Keep Dancing (16 page)

“Who cares?” Jack flicked an ash and rubbed it into his jeans.

Patrick looked bored. “How sad to hear of such a…schism.”

“Bless you!” Sammy said.

There was a knock at the door, and I got up to get it. A tall, stick-thin redhead in a long leather coat strode inside. “I was working on a painting and lost all track of time,” Suzanne said, bussing my cheek. As I took her coat, the men continued their conversation.

“Let’s leave them to their bitching.” She followed me into the kitchen and I poured us both a beer. Suzanne made a face as she sat at the table, so I moved the mantis cage to the counter.

“Bugs give me the willies,” she said. “I hope Jack appreciates you indulging his twisted ways.”

“I don’t mind, as long as they stay put. How’s the painting coming along?” I asked.

Suzanne tsk’ed. “This is the first time I’ve done any in over a month. With all the concert preparations, I just haven’t had time. And Mark’s such a sodding infant:
Where’s my orange jeans? Can you touch up my hair? Did you order the nylon-tipped drumsticks?
She ran her hand through her spiky red layers, her skeleton earrings swaying.

“I hope you’ll be able to get back to it, once the tour’s over. Your opening was so great.” I’d attended her first solo show at a gallery on Spring Street last fall.

Suzanne picked at the bottle’s label. “It’s driving me crazy. I feel like I had my big breakthrough, but now I’m back to ironing Mark’s shirts. How about you? You seem to have time to work, and also be Jack’s love slave.” She smiled, showing upper gum in a way that was appealingly childlike.

“I guess. Although lately the work part seems to be overtaking the romantic part. By the time he gets home, I’m usually sacked out. Then of course he’s asleep when I leave for the office in the morning.”

Suzanne touched my hand. “Well, I admire your drive. But keep in mind that these guys are big babies. They expect everything to happen
when
they want it,
how
they want it—almost even before they’ve
realized
they wanted it. ‘My wish is your command’ type of thing.”

I hadn’t really seen that aspect of Jack yet, but she seemed to know what she was talking about. “Okay, forewarned is forearmed, I guess.”

“Hey, Suzie! Can you bring us more beer?” As if on cue, Sammy’s voice came from the front of the loft.

“And another whiskey!” Mark called out.

“See what I mean?” she said. We grabbed a few bottles and took them to the men.

Patrick stood and smoothed down his pants. “I’ve got to go. Stephanie’s picking me up at eleven.” He named the most recent supermodel in his collection. “Later, you lot.” He fitted his hat on his head and grabbed his coat. Sammy hummed “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” as the door closed.

“
Stephanie’s
picking me up,” Mark imitated in a high-pitched voice. “It’s not like she’s all that hot. Why’d you let him cut back on the tour?” he asked Jack. “It doesn’t make sense, if people want to see us. He’s always got to throw a spanner in the works.”

“Better to let him think he’s getting his way, while he’s still at 98.6,” Jack replied. “I’ll tell Mary Jo to leave it as it was.”

“Who told him he’s in charge?” Mark said.

“You know Patrice; he always wants to control everything. And I just want to
lose
control.” Jack stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

“That’s for sure,” Sammy said. “All right, I’m gonna make like a prom dress and take off.” He took one last big draw of the roach—the third or fourth of the evening—and rose to get his coat. “Julia, I don’t know what you see in these crumpet-suckers. Any time you get bored, you’ve got my number.”

“And I’m gonna make like a dog and flea.” Mark petted Muddy’s head and got up to go.

“Both of you make like birds, and flock off,” Jack said. Suzanne blew him a kiss, hugged me goodnight, and ushered Mark and Sammy into the elevator. I could hear the echo of their voices singing “Love Me Tender” as it descended.

After they left, I started dumping the ashtrays, the fug of pot making me a little woozy.

“Just leave all that,” Jack said.

“I don’t want Muddy to get hold of it.” I gathered the bottles and took them to the kitchen counter, the puppy at my heels. “So how
was
Cincinnati Patty?”

“Oh, that was our last tour, two years ago. Those backstage types aren’t really my speed.” Jack came up behind me and nuzzled my neck. “Not like my Pikesville Coupe-de-Ville. She goes from zero to eighty in under three minutes.”

