Come Dancing (12 page)

“This would do wonders for my public image. Let me call for a few supplies.” He went to the phone and ordered some groceries. When they came, I answered the door since he was unpresentable.

“What time do you need to go to the studio?” I asked as he unpacked the bag on the counter.

“I dunno, Sammy said he’d call. I’ll drop you at your place so you can do some work, then I’ll pick you up once I’m done.”

He wants to see me again tonight!
I didn’t bother trying to hide my smile.

Jack poked around in his cabinet and found a cast-iron frying pan. He put a little oil in it and cracked several eggs while I dropped bread slices into his gleaming eight-piece toaster. Then he got the sausages sizzling. “You have some nice equipment here,” I said, picking up a copper spatula.

“I noticed you like my equipment.” He turned the heat down on the eggs and came over to me. “Don’t stop,” he whispered.

“Now you’re embarrassing me.” I looked at the floor.

Jack gave my waist a squeeze. “Don’t worry, that made me feel great. Whoops.”

He rushed back to the pan and shoveled the eggs onto plates. I poured some juice and we ate our fill, then we loaded the dishwasher that looked like it had rarely been used. Jack put on Billie Holiday at my request. He seemed to have forgotten that he was wearing the apron, which was no longer centered.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said as we sat on the sofa. “I was starting to think you didn’t like me.”

“I liked you. I just didn’t want trouble.”

“But I busted you out, huh? I’m irresistible, aren’t I?” he asked with a grin.

“I’m sure you’ve been told you are.”

“Well, I was starting to feel like I was very resistible. You coming over here bringing a book. ‘In case I get bored,’” he said in a high-pitched voice. “‘I might get bored around you, Jack Kipling, so I’ll just bring my Flannery or my what-have-you. I prefer their company to yours anyway. I’m just here for the records.’”

“That wasn’t it,” I said, laughing.

Jack leaned back and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you want to come out with me at first? It was like pulling teeth.”

His hair was sticking up in all directions, earring askew, dark shadow on his face. His apron had slipped to the side, totally defeating the point. But even in the silly outfit, he was unbelievably sexy. “Now if you’d worn that little number, I would have rushed over right off the bat. Anyway, I thought maybe we were just going to be friends.”

“I was afraid if I tried anything, you’d run off and never come back,” he said. “You seemed so … untouchable. And a little prissy at first, when you didn’t want to smoke a joint with me. I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to hang out. Besides, it ain’t me style to go after women. They usually make the first moves.”

“Hmm, I’ll bet they do.”
I’m sure all you have to do is snap your finger, and the whole pack comes bounding over
.

“I wanted to snatch you up off my couch and take you to bed, but I thought you’d just give me one of your cold looks and say, ‘Don’t disturb me, I’m listening to Leadbelly’ or something.” He considered me for a moment. “When did my charms start to work on you?”

“I’m not telling. That’s my business.” I wasn’t about to say it was when he showed up on my stoop.

“Well, I know when I wanted you,” he said in a low voice. “I was sitting on this filthy couch in a lounge, surrounded by all these loud, nasty people, drunk, stoned. I look up and out on the wall is this projection of an angel. And she’s dancing. She’s just so beautiful, I thought somebody’d slipped something into my drink. I watched you move, and you were so sensuous. But it was obvious you were just dancing for yourself; the guy kept trying to film you, and you kept turning away.
That’s
when I first wanted you.” He kissed me lightly, and then not-lightly. “And you were so very hard to get,” he continued. “Sammy kept telling me it was an act; that you were playing hard to get. Then I realized you really
were
hard to get.”

Surprised by his comment, I met his eyes. “I’m fine being alone. Sometimes it’s just easier.”

“I know what you mean. What’s even worse is when you’re with someone, and you still feel alone.”

The phone began ringing insistently, but Jack made no move to answer it. It continued for a few minutes until he went over, lifted the receiver and dropped it. “That’s no one I want to talk to.” He went to the kitchen for a beer, and on his way back the phone rang once, stopped, and immediately rang again. This time, Jack picked it up.

“Yeah, I can get there by two. Uh-huh. No comment. See you later.” He turned to me. “That was Sammy; they’re all going to the studio in a while. I’ll drop you at your place on the way. You’re going to be home all afternoon? Not going for a thirty-mile run?”

