A Different Kind of Forever(49)

“Normal? Shit, that’s deadly. Sure, I’d love to come. Can I wear my hat?”

“No, you may not. Maybe the boots.”

“I have something to ask you, too. My father wants to meet you. Lunch at the Country Club was his suggestion.”

“Really? Oh, my. The Club. I’d love to meet your father. Any day will be fine.”

“Fantastic. I’ll let you know. Stand up - the set’s over. We’ll get trampled.”

She stood up quickly and leaned against the railing as people surged out the door and onto the sidewalk. Diane was watching them when she heard someone say Michael’s name. She turned and saw Jonelle, the singer from the band, wrap her arms around Michael’s neck and give him a slow, deliberate kiss in his lips.

“Michael, baby, you look fine,” Jonelle cooed. Michael smiled.

“Hello Jonelle. You all sound great.”

“Yeah, we’re doin’ good.” She was leaning against his side, one arm around his shoulders. She was petite, pretty, with close-cropped hair and dark, honey-colored skin. Diane watched her with interest. She could tell by the way Jonelle acted, her careless familiarity with Michael, the intimate smile, that they had been lovers.

“What’s with the hat, baby?” Jonelle teased, her hand rubbing Michael’s chest. You goin’ to the dark side?”

Michael chuckled and shook his head. Jonelle turned deliberately to Diane.

“Seth said you had a new lady,” she said flatly, looking Diane up and down.

“Yes. This is Diane.”

Jonelle turned back to Michael, ignoring Diane. “You gonna play later, baby? We used to play good together.”

Michael smiled faintly. “Maybe,” he said, a slight edge to his voice.

Jonelle took her arm away. “So, ask the new girlfriend. Maybe we could do a request.” She looked at Diane again. “You got a request?” she asked.

Michael looked over to Diane. She smiled innocently. “How about ‘The Man That Got Away’?”

Michael’s mouth twitched. Jonelle cocked her head. “Two points for you, honey.” To Michael, “That would be good, right baby?”

He nodded, grinning. “Sure. But no intro, okay?”

“Sure, baby. But lose the hat. Ain’t nothin’ so sad as a rich white boy in a cowboy hat playing blues, okay?” She turned on her heel and left. Diane looked at Michael with her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, man, I’m going to be in trouble for this, I can tell,” Michael said, laughing and taking her hand. “Come on, let’s get back. I need another drink.”

Seth and David were at the table, Seth in deep conversation with the redhead he had been dancing with earlier. David was smiling and drinking heavily, watching the people around him. When Diane sat next to him, he immediately brightened and launched into a discussion of American blues. Diane sipped club soda and tried to hear through his thick, slurred accent as Michael watched, grinning. Then the band started up again, and they were back on the dance floor, now more crowded than ever.

Seth sang with the band a couple of times, to great applause. Finally, Jonelle waved the crowd quiet and invited her ‘good friend’ up to join them. Michael took off his hat and set it on Diane’s head with a long kiss. He went on stage and sat at the upright piano. The crowd was noisy and restless, but after he hit a few chords, they were silent, listening.

Michael played alone, the rest of the band members silent, and Jonelle sat beside him on the piano bench, her voice soft and sexy. When they were done, and the crowd was screaming, she whispered in his ear and he nodded, and they began another number, familiar to Diane, an old love song. This time, the bass player started in, and the drummer hit the snare. When they were done, Michael stood up and walked off-stage, grabbing Diane’s hand as he hurried out.

“Can you drive?” he asked her as they walked toward the truck. She nodded, got behind the wheel and watched him as he took off his hat and sank down into the seat.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling away from the curb.

“Yeah. Just tired. That last beer and shot didn’t help.”

“You could do that all night, couldn’t you? Just sit behind a piano and play for somebody like Jonelle.”

“Easily. I’d love it. If the band ever breaks up, that’s what I’d probably do, get a nice steady gig someplace, work weekends, no hassles.”

“What about writing music?”