“Don’t those Cadillacs have huge rear bumpers? That doesn’t sound too attractive.” I turned around and pressed my body into his.

“You’re a Rolls, baby. Now let’s roll on back to bed.”

“What does that feel like?” Jack moved up beside me and propped his head in his hand. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like for a woman. You make so much noise; I love watching you writhe around.”

My face flushed. “I don’t know. My body sort of lifts out of itself. It’s like I’m floating high above the bed.”

“That sounds kind of trippy. It looks so intense.” He traced an infinity symbol around my nipples.

“Oh, it is,” I said. “It’s like wave after wave of the most intense pleasure I’ve ever had.”

“I picture a flower opening up.” Jack spread his fingers wide. “And I’m a honey bee, drowning in pollen.”

“How about you?” I asked, curious about what he’d say.

“I see colors; yellows and reds. Bursting all over. Sometimes I hear snatches of music.” His warm brown eyes regarded me. “Lately I’ve been picturing what could happen if we let those little swimmers up there. Give ’em a chance.”

“But I’ve just started a new job. That would be like asking you to get pregnant right before you go on tour.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Jack rolled off the bed and pulled on a tee-shirt. He stuffed a pillow under it, grabbed a guitar and strummed it over the bulge. “See? Piece of cake.”

I laughed, relieved he was making a joke of it. Barking, Muddy leaped up and tugged the pillow out from under his shirt. Jack switched off the light and got into bed. After a moment, he turned toward me.

“Hey. Mary Jo’s found a private detective to try to locate your dad. All right with you if I give her the go-ahead?”

God, I’m really not ready for this. But he isn’t going to drop it
, I realized. “Okay. But if he finds him, it’s up to me whether or not I want to contact him. Right?”

“That’s right. For now, it’s just to see where he is.”

“I guess it’ll be good to know for a fact that he’s still alive. Even if I decide not to get in touch.” I was pretty sure I wouldn’t want to take that step.

“I’ll tell her to hire him, then.” Jack reached over and turned off the lamp.

As I listened to his breathing even out, I thought about what it would be like to see my father again. Would he have a good excuse for not writing or coming to visit? Had he been injured or incapacitated in some way, so he couldn’t even call? But I knew that wasn’t very likely. As I pulled the covers up to my chin, a memory hit me of my father tucking me in at night when Dot was working late. The faint scent of his aftershave as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. The way he’d pause in the doorway and say, “Goodnight, sweetheart.” That always made me feel so safe, as if nothing in the world could hurt me.

I punched my pillow and turned to face the wall. The last birthday of mine that he was there for was the summer I turned fourteen. I always felt so unattractive with my thick glasses, but he’d tried to build me up. “You’re my beautiful girl. Someday you’ll wake up and see how pretty you are.” “You’re so smart, Julia. I know you’re gonna go places.” For my present that year he’d made me a bookshelf, smoothly sanded and lacquered, sturdy enough to hold encyclopedias. After he left and we had to move to a much smaller rental, Dot made me leave it behind.

Let It Bleed

“Hello? Oh, hi, Mom,” I said, stretching the cord so I could sit on the couch. “No-no, Muddy.” I removed the coil from his mouth. Our teething puppy had gnawed everything from table legs to armchair corners. Jack now had to be careful where he laid his guitars.

“So you still have that dog?” Dot asked. “What does it do while you’re gone all day?”

I scratched Muddy’s belly as he stretched out next to me. He really had grown in the past two weeks; Jack thought he might hit sixty pounds eventually. “Oh, he chews stuff, mostly. Sleeps in his bed. He’s so cute, though. He gets super excited when one of us comes in the door.”

“I don’t know why you wanted a pet. Who’s going to take care of it when you’re on tour with Jack?”

“I’ll have to put him in a kennel for that week. Mary Jo is looking into it.”

“That’s the manager you don’t care for,” she said.

“Yes, but she’s indispensable to Jack. She takes care of all the details he’s too busy to deal with,” I said.

“I’d keep my eye on her. Do you think he’ll be good while he’s away?” Dot asked.

That very thought had been plaguing me lately, aggravated by the run-in with his tutor. “He’d better be, if he wants me to stick around.”

