Diamond, page 25
Jesse nodded. “Yes, Tommy, it really does,” he said. “But the question still remains, how do you propose to distribute it? It’s one thing for Diamond to be accumulating all this. It’s another to be able to spend it.”
Tommy flushed. “I’ve been thinking about hiring a private detective. What do you think?”
Jesse frowned. “I would have thought a lot more of it if you’d mentioned it sooner—say, several months ago.” He stood, placed the folder on the seat behind him, and walked to his desk. “What was it you needed me to sign?” he asked.
Tommy stared. He’d expected more of a reaction from Jesse than this. Gut instinct told him that Jesse was holding something back.
“Uh…just these endorsements,” he said, and flipped open the proper pages for Jesse’s signature. He paced as Jesse read and signed the papers. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. “So…what do you think we should do? About Diamond, I mean.”
Jesse signed on the last page and handed the stack of papers back to Tommy.
“Nothing.”
It wasn’t what Tommy had expected him to say. But hope sprang in him as he asked, “Does this mean you’ve come to your senses about her?”
Jesse grinned, and the hair stood on the back of Tommy’s neck. “I never lost my senses, buddy,” Jesse said. “I just lost my woman.”
Tommy began to get nervous. This quiet man with the cool, calm demeanor wasn’t the Jesse who’d ranted and raved and then withdrawn from the human race.
“Yeah, I know…and I’m real sorry about that,” Tommy said. “But you know, maybe someday she’ll turn up and—”
“Maybe she will,” Jesse said. “Maybe she will. I’ll be in touch, Tommy. Let yourself out, will you? I’m kinda anxious to get back to this melody before I lose it.”
“Yeah…sure! Don’t want that old creative genius of yours to get away, do we?”
But Tommy got no answer from Jesse other than a slow, almost secretive smile. In response he felt a wrench in his gut that stayed with him long after he’d left Jesse’s house.
After Tommy left Jesse didn’t pick up his guitar but made a phone call instead.
“Hey, buddy, it’s me, Jesse. Long time no see.” Jesse traced a pattern on the desktop as he listened to the man’s Smalltalk. Finally he interrupted him. “Say—remember that favor you owe me? Well I’m callin’ it in. I want you to call this number and invite Diamond Houston to perform. I know you’ve never heard her name, but whether you realize it or not, you’ve heard her sing. Don’t ask questions, just do me this favor. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
He gave the man Twila’s number and then disconnected, stared off into space for a long moment before picking up his guitar, all the while telling himself that he wasn’t meddling, he was just fixing what Tommy had broken—and fulfilling a promise.
“Twila Hart?”
Twila looked up from the stack of papers on her desk and stared straight into a cocky grin and more hair than a man had a right to have.
“Yes, I’m Twila Hart.”
“Good,” the young man said. “Sign here, please.”
Twila signed on the dotted line, accepted a large brown envelope, and then watched the man with more than passing interest. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, if that, and he had a terrific body, blue eyes that didn’t miss a thing, and a glorious mane of wavy black hair.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Quint, ma’am,” he said, and smiled as he leaned across her desk to give her a closer look at how blue his eyes truly were.
My God…dimples, too. “So, Quint, when you’re not delivering packages, what do you do? I don’t suppose you’re a singer?” Twila could just picture what women would do at the sight of this man on stage.
“No, ma’am, I don’t sing. But I sure can make the women sing—for joy, if you know what I mean.” He grinned wider. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested?”
“I don’t suppose,” Twila said, unable to hide a grin of her own. “I don’t go to bed with men who call me ‘ma’am.’” She laughed aloud at the look of dismay crossing his face. “Just for future reference, sonny, you might try substituting the word lady, or possibly honey. It would cover any span of years in a woman’s life without calling attention to the lack of your own.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Quint said, and then blushed as he realized he’d done it again. “I mean—”
“Never mind,” Twila said, and began digging in her purse for a tip.
“Forget the money…honey,” Quint said, quickly regaining his swagger. “Your advice was worth more than any tip. You take it easy now, you hear?”
Twila laughed as the messenger disappeared. It was the first real break in an otherwise gloomy day. Remembering the envelope, she tore into it, absently flipping through the pages and then frowning as she realized their implications.
“Well I’ll be…” The enclosed letter said it all.
Ms. Hart…I don’t know you except by reputation. Diamond Houston has every reason not to trust another living soul, but I know for a fact that she trusts you. That’s all the reason I need. I’m asking you to see this gets where it belongs. Suffice to say that I will explain more later. It is enough to know that someone is taking care of my lady.
There was no signature. But none was needed. Twila couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She picked up the phone, dialed, and when she received an answer, asked for the bank’s bookkeeping department. After giving the teller the correct information, she had all the verification she needed.
