9781618857293WhisperSweetNothingsHunter (4 page)

Rachel
opened the large envelope and let loose a gasp. "Wow! Beautiful! How did
she know
Jilly
loves faeries?"

Sarah
shrugged innocently.

"Thank
her for me and I'm sure
Jilly
will write her another
thank you note. Well, its Friday night girl…you ready for some fun?"

"Oh yeah.
Another night in paradise."

"I
know, doll, but this gig pays the bills. We both have roofs to keep over our
heads and bills to pay so sometimes…you do what you have to do. There's no
shame in it."

Nodding,
she sighed, watching Rachel leave for her own office. Before the phones started
ringing she wanted to read Sam's letter.

Strange
how their friendship—if that's what one would call it—had progressed since that
first night. Much to her surprise, they'd shared an instant kinship, which led
to the formation of a unique relationship between them, even if in his mind it
was with
Sherry
.

Regardless,
during the subsequent months, she'd enjoyed reading his long letters that he
wrote with remarkable detail, and sometimes heartbreaking candor, about his
experiences in
Afghanistan
,
his childhood, and his dreams for the future.

At
first, she wasn't sure about writing back, but she sensed he needed her—or
someone
—to give a damn. In between calls
here and working on a project for the architecture firm where she was doing her
internship, she penned equally long letters of support and encouragement, over
time revealing more about herself and her own dreams, including her long-time
dream to sing. The joint leap of faith forged a special friendship.

He'd
even been able to call once from overseas and although the conversation was
short, he managed to talk her into singing one song for him. Doing so had been
a huge milestone in overcoming her fear of singing in front of people.
Afterwards, he shared sobering news. Their unit had taken a huge hit and,
clearly, he'd been deeply traumatized by the loss of some of his men.

Much
to her dismay, this letter was considerably shorter, the tone a bit darker and
after reading it through once more, she sensed something might be wrong. Still,
as he always did, he signed off with the phone number of a friend's club,
Crossroads
, encouraging her to call him
and try out for a singing job.

She'd
never revealed her exact location but shared enough details of the general area
and the landscape, and he'd guessed she was somewhere near
Denver
, obviously familiar with the area.
Soon after, she learned he hailed from the same state and lived only a couple
of hours away.

Although
he usually included pictures of himself, she hadn't done the same, a line she
wasn't quite ready to cross. The pictures offered a glimpse of a handsome man
about the same age as she. He had jet hair cut short and brilliant blue eyes
and a body to die for. This last picture worried her, though. His complexion
seemed pale in comparison, and the smile usually shining within his blue eyes
appeared to have taken on a shadowy cast, confirming her fears.

Just
about to start a letter back to him, the phone rang. "And so it begins."
She took a deep breath before picking up. "Hello, this is Sherry. Welcome
to Whisper Sweet Nothings…"

* * * *

After
her shift, Sarah drove past
Crossroads
for the twelfth time, once again unable to resist the temptation. Pulling over,
she stared wistfully at the club and this time almost summoned up the nerve to
walk in and talk to the owner.

What
would she say?
Hi, I'm Sarah, but your
friend Sam knows me as Sherry, a phone sex operator, and he told me to stop by
and ask for a job.
She laughed, shaking her head.
Why
was she torturing herself?
Because
you want to sing more than breathe.

It's a gift Sarah
Beana
,
her grandmother would say whenever she'd finished singing for her, chiding her
for not sharing it with the world.

Sitting
back, she lowered the windows of her Jeep and let the music that drifted from
the club surround her.

Singing
had been a lifelong dream of hers, but sometimes life had a way of taking a
different course than one might have originally plotted. Getting married much
too young, followed by the responsibility of caring for her grandmother on her
shoulders alone, she'd been forced to let go of the dream and pursue more
lucrative options.

Yet
here before her existed a chance to revisit that dream, compliments of her
military pen pal—the man who had inexplicably come to mean so much to her.

All right…enough self-torture for one
evening.
She was leaning forward to start the Jeep when a familiar figure
caught her eye. A few moments later, she was walking towards the club. "Joe,
is that you?" she called out. The man started and turned to stare at her
as though he'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Sarah?
What…what are you doing down here?" he asked, uncharacteristically
nervous.

"Oh,
just revisiting an old dream. What about you?"

"Got
a lead on a job and my mother-in-law has the kids for the weekend. Thought I'd
take advantage of the free time, you know." Stuffing his hands in his
pockets, he seemed uncomfortable.

"Everything
all right?" she ventured, wondering if he'd open up to her. Joe lived in
her building, a widower with several little mouths of his own to feed. A good
man—very private—but one thing he made no effort to keep secret was his love
for his kids.

"Eh, just this economy and all.
Makes finding work
tough and…" His voice trailed off. "I don't wanna bore you with my
troubles. Everyone has troubles of their own."

"True,
but it doesn't mean we have to go it alone. Tell you what…I haven't eaten yet
and am starved. Want to have dinner with me?
My treat?"
She gave him a wistful smile and a pout, forcing him to smile.

"You
don't have to do that, I—"

"No,
I don't, but I hate eating alone and to tell you the truth, I don't have the
nerve to go in there by myself." She pointed to the club.

"Sure, sure.
Okay.
Just this once and
only if you promise to come over for dinner at our place one night soon?"

"Deal."
A few moments later, they were seated at a
table, ordering drinks and dinner.

"Tell
me about this old dream of yours," he asked before taking a long draw of
his beer.

Laughing,
she glanced around the club, her gaze settling on the stage, her hand
indicating the woman about to sing. "
That
is my dream Joe…to sing."

"
Can
you sing?"

She
laughed. "Yes, I think so, but I've never really done so in front of
anyone before.
Unless my grandmother counts?"

