QUEENIE BABY: On Assignment (4 page)

“You knew that I was trying to get out of singing with her,” I grumbled.
 

“Yeah, but if you get up there and sing with her, I can stare at you all I want without it being awkward,” he said matter-of-factly.

I felt a fluttering in my stomach and a flush spreading below. I met his eyes because I knew it was a challenge, but I looked away first. I’m no good at flirting.
 

“Yoo-hoo, Diana,” Carol shouted into the microphone. “It’s our turn.”
 

The spell was broken. Saved by karaoke! I grabbed my drink and hurried to the stage. I was starting to feel the effects of the two and a quarter martinis. Good. A drink or two was perfect for getting up in front of a crowd and singing. More than that and you forgot the words. That’s a lesson most singers learn the hard way. Of course, when you’re singing karaoke it doesn’t matter how much you’ve had to drink because the words are right there in front of you. I guess that’s why karaoke and bars go so well together.

The music had already started to twang as I climbed on stage with Carol. “Here she is,” Carol said like the emcee for a beauty pageant. “Isn’t she lovely and tall!” she added looking up at me. I felt like an Amazon next her. I looked down at her stocking feet with reinforced toes. It didn’t help that she had left her heels at the bar.

There was a smattering of applause from the small audience and I could hear Woody’s shrill whistle from the bar loud and clear. Must be something they taught in bartender school, I thought randomly. I was feeling nervous. Bizarre. I played out at least a hundred times a year and I was worried about singing karaoke at McGlynn’s? Really? It was all that manly smelling Mark’s fault. Just like the big bad wolf. The better to watch you with, my dear. Who says stuff like that?
 

And then we were singing. I gave it my best shot. We even managed a few Nancy Sinatra dance moves. By the end of the song the crowd was singing along and a couple of people had come up in front of the stage to dance. Not bad. And not once did I look over at Mark.
 

Carol was over the moon. She high-fived me as we were leaving the stage and said, “Next time you play out we should do a couple of songs together. We’d need to practice, of course,” she added. Great! I’d created a monster.

I felt like a school girl as I walked with Carol up to the bar where Mark stood clapping his hands. “Great job!” he said with genuine enthusiasm. “You were terrific. You need to take your show on the road.”
 

Carol beamed. “That’s just what I told Diana!”

I gave him a dirty look. He smiled mischievously.

The bar was getting busier and Woody was flying around mixing drinks and pouring beers. “Another martini, Di?” he asked.

I looked at the time—almost nine—and looked at my empty glass. “Better make it ice water,” I said.

“No more water for me,” Carol declared. “I’m celebrating!”

Woody nodded to me and then stopped and looked over my shoulder at the front door. He made a face. Shaking his head, he said, “You might want to rethink that drink order, Di.” He pointed to the door.

Granddaddy Hacker stood in the doorway, thankfully wearing pants. He was carrying my guitar case. “I’ll have a Jack on ice,” I said as I stood up.

“Hey, Queenie Baby,” Granddaddy called across the room. “Thought you might want to buy your Granddaddy a drink and play me some Patsy,” he said as he plopped my guitar down next to Mark’s bar stool.

“I told you to stay home. I wanted some alone time, remember?” I said between clenched teeth.
 

Granddaddy looked pointedly at Mark. “Don’ look like you havin’ too much alone time here.”

“That’s beside the point,” I said. “Why did you bring my guitar? I’m not playing tonight. I’m drinking.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t come,” he said. “You just said I didn’t have no pants to wear. Well now I do! Got ‘em out of the dryer myself.” He was actually proud of that. Anything domestic he called “woman’s work” and he expected someone else to do it for him. This list included, but was not limited to: doing laundry or dishes, cooking, performing yard work, and any form of cleaning. I hadn’t yet figured out what, if anything was “man’s work.”
 

“That’s not the point and you know it!” I said.

Granddaddy pulled himself onto a stool and banged on the bar top. “Barkeep!” he called.

I groaned. Woody looked at me and walked over to him. “Good to see you again, Mr. Hacker,” he said. “What can I get you?”

Granddaddy cackled. “Well, I’d like me a piece of that brunette over there,” he said pointing to Carol, “but I don’ think she’s on your menu. Hah!” He slapped his palm on the bar top.