“Well, well, Diamond girl,” Twila said to herself. “It seems you’re not as hard-up as you thought. And whatever happened between you and Jesse Eagle, it looks like he’s trying to do the right thing by you.”
Twila stared into space. She had a suspicion that things were about to go their way. And when the phone rang and the caller identified himself, she knew it.
Diamond stuffed the broom back into the closet and tossed her apron on the counter. The glare from Dooley’s newly installed sign outside came through the window, mirroring an orange and red reflection in the beads of water drying on top of the freshly washed bar, giving the old, scarred top an oddly elegant look.
“I’m leaving,” she yelled, and then waited for Dooley to come barreling out of the storage room. She didn’t have long to wait.
“You’re through already?” Dooley asked, grunting as he squeezed through the door with a case of whiskey in his arms.
Diamond nodded. “I had to hurry. Twila called. She’s picking me up.”
“What for?” Dooley asked.
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but she seemed excited. I don’t know whether to go with the flow or get nervous. All this is still a little bit too much to believe.”
“Believe it,” Dooley said, “I always knew you were good.”
Diamond grinned. “You did not. I believe I remember you telling me that if I sucked, I would be back waiting tables.”
“That’s beside the point,” Dooley said.
He set down the whiskey and dusted his hands on the seat of his pants. Then he rubbed a hand across the small of his back and groaned.
“I’m gettin’ too old for this,” he muttered. “I need my head examined for even gettin’ out of bed.”
Diamond reached out, brushed the dust from his shirt, and wiped a smudge of dirt from his chin with the ball of her thumb.
“The only thing you need is a bath, Dooley Hopper.”
The gentleness of her touch tugged at his conscience. It was all he could do not to tell her that the man she loved had come to see him. He struggled against the urge to tell her how much Jesse Eagle seemed to care, and how much he seemed to be suffering. But he’d promised, and Dooley kept his promises.
Dooley caught her hand as it slid off his face, and he pulled her toward him.
Diamond blinked in surprise as his huge hands cupped her cheeks, gentle beyond belief in spite of their size.
“You’re real special to me, girl,” he said. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I haven’t let myself care about another single soul in too many years to remember.”
She blushed. “Why, Dooley! Is this a proposal?” she teased. But the serious expression in his eyes ended the jest.
“If I was thirty years younger, hell yes!” he said. “As it is, it’s just a fact, nothing more.”
Diamond surprised him as well as herself when she walked into his arms. The hug between them was swift but certain. And when she stepped away, each ignored the sheen of tears in the other’s eyes.
“So this is what you do when customers are scarce,” Twila said as she came in the door. “Dooley, you’re too old to be fooling around with the help. Besides, I thought I told you to fire her.”
“I’m not help,” Diamond said. “I’m family, and decent people don’t fire family. Besides, the waitress called in and said she’d be late. I was just helping out.”
Twila frowned, knowing that Diamond was going to do as she pleased with Dooley. They were too close to part company just because her career was taking off.
“Well, hell,” Dooley growled, lifting himself from the barstool and ambling behind the counter, eager to put some space between himself and the two women. He’d already exposed more of his feelings than he’d intended, so he grabbed his towel and began shining shot glasses that were already gleaming, unwilling to admit how much her words had pleased him.
“Too many damn women in the place,” he muttered without looking up. “Can’t you two find somewhere else to gab?”
“We’re already gone,” Twila said. “Have fun, you old goat. I know we will.”
“What are you gonna do?” Dooley asked, in spite of his determination to remain uninvolved.
“Diamond is going shopping and then going to practice, because tonight she will be performing at the Bluebird.” Twila grinned, enjoying the reactions to her announcement.
Dooley whooped. “Oooweee! How did you manage that, Twila Hart? I would have thought that was down the road a piece.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I have my connections,” she said, ignoring the fact that the connections were Diamond’s instead of hers. “Mind you, it’s only the early show, but it’s still the Bluebird.”
Dooley grinned. “This calls for a drink.” He turned up a shot glass and started to pour.
“None for me, thanks,” Twila said. “I’m driving.”
“None for me, thanks,” Diamond echoed, trying to still the adrenaline that had burst through her body. “I’m flying.”
It was an exaggeration, but it fit her excitement. If her manager was to be believed, she was about to perform at the most famous stepping-off spot in Nashville for country singers. At one time or another, everyone who was anyone in the business had performed there. And it was still considered a coup to walk into the place unannounced and be allowed to sing.
“What will I wear?” Diamond asked.
“The universal female question. Get out of my place and do your woman stuff somewheres else,” Dooley said.
He tried to hide a smile behind his gruff complaint, but it was no use. It was so unusual to see Diamond relaxed and happy he couldn’t suppress it. But the smile died on his face as they disappeared. If Diamond was to start singing in places like that, it would only be a matter of time before she and Jesse met again. He hated to consider the possibilities of what might occur when they did.