But how would I know?
I asked myself.
He’ll be on the road for almost four weeks before I show up, and then several more after I leave
. The Floor would be hitting every major arena in the country—with all the enticements of women, drugs, non-stop adoration and partying. From the little he’d told me, it sounded like a three-ringed circus.

“What have you been up to lately?” I interrupted my uneasy line of thought.

“Darrell and I broke up.”

I heard the quaver in her voice. “I’m sorry, Mom. But I have to tell you, I don’t think he treated you very well. To be honest, he seemed really obnoxious.”

Dot sighed. “I know. But it’s hard when you’re older, Julia. You’ll see. Men aren’t exactly knocking down my door.”

“Well, they should be. Hold out for the right guy.”

“That’s easier said than done. Anyway, I’m heading over to Buck’s for a while. Say hi to Jack for me. When do they leave?” she asked.

“Tomorrow night. I’m going to miss him so much.”

“Tell him I said good luck. And to behave himself.”

The next day was insanely busy; I hardly had a moment to think about Jack’s impending departure. I returned about thirty calls from agents, sat in two interminable meetings, and had a long chat with my friendly Omaha author, who always signed off the same way:

“Remember, Julia, little things…” He paused, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

“Can be big!” I smiled to myself, recalling Sammy’s interpretation.

The topper was that just as I was ready to leave the office, I started my period. I felt like crying; this would definitely put a crimp in my plans to give Jack a great sexual sendoff. I got a tampon out of the machine and then raced down to the subway. Despite Jack’s urging, I rarely used cabs for my commute, instead taking the dirty, dangerous, but much faster train.

When the local roared into the station, I wedged myself between a clump of straphangers. A woman with a huge unwieldy belly pushed her way inside. Looking like she could give birth at any minute, she stared hopefully at three seated businessmen in suits, who only raised their newspapers higher.

Watchda closindaws
, came a voice over the crackly speaker.
Nex’ stop, the deuce
. The train lurched forward, and she almost lost her balance.

“Want to grab hold?” I asked.

“Thanks.” The woman squeezed in next to me and gripped the pole as more passengers shoved on and off. “Mayor Crotch” was scrawled on one half of the sliding door
;
when it closed, it met up with “Sucks”.
Turty-turd an’ Lex,
came the disembodied voice.

The woman fanned herself and rapidly unbuttoned her coat. “Only one more month to go. I’ve already gained forty-six pounds. I used to be a size eight, but now I just can’t seem to stop eating.”

I nodded politely. “And none of these assholes ever give me a seat,” she added.

“I guess chivalry is dead.”

“You can say that again.” We swayed through several stops, the car becoming less crowded as we progressed downtown. She grimaced as the train juddered over a rough patch of track and came to a screeching halt.

I let go of the pole. “Well, this is my stop. Good luck with—with everything,” I said as she finally claimed a seat.

I chatted with the doorman until the elevator came. Riding up, I was hit with a pang of disappointment that I was on the rag. Why couldn’t it have waited ’til tomorrow?

Jack was in a hurricane of packing, shirts and belts and rolling papers strewed everywhere, open suitcases on the bed. He grabbed me, and in a minute we were both breathing hard and tearing off each other’s clothes. Jack shoved the suitcases to the floor and started kissing my breasts.

“Ohh,” I said, feeling a little tender. “I have bad news. I started my period today. Let me do something nice for you, though.” I started to sit up, but Jack pushed me back on the pillow.

“I don’t care, baby. I’m gettin’ in there.” His lips tantalized my nipples, tongue swirling sensuously.

“But I just started a few minutes ago. Of all the rotten timing.”

“Don’t care.” He inched his way down my belly.

“Let me at least get some towels,” I said.

“I’ve got plenty more sheets.”

He ran his tongue up my inner thigh, wrapped the tampon string around his finger and pulled it out. Then a butterfly landed on me lightly and sought my nectar, becoming more and more insistent until I was filled to the brink with sweetness. Again and again my cup almost overflowed. It began to trickle over the lip as the drops became a stream and the waves started crashing. I was rocked in the sway of a huge swell that took me far, far away. Just as I was starting to make my way back, he entered me and rode the tide until he filled me with his salty spume and collapsed with a long, lingering moan.

We breathed in syncopation for a while, recovering. Jack opened his eyes and smiled at me, his face smeared scarlet.