Deep Purple (35 page)

He drew forth a bright shimmering red satin dress. “
Father!” she breathed. “Where did you get that?”

A mystical smile flashed across his face. "It cam
e like manna from heaven, as the Christians say, I believe.”

Her hands went to her hips, but she could not help but smile. "All right, the truth."

He feigned a sigh of regret. "From one of our patrons. She isn’t due to pick up her laundry until next week . . . but the Lord will provide something else by then.”

Her father was neither a Buddhist nor a Shintoist, and she had never thought to hear him speaking or thinking in Judeo-Christian terms. She herself had been taught Christianity from the good ladies at
the Fort Huachuca school.

From whatever providence she received the dress, she was able to keep it, for the Chinese family never came back to pick it up.

The dress was made for the smaller Chinese woman, and as it was styled to be loose-fitting, it instead hugged her high breasts and rounded hips closely, it was edged with black rickrack and had the high-neck mandarin collar with a split reaching halfway up her thigh. Contrasted with her blue-black hair and the shimmering stage lights of the dinner club, it created a sensational effect . . . sensational enough to catch the eye of Nick Godwin when he entered the Casablanca three weeks later.

CHAPTER 47

A
manda certainly never expected to see Nick Godwin in the Casablanca. It was not the stuffy sort of supper club the mayor of Tucson would patronize but rather a small, intimate restaurant that had become the “in” place for Tucson's younger set.

The stage lights had not yet been turned on when Ni
ck entered with his party, and she was leaning against the piano, talking with Larry, her back to the entrance. But she would have known that Nick was in the restaurant even if it were not for the sudden increase in muted conversation, whispers of recognition from the other patrons mixed with not a few low exclamations of admiration for the beautiful woman with him.

The hair at Amanda
’s nape prickled, the same as it had nearly three years earlier, when she had felt his presence in the Copper Queen dining room, and then again the myriad times on campus. She broke off in mid-conversation with Larry and slowly rotated to survey the room.

There at the largest table she found him. The candlelight illuminated the tough lines of his face as he leaned across the tab
le to light his wife's cigarette. For only a moment Amanda observed her. She had seen her in photos that did not do full justice to the woman's beauty. The shoulder-length hair was arranged in the new rage—a peekaboo effect—and her complexion was a creamy pale against the fire-engine-red lipstick. Amanda knew the dress with the daring padded shoulders had to be a designer’s creation. Everything about Danielle whispered of elegance, as everything about Nick thundered of power.

Amanda's gaze was inexorably pu
lled back to Nick, who, head inclined, seemed to be listening to what the elderly debonair gentleman on his left was saying. It was not just the power so evident in Nick's brash features that demanded attention . . . it was everything about him. His very presence dominated a room. Perhaps it was his roguish gambler's charm that made him appear handsomer than he really was, but every woman's head seemed to be turned in his direction. His body movements, restrained by the superbly tailored dinner jacket, announced the man's self-assurance—a rugged, brawny body backed by an astute intelligence. Oh, how she longed to crush that insolent assurance!

“
Hey, Amanda, you're on,’’ Larry muttered above the soft piano music he was playing.

The one overhead light brighten
ed, and simultaneously Larry went into the opening number, a crescendo of “So Rare” before muting the last notes for sliding into Amanda’s introductory song. It was one Judy Garland had made famous a couple of years before in Broadway Melodies of 1938. Larry and Amanda had run over the number several times that afternoon to make certain they had it down.

As she sang the words, "You made me love you. I didn
’t want to do it. you made me want you, and all the time you knew it . . .” she could feel Nick’s bold gaze raking her. Beneath its intensity her knees grew cottony, and she was grateful for the support of the piano she leaned against.

Of all the adversaries who could have been thrust on her, why the unconquerable Nick Godwin? Anger at her own weakness rage
d in her so that by the song's finale she delivered it in such a way that applause reverberated through the small restaurant on her last holding note.

"Wow, Amanda, you sure know how to deliver when it's called for," Larry said.

She knew he was surprised that she had outperformed their rehearsal. She was surprised also—by the audience's evident approval—and somewhat embarrassed because she did not really take singing seriously. For those few moments of audience adulation she almost forgot Nick was out there among the people.

