Diamond (22 page)

“Here,” Dooley said, thrusting a ring of carefully marked keys in her hands. “Lock any or all of them you want every time you leave. Just don’t forget which ones you lock or you’ll have to chop down the door to get in.”

“So which ones are locked now?” she asked.

“None,” Dooley said, grinning. “It would drive a burglar crazy, right? He’d be lockin’ himself out instead of gainin’ entry every time he turned a tumbler. Ingenious, hunh?”

“You’re ingenious, Dooley. You’re also the best friend a woman could have.” She threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

He blushed and shoved her through the doorway, eager to catch her first reaction to the rest of his surprise.

“Oh, Dooley!”

Except for his labored breathing, her soft, almost nonexistent exclamation was the only sound in the room.

It was still the same two rooms, only now, heavy drapes hung across the drafty windows, faded just the least bit from countless washings but still a cheery cranberry red color and well able to block out the winter’s chill.

A thick area rug covered the floor instead of the older, worn one that had been in place when she’d rented the rooms. Its Far East pattern gave a sense of the exotic to the two dingy rooms Diamond called home.

Everything was clean and put back in place, and it looked as if the robbery had never occurred. She turned toward the kitchenette and stared. It was then that the first tears formed. She tried to speak and could only manage another soft “Oh, Dooley.”

A brand-new microwave was in place on the minuscule kitchen counter. A thick crockery cup sat alongside a box of tea with a long, curly ribbon wrapped around it.

“Can’t be havin’ you get any sore throats or nothin’,” Dooley said. “Bad for business.”

Diamond flew into his arms. “You’re right,” she whispered. “It would be real bad for business.”

Not only that, but the hug she gave him that day was real good for Dooley. It cemented their friendship in a way that the passing of years could never have done. Dooley didn’t know it, but Diamond Houston had just given him something that she’d never given to anyone else, not even Jesse. She’d given him her trust.

Tommy gunned the engine of his TransAm, smiling with juvenile satisfaction at the small amount of rubber he’d left on the street in front of the mall. He shifted in his seat, moving the bulge behind his zipper to a more comfortable location, and slid his sunglasses above his forehead as he searched the area for a place to park. It was an affectation to wear sunglasses in the middle of winter in Nashville, but on Tommy it was the norm.

“Damned if it doesn’t look like every woman in town is at the mall,” he muttered.

Christmas shopping was in full swing. Browsing the stores meant choosing gifts, and choosing gifts meant standing in line to pay, and Tommy hated to stand in line. But he knew that if he didn’t do something soon to change Jesse’s attitude, he’d be standing in the unemployment line.

He finally found a place to park and walked across the lot to the mall. A sensory smorgasbord overwhelmed him as he entered. The aroma of popcorn wafted through the air, along with the smells of spicy scented candles, warm chocolate from a vendor close to the entryway, and the ever-present cedar and pine so common during the yuletide season.

He inhaled, smiling as an unusual feeling of goodwill swept through him. In that moment, he wished no one ill. And in that same moment, he heard her laugh.

He turned, searching the tide of people coming and going through the mall doors, certain that he knew the owner of that laugh as well as he knew his own name, though uncertain of what he’d do when he located her. He hadn’t expected to hear her voice—or hear her laugh. Not here in Nashville. She was supposed to be long gone. She was supposed to be out of his life.

But there was no tall, blonde woman either coming or going that he could see. Tommy wiped a shaky hand across his face and dropped onto a bench to regain his composure.

“It’s just my imagination,” he said.

A city bus pulled up outside the entrance. The crowd of people waiting to get on parted, allowing the ones on board to descend first. Tommy stood up from the bench, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide their tremble, and cast several furtive glances around the area to convince himself that no one had witnessed his panic.

He turned, intent on regaining the holiday spirit that had driven him into the mall, when the shadow of a woman moved across his peripheral vision. His hands fell limply from his pockets. He stared, slack-jawed and in shock as she walked through the exit, up the bus steps, and out of his sight.

She was tall. A long blonde rope of hair hung down her back in a thick braid. He had not seen her face nor the way she walked. But he knew as sure as his name was Tommy Thomas that he’d just seen a ghost.

