Diamond (32 page)

“Really?” Twila said. The more she learned about Diamond, the more she realized that this lady had more experience in the business than she’d first imagined.

Diamond nodded. “Once at Dooley’s, but that was after I’d cut the—” She never finished her sentence. It still hurt to think of those times…and of Jesse. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get set up. I don’t want to keep the customers waiting.”

Twila followed Diamond’s hasty exit from the car. There was nothing more she could tell her without revealing the role Jesse had played in this booking. Even though Diamond didn’t know it, Jesse Eagle was back in her life in a very big way. And for whatever reasons he had, Twila was willing to keep it to herself until Jesse changed the rules.

“Come on in here,” the cook said, grinning to himself as he opened the back exit to the Bluebird to admit the tall man in the big black hat. “You’ve been here several times, Jesse. But I can’t say that I ever remember you comin’ in the back door.”

“Keep it down, will you?” Jesse asked, and yanked off his hat before someone spotted it and his presence was revealed. He stepped into the tiny kitchen and peered through the small horizontal opening between it and the dining area, assuring himself that he’d have ample view of the performance when it took place.

It didn’t take him long to spot the three men sitting at a table toward the back of the crowded room. Jesse smiled. They were here, just as he’d asked. Although she didn’t know it, the rest was up to Diamond. All she had to do was be herself and sing like an angel. If those men were as smart as they claimed to be, they’d take it from there.

“Want a drink?” the cook asked.

Jesse shook his head. “No, but thanks. All I want is to remain unseen. Think you can manage that?”

“Hell, yes,” the cook said. “No one gets in here but me. Ain’t no room, anyways. You just stand here to the side of the pass-through and you’ll be able to see what you want without being seen.” Then he grinned. “I just sure would like to know what’s so special about tonight.”

Jesse returned the smile. “One of these days you will, I promise. For now, it’s enough that you’re about to witness a little Nashville history in the making.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I know,” Jesse said. “But down the road, you will.”

It was all he could say without revealing his plans. But if everything went accordingly, within weeks the world would know who the mystery woman was who’d sung with him on the album, Diamond would have the recognition she deserved, and he’d have the love of his life back in his arms.

“Ooowee.” The cook whistled under his breath at the sight of the woman dressed in black who’d just entered the club. “That’s one fine-looking woman.”

Jesse shuddered, wiped his hands on the back of his Levis, and then stuffed them into his pockets. He tried to concentrate on the smell of hot grease and hamburgers cooking or he’d lose control and walk into that room, toss Diamond over his shoulder, and carry her off into the night, to hell with explanations and excuses.

“God give me strength,” he whispered as he watched her step up onto the tiny stage and adjust the microphone to her height.

“If you got her in bed, you’d need it,” the cook said, grinning.

Jesse frowned as a man stepped onstage, kissed Diamond lightly on the cheek, and then took a fiddle from its case. He knew the greeting was nothing more than friendly, but it had still been hard to watch. He wondered how many other men had befriended his lady and wished them all to hell on a one-way bus.

The audience grew silent as Diamond stepped up to the mike.

“This man beside me who’s teasing his fiddle strings is Doug Bentin—in my opinion, one of the best musicians in Nashville. And I’m Diamond Houston, from up north, a place called Cradle Creek. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it; I can’t even say for sure it’s on the map. But it’s there—and once, so was I.”

Jesse inhaled slowly and closed his eyes, letting the sound of her voice flow over him, praying that it would ease the pain in his chest. If it didn’t he feared he would die, and he hated to think his life would end in the kitchen of the Bluebird Cafe.

She began to sing. The accompanying sound of Doug’s fiddle was a powerful addition to her pure, clear voice. And when he knew that she was lost in her music, unaware of the crowd to whom she was singing, he stepped out of the shadows and looked. He didn’t hear anything or feel the heat from the grill at his back. All he could do was watch her mouth forming the words of the songs, her hands on the guitar, and the way her body moved to the music—and remember that once, she’d done the same for him.

