Tender Deception: A Novel of Romance (10 page)

She had become so absorbed with those nights spent close to Jimmy and the band that she forgot she was Cinderella at a ball; in two weeks the clock was going to strike “midnight” and her coach was going to turn back into a pumpkin.

The night came without warning. Jimmy had not told her that Kirk Remington was back in town. Later, she discovered that Jimmy hadn’t expected him that night. Remington had returned to New Orleans, and simply showed up at the club without warning.

The first hint Lilly got was a sudden tenseness in the band. She noticed a serious look on Jimmy’s face. The clowning that normally went on among the musicians became subdued.

Lilly glanced out at the audience in the club. Her gaze was drawn to a tall, swarthy man standing in the doorway. His eyes had a smoldering, brooding expression. She had never seen eyes quite like that—dark, fierce, compelling. The other patrons in the bar seemed to fade into a vague mist as the dark-eyed man’s presence dominated the place. Electromagnetic waves emanated from him, a charge of powerful energy that collided with everything in its path.

His brooding eyes swept over the bandstand and settled on her. She felt a strange weakness in her knees, a fluttering in her stomach. A chill raced down her spine. The man’s look unnerved her in a way she had never before experienced. His gaze rudely stripped the clothes from her body, leaving her sitting at the piano under his raw inspection.

She had just come face to face with Kirk Remington.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Kirk, Lilly went to school with me back in Millerdale. She came down to New Orleans a couple of weeks ago, right after Tiny died. I hired her to fill in until you got back.”

The band was on its first break of the evening. Jimmy, Kirk and Lilly were in the nightclub’s back office where Jimmy introduced Lilly to his brother.

Kirk shook her hand, his dark eyes gazing steadily into hers, sending a warm shiver through her body.

She gazed at him curiously, looking for a family resemblance between the two brothers, but finding them as different in appearance as in temperament. Kirk was dark where Jimmy was fair. Kirk’s body was as lean and sinewy as a whip. His olive complexion, strong, dark eyebrows and beautiful eyes reminded her of the movie actor Tyrone Power. Only around the mouth did she notice a resemblance, a kind of sensitivity common to both the brothers.

Kirk wore all the badges of a successful man. An expensive suit was hand tailored to drape smoothly over his broad shoulders, the hard-woven dark wool material strained against the rippling muscles of his thighs. Gold cuff links gleamed in the sleeves of his blue, monogrammed shirt. A heavy platinum wrist-watch circled his left wrist.

Lilly sensed that the difference between the personalities of Jimmy LaCross and Kirk Remington was even more striking than their appearance. Where Jimmy was happy-go-lucky, Kirk possessed a brooding intensity.

“Lilly, I’m very glad to know you,” Kirk said in a rich, softly modulated voice that sent a fresh shiver down her spine. “So you’re from our old home town.”

Lilly nodded, finding herself strangely at a loss for words.

Kirk laughed, flashing even, white teeth. “Millerdale is a great place to be
from.”

Lilly found her tongue. “I take it you don’t think any more of the town than Jimmy does.”

“Oh, I really don’t have anything against it. I suppose I have bad associations from a not very happy childhood there. I’ll have to give the town credit for producing young people with remarkable musical talent. You play very well.”

“Thank you,” Lilly murmured, her heart leaping with hope. She
had
impressed him. He was going to let her stay in the band!

But his next words dashed her hopes. “I hope you’ll understand that it’s no reflection on your playing if we can’t give you a permanent job.”

Lilly’s shoulders slumped. She looked from Kirk to Jimmy, fighting back a rush of tears.

Jimmy was scowling. “Kirk, dammit, what kind of attitude is that? Lilly plays up a storm. You heard her. She’s sparked the whole band. I want to keep her with us.”

The brothers locked gazes that were like steel striking flint and giving off the sulfurous odor of flying sparks. “We’ll discuss it at another time,” Kirk said calmly.