I wondered why he was asking. “I’ll be there. I can barely walk, much less go running. Thanks to you.” I hesitated. “That’s a signal of some sort, isn’t it?”

Jack had a funny look on his face. “What?”

“The phone, ringing once like that.”

“Yeah… it is. I’ve got too many people calling, wanting stuff from me. I don’t even remember who half of them are.”
I guess he means women
, I thought. “People I want to talk to know to ring once, then hang up and call right back,” he continued. “What else have you noticed?”

“You favor your index finger on your right hand when you strum.”

“What else?”

I thought for a second. “You don’t order from the menu.”

“That’s true, I guess.”

“You wince a little when you hear a high-pitched tone of voice.”

“Do I really? I never knew that. Very observant. Listen, I’m gonna call Mary Jo real quick, there’s something I forgot to do.” He turned up the volume on the stereo and mumbled into the phone. “Yeah, three. All right. Thanks.” He came back over. “I’ll give you a little break and then we can pick up where we left off.”

I can’t wait to do that
. “Sure. I need to get Mr. Collins off my bed and start pulling him together this afternoon.”

“I don’t wanna hear about you pullin’ no other man,” Jack said in a deep voice. “You get in the sheets with Collins, I’ma have to put a hurt on him.” He seemed to reconsider. “Actually your assignment is to move that stuff off your futon so we can get into it later. I’m gonna be thinking about that while I’m at the studio. Sex up my playin’, if you know what I mean.” He gave a little twist of his hips, making me laugh.

He dropped me off at my apartment, and it was nice to be home for a while to gather my wits. I lay back in bed, feeling the echo of his body in the tender places on mine. It was hard to take in the fact that we had now made love together. Many times. Everything had happened so suddenly, it was like a floodgate opening. I thought about the way his tongue felt on my skin; his lips on my breasts. The pleasant ache where he’d been inside me; the lovely length of him. The way I’d cried out when he made me come. I was savoring the whole experience when the phone rang.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me,” Vicky said.

I smiled. “I just got back a few minutes ago.”

“So….?”

“So… yes. I stayed with him.”

“And?”

“You know what, it’s not that he’s so good-looking, or famous. What gets me is that he makes me laugh. You’d think he would just act cool all the time, since he’s pretty much the personification of it. But he’s so much fun to be with.”

“You’re leaving out the crucial part.”

“Um … yeah. Let’s just say expectations were exceeded.”

“That’s all? C’mon. There’s not much left to the imagination, the way these guys go bare-assed under their jeans. And that king-of-the-jungle way he prowls around … I’ll bet he was amazing in bed.”

I thought of the chain reaction Jack had set off in me. “All of the above.”

“Oh, you’re so annoying sometimes! But I can tell from your voice; it has that satisfied ring to it. Sounds like you’re head over heels.”

“I’m getting there. Much to my chagrin. Don’t say anything to Sammy, okay?”

“I promise I’ll be discreet.”

Just as I was finishing the last pages, I heard a thumping at the door downstairs. Surprised Jack was done already, I went to the window. Two beefy guys were craning their necks up at me. A truck was parked on the curb next to a big box on the sidewalk.

“We got a delivery,” one said when I stuck my head out.

“I think you have the wrong address.”

“A Mary Jo Callahan called it in for this number on Broome.”

I went down to the street to check it out. “We were told to get it here no later than five,” the man said.

“What is that?” I asked.

They hefted the box between them, and the first one started backing up the stairs. “Air conditioner,” he said. “Man, they didn’t say it was three
long
flights.”

So that’s why he called Mary Jo; how incredibly nice of him
. The men installed the unit in my window and I stood in front of it, gratefully letting it blast me and hoping it wouldn’t add a lot to my electric bill.

“Ahh, much better,” Jack said, coming inside.

“Thank you so much, Jack. This is so generous. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to; it must have been ninety in here the other night. Oh, and you’ve cleared off your bed.” He flopped down on my futon. “I’ll show you how you can repay me,” he said, undoing my shirt as I stood before him. He unhooked my bra and slid down my jeans, tonguing my nipples and belly.