Darkness came early, bringing the night people of Nashville to life. It was evident from the amount of traffic that some of them were coming to the Bluebird Cafe.
“Maybe we should’a bought the red outfit,” Twila grumbled as she pulled off Hillsboro Drive and into the small parking lot in front of the club, giving Diamond’s tight black jeans and long-sleeved black shirt a last look. She shrugged and smiled as Diamond made a face. The clothes were a perfect contrast to her long blonde hair and green eyes, and they both knew it.
“It’s so small!” Diamond said, referring to the club and the insignificant sign outside.
Twila grinned. “You think it looks small now, wait until you get inside. It’s one small room that might hold a hundred people if everyone held their breath. It’s got maybe five barstools at a bar shorter than my bed, and a tiny kitchen in the back. Add a couple of bathrooms, one pay phone on the wall in the hall, some old church pews for the overflow—and you’ve got the Bluebird.”
“And it’s that important?”
Twila nodded. “It’s that important. The Bluebird’s reputation sort of outgrew its size, but the owners chose not to relocate. Probably the smartest move they could have made. Tennesseeans are big on tradition.”
Diamond shivered with anticipation and looked around the lot. “I hope Doug’s not late. I really want him to play with me, especially on a couple of particular songs.”
Twila frowned. “I don’t know this Doug Bentin, so I hope you know what you’re doing. You wouldn’t want to mess up this big break by having some half-bit fiddle player accompany you.”
“Believe me,” Diamond said. “He’s not half-bit. He’s great. Besides, we’ve played together several times before.”
“Really?” Twila said. The more she learned about Diamond, the more she realized that this lady had more experience in the business than she’d first imagined.
Diamond nodded. “Once at Dooley’s, but that was after I’d cut the—” She never finished her sentence. It still hurt to think of those times…and of Jesse. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get set up. I don’t want to keep the customers waiting.”
Twila followed Diamond’s hasty exit from the car. There was nothing more she could tell her without revealing the role Jesse had played in this booking. Even though Diamond didn’t know it, Jesse Eagle was back in her life in a very big way. And for whatever reasons he had, Twila was willing to keep it to herself until Jesse changed the rules.
“Come on in here,” the cook said, grinning to himself as he opened the back exit to the Bluebird to admit the tall man in the big black hat. “You’ve been here several times, Jesse. But I can’t say that I ever remember you comin’ in the back door.”
“Keep it down, will you?” Jesse asked, and yanked off his hat before someone spotted it and his presence was revealed. He stepped into the tiny kitchen and peered through the small horizontal opening between it and the dining area, assuring himself that he’d have ample view of the performance when it took place.
It didn’t take him long to spot the three men sitting at a table toward the back of the crowded room. Jesse smiled. They were here, just as he’d asked. Although she didn’t know it, the rest was up to Diamond. All she had to do was be herself and sing like an angel. If those men were as smart as they claimed to be, they’d take it from there.
“Want a drink?” the cook asked.
Jesse shook his head. “No, but thanks. All I want is to remain unseen. Think you can manage that?”
“Hell, yes,” the cook said. “No one gets in here but me. Ain’t no room, anyways. You just stand here to the side of the pass-through and you’ll be able to see what you want without being seen.” Then he grinned. “I just sure would like to know what’s so special about tonight.”
Jesse returned the smile. “One of these days you will, I promise. For now, it’s enough that you’re about to witness a little Nashville history in the making.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know,” Jesse said. “But down the road, you will.”
It was all he could say without revealing his plans. But if everything went accordingly, within weeks the world would know who the mystery woman was who’d sung with him on the album, Diamond would have the recognition she deserved, and he’d have the love of his life back in his arms.
“Ooowee.” The cook whistled under his breath at the sight of the woman dressed in black who’d just entered the club. “That’s one fine-looking woman.”
Jesse shuddered, wiped his hands on the back of his Levis, and then stuffed them into his pockets. He tried to concentrate on the smell of hot grease and hamburgers cooking or he’d lose control and walk into that room, toss Diamond over his shoulder, and carry her off into the night, to hell with explanations and excuses.
“God give me strength,” he whispered as he watched her step up onto the tiny stage and adjust the microphone to her height.
“If you got her in bed, you’d need it,” the cook said, grinning.
Jesse frowned as a man stepped onstage, kissed Diamond lightly on the cheek, and then took a fiddle from its case. He knew the greeting was nothing more than friendly, but it had still been hard to watch. He wondered how many other men had befriended his lady and wished them all to hell on a one-way bus.
The audience grew silent as Diamond stepped up to the mike.
“This man beside me who’s teasing his fiddle strings is Doug Bentin—in my opinion, one of the best musicians in Nashville. And I’m Diamond Houston, from up north, a place called Cradle Creek. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it; I can’t even say for sure it’s on the map. But it’s there—and once, so was I.”