"What's
stoppin
' you?"

She
shrugged her shoulders, taking a sip of red wine, staring into the ruby liquid
a few moments before responding.
"Nerves.
Fear.
I don't know. My friend, Sam, knows the owner and
keeps pushing me to ask for an audition." The word friend slid quite
easily over her lips.

"
Ya
got one foot in the door. Why don't you do it?"

"I
can't, Joe. I have Grandma to look after and real-life responsibilities. There's
no room for dreams right now."

"Bullshit!"
he snapped, standing up. "Excuse me, waiter…I want to see the owner immediately."

Sarah
sat in stunned silence.
"Oh my God, Joe!
What the
hell?" Fear coiled in her stomach and all she wanted to do was run.

"If
you
ain't
gonna
do
something
for yourself, I will."

"Joe,
no don't…please," she argued, wondering if it was too late to slip out
unseen.

Seconds
later, the owner appeared at the table. "I'm the owner. What can I do for
you?" he asked, looking them both over as though trying to decide who he
was going to throw out first.

"Your
friend Sam suggested you might be interested in the lovely Sarah here."

The
well-dressed man raised his brows curiously.

"To
sing…interested in me to sing…here," she stammered, mortified by the
possible misunderstanding of their intentions.

"Well,
Sarah…any friend of Sam's is a friend of mine. Let's see what you've got."

After
glaring at Joe, she chanced a glance up at the owner who gave her an expectant
smile while waiting for a reply.

Joe
leaned forward. "Sarah, you're too young to give up on your dreams. We
rarely get do-overs in this life. Go for it. What do
ya
have to lose? Do it for your friend Sam.
He
believes in you…believe in yourself."

Any
anger she felt towards him melted away and she crinkled her nose. "You are
in big trouble, mister."

"What
are you going to sing for us tonight Sarah?"

She
surprised herself by answering his question. "Do they know the Bruno Mars
song,
Just the Way You Are
?"

 
"Sure. Come see me after dinner. I'll get
you set up."

An
hour later, in an almost surreal twist of fate, Sarah found herself up on
stage. The crowd cheered, the music started and to her horror, she found
herself mute.

Joe
stood and started clapping in time with the music, singing the first few words
of the song.

As
if of its own volition, tired of waiting for her to face age-old fears, her
voice stepped onto the stage with her. The crowd joined in, cheering her along,
and with each passing moment, her confidence grew.

In
her mind's eye, she conjured up the image of Sam, putting him in the front row
of the audience. With this simple inspiration, she sang as she never had
before, her voice fierce with a passion drawn from her very soul.

When
done, a moment of silence and then the crowd erupted in cheers, clapping their
way to a standing ovation.

As
a fierce blush crept over her cheeks, she took a quick bow and rushed off
stage. Joe stood at the door, a knowing smile on his face before he slipped
into the night, obviously intent on escaping her promised wrath.

Later
that night, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush of singing—and the offer of
a regular night at the club—she wrote Sam a long letter, stopping just short of
telling him about Crossroads, partly afraid of jinxing the first glimpse at
realizing her dream, but mostly afraid he'd find out the truth about her.

* * * *

"How
is my little songbird doing tonight?" Donovan asked as she went over the set
with the house band. After a few months, she'd earned her place as the opening
act for Friday and Saturday nights, warming the crowd up before the headliners,
but he'd called and asked her to come in tonight, telling her to dress nicely.

Sarah
laughed. "Not too bad, boss.
How about you?"

"You've
been good for business, darlin', so I can't complain." He gave her his
million-dollar smile and she laughed again.
Donovan
Church
was quite the character, reminding her of the actor from the Criminal Minds
series,
Shemar
Moore.

"The
place looks fantastic tonight.
Anything special going on?"

"Maybe."
He gave her a sexy, mischievous grin.

Usually
a man of many words, his silence piqued her curiosity, but she decided not to
push. As she did every week for the last three months, she asked the same
question. "Have you heard anything about Sam?"

Week
after week he'd given her the same response, tonight being no different.
"No, nothing, darlin'.
You'll be the first to know when
I do. I'll let you get back to work."

Trying
not to let her imagination run wild, she failed miserably and all manners of
horrible scenarios stormed through her mind.
Please let him be safe
, she prayed. She'd be the first to admit she
missed him, surprised by how much he'd come to mean to her.

For
a Thursday night the club was packed, all tables either taken or reserved. Each
time she went on stage, her confidence grew. She'd even had Rachel come down
and videotape the set so she could show her grandmother, who, as it turned out,
was her biggest fan to date.

She
could hear Donovan on the stage, running through his introductions and
bantering with the crowd.

"Tonight
we have a special guest in our midst…a true hero in every sense of the word.
Having him home safe and sound, it's an honor to have him here tonight.
Please...a big round of applause for my good friend, Lt. Samuel Meade."

Sarah
nearly tripped over her own feet when she heard the name, certain her mind was
playing tricks on her.

The
crowd erupted in applause and Sarah stood at the foot of the stage, frozen in
fear, struggling with conflicting emotions. First and foremost, she was
thrilled to know Sam was safe after having feared the worst for all these
months. But what they had over the phone and through letters kept their
relationship undefined and…safe.

Having
him here—seeing him face to face—changed everything. Knowing what
he
looked like didn't help either as
waves of self-consciousness came over her in relentless succession. What if he'd
conjured up an unrealistic image and she fell far short of the girl he thought
he had this crazy, idealistic crush on?

Reality
struck like a fist slamming into her gut. He wasn't here to see her—Sarah. He
didn't even know who
she
was. He knew
Sherry
, the phone sex operator who'd
nursed him emotionally through his deployment.