Edge of Tomorrow (38 page)

Hatch had explained to Syd during the
chopper ride that he used his
Bob
Kelly
alias here. No one here knew that he was Van
Lincoln, the billionaire, just Bob Kelly, who occasionally took
over the piano bar and entertained everyone. He enjoyed the
anonymity. His money did not get in the way of a pleasant evening.
People liked him for who he was, not his money. He even carried his
Bob Kelly identity cards: driver’s license and credit
cards.

“Maxine, this is Ms. Sydney Steppe. Syd, meet
Maxine DuPres, the owner of this fine establishment,” Hatch
replied. “And don’t use your fake French accent around her. She’s a
language professor!”

Maxine laughed and shook Syd’s hand.

“This man is incorrigible,” Maxine said,
without the accent. “Very pleased to meet you, Syd. My place is
your place. Enjoy!”

“Thank you, Maxine. I intend to!” laughed
Syd.

Maxine moved away to greet her next guests,
her French accent back, as Syd and Hatch were shown to their table,
which he had previously reserved by phone. All heads turned and
watched the stunning couple as they wended their way to their
table.

“That was fun!” whispered Syd after they were
seated.

“You were just undressed and raped in the
minds of many men!” laughed Hatch quietly.

“A lot of women have damp crotches, too!”
giggled Syd. “Their eyes must have burned holes in you!”

“Let them eat cake! We’re the lucky ones, we
have each other!” he said, reaching for her hand.

• • •

After an exquisite meal of French
cuisine, Hatch led Syd out of the dining room into the
famous
Le Bistro Cabaret
Lounge
, and again heads turned. He led her through a
sea of cocktail tables to the piano bar, where a thin black man
with gray fuzz for hair was playing a blues piece. The black man
nodded at Hatch and gave Syd the up and down look as he smiled,
white teeth flashing.

“Well, if it isn’t Bob Kelly, the master of
the ivories and King of Show Tunes! Where you been keeping
yourself?” said the piano player.

“Been busy. Syd, meet the King of the Blues,
Johnnie Sams. Johnnie, this gorgeous lady is Sydney Steppe.”

“Pleased to meet you, Johnnie. I like your
style,” cooed Syd.

“Why, thank you, ma’am. You two gonna sit
with me or grab a table?” he asked without missing a beat on his
piano.

“Your choice, Syd,” said Hatch.

“Let’s stake out these good seats at the
piano, Hatch … er … Bob,” she replied, catching herself on his
alias, her eyes sparkling. She would have to watch herself or she
would blow his cover. “When does this place start jumping,
Johnnie?”

“Well, it varies. Sat’dy night, like tonight,
around nine, nine-thirty. Or any night at whatever hour Bob Kelly
plays. You gonna do a set tonight, Bob? Gimme a break?” asked
Sams.

“Maybe later, Johnnie. I need to get a couple
drinks over here first, get in the mood.”

He waved to a waitress in a short skirt and a
low-cut blouse. She came over and smiled at Hatch, glared at
Syd.

“Hi, Mr. Kelly. You’re usual? A Kelly
Special?” she asked knowingly, leaning over slightly to give him a
clear look down her blouse.

“That would be fine, Keely. What would you
like, Syd?” Hatch asked.

“What’s a Kelly Special?” she asked.

“A weak bourbon and water. I always drink
them when I play,” he answered. “Keeps my senses sharper.”

Syd had a memory flash, imagining him in West
Germany years ago playing for Kat, drinking Kelly Specials, but
never getting drunk.

“I’ll pass on that. How about a
Chardonnay?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back, folks,” said
Keely, as she turned and swished toward the bar in her spike
heels.

Syd leaned over and whispered, “She’s
all tits and legs,
Mr. Kelly
!
Is she one of your stashees? She sure glared at me.”

Hatch laughed and put his hand on her
knee.

“She’s put together pretty well, I’ll admit
that, but she’s never been where you’ve been!” he leered. “Bob
Kelly flirts a lot with the help—it keeps them happy.”

“Well, I suppose that should make me feel
humbled—and special!” she giggled.

Hatch dragged over an ashtray and lit a
cigarette. He offered one to Syd, but she shook her head.