Carol glanced down the bar at Granddaddy and took him in with a glance. Nope. She wasn’t that drunk.

“Granddaddy, just order a drink. One drink,” I said sternly.

“Okey dokey,” he said agreeably. “One drink and a Patsy song.”

“Not going to happen tonight,” I said flatly.

“Aw,” said Mark. “Sing your Granddaddy a Patsy song.”

“Listen to the man, Queenie Baby! My days might be numbered. Could be your last chance,” he said with a sniff.

“Fat chance,” I said to Granddaddy. I turned on Mark. “And you stay out of this.”

“Come on Queenie Baby, be a sport,” Mark teased.

“Don’t call me that!” I fumed. Granddaddy had been embarrassing me since I was a teenager with that nickname. He used to tell Granny Hacker that she’d better treat him like a king or he’d replace her with a young, sexy Queenie Baby. As much as he threatened, though, Granddaddy never replaced her. In fact, he was still a confirmed bachelor ten years after she’d gone to the big bargain store in the sky. Granddaddy meant it as a term of endearment, instead of something like “Cutie Pie.” I mean after all, what woman wouldn’t want to be a Queenie Baby?
 

“It’s cute,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
 

I could feel myself blushing. Unbelievable. I had to get laid more often. This was ridiculous. I deliberately ignored his comment and leaned over to take a big swig of Jack. Granddaddy ordered Southern Comfort on the rocks.
 

“A little SoCo to warm my so cold cockles,” he cackled as he downed it in one motion. He slammed his glass down on the bar and called, “Barkeep, another SoCo. And keep ‘em coming. If my granddaughter ain’t gonna sing for me, then I’m gettin’ drunk!” He clinked shot glasses with Carol who was drinking something that looked like cappuccino out of her shot glass. Oh, good grief! This was getting out of hand.

I could see Mark out of the corner of my eye. Arms crossed, leaning against the bar watching my every move. Why did he have to smell so good?

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll sing. One song and then we’re out of here. We’ve got work tomorrow.” I looked pointedly at Carol. She raised her shot glass.
 

Granddaddy waved his hand in the direction of Greene’s. “That ain’t nothin’. You’re just tempin’ and she runs the place,” he said gesturing to Carol. “Who’s gonna know if you’re a wee bit late.”

“We aren’t going to be late,” I said with determination. “One song and we’re gone.”
 

I pulled my guitar out of the case and dug through my pockets for a pick. There was always one in a pocket somewhere. Success!
 

Mark leaned in close and said, “A girl with a guitar. I don’t think there is anything sexier.”

I flipped my long blond hair out from under the strap, looked up at him and replied, “You should see me play the guitar naked.” I turned around and headed for the stage before he could reply. Take that! I’m not some swooning teenager. No sir, I’m a grown woman who can play the game too.

I was feeling pretty good about myself—and definitely a little tipsy—as I climbed up on stage. I plugged my acoustical guitar into the stage amp and repositioned the microphone. I strummed a few notes to check the sound and said, “I know it’s karaoke night, but my crazy Granddaddy is sitting over there at the bar.” I pointed to Granddaddy and the audience (all ten or so) turned around to look. Granddaddy waved to them. “And he’s threatening to keep doing shots until I play him a Patsy Cline song.” A couple of the rowdier customers hooted in support of Granddaddy and his shots. “So I’m dedicating this song to my crazy Granddaddy, my crazy day, and all my crazy friends.” Everyone in the bar clapped and hooted.
 

As I plucked the melody out on my guitar, the room quieted down and I began to sing
Crazy
. I loved anything by Patsy, but this song was definitely at the top of my list. It just felt sad and romantic, hopeful and hopeless all at once. Transposing it to play on the acoustical guitar had been difficult. But it had been a labor of love. As I sang the last few notes, I looked up and saw Mark with his eyes closed. What the heck! Geez, I’m putting people to sleep with my singing. Not good when you’re supposed to be a professional musician. When I strummed the last note there were a few seconds of silence before the room erupted in applause and whistles. There were also a few catcalls, but I think that was Granddaddy.
 

“Thank you so much,” I said into the microphone. “If you enjoyed that, I’ll be performing at McGlynn’s again this Friday night from nine to twelve. Hope to see you here.” I unplugged my guitar and headed back to the bar.
 