The bus door closed. Tommy jerked, realizing that if he was truly about to “find” Diamond Houston, he’d better move. He made a dash for the mall doors and met an influx of shoppers coming inside. As much as he struggled to get through, he could not make it outside in time to stop the bus’s departure. All he could do was stand on the street and curse as it pulled away.

Nothing could put a damper on Diamond’s spirits that day. She’d taken her entire weekly paycheck from Dooley’s and spent it on a new outfit. Tonight was special, and she wanted to look it. Someone had dropped a hint about people “in the business” making a surprise visit to Dooley’s to hear her sing. If this was the case she intended to look her best.

The outfit she’d seen in the shop window would make anyone look good. On Diamond it was spectacular. The loose-legged palazzo pants and long-sleeved, form-fitting, low-cut top were winter white. In a fit of genius, the designer had chosen satin, assuring that the thick, rich fabric would hang in perfect folds upon the wearer. A wide belt of gold spandex was the garment’s only decoration. Its poinsettia-shaped gilt buckle was nearly as large as Diamond’s hand, making her waist look even smaller in comparison.

It had only taken one look at herself in the dressing room mirror for her to make the decision. This was what she’d come looking for. If her talent and this outfit didn’t do the job, nothing would.

“Wow, honey,” the salesgirl said. “That looks fantastic on you.”

“Thanks. It had better,” Diamond said, eyeing the price tag. “Shoes,” she announced. “Now I need shoes.”

The salesgirl made a small circle in the middle of the store and tried not to clap her hands with glee. This was going to be a good commission.

“I’ve got just the thing,” she said. “Let’s see if we have them in your size.” She began scanning the shelves for gold lamé half-boots.

They did.

Diamond left with the outfit carefully boxed and placed in a large shopping bag that dangled against her knee as she hurried toward the exit to catch the bus. Since leaving Jesse, the MTA had become a vital part of her life, and she had no desire to walk home. Her apartment was on the far side of town and miles from the mall.

On her way outside, she caught a glimpse of herself in the highly polished windows of a candle shop. The woman staring back at her was nothing like the one who’d walked the streets of Nashville months ago, desperate for work. This woman actually smiled back at her. The whimsy with which she saw herself made her laugh aloud.

Unmindful of the admiring glances her laughter drew, she hurried outside to mingle with the crowd awaiting the bus’s arrival.

The bus came, and she got on and sat down, waiting for the long, noisy carriage to carry her away. Unaware that she’d been seen. Unaware of the frailty of her safe little world.

Tommy sat in a darkened corner of his house downing the last of his bourbon. He frowned as the amber trickle into his shot glass ended, and then tossed the empty bottle onto the floor.

“It’s not my fault,” he muttered, swallowing the last drop of liquor down his throat.

After he’d seen her get on the bus, he’d made a run from the mall through the parking lot, intent on only one thing, following the bus until he watched that tall, blonde woman get off. Then and only then would he be certain that he wasn’t seeing ghosts. Then and only then could he live with the fact that he truly didn’t know where Diamond Houston was. Because if he didn’t know, he didn’t have to lie to Jesse.

But he panicked and forgot where he’d parked. Sick with frustration, Tommy lashed out at the first object he came in contact with, a radio antenna on the car beside him.

Unfortunately for Tommy, the vehicle’s owner witnessed the antenna’s demise as it bent beneath Tommy’s frustration. Given the owner’s rage, it had cost Tommy a hundred-dollar bill and profuse apologies to get out of the incident.

He’d gone home and crawled into a bottle only to find that there was no room inside in which to hide. And he was still uncertain whether or not it had been Diamond he’d seen.

He picked up the phone and made a call to a local liquor store, then sat back to wait for the arrival of a fresh bottle of booze. He wasn’t ready to face reality. Not just yet.

The outfit was a success, and so was Diamond’s performance. She’d gone through every request the audience had called for as well as her own routine. Riding high on the enthusiasm with which she was being received, she didn’t notice the front door opening in the middle of a song or see the startled expression of the man who’d entered.

