Diamond, page 18
She was tall. A long blonde rope of hair hung down her back in a thick braid. He had not seen her face nor the way she walked. But he knew as sure as his name was Tommy Thomas that he’d just seen a ghost.
The bus door closed. Tommy jerked, realizing that if he was truly about to “find” Diamond Houston, he’d better move. He made a dash for the mall doors and met an influx of shoppers coming inside. As much as he struggled to get through, he could not make it outside in time to stop the bus’s departure. All he could do was stand on the street and curse as it pulled away.
Nothing could put a damper on Diamond’s spirits that day. She’d taken her entire weekly paycheck from Dooley’s and spent it on a new outfit. Tonight was special, and she wanted to look it. Someone had dropped a hint about people “in the business” making a surprise visit to Dooley’s to hear her sing. If this was the case she intended to look her best.
The outfit she’d seen in the shop window would make anyone look good. On Diamond it was spectacular. The loose-legged palazzo pants and long-sleeved, form-fitting, low-cut top were winter white. In a fit of genius, the designer had chosen satin, assuring that the thick, rich fabric would hang in perfect folds upon the wearer. A wide belt of gold spandex was the garment’s only decoration. Its poinsettia-shaped gilt buckle was nearly as large as Diamond’s hand, making her waist look even smaller in comparison.
It had only taken one look at herself in the dressing room mirror for her to make the decision. This was what she’d come looking for. If her talent and this outfit didn’t do the job, nothing would.
“Wow, honey,” the salesgirl said. “That looks fantastic on you.”
“Thanks. It had better,” Diamond said, eyeing the price tag. “Shoes,” she announced. “Now I need shoes.”
The salesgirl made a small circle in the middle of the store and tried not to clap her hands with glee. This was going to be a good commission.
“I’ve got just the thing,” she said. “Let’s see if we have them in your size.” She began scanning the shelves for gold lamé half-boots.
They did.
Diamond left with the outfit carefully boxed and placed in a large shopping bag that dangled against her knee as she hurried toward the exit to catch the bus. Since leaving Jesse, the MTA had become a vital part of her life, and she had no desire to walk home. Her apartment was on the far side of town and miles from the mall.
On her way outside, she caught a glimpse of herself in the highly polished windows of a candle shop. The woman staring back at her was nothing like the one who’d walked the streets of Nashville months ago, desperate for work. This woman actually smiled back at her. The whimsy with which she saw herself made her laugh aloud.
Unmindful of the admiring glances her laughter drew, she hurried outside to mingle with the crowd awaiting the bus’s arrival.
The bus came, and she got on and sat down, waiting for the long, noisy carriage to carry her away. Unaware that she’d been seen. Unaware of the frailty of her safe little world.
Tommy sat in a darkened corner of his house downing the last of his bourbon. He frowned as the amber trickle into his shot glass ended, and then tossed the empty bottle onto the floor.
“It’s not my fault,” he muttered, swallowing the last drop of liquor down his throat.
After he’d seen her get on the bus, he’d made a run from the mall through the parking lot, intent on only one thing, following the bus until he watched that tall, blonde woman get off. Then and only then would he be certain that he wasn’t seeing ghosts. Then and only then could he live with the fact that he truly didn’t know where Diamond Houston was. Because if he didn’t know, he didn’t have to lie to Jesse.
But he panicked and forgot where he’d parked. Sick with frustration, Tommy lashed out at the first object he came in contact with, a radio antenna on the car beside him.
Unfortunately for Tommy, the vehicle’s owner witnessed the antenna’s demise as it bent beneath Tommy’s frustration. Given the owner’s rage, it had cost Tommy a hundred-dollar bill and profuse apologies to get out of the incident.
He’d gone home and crawled into a bottle only to find that there was no room inside in which to hide. And he was still uncertain whether or not it had been Diamond he’d seen.