Granddaddy had SoCo shots lined up on the counter. One for each of us. I glanced over at Mark. He looked almost serious. As I was putting my guitar back in its case, he leaned over and said, “You’re great. I mean amazing.”
 

 
“Well, that’s good. I was worried I was keeping you awake.” He wrinkled his forehead. “Your eyes were closed through most of the song,” I said with exasperation.

He looked like I had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “I had to close my eyes, so I could actually listen to you instead of just staring at you.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I asked jokingly.

“Yes,” he replied as he took my hand, turned it over and kissed the palm gently. Warmth spread up my arm and down my body to all the good parts. Wow. What was that?

I had to put a stop to this. Remember the rules, Diana! You met him in a bar. It’s a no go. Non-negotiable. I pulled my hand back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t date men I meet in bars.”

Granddaddy slurred, “Come on you two. A toast.” We all raised our shot glasses. “To my Queenie Baby!”
 

I rolled my eyes and downed it.

Mark leaned closer and smiled wickedly. “Who said anything about dating, Queenie Baby?”

I sucked in my breath, ready to tell him all about himself.
 

“Whoa, hold on there girl,” I heard Granddaddy say. Next thing Carol was face down on the floor. “Barkeep,” he announced loudly, “we have a patron down. I repeat we have a patron down.”

Woody gave me a look that said we had worn out our welcome. I said, “We’ll take our check now.” This place was my bread and butter. “Come on Granddaddy. It’s time to go.” I pulled on his sleeve and ran around him to get Carol.

“Aww, the party was just gettin’ started,” he complained and looked eagerly for something else to drink.
 

“I have to play here again Friday. I don’t want to lose this gig,” I pleaded.

That stopped him. “Yep, you’re right,” he said with a drunken nod. “Don’t shit where you eat. Time to make tracks.”

Mark got on the other side of Carol and lifted her to her feet. He propped her against the bar stool as I bent to get her purse. I noticed she was still in her stocking feet. No shoes in sight. Well, it wasn’t that far of a walk. I looked up at Mark. “You don’t happen to have a car, do you?”

“No. Not that I would drive right now even if I did,” he replied shaking his head. “I’ll flag down a cab.”

“No chance a cab is going to stop for this motley crew. We’ve got ‘backseat barfers’ written all over us,” I said pushing a stray hair out of my eyes. “We’ll just have to walk back to my place. It’s only two blocks. Carol can stay with me tonight.” I sighed. This was going to be fun.

“Need a hand?” he asked. “Or was that an invitation?” He had such a wicked, sexy grin.
 

“You can just keep your hands to yourself,” I cried. “And keep your lips off mine!” I turned away to root through my purse for my debit card to pay the bill. I put the card on the bar.
 

Woody said, “It’s paid,” and nodded at Mark who was putting on his coat. Argh!
 

That just burned me. Did he think he was going to pay for a couple of drinks and follow me home to bed? “Thanks, Woody. Sorry if we were a little rowdy. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Hey, no problem,” he said easily. “Besides, your new boyfriend made it well worth it.” Woody turned around and rang the bell over the cash register. A bartender signal that he had just received a good tip.
 

I looked up at the ceiling and pinched the bridge of my nose. I felt like banging my head on the bar.
 

“Are you ready?” Mark asked from behind me.

I turned around and he had Carol tucked under one arm and my guitar case in the other hand. “I’ll let you get your Granddaddy,” he said with a charming smile. “He looks like he might bite.”

At this point it was getting late and I had no other choice. Not that a little part of me (you know the part) didn’t like the idea of Mark knowing where I lived. Oh, God, I thought, please don’t let him be one of those charming serial killers. That’s all I need right now.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

THE WALK BACK was relatively uneventful. With the exception of Carol vomiting in the street and Granddaddy peeing in the street, all went smoothly. Mark and I barely spoke. The tension was rising the closer we got to my condo. We finally reached the front door.
 

As I fumbled for my keys, Granddaddy wandered off the sidewalk and into the hedges in front of Mrs. Kester’s condo. Before I could stop him, he rapped on the window, yelling, “Come on out and play, you old bitty. I’ll take my drawers off, so you can have another look.” Granddaddy started to unbuckle his belt. Mrs. Kester’s light came on just as I opened the front door.