“I wanted to tell you,” I breathed as he rubbed his face in my pubic hair, “I’m on the pill.”

“Mmmm,” he said. “Good.”

“How did the recording go?” I asked as we lay back, sipping beers. Jack was sprawled next to me, his chest still heaving. It was strange to have a man in my bed after so many months—even more strange that it was this particular man.

“It went fine, even though my mind wasn’t entirely there. Looks like you got your editing done.”

“I have to go through it again, but at least I got it in the right order. Lately I’d had trouble concentrating.”

“You did? I’m glad to know I wasn’t the only one whose concentration was ruined. Mine’s been shot ever since I used those guitar chords as an excuse to get my hands on you.” He grinned and tipped the bottle toward his crotch. “Want to water it, see if it’ll grow?”

I blushed. “That was so embarrassing! I poured a whole beer in your lap.”

“I came back in my dry jeans all set to seduce you, but you had packed up and left.” He swigged the last drops and reached around to put the empty on the table. “What’s this?” He picked up my marbled notebook.

“Oh, that’s just how I keep track of things,” I said, putting out my hand to take it from him.

“Is this your diary? Man, your writing’s even messier than mine.” He began leafing through it, ignoring my give-it-to-me gesture.

“If it was, you really should ask before you look at it.”
It’s kind of cute that he’s so nosy
.

Jack ran his finger down one of the lined pages. “Are these book titles?” He squinted at an entry.

“That’s my list of all the books I’ve read. I’ve kept it since I was six.”

“You’ve written down every one you’ve ever read?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, it’s sort of … It’s my connection to my childhood, I guess. My mother threw out a lot of my stuff when we moved from our original house. I feel like if I lost it, I would lose my identity, in a way.”

Jack flipped through the pages. “There must be hundreds in here.”

“I know it’s a little compulsive,” I said defensively. “I admit I’m weird.”

“I think it’s cool that you’ve kept your list. Do you want to get some dinner? I’m starved.”

“I’d love to.” I got up and started getting dressed. Jack lay on his stomach and rolled around, rubbing himself against the sheets.

“What are you doing?” I laughed.

“Don’t change your covers this week. They’ll remind you of me.”

He smiled, sat up, and pulled on his jeans. I turned the air off and we went over to a restaurant on Christopher Street. We slipped inside a back door that the maitre d’ opened, gesturing us in. He sent us through the kitchen, where the cooking staff barely looked up; I gathered they were used to this routine with their recognizable patrons. We were seated in a dark corner and Jack ordered a bottle of champagne.

“To this weekend,” he said after the waiter poured. We touched glasses, and our food came as I was asking Jack how much longer they had left in the studio.

“Maybe another month. We only have a few tracks to go,” he said, slicing a bite of steak. “There’s this one riff in a blues intro that’s been eluding me. What kind of blues did your father like?”

“Mostly prewar stuff. He liked country, too. He was a big Hank Williams fan, Patsy Cline, Maybelle Carter.”

“Williams put out some good tunes.”

“I’d sit on the porch with Dad, playing ‘I’m So Lonesome, I Could Cry’ on my little plastic record player. That’s the first song that really touched my soul. It reminds me of the good part of my childhood, before I was left alone with my mother.”

I put my fork down and took a gulp of champagne. “Your face really changes when you talk about her,” Jack observed.

“We had a rocky relationship. I just wanted a regular mom, wearing an apron and making cookies. Instead she was coming in soused after hitting the bar; sometimes she had a guy with her. I would have been a late bloomer anyway, but that definitely left me without much interest in boys for a while.”

“She still get around?”

“Not anymore. I think she’d like to find someone, but she’s a little past her use-by date.”

Two guys were weaving their way through the tables. Jack looked up and frowned.

“Hey, man, how are you doing?” the first one said. “Where were you last night?” He glanced at me.

“Busy,” Jack said.

“Nicole’s been asking for you. Where’ve you been?”

“We’ve been recording. I’ll call you.”

Jack downed his glass as they returned to their table. Of course he was seeing a million women all at once, if not a few regular girlfriends too. He must be involved with this Nicole, since it was the second time her name had come up. The way he’d acted this weekend—so warm, so into me—was just a slick routine he had down. I was a fool to hope it was more than just a roll in the sack.