Keep Dancing (23 page)

“Scoop it up. I’ve lost me shirt,” Jack said, unbuttoning. “I’m gonna get you next time,” he added to Suzanne. I admired the flex of his bare arm as he lifted the bottle and took a drink. “My turn to deal.”

“You’ve gotta watch him,” Sammy said. “You should see how he cheats in Monopoly.”

“I do not.” Jack shuffled the deck.

“How come you always wind up with Boardwalk?” Sammy asked.

“Lucky, I guess.” Jack grinned. He looked incredibly sexy sitting next to me with his shirt off, long legs crossed barefoot at the ankles and thick choppy hair going every which way. I put my hand on his thigh and felt his muscles tighten. As his fingers splayed around my waist, I fought a powerful urge to climb into his lap. The game ended with Jack winning the last hand.

“All right, time to split.” Mark stood up and stretched. “I’m gonna hit the bar.”

“Why don’t you just come to bed?” Suzanne asked fretfully.

“I’ll be back in a while.” Mark hurried out, Sammy in tow.

Suzanne looked like she was about to cry. “I’m too zonked to follow him around anymore. Good night.” She went out the door.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Jack said as he reached for me.

Another One Bites the Dust

A hunched old man with a scraggly beard leaned over a railroad track, hammering at an iron bar. He muttered to himself in French, paying no attention to me, but I could tell something horrible was about to happen. I awoke in a cold sweat and realized that someone was pounding on the door. Jack was conked out next to me. I looked at my watch. We weren’t leaving for Orlando until the afternoon; who in hell could it be? Pulling on my jeans, I went to see.

Suzanne was standing there. Her face was smeary with tears, her beautiful red hair matted.

“What happened? Are you all right?” I asked, drawing her inside. “Is Mark okay?”

Suzanne shook her head. “I’m leaving. I wanted to tell you before I go. I can’t take it anymore!” she wailed. I put my arms around her, feeling her tremble.

“Are you sure? Do you want to stay here with us?”

“He’s been fucking the makeup girl!” she cried. “Right under my nose! I’m used to him picking up groupies; one-night stands with his little Floor Whores. But he’s been screwing her the whole time!” She drooped onto my shoulder.

“You’re right. You do need to leave him.” I felt awful for her, and also realized how this would change everything.

Suzanne wiped her streaming eyes on her sleeve. “I hate to desert you in the middle of the cock-up about that newspaper article. Julia, listen to me. Mary Jo’s trying to get you banned from the tour. Before the show last night, she and Patrick spent half an hour trying to convince Jack that you planted it.”

My stomach sank. “Can they ban me if Jack doesn’t agree to it?”
God, this is turning into a nightmare!

“I don’t think so, but don’t underestimate Mary Jo. She’s really devious; she’s stirred up all kinds of trouble before. She’s the one that hired that little makeup floozy in the first place.” Suzanne’s face crumpled. “This time I’m really going to leave him for good.”

“I’m so sorry, Suzanne. But I think you’re doing the right thing. Should I get Jack up?”

“No, let him sleep. He’d probably just try to talk me into staying.” She reached in her bag for a tissue and blew her nose. “I’m going to stay with my Mum for a while in London. I’ll call you when I’m back in New York. At least you and I can still be friends.”

“Of course we can. We’ll have dinner when you get back.”

“I’m sorry to bail on you. Just keep your eyes open. Don’t let Mary Jo pull any more of her stunts. I don’t know what’s wrong with that woman; she isn’t satisfied unless she’s making someone miserable.”

We embraced again, and she left. Feeling abandoned, I got back into bed and looked at Jack’s slumbering face on the pillow. He’d made a joke about the article, but what was he really thinking? He was smooth enough to act like he didn’t believe I’d done it—but deep down, did he suspect me? And how would I convince him of my innocence without sounding like I was protesting too much? As Jack began to stir, I decided to just leave it for the time being. Instead, I told him about Suzanne’s defection.

“She’s left him before. She’ll be back.” Jack swiped his face tiredly.

His nonchalant tone pissed me off. “Don’t you think it’s awful the way Mark treats her? She’s his wife. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Jack looked at me blearily. “Obviously it means something to
you
. Can we talk about this later? My head’s killing me.”