After their drinks were served, Hatch
asked Johnnie, “Hey, bro. I’d like to dance with my lovely date.
Could you give me your incomparable impression of Hoagy Carmichael
doing his
Stardust
?”

“Soon’s I finish this tune,” he replied.

Hatch took Syd’s hand and led her to the
dance floor, where three couples were dancing.

“I assume you’d like to dance? I should have
asked,” he said.

“Love to! It’s a slow, romantic one so I get
to stand close to you—make Keely jealous!”

“Very close. Stop worrying about Keely,
unless you just enjoy inflicting pain on the poor girl,” he
smiled.

They danced slowly as Johnnie
sang
Stardust
, their bodies
molded together.

“You feel the music quite well, Syd. I bet
you can dance a mean tango,” he whispered in her ear. In her heels,
she was only a couple of inches shorter than he was.

“I love the tango—so sexy! I’m not sure this
is the most appropriate dress for the tango, however. If you had
told me there was dancing, I’d have worn a short dress. Then, you
could have compared my legs to Keely’s,” she teased.

“There is no comparison! I don’t need to see
them to know that—they are etched in my memory. Remember, I kissed
every inch of them, felt them locked around me!”

Syd blushed when she thought of those
events.

As the dance ended, they went back to their
seats and thanked Johnnie for the song. He started playing his next
request. Hatch slipped a twenty in the large brandy snifter sitting
on the piano.

“You dance like a pro, Syd,” complimented
Hatch.

“So do you! I had to take dance lessons when
I was doing my drama thing in college. I love dancing!”

“Actually, so do I,” replied Hatch. “I know
that is strange, but it seems to be a natural extension to my
music. I’ve studied dance forms of different cultures all over the
world. I had lessons in my college drama stint, too. My ability to
dance has helped with some of my cover personas through the
years.”

“You must have had some fun with your ‘Bob
Kelly’ persona.”

“I did, and I still do. That dress has a slit
up the side doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Just to above my left knee. The slit
is not long enough to dance a decent tango. You should have seen
the dress I wore in
Damn
Yankees
!”

“When I was in southern Spain a few years
ago, I learned a version of the beguine that is extremely sexy. The
beguine originated in the islands of St. Lucia and Martinique, but
the dance I learned in Spain had been modified a bit by the
Spaniards. The women who danced it often wore long dresses, tight
across the rear—much like yours. The dance uses a lot of very
sensual body language—gives you a chance to send messages with your
firm ass,” he laughed.

“Signals to whom?” she giggled.

“Mostly to me, but everyone else will
fantasize that it’s them.”

As Hatch explained the basic movements of the
dance, Syd looked over at a couple three tables away as the man
slapped his female companion. The woman grabbed her face and
started crying.

Syd heard the man say, “Shut up, bitch, or
you’ll get worse!”

“Excuse me, Hat … Bob, did you see that? That
man just hit that woman!” said Syd.

Hatch looked over at the couple and replied,
“No, but I heard what he said. The bouncer probably heard him, too,
and will take care of it.”

“I thought you put men who abused women right
up there with terrorists!” she hissed quietly.

“I do!” he replied defensively. “Do you want
me to go have a chat with the asshole?”

“No! I just wanted to make sure we agreed on
this.”

The man grabbed the woman’s arm and was
twisting it, saying loudly, “I told you what would happen,
whore!”

Syd snapped, “All right, that’s enough! I’m
going to fix that prick’s clock! Don’t interfere, please. He needs
a lesson from a woman!”

She got up before Hatch could say anything
and went to the table where the woman was crying and moaning, “Stop
it, Bud!”

“Let go of her,
Bud
!” ordered Syd quietly through clenched
teeth.

The man looked up at Syd and glowered,
“Stay out of this,
cunt
!”

Syd’s face turned red; she turned to the
people at the next table and asked, “Did you hear what he called
me?”

The people, stunned by what was going on,
just nodded.

“Good, you’re my witnesses!”

She turned and slapped him hard with her
right hand, using the heel of her hand to increase the effect of
the blow. His head snapped back and he nearly fell out of his
chair.