He picked up the phone and made a call to a local liquor store, then sat back to wait for the arrival of a fresh bottle of booze. He wasn’t ready to face reality. Not just yet.
The outfit was a success, and so was Diamond’s performance. She’d gone through every request the audience had called for as well as her own routine. Riding high on the enthusiasm with which she was being received, she didn’t notice the front door opening in the middle of a song or see the startled expression of the man who’d entered.
Doug Bentin stood for a minute, watching her work the audience alone, then made a decision. He turned around and headed outside, then returned a minute later with his instrument in tow. Winding his way through the tables and their rowdy occupants, he stopped just outside the circle of light within which she sat, and waited to see what she would do next.
“One more for the road,” Diamond said in response to a request to sing again. “Only this time, I pick the song.”
“You sing it, pretty lady,” Doug said as he walked into the light. “I’d be honored if you’d let me play.”
Diamond smiled, instantly recognizing the fiddler who’d played backup when she’d cut her demo. She gratefully laid her guitar aside and motioned for him to step forward.
“How about a real oldie, for old times’ sake,” Diamond said. “It’s a Hank Williams classic. It’s one of the first songs I ever learned all the way through. Hang onto your hearts, boys, because ‘I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.’”
The fiddler smiled. The song was perfect for his instrument. He pulled it from the case, drew the bow across the strings just once to find his place, and then nodded, waiting for her to start.
Diamond’s voice was like a sigh upon the silence, a whisper into the deepest secrets every man and woman carried inside them. Even the customers at the back of the room were quiet as she carried her listeners into the magic of the melody. The slow, sad rhythm of the old song blended into the late-night hour with perfect harmony as she pulled the listeners into her spell.
Her voice rose with perfect pitch, hanging on the last note of each verse as if it were the last pine needle on a dying tree…then drifting softly into the silence as fog drifts through night.
Dooley heard more than the lonesome sound of the fiddle and the sad, melancholy words to the song. If he ever got his hands on the man who had hurt her, he’d wring his damned neck. Diamond was lonesome. And there was nothing he could do about it. She had him, and she had her new friends at Dooley’s. But someone had hurt her bad. As far as Dooley was concerned, someone should pay.
Doug Bentin took a long, deep breath as he came back to earth, reminding himself that once again this woman had pulled him into her world with nothing more than the sound of her voice. His hands shook as he lifted the bow from the fiddle and looked up into those wide green eyes of hers.
Diamond stepped back and bowed once, then lifted her hands toward the fiddler so that he would be included in the applause.
The room exploded. Men and women jumped to their feet, clapping and cheering.
“You were great, Miss Houston,” Doug said as he followed Diamond into Dooley’s office. “I’ve been expecting to see your name in lights. That demo you cut was damned good.” And then he stopped himself and added, “It is Houston, isn’t it? I play backup for so many, sometimes I get the names confused.”
“You got the name right,” she said, and then shrugged. As for the demo, nothing came of it. Maybe I’ll be luckier another time.”
Doug frowned. “You’re kidding! Have you checked to be sure it went to all the studios? That was one of the best cuts I’ve ever sat in on.”
Diamond stared. It had never occurred to her to follow up on any of Tommy’s actions. After the fiasco with Jesse’s album, though, she knew he wasn’t to be trusted. Why had she trusted him to keep his word?
Doug couldn’t believe it. This business was a strange one, and that was a fact. Sometimes it took more luck than talent to make it.
“Well, like I told you before,” he said, “I’d be real proud to play for you on a regular basis. In case you forgot, my name’s Doug Bentin. If you ever need a fiddler…” He grinned and handed her his card again.
“You made my night, Doug Bentin,” she said, tucking his card into her purse. “And if I ever need a fiddler…” She cocked an eyebrow and winked.
“What’s goin’ on in here?” Dooley asked as he barreled his way into his office.
Diamond grinned. “My boss—and my bodyguard,” she told Doug. “Dooley, this is Doug Bentin. He’s…uh…played for me before.”