“You never want to discuss anything difficult. Or that you don’t agree with.” I crossed my arms.

“Last night I spent an hour defending you to Mary Jo and Patrick.” His voice got louder. “
That
was pretty difficult.”

“Are you implying I spoke to that reporter?” I raised my voice to match his.

“Give it a rest. I’m sick of the whole thing.” Jack sat up, pulled on a shirt and jeans, and to my dismay, stomped out.

After several hours of tossing and turning, I finally drifted off while trying to read
Anna K.
Around two in the afternoon, I was awakened by the ringing phone.

“Can you come get Jack? He isn’t feeling well,” Patrick said in a low voice. “You’d better take him back to your room.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I dunno, he seems kind of sick. You’d better hurry. Room 969.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” I hoped Jack wasn’t coming down with something bad; I knew a few of the roadies were MIA with the flu. Although we’d just quarreled, I didn’t wish that on him.

I took the elevator to the ninth floor, found the room and tapped on the door, which was cracked. “Come in,” I heard Patrick say. Pushing it open, I stepped inside.

Patrick was standing behind a naked woman sprawled face-down on the bed. A purple sleep mask covered her eyes, and next to her was a mirror crosshatched with lines of cocaine. Mark was sprawled back in a chair, nude beneath his robe.

“Jack, it’s your turn!” Patrick called out. He smiled at me. “Want to join us? We’re playing Guess the Cock.”

Before I could react, Jack came out of the bathroom. He stopped in his tracks. “What are—”

“You bastard!” I shrieked. I shoved out the door, flew across the hall and took the stairs. Racing down the flights, I didn’t bother stifling my screams. My hands were shaking so much, I could hardly get the key in the lock. I ran into the bedroom and started throwing my things into a suitcase.
You’ve got to get out of here before he comes back!
I told myself. As tears dripped down my face, the thought occurred to me:
I wonder if he’ll even bother to come downstairs
.

The door slammed. “Julia!”

I turned to face him. “I’ll be out of your hair in five minutes. You can go back to your sleazy friends!”

Jack came toward me, arms outstretched. “Calm down.”

“
Calm down
? Don’t tell me to calm down!” I shouted.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” He lifted his hands and dropped them to his sides. “Listen to me for a minute. I was just doing some blow. I figured I’d have one last binge before I go home.”

“How can you expect me to believe that!” I felt like my brain was about to explode.

“I didn’t do anything with her.” Jack sat on the edge of the mattress. “We were hanging out in Patrick’s room. She had on a robe the whole time; I was only there for the flake. I went to use the bathroom. When Patrick called out to me, I thought it was my turn to do a line. He must have set it up just to shock you.”

“‘Shock’ doesn’t really do it justice.” My mind was working overtime.
How am I supposed to know what’s the truth? God, is this just a slick lie?

“I swear on my grandfather’s grave. I wasn’t doing anything.” Still sitting, he gazed up at me. Looking into his deep brown eyes, I tried to gauge his sincerity.

“Listen, Julia. For whatever reason, Patrick sees you as a threat. He has, ever since he realized I was really into you.” Jack sighed. “He likes me to hang out with him on tour. My hotel room’s always been the party room, but now it’s not. He isn’t too happy about that.”

“But
he’s
always with different people. Why does he care who you’re with?” I sniffled.

“That’s just the point. He doesn’t care if I’m with a different girl every night. It’s
one
woman that makes him feel threatened.”

Jack stood up and put his arms around me. “My band mate’s a cunt. And I shouldn’t have run out on you earlier. I was really hung over.” He leaned in to kiss me, and I let him part my lips. His tongue met mine gently, and then passionately. I was only just starting to believe him, but my body was way ahead of my mind.

Jack pulled away and squeezed my waist. “I wouldn’t be with someone else when I’ve got my own woman right here with me.”

I managed a wan smile.

“Hot in here.” He took off his shirt. “Let me get you something.” He went to the fridge and opened a beer. I drank thirstily, my throat scraped raw from crying.

“That’s my girl.” He pulled me close, and I could feel his heart thumping. Again I looked into his dark eyes lowered to mine, jet-black lashes brushing his high cheekbones.