But as the applause subsided, the intensity that flowed between the two of them like magnetic needles on a compass regenerated itself, galvanizing her
—causing her to tremble and leaving her breathless. It was all she could do to find the air deep in her diaphragm as she opened softly, slowly, beneath the muted lights with. “Kiss me once, kiss me twice . . . kiss me once again. It's been a long, long time . . ."

It seemed like a long, long time before her act was finished for the evening.
She retreated to the small cubicle that was the dressing room, anxious to change and leave. As she quickly applied a sheen of lipstick before the small mirror, she told herself she was running away. Yet she knew she could not afford to do battle with her nemesis unprepared. One day the time would come, the right time. She would choose her own battleground—and one day vanquish the Godwins.

She did not understand why she chose Nick rather than his stepbrother, Paul, as the object of her antipathy. They were b
oth Godwins, and it was truly Paul, and his wife, who lived at Cristo Rey when not in Washington. But Nick was more Amanda's age, and it was Nick she had associated with Cristo Rey since childhood.

And then there was that indefinable chain that seemed to b
ind them—invisible, intangible, but nonetheless as unbreakable as links forged of steel. Only such a powerful emotion as her hatred could have forged such a chain.

There came a knock at the dressing-room door, and Larry stuck his head inside. "Hey, guess w
ho has invited us to his table?"

"Let me guess." she said flippantly, pulling her hair to the side so that she could slide into the three-quarter-length jacket of white silk with black braided frogs. “
FDR and Eleanor.”

“
You're close—the mayor of Tucson"

She froze, never expecting Nick to go that far
—to invite her to share the same table as his wife and friends. But then Nick would do that—flout convention. He was capable of anything. She looked at Larry's excited face in the mirror. “Give the mayor my apologies, but tell his honor I can’t make it.”

“
You gotta be kidding, Amanda! This isn’t an everyday occurrence.”

She picked up her purse. “
I've got moot court and a test over the Justinian Code tomorrow.”

“
Mike won’t like it if he hears about it,” Larry cautioned, still not quite believing she would turn down such an opportunity.

She shrugged. “
I’m not getting paid to mix with the customers, Larry.”

In an expression of hopelessness, he raised his brows and spread his palms. “
All right. Wait up till I get my jacket.”

After their show Larry always made it a point to walk her to the bus stop, waiting with her for her bus before he walked back to his fraternity house, which was not far. That particular evening she was more grateful than ever for his companionship
as they skirted the dining room's still-packed tables, edging their way along the walls. She did not feel so alone in her defiance of Tucson’s mayor.

They reached the small lobby, and Larry was tossing a flippant goodbye to the cute young girl in the chec
kroom when Mike stormed through the swinging door. “What’s going on here, doll? You can’t keep a Godwin waiting!” Then he saw her purse clutched under her arm and her coat. His eyes bulged. “You ain’t thinking of leaving?”

She and Larry exchanged looks. “
’Cause if you are,” Mike continued, “you don’t have to worry ’bout coming back.”

Larry rolled his eyes. “
Aww, Mike, we were just stepping out for some fresh air, weren't we, Amanda?”

Both men looked at her. Damn! Thirty different thoughts barraged her like
gunfire in that brief interval, but what it came down to, she decided, was a duel between her pride and the need to graduate. If the gentleman had been anyone else but Nick, she would have acceded a great deal more graciously. “Sure, Larry. I was just checking my purse.”

Mike
’s cigar tilted upward with his grin. “Good going, kids. There’s a tip in it for you.”

Walking back into the semidarkness, she could not at first make out Nick
’s table. Larry took her elbow and maneuvered them through the maze of tables with Mike trailing behind. “Mayor Godwin,” he said expansively, “Casablanca’s two stars, Larry Willis and Amanda Shima.”

Nick and the two other men at his table rose. He did not take his eyes off her as she took the chair her partner pulled out for her. He’d never meant to see her again—her with that hellfire temper. And that damned pride. Sitting there on those perfect hips as if she were some Far Eastern princess. But he had her number. An avaricious little wildcat who meant to have what she thought was her due. Sweet Jesus, but would he like to give her what he thought was her due!

“
I believe we’ve met before,” he said, addressing her alone.

“
It seems you made the same mistake then also,” she acknowledged coolly. “In Bisbee, wasn’t it?”

