Can't Help Falling in Love (13 page)

    
He, on the other hand, had dressed with care. He would have looked wonderful to
her even if he had not sported a rich tan that was visible beneath a tight
white short-sleeve knit shirt. He finished singing and smiled his most winning
smile.

    
Allison said, “What a surprise! How did you know I was here?”

    
“I called your apartment,
  and
Karen answered.
She said you were working today.”

    
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for an outdoor concert?”

    
He set his guitar down. “The promoter cancelled the show on account of the
rain. It’s good to see you! I couldn’t keep my mind off you all morning! Why
are you working on a Saturday?”

    
“I put the finishing touches on the campaign I’ve drawn up.  Would you
like to see it?”

    
He laughed. “Are you kidding? I came to kidnap you. I’m here to have a good
time, and I want you to have a good time with me. We can have a lot of fun
today.”

    
“In the rain?”

    
“The
rain’ll
stop, but the concert will still be
cancelled. I’ve got the whole rest of the day off, and so do you.”

    
“Well, thank you, but I have some other tentative plans.”

    
“Yeah, I know about those. Karen told me you two were thinking of doing
something together this afternoon, and I suggested she make other plans because
I wanted to take you out. She said that was fine. Now, we’ll be able to spend
the day alone—just you and me.”

    
He bent his head down toward her head and firmly placed his lips on her lips.
She could have tried to stop him, but she did not wish to. His kiss was gentle
but strong so that she could not help but respond. She ached inside to be his
and momentarily blocked out everything else. He pulled her close, and she heard
him almost inaudibly groan with the pleasure of her body next to his. “Oh
Allison, Allison, Allison,” he whispered to her, enjoying the sound of her name
as it danced across his tongue. He kissed her again, this time more
passionately than before so that she knew she must succumb to her desire for
him. “It’s so wonderful to be here with you like this for the first time. And
you know I like the taste of banana!”

    
He was kind enough to allow her to somewhat pull away so she could fully regain
her composure. “Maybe I could freshen up a bit before we go?”

     
He chuckled. “I guess I did catch you off guard, didn’t I? I couldn’t be sure
what frame of mind you’d be in if I popped in on you, but I’m glad you’re
willing to be with me. The rain’s already slacking up. We can do all kinds of
things this afternoon!”

    
Without any firm plans where they would go, he whisked her by her apartment so
she could change clothes and gather a few things. Then they drove through the
crisp, rain-scented fresh air to a Dairy Queen, where they picked up some
sandwiches for lunch. The next stop was Memphis Central Station, where he
deposited his car outside the depot.

    
When he gave her his hand to assist her from the car, Allison once again felt
the electricity she experienced every time he touched her. She resigned herself
to the fact that she would probably always react this way and must make every
effort not to divulge the fact that her mind reeled.

    
Once they started walking up to the depot, he did not let go of her hand. He
held the food sack in his left hand and gently caressed her other hand. He
remarked with the enthusiasm of a young boy, “I always enjoy coming here. Maybe
it’s because I liked riding a train with my parents when I was a kid. It’s
still fun!”    

    
Once they entered the bustling depot, he bought two round-trip tickets from
Memphis
,
Tennessee
to
West Memphis
,
Arkansas
, which was only about an eight-mile
excursion. They boarded the
Golden State
, a six-year-old full-fledged streamliner
that boasted smooth-sided cars with a paint scheme of vermilion red on the
upper body and natural corrugated stainless steel on the lower body.
Heavyweight baggage cars, dormitory cars, a dining car, and an elevated
observation car were also attached.

    
In minutes, the train resumed operation. The observation car quickly filled
with other visitors so that the two of them were obliged to sit extremely close
to one another, like lovers in the front seat of a car at a drive-in movie.
With a rumble and a roar, the train began to roll, and in only minutes, they
were crossing the
Frisco
Bridge
that spanned the
Mississippi River
. A few minutes later, they reached the
West Memphis
train station. From the station, they
road in a quaint two-seat horse-drawn cart to the East Broadway Historic
District, where they strolled along Beale Street West, passing music and
nightlife venues that were more than equal those in Memphis, and they window
shopped at a few of the cute little stores dotting the sidewalk.

    
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he confided.

    
“Me, too,” she said sincerely.

    
Suddenly, he squeezed her hand and said, “Don’t look now, but here comes a
photographer.”  

    
From out of nowhere, a photographer hopped in front of them. They both politely
smiled and posed, and then she asked, “Are you selling pictures? Can we buy a
copy?”

    
“I don’t sell these. I work for the
Memphis Daily Appeal
.”

    
“The newspaper?”

    
“Don’t be surprised if this picture’s in tomorrow’s edition.”

    
He disappeared as suddenly as he had jumped in front of them. Allison did not
mind the extra attention, but she suddenly recalled Sharon Eaton’s icy edict
that she not be seen in public with “Wonder Boy.”

    
“This happens to me more and more lately,” he said.

    
“I’m surprised you take the matter so casually,” Allison remarked. “I’d be on
pins and needles if I knew there was a newspaper photographer around every
corner!”

    
For a fleeting moment, she envisioned receiving a terse telephone call from the
bossy, meddling Star Records Board Member admonishing her for daring to “sully
his reputation” by appearing in public with him, but she quickly dismissed the
annoying notion.
I won’t have Sharon Eaton
dictating what I can and cannot do in my private life,
she vowed. She was again
distracted all of a sudden when he asked, “How are you on bumper cars?”