“Another time, heck!” Jimmy cried. “I’m tired of you all the time throwing your weight around. I wish you’d leave running the band up to somebody who knows something about music.”

Again, Lilly was made aware of a difference in the two men. Jimmy, for all his happy-go-lucky nature, could be hot tempered. Kirk met his younger brother’s outburst with a look of cool disdain.

Then he turned to Lilly with an apologetic smile. “Just a little family argument, Lilly. The fact is that I know quite a bit more about music than Jimmy gives me credit for. Jazz music happens to be a great passion in my life. While I’m not a musician myself, I do know a lot about music. I probably own one of the most extensive libraries of jazz records in the world. The way I relax from the pressures of business is to come down here when I’m in New Orleans, settle at a table near the bandstand, and listen to Jimmy’s band. I think he and his boys have a great future and I’m willing to gamble money on promoting them. That’s why I’m so concerned with their future and Jimmy’s choice of the band’s personnel.”

“If you’re all that concerned about our future, maybe you’d better think twice before letting Lilly get away from us,” Jimmy exclaimed. “Here, look at some of the arrangements she’s written since she’s been with us.” He thrust a bundle of music into his brother’s hands.

Kirk raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re an arranger, too?” he asked her.

“A darn good one,” Jimmy said.

Kirk glanced through the pages, then gave Lilly a look of new respect. “These do look good. Some of these tunes are quite rare and hard to come by. They certainly would be a valuable addition to the repertoire of any band that plays traditional jazz.”

“Wait until you hear the band play them,” Jimmy exclaimed.

“Okay. I do want to hear them. If they’re really good, maybe we could keep you on as an arranger, Lilly. But I just don’t think it would work out to have a woman playing in the band. Sorry.”

With that, he walked out of the room.

Lilly was fuming.

“See what I mean?” Jimmy growled.

“He can be infuriating,” she agreed. “I’d like to leave right now. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of firing me!”

Jimmy’s face clouded. “You really wouldn’t do that, would you, Lilly? It would put the band in a tough spot. We’ve got a big crowd tonight. And you’d have the union on your back something fierce for walking off a bandstand without notice.”

Lilly’s bright-eyed look of anger softened. “No, Jimmy, of course I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He hugged her, grinning down at her. “That’s my girl.” He kissed her lightly and whatever anger was left in her melted in a rush of emotion.

Jimmy said, “No matter what Kirk says, I can’t kick you off the stand without notice. Let’s go play the heck out of those new arrangements. I know when Kirk hears them, he’s going to hire you as a full-time arranger.”

“All right,” Lilly said reluctantly. “But, Jimmy, I do think it’s unfair for Kirk to tell you how to run your band. I think you’re right—he’s jealous because you’re the one with all the talent.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Maybe so. Anyway, at this point we’re all pretty dependent on Kirk’s money. Jazz has never been a very commercial product. Right now it’s the rock groups and the country western stars who are raking in the big money and making the million dollar record sales. Some of the greatest jazz musicians died broke, forgotten and alone in some charity ward. So, I guess we’re lucky having someone like Kirk with his money and influence behind us. I keep reminding myself of that. With Kirk, we might make it big some day—records, jazz festivals, European tours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m around Kirk. I’ll smile sweetly and bite my tongue—for your sake.”

Jimmy kissed her again. “Thanks, sweetheart. Now let’s go out there and blow old Kirk out of the joint with those great arrangements of yours.”

Intoxicated by Jimmy’s kisses, Lilly returned to the bandstand and played as she had never played before.

* * * * * * *

Lilly was under a strain for the rest of that week. She dreaded looking over the crowd in the small nightclub; she knew she would see Kirk Remington. He was there every night at a private table in the shadows against a wall. He appeared immobile, lost in contemplation, his attention never wavering from the band.

Lilly took out her frustration and anger at the ruthless man by throwing her energy at the piano. She played jazz solos with thundering chords that made the instrument shake. Jimmy grinned at her after one of her onslaughts at the keyboard. “Don’t break it, honey. It ain’t paid for.”

