All or Nothing (29 page)

“It might be a surprise. Grey Gables, two o'clock on the big day.”

Grey Gables.

Zach sat down again. He wasn't in a hurry to go back there and he suspected that Maralys knew it. “That's early. We can't all be getting along that well.”

Maralys smiled. “Leaves time for presents. We did a lottery.” She rummaged by the phone for a minute or two, then came up with a sheet of paper. “That's right, you drew Matt's name.”

“I wasn't even there!”

“By proxy. See? You should have shown up. You might have picked someone easy all by yourself.”

“Go ahead, rub it in.”

“It's an innate talent,” Maralys said with a smile that told Zach she was enjoying herself. “I can't wait to meet Jen,” she called when he snapped his fingers for Roxie and headed for the front door. “She must be really something.”

“She is,” he muttered, wondering how he was going to make this happen. There was a way: he just had to think of it.

In the meantime, he had another appointment. Photography was what Zach wanted to do, and that meant that he was going to have to show his work to somebody. His old art teacher, Mr. Nicholson, had retired, but Zach had hunted him down and Mr. Nicholson had agreed to look at Zach's work. He'd even expressed some curiosity. Zach had decided it was time to get another opinion and he trusted Mr. Nicholson to tell him the truth.

No matter how ugly it might be.

* * *

All dire predictions to the contrary, karaoke night at Mulligan's was a huge success. The pub was crowded every Wednesday night and the jar for pooled tips saw some serious action. They had to clear some of the tables away to make room for the crowds—and the dancing—each Wednesday after dinner. There was almost zero work for the kitchen after seven and most of the revenue was from the sale of alcoholic beverages.

Murray, not surprisingly, gloated. The margins on booze were enough to make him downright gleeful.

Jen was very glad she'd registered for winter classes and would be cutting back her hours. She hefted so many trays of beer on Wednesday nights that her mother was always ready and waiting to give her a massage when she got home. Jen now understood that she couldn't do this job forever, although it had taken karaoke night to bring the point home.

But that was okay. She had plans and dreams and goals to achieve.

On the Wednesday before Christmas, Mulligan's was hopping early. People came for dinner and stayed. It didn't hurt that classes were over for the term and that people would be heading home for the holidays—this might be a last chance for hanging out with friends.

Murray was merry, which made the waitresses exchange glances as they waited for their orders.

“You look the way my kids did when they'd done something bad and figured they couldn't get caught,” Lucy observed as she loaded four pints of beer on to her tray.

“Holiday spirit,” Murray said with a smile.

“So, he's been into the brandy,” Jen said.

“That explains a lot,” Kathy agreed.

“And tells us that profits are way up,” Jen said.

Lucy laughed but Murray shook his head. “Not me. I learned early that the owner belongs behind the bar if the joint is going to make any money.”

“Spoilsport,” Kathy complained, probably because it was expected of someone. “I could use a shot of something right about now.”

“Get over it,” Murray retorted. “You've got another group seated in your section.”

Kathy harrumphed. “Well, if you'd make those marguerites for table five in this lifetime, I could get back over there.”

“Cheeky, cheeky,” Murray retorted. “If they were guys, you'd have been over there already, even without your marguerites.”

“Now, don't go acting jealous, Murray,” Kathy teased, blowing him a kiss as she hefted her tray of marguerites to her shoulder. “I still love you best of all.”

Murray shook his head as he pulled the cork on a bottle of Merlot. “What's your choice for a starting song tonight, Jen?” he asked as he poured a glass of wine.

“
Come See About Me,
” she said impulsively, hoping no one realized she was thinking of Zach doing just that. She hadn't heard a word from him, which wasn't irrational given what she'd said to him before she walked out of his apartment.

But still.

Life had certainly been more lively with Zach around. She'd stopped looking up every time the door to Mulligan's opened although she hadn't quite stopped looking for large black and white dogs or red Neons that had seen better days.

The man might have fallen off the face of the earth.