    
“Bumper cars?”

    
“They’re everyone’s favorite at the amusement park on
Mud
Island
. One of the picnic tables there would be
a good place for us to eat our lunch!”

    
Allison had nearly forgotten that he carried their lunch bag, and since she was
too overjoyed at the way the entire afternoon was playing out, she heartily
agreed by replying capriciously, “Of course!”

    
They hopped a passing taxi that sped them down I40 to the river walk, where
they boarded an old-fashioned Riverboat that took them across the wide
Mississippi
to
Mud
Island
.

    
“Time’s a wasting!” he declared. “Let’s head over to the picnic area!”

    
Hand in hand, the two of them playfully ran across the lawn to a perfect table
positioned under the spreading boughs of a Poplar tree. Just like when they
dined at the
Arcade
, she had barely touched her sandwich
when he had finished and leaned on one elbow, happily satisfied.

    
He gazed at her adoringly and admitted, “I could take a nap right here on the
grass, but maybe a spin on the bumper cars will perk me up again. What do you
think?”

    
Allison had never been one to greatly enjoy being bruised, bumped, and battered
by Kamikaze vehicles careening around and wildly slamming into each other, but
she wanted to seem agreeable since he was so obviously keen on the idea. As
soon as she could manage to swallow enough to respond, she smiled and
congenially said, “Oh that would be fun!”

    
The next few minutes passed all too quickly, and they were soon in line to
board the infamous ride along with a throng of other adults and kids. The
attendant watched until everyone was safely in their vehicles—their last moment
of safety, Allison feared—and then he cranked up the music on the
loudspeaker.     

 
   “They’re playing your record!” she called to him. “Maybe we
can—” 

    
With no warning, the electric current turned on and all the vehicles suddenly
lurched forward with sparks splintering off the rods that shot upward from the
cars to the metallic ceiling.

    
Allison glanced fearfully at the overly anxious kids hunched over their
steering wheels, and before she could gather her bearings, someone immediately
slammed
pell
mell
into her
from behind, snapping her neck back with whiplash and knocking her vehicle into
an out of control spin that left her turned the wrong way on the course. He
roared with laughter and sped by her, but a bevy of other kids pointed the
noses of their vehicles in her direction, too, and they bore down upon her with
the intent to ram. She screamed, but too late. One particularly powerful
vehicle driven by a kid with the face of a gargoyle collided with her at such
force that she was knocked backwards and rear-ended another vehicle. Then, two
other crazed drivers crashed into her from
both sides
,
nearly crushing her like an accordion into her steering wheel and practically
throwing her from the car. By the time the three-minute ride was over, she felt
as if she had been beaten and battered.

    
“Wasn’t that great?” he roared with relish.

    
Allison was counting her bones, but she said, “Oh yeah!
Real
fun!”

    
Fortunately, she recovered once they were back on solid ground and strolling
through the serenity of the botanical gardens. After that, night fell, and they
returned to the
Memphis
and
Arkansas
Bridge
. Walking across, he stopped her
mid-stream. For a moment, they leaned on the rail and just took in the
inspiring view of the great
Mississippi
winding into the horizon with the
Memphis
skyline draped in subtle hues of orange
and gold. They were silhouetted against the sinking sun when he kissed her. He
held her close, and for what felt like a glorious eternity, he refused to let
her go. Cars may have been whizzing by them, but she saw nothing other than the
tender look in his eyes, and she heard nothing except the passionate breath
that passed between the two of them. Those heavenly moments created a perfect
end to a nearly perfect day.

    
Time seemed to stand still, as they meandered hand in hand along the walkway
over the slow-moving river. By the time they reached the far end of the bridge
and took a taxi back to the train station, the first edition of the morning
paper had come out hot off the press. He bought a copy from a paperboy as they
were boarding the train back to
Memphis
, and sure to his prediction, the
entertainment news section featured their picture in a 3-column by 5-inch space
with a coy caption that recalled a phrase from his popular song, “
Memphis
’ Music Man with Mystery Mama. That’s
Alright, Mama!”

    
Tomorrow, the whole city will know that
we’re an ‘item,’
Allison
thought worriedly.

    
As if he was reading her mind, he said, “Tomorrow, everyone will know that
you’re my girl.” Then, he again softly sang some lyrics from his hit song.
“That's all right now mama, anyway you do. I need your loving. That's all right.
That's all right now, mama, anyway you do.”

    
Will it really be
alright?
she
wondered. 

    
“You agreed to cooperate!”

    
Being startled awake by a ringing telephone at
six o’clock
on a Sunday morning was enough of a
shock, but hearing Sharon Eaton’s shrill voice shrieking at her was as
appalling as the sound of a dentist drill boring into her teeth. She sounded
like a braying donkey, so Allison was obliged to hold the receiver a few inches
away from her ear.

    
“You deliberately defied my direct order!”
Sharon
screamed.

    
“Miss Eaton . . . .”

    
“What’s more,”
Sharon
persisted in a piercing tone, “I don’t
like the way either one of you look in the newspaper picture! We spend a great
deal of money cultivating our artists’ images, and in one fell swoop, you’ve
irreparably damaged our most valuable singer’s persona! I’m considering taking
legal action!”