Dooley caught the hesitancy of her words and glared, but Doug had nothing to hide, and he stared back.
“There’s a man out front who wants to talk to you,” Dooley said.
Diamond’s nerves jumped, and her eyes widened. This might be it! She tried to catch Dooley’s attention, but he was too focused on the fiddler.
“Here goes nothing,” she said to herself, and headed out the door, leaving Dooley and Doug to do as they pleased with each other.
“Miss Houston?”
The man’s voice was slow and southern. Her name rolled across his tongue forever as she held out her hand. He squeezed her fingers tightly as he pumped it up and down in vigorous fashion.
“You’ve got yourself quite a little following here,” he said, looking around the room at the boisterous crowd still in place.
“It’s nice to be appreciated,” she said.
He nodded. “Name’s Melvin Call. Got myself a club up on the strip that features new singers ever’ now and then. Thought you might be willing to come up sometime between now and New Year’s and try your luck.”
“Mr. Call, it’s real nice to meet you,” Diamond said. “And I know your club. In fact, I was in there about three months ago looking for work.”
Melvin Call flushed. “Well, now, you understand how it is. There’s too damn many dreamers out there expecting to hit it big their first week in Nashville. I got to weed out the culls before I make my move, don’t you know.”
Diamond grinned. “Then I take it I’ve just been weeded.”
He grinned back. “You can take it any way you like, so long as you come sing for me.” He handed her a card. “Call this number tomorrow, ask for Shirley. She’ll give you a time slot. Don’t be late—and don’t be a no-show. Ruins your chances in this town real fast.”
Diamond watched him leave and then looked down at the card in her hand. A smile started at the corner of her mouth, spreading insistently across her face as the import of what had just occurred began to sink in.
“Well?” Dooley said gruffly as he walked up behind her.
Diamond spun around and threw her arms around his neck. “We’re in,” she said. “He wants me to come sing for him.”
“Humpf,” Dooley said. “Ain’t no ‘we’ to it. It’s you, and you know it. Now, go on out there and mingle. Let them men look, but don’t let ’em touch. If anyone gets out of hand, you just—”
“Oh, Dooley,” she said. “I’ve been taking care of myself longer than I can remember. I don’t need a baby-sitter.”
“Need somethin’,” he muttered as he walked away. “Maybe a new attitude. Gettin’ too damn smart for your own good.”
She grinned. He was happy for her. Only Dooley chose his own method of showing it. She walked out into the club and did as she’d been told. Diamond had mingling down to an art.
“Here we are. You wait. I’ll help you carry the damned thing up the stairs,” Dooley said as he climbed out of his pickup truck after parking on the street in front of her apartment.
Diamond rolled her eyes and looked down at the small color TV sitting in the seat beside her. He’d bought it and called it a Christmas present, only Christmas was still a week away.
“Just so’s you can watch all them holiday specials,” he had said. “You gotta stay up-to-date on the competition. Can’t have you missin’ out on somethin’, can we?”
There was nothing to do but let him help her down from his truck and then watch as he pulled the television from the seat and started toward her apartment, using his stomach as its resting place as he ambled toward the steps.
“Don’t just stand there, get the door.”
She hastened to obey.
It took Dooley exactly fifteen minutes to hook up the set, complete with rabbit-ear antennae.
“Gonna need cable, too,” he said.
“Dooley…”
The warning was sufficient to shut him up, but only for the moment. Diamond knew that when Dooley got hold of a notion, he went round and round until the thing was accomplished.
“There now,” he announced. “It’s ready. And I gotta be going. Ain’t got all day to stand around and visit. Promised an old buddy I’d stop in. He’s been kinda under the weather.”
“Tell Walt I said hi,” Diamond said, and watched the flush sweep up Dooley’s neck. He didn’t like people to know he had a soft heart and visiting a sick old man at the homeless shelter definitely fell into the category of “soft.”