Which, despite everything she'd said to him, was a pretty disappointing prospect.

“Good choice,” Kathy said, waiting for a couple of diet Cokes when Jen returned to the bar for another order. “Mind if I beckon to the cutie at twenty-seven?”

“That's my section,” Lucy snapped.

“And do you want him?” Kathy propped a hand on her hip. “Should we give Joe his walking papers?”

Lucy shook a finger at the younger waitress. “You're going to get yourself a disease, girl.”

“But I'll die with a smile on my face.” Kathy shrugged and sailed back to her tables, unconvinced.

“How about something a little more upbeat?” Murray suggested to Jen. “You could do a second song, something to get them dancing.”

“A second song?” Lucy demanded. “Here we go, here's the escalation that we knew was inevitable.” She nudged Jen, who didn't agree.

“We've done every song the machine has,” Jen said, trying to remember the list without taking the time to look.

“Except Elvis,” Murray observed.

Jen gave him a look. “I refuse to wear fake sideburns.”

“How about the white jump suit?” Lucy teased.

“I could never hit the low notes anyway.” Jen shook her head. “Maybe a Beatles tune.” She was skeptical though, unable to think of one that would be what Murray wanted. “How about
I Hear A Symphony
?”

“Works for me,” Lucy said.

“I thought you were against doing a second one,” Murray said.

Lucy tossed her hair. “It's not the same. I know the words to that one now.”

“Dance music,” Murray muttered. “I want them dancing, because that makes them thirsty.”

“Then you should have loaded the machine with Donna Summers,” Lucy replied. She patted Jen on the shoulder. “You sing what you want, Jen, and don't let him give you a hard time. This stupid karaoke machine is only a success because of you, and don't you let Murray try to make you forget it.”

“Hey...” Murray started to protest.

Lucy silenced him with a glare. “Give her a hard time and none of us will sing.”

Murray glowered and wiped the bar. “A little dancing never hurt anyone,” he muttered, but no one was listening.

If Jen had thought about it, she would have realized that he gave it up more easily than was characteristic.

But she didn't.

Not until much, much later.

* * *

Eight o'clock came quickly that night, with no lull between dinner and the crowd for karaoke. Mulligan's was dark, crowded and already getting warm. Jen propped open the door to the street to get a breeze.

At Murray's whistle, she scurried to join Kathy and Lucy, and when she took the stage, some of the regulars cheered.

“Demand a raise,” Lucy advised.

But singing was reward enough. Jen took a bow, blushing, then they launched into
Come See About Me
. Murray had pre-programmed the machine and it rolled directly into
I Hear a Symphony
. The trio barely missed a beat. The bossanova step had become second nature to the three of them, Lucy and Kathy finger snapped together, and it was as if they'd been singing together for years.

It was fun.

“C'mon, let's do another,” Kathy said, waving to the guys in her section who were egging her on.

Lucy hesitated.

“C'mon,” Kathy urged and Jen saw Lucy relent.

“Itching,” Jen shouted to Murray and he punched up
Love is an Itching in My Heart
.

Being bitten by the love bug was about the size of it. Jen let her voice go. She was happy.

The crowd cheered and moved closer to the stage. Lots of fingers and toes were tapping, and Murray cranked up the volume. The six women from eighteen took to the dance floor together and were joined by two couples. Murray gave Jen a big thumbs-up.

The song was over all too soon. The trio were taking their bows when a motorcycle could be heard outside.

“The lazy bugger is driving it right up to the damn door,” Lucy muttered in disapproval, then hurried back to her section.

Whoever was riding the bike did drive it up to the door: Jen could see his shadow through the etched glass in the pub windows as she went back to her section. The bike engine was given one last loud rev, as if the rider wanted to fill the pub with the smell of gas fumes. Or if he wanted to make sure everyone knew he had arrived.

That part worked.

Everyone glanced toward the door, although Jen's heart was probably the only one that stopped cold. A tall guy in black biking leathers paused on the threshold for effect.

