opened her purse and riffled through the contents. “I really would like to stay for the rest.”

“I’ll ask Dean how long the next set is,” Dallas offered.

“Your father’s okay,” Eleanor decided. “I’ll order him some club soda. That should help.”

“I don’t think so,” Lyle Oliver said firmly. “I’d really like to go home. It’s a long drive anyway.”

“Well, let’s talk to Dean, first,” his wife persisted.

“Ellie, this doesn’t have to be discussed.”

“Oh, good … here he comes,” Eleanor said as they watched Dean approach.

Dallas was ready to compliment her brother on his performance, but she detected a hesitancy in him. He was rubbing his hands together, as if he had sweaty palms.

“Hey, Mom. Dad,” Dean said, kissing his mother’s cheek and shaking hands with his father. He squeezed Dallas’s shoulder. “I hope you’re enjoying the show. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. You and Dallas were so good to me last weekend. But I’m enjoying this. You play so well.” Eleanor beamed.

Dean and Dallas exchanged amused glances. They both knew that given the kind of music he played, it was doubtful his mother could really tell.

“Can you sit with us awhile?”

“We might not stay for the rest, Dean,” Lyle interrupted his wife. “I’m not feeling well …”

“Lyle …” Eleanor began.

“I just wanted to warn you that we may slip out early,” Dallas said to Dean.

“No problem.” He nodded, again glancing over his shoulder.

Dallas followed his gaze. To the three young women, waiting to speak with him again. To the two couples.

“There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to,” he said. “I’ll be right back …” Dean retreated to the front of the room.

“I told you so,” Eleanor said quietly, pretending to be looking for something else in her purse.

Dallas watched as Dean held out his hand to one of the women as she stood up.

“Ellie …” Lyle Oliver said quietly to his wife. As she looked at him, he pushed back from the table and stood up to face his son and the pretty black woman next to him.

Dallas stood up, too, and smiled at the woman with understanding and encouragement. And then she looked at her stepmother. Dallas was surprised and impressed. If Eleanor had any particular feeling she hid it very well. She sat regally and calmly, like a queen granting an audience. Like a mature woman meeting a younger one. Not like a mother who could be disappointed, disapproving, disbelieving.

“This is Alikah Daru,” Dean introduced, placing his hand possessively on the woman’s waist. “This is my mother and father.”

“Hi,” she said, nodding at them and smiling. Her eyes were bright and inquisitive.

“Nice to meet you, Alikah,” Lyle Oliver murmured politely.

“And this is my sister, Dallas.”

The woman turned a knowing, almost amused smile on Dallas and held out her hand. “Dean has told me about you.”

Dallas arched a brow at Dean.

“You’re the writer.”

“That’s me,” Dallas said wryly, accepting the cool slender hand.

There were two silver bands on her thumb. A dozen bracelets on her wrist. The woman’s hair was locked and dyed a light brown. Most of it was gathered in a ponytail, but tendrils fell over her forehead. Her double-pierced earlobes were fitted with a pair of gold hoops and rounded studs. She wore a deep burgundy lipstick on her beautiful mouth that made her look as if she’d been eating berries. She was dressed all in black. And Alikah Daru also wore a very thin gold wire nose ring.

“You’re the computer genius,” Dallas said.

Alikah glanced with warm and admiring eyes to Dean. “He tell you that? I’m not a genius.”

“But she knows more than I do,” Dean said. His glance bounced back and forth between his parents.

“Sorry to interrupt the celebration. Dean said it was your birthday, Mrs. Oliver. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor managed.

“I didn’t know Alikah was going to be here,” Dean said, as if that explained anything.

Dallas could see from her stepmother’s stiff back and lifted chin that it did not. Her father looked less astonished … more resigned. Tired again.

“Dean’s been inviting me to come and hear him play for a while. I brought some friends along. We all work together.”

Dallas couldn’t tell if Alikah was aware of the tension, but her brother’s nervousness faded away.

“I’m going to hang out for a while when we’re done. I might not see you …” Dean announced.

“No, you won’t,” Eleanor spoke at last. Her voice was dead calm and flat. “We’re going to leave before you start again. Your father doesn’t feel well.”

Dallas sighed in relief. She knew from experience that her stepmother’s silences were the worst. With them she censored and sat in judgment. Her controlled responses were preferable. At least then, Dallas had learned, you stood a chance of surviving them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alikah said solicitously.

Dean frowned at his father, finally shifting his concerns from himself. “You okay, Dad?”

“Thank you,” Lyle murmured. He was exhausted. He turned to Dallas. “Are you staying or leaving with us?”

Dallas didn’t think either option was particularly attractive at the moment. But she turned to Dean. “I’m going to walk them to their car. Then I think I’ll head uptown.” She smiled at the young woman. “We’ll see each other again.”