“Damned woman,” he muttered. “Man can’t have any secrets.”
“Dooley…”
“What?”
“Thank you for my Christmas present.”
“Oh…you’re welcome,” he said, and slammed the door. “Lock it behind me,” he yelled from the other side.
Diamond grinned and did his bidding.
She turned all four locks just because they were there and then twirled in a little circle in response to the small delight of the day.
“Okay. You have a microwave. You have a television. Cook something. Watch something. Make yourself useful.”
As usual, her solitary pep talk worked. She dug out a frozen dinner, set the timer, and went to change while her evening meal was nuked through cardboard and cellophane.
Then, dressed in comfortable old sweats, she plopped down in the middle of her bed, curled her feet beneath her, and began flipping channels with the remote control, thinking as she did how much Johnny Houston would have enjoyed what she was doing.
It was the thought of her father, her missing sisters, and the impending holiday that finally ended the spurt of happiness. She dropped the control onto the bed and dug through her meat loaf with little appetite. Loneliness was still her only companion.
The remainder of her food went in the garbage. She tossed her fork in the sink and then turned and faced her existence.
It wasn’t what she’d hoped for when she’d left Cradle Creek. Even though she’d given up on love, there was still a chance of professional success. In two days, she would have her first command performance. Just thinking about the opportunity gave her the shivers.
A faint siren’s wail came through the newly curtained windows and brought Diamond rudely back to reality in time to hear the last of an announcer’s message.
“…so stay tuned for the annual ‘Nashville Christmas Special,’ starting in just…”
The meat loaf in her stomach did a nosedive as apprehension replaced her daydreams. If a country music special had been taped in Nashville, then it only stood to reason that Jesse Eagle would probably be one of the featured stars.
“Get a grip. It’s only television.”
But this pep talk did no good. She didn’t know if she was ready to face seeing him again, even if it was only on camera.
Diamond crawled out of bed and turned off the lights. If she was going to be able to watch this, she had to do it in the dark where no one could see. There was always the danger that she’d come apart inside, and if she did, she might never get herself back together again. There was always that danger.
14
“Merry Christmas, shiny girl, wherever you are.”
The message was an agonizing reminder to Diamond of what she’d lost by leaving Jesse. Listening to his voice and seeing him had been more than she could bear. She shuddered twice, swallowed against the lump of pain in the back of her throat, and willed herself not to scream as Jesse’s Christmas wish echoed in her ears.
She’d known that watching the special would be difficult, but she hadn’t realized it could be fatal. Her heartbeat had accelerated and then slowed so many times during his performance that she felt faint. She’d gone hot and then cold over and over until her skin felt clammy. It was the first time she realized that heartache was an actual, physical pain.
Blindly she aimed the remote. The screen went black. It was only after burying her face in her hands that she realized her cheeks were wet with tears.
“Jesse.”
It was the first time she’d allowed herself to say his name aloud, and as soon as she did, she knew that it had been a mistake. It only made the longing worse.
“Oh, God, how long will this hurt? Why did you let me love him if you knew I couldn’t have him? Why, dammit, why?”
Diamond rolled off the bed, stomped across the room, and grabbed her coat and purse. Before she realized what she was doing, she was outside on the street, running toward the phone at the end of the block.
The wind was bitter against her cheeks, freezing the last of her tears as her long legs quickly covered the distance to the booth. With an angry jerk she slammed the door shut behind her, unappreciative of the shelter it provided from the cold. Her mind was not on the weather, it was on the man she’d left behind.
Shaking from the rush of adrenaline that had sent her out into the night, she combed her fingers through her hair and then fumbled with the change in the bottom of her purse, trying to find a quarter to make her call.
Twice she got the coin to the slot, and twice it rolled out of her fingers and onto the floor. She was in tears again by the time it finally fell into place. Frustration, despair, and an aching need to hear his voice kept her attention focused as she punched in the number from memory.