She had a sneaking suspicion who the guy was, given his athletic build and apparent love of drama, and her heart began to gallop. She was pretty sure she remembered that battered leather jacket.

“Yum,” Kathy whispered from the far side of the bar. “Be still my heart.” Her voice carried in the comparative quiet and launched a ripple of female laughter. Or agreement. The guy pulled off his helmet and Jen's knees nearly gave out.

It
was
Zach.

With big black fake sideburns and sunglasses.

He handed his helmet to a woman sitting at the table closest to the door with nonchalance. She smiled up at him in adoration.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” he said in a passable imitation of Elvis. Jen bit back a giggle. The man was a lunatic.

And she was far too glad to see him again.

Zach swaggered down to the bar, winked at Murray, then took the stage. He held the microphone with casual ease.

Come to think of it, he was built a lot like the young Elvis. His dark blonde hair was a bit incongruous with the dark sideburns, but he'd styled it with some kind of gel that made it look darker.

“It's mighty fine to be here tonight,” he drawled. The women began to whisper and edge closer to the stage. Zach peeked over his sunglasses and winked at Jen. She smiled back at him, unable to help herself.

Then the karaoke machine began to play
Jailhouse Rock
.

Jen choked back a laugh, then stared—just like every other female in the bar. Not only could Zach sing—and hit those low notes—but he could dance. He mimicked Elvis's hip moves so well that the temperature in the bar practically doubled. The women from table eighteen crowded the stage, clapping and hooting with appreciation.

The man knew how to make an entrance: she'd give him that.

But why had he bothered?

J
en went back to the bar to get her drinks and found Murray tapping his fingers as he watched with approval. He was not surprised by Zach's sudden appearance.

“You knew,” Jen accused.

Murray shrugged. “He phoned. He came in when you were off. He wanted to check what songs we had.”

‘You never told me.”

“I wasn't supposed to. Come on, Jen, who am I to argue with
this
?” Murray shook his head in admiration, then Lucy demanded her four marguerites from the far side of the bar.

“Here I thought Elvis was in a donut shop in Kalamazoo,” Jen said, unable to keep herself from turning to watch.

“Lucky for us,” Kathy said.

Zach was gyrating low and the women were going wild. He was eating it up, obviously in his element. One of the women from eighteen was jitterbugging with him as the others bounced in excitement.

“I thought this wasn't that kind of a bar,” Lucy said, though there was little censure in her tone. “What do we do when the women start throwing their underwear at him?”

“Kick the undies aside so they don't block the view,” Kathy said.

“He's going to split those pants,” Lucy observed.

“That's what we're all waiting for,” Kathy said with a grin.

“Here I just thought you were appreciating his voice,” Jen said. She wasn't sure what to think of this, besides enjoying the view. Why had Zach come here to do this?

Was he teasing her?

Or was he trying to show her mistake in walking away from him? If he thought having teams of other women drooling over him was going to change Jen's mind, he could think again.

He was so unpredictable, though, that she couldn't be sure what his plan had been. He spun, dancing with the microphone again, then peeled off his black leather jacket and tossed it straight at Jen with a flourish.

She caught it instinctively, and the women from table eighteen glowered at her with dislike. The coat was warm and to Jen's surprise, even knowing that it was made from the hides of dead cows which probably would have preferred to keep their hides, she wasn't anxious to let go of it.

Zach was wearing a tight white T-shirt—very James Dean—which showed his muscular build. The women from eighteen were so busy swooning that they forgot to hate Jen.

Kathy rolled her eyes. “You'd have to be dead to not be thinking about what other good stuff he has.”

Jen looked again, because she wasn't dead.

Not by a long shot. She fingered Zach's jacket and couldn't help hoping that this performance was for her benefit.

And she liked it a bit too much to be sure of what she'd do next. The bar, in fact, had become
really
warm. She passed Zach's jacket to Murray, giving it one last instinctive stroke. Then she hefted her tray, forced her way through the crowd and tried not to think about how much fun it would be to jitterbug.