Nick
raked a brow, as if amused by her reply, but she turned her attention to the gentleman directly across from her, who began to make the introductions. She was wedged between Nick’s wife and a stout matron with turquoise necklaces and pendants draped from an ample bosom. These people, of course, needed no introductions. Their names and faces were familiar in Tucson society.

The man across from her, Richard Attenberry, was the city
’s district attorney, and his wife, the turquoise woman, headed up the opera guild. The other gentleman, Allan Shriver, and his wife owned the city’s largest department store, which rivaled that of Goldwaters in Phoenix.

It was Danielle who spoke first after the introductions. “
You have a very good voice, Miss Shima. Is Shima an Italian or Oriental name?”

Nick rolled his eyes.
  Tonight was going to be combustible.

The way Danielle inhaled on her cigarette, stubbing it out in an irritated gesture, told Amanda she did not really care about the answer. Through the swirling haze of cigarette smoke, Danielle watched her as closely as Nick, and all at once Amanda realized that Danielle sensed Nick’s more than casual interest in her. For a man to remember a woman he allegedly had met only once three years prior said more than mere words to his wife.

“
Shima is of Japanese origin," Amanda replied evenly.

Mrs. Attenberry asked, “
Are you studying music at the university, dear?”

"No, I'm n
ot," she replied, volunteering as little information as possible. She wanted only to finish with the pleasantries and leave.

Danielle raised a delicately arched brow. "Oh? Then this kind of
—work—it’s your . . . profession?”

"No, it
’s only a way to earn a living.”

On her left, Allan Shriver offered her a cigarette, and she declined but continued to converse with him, grateful to escape Danielle's patronizing conversation. Nick ordered drinks. She watched his hands light a cigarette. They were large and capab
le. Too capable.

The talk turned to the certainty of the coming war. “
My brother's even signed up with the Army Air Forces, he's that sure we’re going to be in it," Larry said, and Allan prophesied it would drive up the prices of commodities and shorten the supply.

"It
’s Roosevelt who wants us in," Richard said. “I lay ten to one. It's the only way he can carry through with his New Deal policies and get us out of the Depression. What does Paul think about it, Nick? Or does he say?"

“
Whatever Paul thinks about it, he's certainly not allowed to put into letters—at least not to me.”

“
He and Arlene are coming home for a visit soon.” Danielle put in. “You can ask him yourself at our party." She turned to Amanda. “And we’d love to have you and Larry come and entertain us. Wouldn't we, Nick?”

"I'm sure we
’ll be working through the weekends,” Amanda replied. "But thank you for the invitation." Recklessly she tossed down the scotch and water the waiter set before her. She had done her duty to Mike and the Casablanca. She looked at Larry, who sat at the other end of the table. "I'd better go or I'll miss my bus.”

Larry rose immediately, but Nick put a restraining hand on his arm. "We'll take you home, Miss Shima."

She met his hard gaze. Her eyes frosted over. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm sure my house is nowhere in the vicinity of yours, Mayor Godwin"

Larry came around to her chair and thanked everyone before ushering her out. "Well, was it as bad as you expected?”
he asked as he helped her back into her evening coat.

"Worse. I felt like a freak on exhibit at a sideshow. Our society friends were only interested in seeing how the other half lives.”

She inhaled deeply of the fresh air when they stepped outside. Larry caught her arm and turned her to face him. “I don’t think so. I think, Amanda Shima, the mayor was interested in you—alone.”

“
Don’t be ridiculous, Larry.” She twisted away. “Mayor Godwin has a beautiful wife. And if he wanted another woman, I’m certain there are plenty of women all too willing to volunteer their charms.”

Larry smiled at her obvious indignation. “
It’s difficult to imagine that you are actually unaware of your incredible beauty.” Like the renowned beauty of Eurasian women, she had inherited the same breathtaking qualities from her Anglo-Hispanic mother and Oriental father. Exotic features balanced on a tall, willowy frame. Heads turned wherever she went. And he was no exception.  “You underrate the power of your own charms, Amanda,” he said now, catching up with her. “Hey . . .”

She stopped and lo
oked at him, and he caught her against him. “Can’t you tell the power of your charms has ensnared me also?”

Before she could move, Larry kissed her. At the noise of the people spilling out of the restaurant, he released her, and over his shoulder she saw N
ick’s raking glance.