I guess I’m going to believe him. He said he wouldn’t do that while I was here. But does that mean he would if I
wasn’t
here?

Jack’s lips brushed my neck. “Do you want to rest?” he murmured. “I don’t mean to jump you right after…”

I slid my arms around him. “I don’t want to rest.”

In a way, I was glad to get on the plane back to New York. Going to the concert in Orlando without Suzanne made me sad, and I was stuck sitting next to Mary Jo in all her huffy disapproval. I’d tried to explain again that I hadn’t spoken to any reporters, but she turned her back on me, and I just sat there feeling dumb. I would miss Jack horribly for the next three weeks, and I wondered what he’d be up to when I wasn’t around. But I’d had it with his self-righteous manager and vile band mate.

Just What I Needed

Dermot Chase had promised me the entire first draft of his novel when I got back, so I was excited about meeting him for a drink that following Thursday. I was relieved that he was finally handing it in—especially since I’d fudged telling my boss that I hadn’t even seen the first chapter yet.

I left the office at six and sprinted through the freezing March rain to the upscale bar that Dermot had suggested. I spotted him sitting at a table, looking suavely handsome in a dark suit and white shirt. His glossy brown hair fell in a wave over his forehead, giving him a boyish air despite his sophisticated duds. He got up as I approached, and extended his arms.

“Ju-li-i-a.” He crooned my name to the tune of the John Lennon song. His voice wasn’t bad, but of course it was nothing compared to Jack’s. “Did you have a nice visit with your family?” He put his hands on my shoulders.

“I had a good week.” Prepared for his Continental-style kiss this time around, I avoided bumping noses.

“You do look relaxed.” His gaze swept up and down, making me flush. His flirting wasn’t really appropriate, but what could it hurt?
Live a little
, I told myself.

“It was nice to have some time off. How was your week?” I asked. We took our seats at the small table, our knees touching. I started to move mine away, but then decided not to be so uptight.

Dermot gave me a smoldering look. “I missed you. But I made progress while you were gone.”

The waiter stopped by. I asked for a glass of merlot, and Dermot ordered another scotch. “That’s really great,” I said to Dermot. “I’m looking forward to digging in. Quickly. With the tight deadline, Ted’s a little anxious about it.” Now that he was turning it in, I could acknowledge the pressure from my boss.

“Oh, not so fast. It’s coming along…” Dermot looked at me, his irises dark pinpricks surrounded by crystalline blue. “But I’m not quite ready to hand it over yet. Actually I’ve been reworking the young female character. I told you about Penelope, right?”

I bit back my frustration. “Yes, you mentioned it.”

“Since we met, I’m revising her to be more like you.” Dermot gazed soulfully into my eyes. “Beautiful. Intelligent. Fascinating.”

I choked on my wine. As I was spluttering, Dermot offered his glass of water. “I’m not upsetting you, am I?” He flashed a big smile.

Rattled by his flattery, I tried to compose myself. “No, but I mean—we don’t know each other very well. Maybe there’s someone else you could base her on. Do you have a niece?” I floundered, trying to get the conversation back on a professional track.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, there are any number of young women who’d be thrilled to be my muse.” He frowned, seeming a little insulted.

Oh god, I can’t put him off. What if he has to go back and rewrite it?
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. When I go through the manuscript, I’ll add in any…”
This is so weird. Am I supposed to edit it so she’s like me?
“Any, um, characteristics that might be helpful.”

“Great. And we’ll need to spend more time together, so I can get her exactly right.” He took my hand, his onyx ring cool against my skin.

“Sure, but could I have the first hundred pages? Just to get a sense of it.” I extracted my hand, grabbed my wine glass and drained it.

“You’ll have it all soon enough. But I
can
give you a copy of my acceptance speech for the Book Awards.” He pulled an envelope from his inner coat pocket. “Everyone keeps telling me I’m going to win, so I’ve prepared a little statement. Maybe you could give it a once-over.” He handed me the envelope, which I stuffed into my backpack.

“I’ll let you know if I have any suggestions.” I paid the bill with my corporate card, and Dermot helped me into my coat. “When do you think you’ll have the first draft for me?” I asked in desperation.

“All in its own sweet time. Despite what those philistines in your contracts department think, a work of art can’t be rushed.”