She sang her Bessie Smith type blues numbers with all her soul, belting them out from the tips of her toes.

She sang
Gimme a Pig’s Foot and a Bottle of Beer
with a powerful delivery that didn’t seem possible from such a slender girl. She felt Remington’s eyes on her, twin smoldering, dark orbs, searching her out, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

When they finished the band’s theme song at four in the morning on the last night of Lilly’s job with the band, she saw Kirk Remington take Jimmy aside, speak with him briefly, then stride out of the club.

Jimmy gave Lilly her paycheck for the week. He told her, “I have a message for you. Kirk wants you to have dinner with him this evening.”

Lilly’s mouth dropped open.
“What?”

“Kirk wants to have dinner with you,” Jimmy repeated.

Her eyes reflected disbelief, then suspicion. “What on earth for?”

Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t know, Lilly.”

“Well, I won’t do it!” she retorted stormily.

“Better not be too hasty about turning him down,” Jimmy suggested. “I have a hunch he wants to talk to you about a permanent job in the band.”

Lilly’s anger abated somewhat. “Do you really think so, Jimmy?”

“I can’t say for sure. He didn’t say why, just told me to tell you to be ready for him to pick you up at seven-thirty tonight. It’s hard to know what the guy is thinking.”

Lilly’s innermost reaction to Remington’s imperious order that she be at his beck and call was fresh anger piled on her already fuming dislike of the man. But she was willing to suffer almost any indignation if it would mean she could go on being close to Jimmy. She sighed and nodded, “All right. I’ll be ready.”

That evening, she selected the best outfit she owned from her meager wardrobe. It was a rust colored, pleated dress she had found on sale for twenty-four dollars back in her college town. The knit was a pullover style with a self-fabric button closing to the waist. The V-neck stopped short of being revealing. The dress had a shawl collar, shirred drop front shoulder line and long sleeves. The skirt portion was pleated all around and it had a self-fabric sash-belt.

She turned slowly in front of the mirror in her dingy little hotel room. It was a presentable dress, flattering her figure, yet with a modest and conservative effect that afforded her a degree of security. She expected to be polite to Kirk Remington, but cool and distant.

A smile teased her lips when she thought about the irony of going out with the rich, high and mighty Kirk Remington in her twenty-four dollar bargain basement dress. No doubt the women Kirk Remington took to dinner wore designer originals from Paris or Rome. But, what the heck—she wasn’t out to impress the man. He knew she was just a poor musician. One look at this third-rate hotel room when he came to pick her up would be evidence enough of her financial status.

The dingy room didn’t bother her very much. True, it was not much larger than a walk-in closet. A single bed, a battered dresser and one chair left very little room to move about. The rug was threadbare, the wallpaper streaked and faded. But there was a tiny balcony overlooking a typical French Quarter courtyard filled with banana trees and tropical plants. And for that, Lilly forgave the room all its other shortcomings.

She slipped on her brown trench coat and stepped out on her minuscule balcony. She felt the cold touch of the wrought-iron grillwork under her palms as she leaned against the railing, looking down at the courtyard, then across the rooftops of the Vieux Carré. The sunset filled the sky with blood red streaks. Again a damp mist was in the air, lending a soft aura to the ancient buildings. She felt the chilling touch of the mist on her cheeks.

More than that, she felt the mood of the city, the heartbeat of this ancient setting with its character of fun and wickedness. She was acutely aware of the mingling of time, of past and present. She could hear the clop-clop of a horse-drawn sightseer’s carriage down the mist slick cobblestone streets and imagined it was carrying caped and gowned aristocrats of another century past street corner gas lights to the French Opera House. The ghosts of slaves, freebooters, plantation owners, dashing Confederate cavalry officers, and Storyville harlots moved wraith-like in the early fog that swirled in across the levee from the Mississippi. They mingled with twentieth century artists, tourists, merchant seamen, jazz musicians, nightclub strippers and antique-shop owners.