Small Change (18 page)

“I'm cool with that,” Jess assured her. Did she look like a druggie or something?

“Our last keyboard player forgot to tell us she had a problem,” explained Melissa.

Kit snickered and Amy gave her a quelling look. “She fell off the stage. Not cool.”

“Don't worry. I think I can manage to stay upright,” Jess assured everyone.

Amy nodded. “So, here's us in a nutshell. Melissa just had the
big three-oh and a baby. Kit's not married but she has a serious girlfriend.”

“That really frustrates all the guys who hit on her,” added Melissa.

“And me,” Amy concluded, “I'm the fearless leader.”

“Bossy old bat,” added Melissa. “We call her BOB for short.”

Amy pointed a disciplinary finger at her. “Hey, I'm only five years older than you. Watch who you're calling old.”

Jess forced a smile and hoped nobody asked her how old she was. If thirty-five was an old bat, Jess was the walking dead.

Amy went on. “I've got two boys in grade school and they're gonna turn me gray before I'm forty. So, to keep sane, I do the band thing on weekends. We play a couple of clubs in Seattle. Mostly we do the animal clubs.”

Eagles, Elks, and Lions—Jess had done her share of them, too. “How did you all get together?” she asked.

“I started the band,” said Amy. “I did time in Nashville trying to make it as a songwriter. I finally got tired of starving, came home, and reconnected with my high school sweetheart. But I missed the music. Ya know?”

Boy, did she ever. Jess nodded.

“We met Melissa at Gig Land,” Amy continued. “She was looking for a bass and we were looking for a bass player.” She looked speculatively at Jess. “You've had some experience, it sounds like.”

“About a million years ago,” Jess admitted. “But I've missed the music, too. And my husband's been laid off so I decided it was time to jump in again,” she finished, then worked up her nerve to add, “One last time, before I'm too old.”

Amy gave a snort. “Hey, look at Bonnie Raitt.
American Idol
has got it all wrong. You're never too old if you're good.”

“Well, I could be too old to qualify as a Red Hot,” said Jess.

“Red hot is how we play,” said Kit, hitting a drumroll.

“We can't help it if we look that way, too,” added Amy with a grin. Then, all business, she said, “So, let's see what you can do.”

With cheeks suddenly warm, Jess broke out her keyboard.

“Whoa, dude, that is a dino,” said Kit.

“It is,” Jess admitted as she plugged in her amp, “but I think I can still get some sound out of it.”

“Well, let's see,” said Amy, picking up her electric guitar. “Know any Bangles?”

The Eighties was Jess's prime time. “Uh, yeah,” she said with a confident smile.

They launched into “Walk Like an Egyptian.”

“Not bad,” approved Amy when they'd come to an end.

Not bad? That had been a blast. “What else do you do?” asked Jess.

Within a short period of time, they'd tried on everything from “It's Raining Men” and “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” to Carrie Underwood's “Before He Cheats.”

“You're good,” said Melissa admiringly when they'd finished.

“A hell of a lot better than our last keyboard player,” added Kit.

“Anyone was better than our last keyboard player,” said Melissa, looking at their fearless leader as if it was her fault.

Amy shrugged. “What can I say? I boo-booed. But not this time,” she added. “You can play, girl, and you've got a nice voice. If you want to be a Red Hot you're in. We've got a gig at a club downtown and you can jump in as soon as you feel ready.”

“The sooner the better,” added Melissa. “We really need key-boards.”

She had a chance for one more run. And she'd be bringing in
extra money. Oh, yes, she wanted in. Two hours later she left Amy's house buzzing.

Back home, she parked her equipment in the front hall and hurried in to the family room to make her big announcement. Michael looked up from the book he was reading with an expression as far from expectant excitement as a man could get.

She pretended not to notice and struck a pose. “You are looking at the new keyboard player for The Red Hots.”

He managed a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. “I'm happy for you.”

“Sure you are.” She joined him on the couch.

“No, I am. Really,” he insisted. “I just wish you didn't feel like you have to do this.”

“Michael, I want to do this. One last time.” They were empty nesters now and the kids weren't the only ones who needed to fly.

He nodded, chewing on that. “Okay. I'll be your groupie.”

She slipped her arms around him. “Thank you for under-standing.”

He smiled at her. “Who said anything about understanding? I'd like to meet the man who understands women, especially mine.”

But her girlfriends understood. Her Friday tennis buddies were delighted and all promised to come hear her. So did Rachel and Tiffany when she told them that evening as they met at Rachel's house to brainstorm cheap craft projects. “We'll have to find a different time to meet since I'll be working Friday nights.”

“It's the end of an era,” said Rachel with a sigh.

“I suspect your Friday nights will be starting to fill up any-way,” teased Jess.

Rachel's self-satisfied smile said it all.

“Just think, we know a star,” gushed Tiffany.

“Not really,” said Jess. “Musicians are a dime a dozen. But it's going to be fun. I think this group could be good.”

“Getting paid for something fun, that rocks,” said Tiffany.

“Getting paid for anything rocks,” said Jess. “And speaking of money, how are your eBay bids doing?”

Tiffany beamed. “I have bids on everything. So far I'm over two hundred dollars and my bids don't even close until next week.”

“You're not going to go crazy and spend that all at garage sales, are you?” worried Rachel.

Tiffany shook her head vehemently. “No way.” She dug a twenty-dollar bill and a ten out of her purse and held them up for show and tell. “This is my spending money for tomorrow.”

“Good girl,” Rachel approved.

“As soon as the money from this week's bids clears I'm transferring it from my PayPal account to my checking and writing a check to pay down my credit cards,” Tiffany said with a determined nod. “Then, as soon as my credit cards are paid off, I'm getting a divorce,” she added with an angry flash of her eyes.