“No one calls me that!” she spat.

He stood up, a little dazed by the force of
the blow. He was about six feet tall and weighed around 200
pounds.

“You stupid bitch, who the fuck you think you
are?” he slurred, raising his right hand as if to hit her. That was
the response she wanted.

At the piano bar, Hatch watched with
amusement. He saw the bouncer approaching, caught his eye, and held
up his index finger, indicating for him to wait for a minute. The
bouncer nodded, but kept a close eye on the situation as it
unfolded.

Johnnie said to Hatch, “Ain’t you gonna
help?”

“Why would I want to help that asshole?”
replied Hatch.

“I meant help
her
!”

“She doesn’t need any help. I hope she
doesn’t hurt him too badly,” laughed Hatch as he took a drag on his
cigarette.

Syd grabbed the middle finger of the man’s
upraised hand in her right hand and his wrist with her left hand.
She levered his finger straight up and back and he sank to his
knees from the pain, his eyes watering.

She leaned over and said in his ear, so only
he could hear her, “Get this, asshole! You’re lucky there are
witnesses, or I would cut off your balls and feed them to you one
at a time! Now, I want you to—in a loud voice—apologize to me for
your foul language, and to that woman you just abused! Got it?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Then, say it!”

In a loud voice he said, “I apologize for my
foul language and for hitting Bessy! Please forgive me!”

Syd looked at Bessy and said, “This your
husband?”

“No. Boyfriend.”

“I suggest you get a new one. This one’s
useless.”

She leaned back over and said in his
ear, “I’ll get your address from Bessy and if you
ever
touch her again, I’ll find you,
and then you’ll be history!”

She stood up and let him go and the bouncer
was there immediately to escort the man out of the lounge. The
crowd started clapping as Syd returned to the piano bar. Bessy got
up and ran from the room.

“I’m proud of you, Syd. You hardly hurt him,”
smiled Hatch.

Johnnie said, “My God! Bob said you didn’t
need no help! I didn’t believe him, but now I do!”

“Did I muss my hair?” she asked, as she
checked her nails.

“Nary a hair. I hope you didn’t break a nail.
Now, about the beguine. You want to try it?” chuckled Hatch.

“Let me calm down and have my drink. I need
to get back into a sexy mood for that dance,” she laughed. “That
guy really pissed me off!”

“Watching your tight buns while you were
bending over out there got me in a sexy mood,” chuckled Hatch.

“I meant for dancing!”

“I’d watch my mouth around this lady, Bob!
She’ll slap you silly!” laughed Johnnie.

“I watch myself around her all the time,”
chortled Hatch. “She’s one dangerous lady when she’s mad!”

Syd punched him lightly on the shoulder,
laughing. Hatch discussed music with Johnnie until they found a
suitable piece that Johnnie knew. Hatch asked him to use a slow
tempo at first so he and Syd could synchronize the steps he was
going to teach her. Hatch removed his suit jacket and tie, then
unbuttoned the top three buttons of his dress shirt.

“Just getting in the mood of the dance,” he
told Syd when she looked at him curiously.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can remove
without causing a ruckus,” she smiled.

“Save that for me later.”

Johnnie started the slow, haunting melody
when Hatch and Syd reached the dance floor. Four other couples
joined them. Hatch started Syd off slowly, showing her what he
wanted her to do. As the melody and beat progressed, she got the
hang of it and started feeling the music, and followed Hatch’s lead
perfectly. Their choreography was slow and sensuous, and when Hatch
nodded to Johnnie, he picked up the tempo just a bit, and their
dancing became more emphatic. As Syd became more attuned to the
dance, Hatch began “presenting” her more, his steps becoming
smaller as he moved like a torero. The other couples had moved off
the dance floor to watch and the crowd was clapping in unison with
the beat of the music. As the music came to an end, Hatch spun Syd
three times and she ended up in a dip on the last note. The
audience cheered and clapped as they returned to the piano bar.

“You wanted romantic, I give you romantic,”
Hatch whispered in her ear.

“You sure did! That was awesome!
I
really
enjoyed that, Hatch.
Er, Bob,” she whispered back.