Doug Bentin stood for a minute, watching her work the audience alone, then made a decision. He turned around and headed outside, then returned a minute later with his instrument in tow. Winding his way through the tables and their rowdy occupants, he stopped just outside the circle of light within which she sat, and waited to see what she would do next.

“One more for the road,” Diamond said in response to a request to sing again. “Only this time, I pick the song.”

“You sing it, pretty lady,” Doug said as he walked into the light. “I’d be honored if you’d let me play.”

Diamond smiled, instantly recognizing the fiddler who’d played backup when she’d cut her demo. She gratefully laid her guitar aside and motioned for him to step forward.

“How about a real oldie, for old times’ sake,” Diamond said. “It’s a Hank Williams classic. It’s one of the first songs I ever learned all the way through. Hang onto your hearts, boys, because ‘I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.’”

The fiddler smiled. The song was perfect for his instrument. He pulled it from the case, drew the bow across the strings just once to find his place, and then nodded, waiting for her to start.

Diamond’s voice was like a sigh upon the silence, a whisper into the deepest secrets every man and woman carried inside them. Even the customers at the back of the room were quiet as she carried her listeners into the magic of the melody. The slow, sad rhythm of the old song blended into the late-night hour with perfect harmony as she pulled the listeners into her spell.

Her voice rose with perfect pitch, hanging on the last note of each verse as if it were the last pine needle on a dying tree…then drifting softly into the silence as fog drifts through night.

Dooley heard more than the lonesome sound of the fiddle and the sad, melancholy words to the song. If he ever got his hands on the man who had hurt her, he’d wring his damned neck. Diamond
was
lonesome. And there was nothing he could do about it. She had him, and she had her new friends at Dooley’s. But someone had hurt her bad. As far as Dooley was concerned, someone should pay.

Doug Bentin took a long, deep breath as he came back to earth, reminding himself that once again this woman had pulled him into her world with nothing more than the sound of her voice. His hands shook as he lifted the bow from the fiddle and looked up into those wide green eyes of hers.

Diamond stepped back and bowed once, then lifted her hands toward the fiddler so that he would be included in the applause.

The room exploded. Men and women jumped to their feet, clapping and cheering.

“You were great, Miss Houston,” Doug said as he followed Diamond into Dooley’s office. “I’ve been expecting to see your name in lights. That demo you cut was damned good.” And then he stopped himself and added, “It is Houston, isn’t it? I play backup for so many, sometimes I get the names confused.”

“You got the name right,” she said, and then shrugged. As for the demo, nothing came of it. Maybe I’ll be luckier another time.”

Doug frowned. “You’re kidding! Have you checked to be sure it went to
all
the studios? That was one of the best cuts I’ve ever sat in on.”

Diamond stared. It had never occurred to her to follow up on any of Tommy’s actions. After the fiasco with Jesse’s album, though, she knew he wasn’t to be trusted. Why had she trusted him to keep his word?

Doug couldn’t believe it. This business was a strange one, and that was a fact. Sometimes it took more luck than talent to make it.

“Well, like I told you before,” he said, “I’d be real proud to play for you on a regular basis. In case you forgot, my name’s Doug Bentin. If you ever need a fiddler…” He grinned and handed her his card again.

“You made my night, Doug Bentin,” she said, tucking his card into her purse. “And if I ever need a fiddler…” She cocked an eyebrow and winked.

“What’s goin’ on in here?” Dooley asked as he barreled his way into his office.

Diamond grinned. “My boss—and my bodyguard,” she told Doug. “Dooley, this is Doug Bentin. He’s…uh…played for me before.”

Dooley caught the hesitancy of her words and glared, but Doug had nothing to hide, and he stared back.

“There’s a man out front who wants to talk to you,” Dooley said.

Diamond’s nerves jumped, and her eyes widened. This might be it! She tried to catch Dooley’s attention, but he was too focused on the fiddler.

“Here goes nothing,” she said to herself, and headed out the door, leaving Dooley and Doug to do as they pleased with each other.

“Miss Houston?”

The man’s voice was slow and southern. Her name rolled across his tongue forever as she held out her hand. He squeezed her fingers tightly as he pumped it up and down in vigorous fashion.