Oh, no,
thought Jess.
What now?
“You don't want to rush into anything,” she cautioned.

“Believe me,” Rachel added, “divorce is no fun.”

“Neither is being married to Brian,” Tiffany snapped, and then proceeded to tell them about her husband miseries.

“This can be worked out though,” said Jess, trying to be the voice of reason. “Maybe you guys should try counseling.”

“We probably can't afford it,” Tiffany grumbled.

Rachel's phone rang and Jess said, “If that's a certain hunky
Latino, tell him you're busy. And don't say it's us,” she added quickly. “It's good for him to think you're in high demand.”

Rachel wasn't much of a game player, and after their dinner together the night before it seemed silly and manipulative. She did tell him she was busy, but stood ready to say with whom if he asked.

Surprisingly, he didn't. Maybe because he could hear Jess laughing in the background at something Tiff was saying.

“All night?” he asked.

Knowing how their girl nights went … “Yes, probably.”

“Well, then how about doing something tomorrow night?”

“What did you have in mind?” As if it mattered.

“Dinner and dancing.”

“Dancing sounds great. If you want to come over, I can make dinner,” she offered, feeling guilty at the thought of him spending money he didn't have.

“Are you thinking I can't afford a dinner out?” he teased.

“Yes,” she said truthfully.

He chuckled. “Don't worry. We won't have to wash dishes. I'll pick you up at six.”

“Okay.”

“What have you got to wear?” Tiffany asked later as she and Jess and Rachel were poring over recipes for tea and coffee drinks.

Rachel felt mildly panicked. “For going dancing? I don't know, and I've spent my clothing budget for the month.”

“I know! Let's go shopping in your closet,” suggested Tiffany. “The diva on a dime says sometimes you already have great outfits. You just have to look at stuff with new eyes, pair things up together you normally wouldn't.”

“I don't think the diva on a dime has been in this closet,” Jess said, once they got there.

It was a little disheartening. Rachel's classic outfits were great for teaching and running errands, but they sure didn't say, “Take me on the dance floor.” Instead they primly demanded, “Take me to the PTO meeting.”

“Look.” Tiffany pulled out the red floral halter top Rachel had gotten at the Bargain Boutique. “How about wearing this and adding that beaded necklace you made last year, the one with the garnets? And you know, I've got the perfect skirt.”

“It'll be too short,” Rachel predicted.

“And the problem with that is?” Tiffany retorted, and disappeared. She was back five minutes later with a gauzy black skirt in hand. It was definitely short.

“And hot,” Jess assured her. “You look great. Now you can go to the ball, Cinderella.”

Rachel had a hard time getting to sleep that night.
Cinderella.
Funny that Jess referred to the classic fairy tale. Were women hardwired to want a happy ending, to long for a prince?

Rachel understood the chemistry of attraction. She knew the date and mate buzz eventually wore off. She hadn't expected her marriage to be one long honeymoon, but commitment was another thing. That she had expected. Maybe, in this day and age, expecting commitment was as impractical as longing for the prince.

Here she was, feeling the buzz again, but was it worth the heartbreak that could be waiting for her once the buzz wore off? Chad Alvarez had the whole package: looks, charm, brains. She
couldn't help wondering what she'd find when she unwrapped the package further. What kind of heart did he have? It wasn't too late to stop now, before she gave away any more of herself. She could walk away with some great memories and her own heart intact.

But sexual attraction was a powerful drug, and by the time she sat in Chad's souped-up vintage Mustang, riding into the city, she'd lost her desire to get him out of her system. In fact, she was flying high. She had on a perfect dance ensemble thanks to her closet shopping expedition with Tiff and Jess, she was out with a gorgeous man, and she felt sexy.

“You look amazing tonight,” Chad told her as the lights of Seattle came into sight.

“Well, you've got me beat,” she said. “You look amazing every night.”

He chuckled. “I'm beginning to suspect you always say what's on your mind.”

“Your suspicions are correct. But you like that. Remember?” she teased.

He nodded. “Yes, I do.” He smiled over at her. “I haven't found anything I don't like about you.”

“Oh, keep looking. You will,” she said lightly.

Aaron had. In fact, one of the things he hadn't liked about her was the fact that she always said what she was thinking. Misty didn't do that. Of course, Misty didn't think, so that helped.

They shot on down the freeway past Seattle, not exiting until they got somewhere south of it. In a little neighborhood in a small town, they pulled up in front of a Mexican restaurant. “They have the best food this side of eastern Washington here,” said Chad as they walked in.

Obviously. The place was packed.

But that didn't prevent the pretty Latina hostess from letting out a pleased squeal at the sight of Chad (Well, what woman wouldn't?) and hurrying to give him a hug. “Hermano!”

Hermano. Brother? Rachel found herself staring, wondering if she'd heard correctly.

“This is my sister, Maria,” Chad said. “She and her husband own this place. Maria, this is Rachel.”

“Bienvenida,”
said Maria.

“Gracias,”
said Rachel.
“Agradable encontrarle,”
she added, hoping she was remembering her college Spanish correctly.

This made the woman's face light up.
“¿Usted habla español?”

“Poco,”
said Rachel. “Very little.”

“Well, we are happy to have you here. Any friend of Chad's is welcome,” she added, giving her brother a look that Rachel didn't have trouble translating. Sis was obviously hoping her brother had found Miss Right.

Once they were seated and had ordered drinks, Rachel said, “So you have family on this side of the mountains.”

“Only my sister and her husband. My parents and my little brother still live in Yakima.”

“How did your sister end up over here?” asked Rachel.