“Man, you were right,” Shorty said as he and his two business partners walked with Jesse to his car. “And you know what? The strangest thing was that I’d swear I’ve heard her before. You know how I am—I can’t remember names to save my soul, but I never forget a voice.”

Jesse grinned. It was just as he’d hoped, and the three men who’d listened to Diamond’s performance only moments earlier wielded enough power in the music industry to do just as they pleased.

“I’m always right,” Jesse told them, and laughed at their hoots in response to him.

“Talk about an ego,” Shorty said.

Jesse corrected him. “It’s not ego. It’s the power of positive thinking.”

They paused beside their car and waited for Jesse to let the other shoe drop. They’d been in the business too long to think that all he’d wanted from them was to listen to another singer, no matter how good she was.

“So, what’s the scoop, Jesse?” Shorty asked.

“What’s the biggest mystery running in Nashville?” Jesse asked.

“Who Selma Bennett’s next husband will be,” Shorty replied, and grinned at the appreciative round of laughter that followed his statement.

“Besides that,” Jesse said.

Shorty became quiet. He turned and stared at the back door of the Bluebird and then back at Jesse. “Who’s the mystery woman that sang on your album?”

Jesse just grinned.

“Shit! Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

“I didn’t tell you a thing,” Jesse said. “But I need for you boys to do a little talking for me. I want Diamond Houston to be invited to sing at the Grand Ole Opry. This is the date and the time.” He handed them a slip of paper.

“Hell, Jesse. You know the rules. A performer doesn’t just show up unannounced and unknown. They’ve got to have some recognition—maybe a hit song—or have a lot of air time. You know the drill.”

“How much more recognition do you need, Shorty? Being part of a duo on a number-one song isn’t enough? Getting that same song nominated for a Grammy as best song of the year, and having said song played daily across the nation, wouldn’t do it for you?”

Shorty looked at his two friends for approval. They nodded.

“The catch is, you can’t let on what you know,” Jesse said. “I want it to be a surprise for everyone. Think of the coup you can claim when you three admit to knowing her identity long before the rest of the world.”

“It’s a deal,” Shorty said. “I’ll give Tommy a call when I get the details worked out.”

“No!” Jesse’s exclamation caught them all by surprise. “For this to work, you have to leave him out of it. Do we have a deal?”

It didn’t take them long to read between the lines. What happened between Jesse and his manager was nothing to them. But being in on the revelation was an appealing idea.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, and on your terms. I’ll be in touch,” Shorty said.

Jesse watched them leave and then leaned against his car and buried his face in his hands, unable to believe he’d pulled this off.

I’m getting as backhanded as Tommy
, he told himself.

He drove out of Nashville with a smile on his face. For the first time since he had come home and found her gone, his world was about to get back on track.

Then a thought occurred to him. He made a U-turn in the middle of the deserted, two-lane road and headed back into town.

19

Diamond waved good-bye
to Twila, shifted the heavy guitar case to the other hand, and let herself into her apartment. Tonight had been a milestone in her budding career, and she knew it. Twila had been on pins and needles through the entire event, and more than once Diamond had seen her fidgeting nervously as she looked around the room, gauging the reactions of the audience. What she hadn’t seen was Twila’s eyes widen in shock at the sight of the three men sitting against the east wall of the club. It was just as well. If Diamond had known the power the men held in the country music business, she might have blown the entire performance.

But as exciting as tonight had been, Diamond couldn’t bring herself to rejoice. She locked the door behind her, set the guitar in the closet, made one turn through the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and tried to convince herself to eat. She had everything going for her and wanted only what she couldn’t have.

She slammed the refrigerator shut, wincing as the glass jars and bottles in the door rattled against one another. Her gaze strayed, as it had more than once during the past few weeks, to the white princess phone sitting quietly on the table beside her sofa.

Yet she knew calling him again would be a mistake. Hearing the pain in his voice wouldn’t do a thing except remind her of her own.

She walked into her bedroom, dropped to her knees beside the dresser, and opened the bottom drawer. They lay just where she’d tossed them when she’d moved—all the clippings, fan mail, and tabloid articles concerning her and Jesse.

And they taunted her, just as they had since the day Tommy had stuffed them into her hands and shouted in her face that she was ruining Jesse Eagle’s life and career.

Some of the newspaper clippings were beginning to turn a bit yellow. The envelopes containing the angry fan mail were wrinkled and smudged from handling. But Diamond knew that if she dared, she could pull them out and still feel the same sensation of shock she’d felt on the day of their arrival.

How could anything so small cause so much pain? she wondered, fingering the stack of paper. And how could she have let someone else’s words mean more to her than Jesse’s?

The ache in the back of her throat swelled into a sob. With one swift shove, she slammed the drawer shut, buried her face in her hands, and let the tears come.

There was no consolation in the knowledge that if she could have done it over again, she would have stayed and fought for what—and who—belonged to her.

Twila parked her car. Still riding on the high from Diamond’s performance at the Bluebird, she missed the fact that the security light above her apartment door was out. She locked the car then slung her purse over her shoulder as she started walking, her door key dangling from her fingers. She didn’t see or hear the man until he stepped out of the shadows in front of her apartment and stood between her and safety.

“Twila Hart?”

Twila jumped, grabbed for her purse, and fumbled in its depths for the can of mace she always carried. She’d known it was only a matter of time before the law of averages caught up with her and she became a crime statistic. Her breath caught on a sob as she yanked out a ballpoint pen instead of the cylinder of mace and aimed it toward the man.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll—”

“What? Mark me off your Christmas list?”

The humor in his voice slowed the rapid thud of her heart. If she weren’t mistaken, she knew the owner of that voice.

“Oh, Lord,” she said, slumping against the wall. “You scared me half to death, you fool.”

Jesse sighed. All he could do right these days was the wrong thing.

“I’m really sorry, Ms. Hart,” he said. “But I needed to talk to you—without witnesses. May I come in?”

She slapped the door key in his hand. “You open it,” she said. “I’m still shaking too much to hit the keyhole.”

“I’m pretty nervous myself,” he said. “When I saw you yank out that ballpoint, I thought my days were numbered.”

“Shut up and open the door.”

Jesse did as he was ordered. Twila pushed past him, flipped on the lights, tossed her purse on the sofa and flung her ballpoint across the room in a last fit of wasted adrenaline. She tossed her coat across the back of a chair and, when she was certain she could talk without screaming, turned to face her uninvited guest.

He leaned against the door, unwilling to come any farther into her home without invitation.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Twila said. “Have a seat.”

But Jesse just pushed himself away from the door, shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and walked toward the window overlooking Nashville, giving her nothing but a very enticing view of his backside.

“We’ve never been formally introduced,” Twila said, appreciatively eyeing how well the western-style suit he was wearing fit his tall body.

“And it’s been my misfortune,” Jesse said as he turned and extended his hand.

Twila’s heart skipped a beat as their hands touched. The pain he was suffering was palpable, and in spite of her intentions to remain aloof, she winced at the chill on his skin. A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth, and his dark eyes were bright. Too bright for the mood. She suspected they housed a constant sheen of tears.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” she said. “You’re here for a reason. I want to hear it.”

Jesse nodded. He wiped his hands across his face, inhaled slowly, and then began to talk. “First, I just need to hear how she’s doing.”

Twila snorted. “As all right as a person can be who’s been cut and hung out to dry. What the hell did you do to her?”

His groan gave Twila second thoughts about the culpability of the man standing before her. From the look on his face, he was in just as much pain as Diamond.

“Oh, God, I don’t know,” Jesse said, dropping into the chair behind him. He stared down at the floor as he tried to find the best way to continue without making a total fool of himself. “I’ve spent the better part of the last few months trying to find out.”

“I don’t get it,” Twila said. “Either you cheated her or you didn’t.”

Jesse exhaled slowly. It was strange what kind of pain mere words could inflict. Having someone say aloud what had happened to the woman he loved was agony.