Jesse inhaled slowly and closed his eyes, letting the sound of her voice flow over him, praying that it would ease the pain in his chest. If it didn’t he feared he would die, and he hated to think his life would end in the kitchen of the Bluebird Cafe.
She began to sing. The accompanying sound of Doug’s fiddle was a powerful addition to her pure, clear voice. And when he knew that she was lost in her music, unaware of the crowd to whom she was singing, he stepped out of the shadows and looked. He didn’t hear anything or feel the heat from the grill at his back. All he could do was watch her mouth forming the words of the songs, her hands on the guitar, and the way her body moved to the music—and remember that once, she’d done the same for him.
“Man, you were right,” Shorty said as he and his two business partners walked with Jesse to his car. “And you know what? The strangest thing was that I’d swear I’ve heard her before. You know how I am—I can’t remember names to save my soul, but I never forget a voice.”
Tommy flushed. “I’ve been thinking about hiring a private detective. What do you think?”
Jesse frowned. “I would have thought a lot more of it if you’d mentioned it sooner—say, several months ago.” He stood, placed the folder on the seat behind him, and walked to his desk. “What was it you needed me to sign?” he asked.
Tommy stared. He’d expected more of a reaction from Jesse than this. Gut instinct told him that Jesse was holding something back.
“Uh…just these endorsements,” he said, and flipped open the proper pages for Jesse’s signature. He paced as Jesse read and signed the papers. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. “So…what do you think we should do? About Diamond, I mean.”
Jesse signed on the last page and handed the stack of papers back to Tommy.
“Nothing.”
It wasn’t what Tommy had expected him to say. But hope sprang in him as he asked, “Does this mean you’ve come to your senses about her?”
Jesse grinned, and the hair stood on the back of Tommy’s neck. “I never lost my senses, buddy,” Jesse said. “I just lost my woman.”
Tommy began to get nervous. This quiet man with the cool, calm demeanor wasn’t the Jesse who’d ranted and raved and then withdrawn from the human race.
“Yeah, I know…and I’m real sorry about that,” Tommy said. “But you know, maybe someday she’ll turn up and—”
“Maybe she will,” Jesse said. “Maybe she will. I’ll be in touch, Tommy. Let yourself out, will you? I’m kinda anxious to get back to this melody before I lose it.”
“Yeah…sure! Don’t want that old creative genius of yours to get away, do we?”
But Tommy got no answer from Jesse other than a slow, almost secretive smile. In response he felt a wrench in his gut that stayed with him long after he’d left Jesse’s house.
After Tommy left Jesse didn’t pick up his guitar but made a phone call instead.
“Hey, buddy, it’s me, Jesse. Long time no see.” Jesse traced a pattern on the desktop as he listened to the man’s Smalltalk. Finally he interrupted him. “Say—remember that favor you owe me? Well I’m callin’ it in. I want you to call this number and invite Diamond Houston to perform. I know you’ve never heard her name, but whether you realize it or not, you’ve heard her sing. Don’t ask questions, just do me this favor. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
He gave the man Twila’s number and then disconnected, stared off into space for a long moment before picking up his guitar, all the while telling himself that he wasn’t meddling, he was just fixing what Tommy had broken—and fulfilling a promise.
“Twila Hart?”
Twila looked up from the stack of papers on her desk and stared straight into a cocky grin and more hair than a man had a right to have.
“Yes, I’m Twila Hart.”
“Good,” the young man said. “Sign here, please.”
Twila signed on the dotted line, accepted a large brown envelope, and then watched the man with more than passing interest. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, if that, and he had a terrific body, blue eyes that didn’t miss a thing, and a glorious mane of wavy black hair.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Quint, ma’am,” he said, and smiled as he leaned across her desk to give her a closer look at how blue his eyes truly were.
My God…dimples, too. “So, Quint, when you’re not delivering packages, what do you do? I don’t suppose you’re a singer?” Twila could just picture what women would do at the sight of this man on stage.
“No, ma’am, I don’t sing. But I sure can make the women sing—for joy, if you know what I mean.” He grinned wider. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested?”
“I don’t suppose,” Twila said, unable to hide a grin of her own. “I don’t go to bed with men who call me ‘ma’am.’” She laughed aloud at the look of dismay crossing his face. “Just for future reference, sonny, you might try substituting the word lady, or possibly honey. It would cover any span of years in a woman’s life without calling attention to the lack of your own.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Quint said, and then blushed as he realized he’d done it again. “I mean—”
“Never mind,” Twila said, and began digging in her purse for a tip.
“Forget the money…honey,” Quint said, quickly regaining his swagger. “Your advice was worth more than any tip. You take it easy now, you hear?”
Twila laughed as the messenger disappeared. It was the first real break in an otherwise gloomy day. Remembering the envelope, she tore into it, absently flipping through the pages and then frowning as she realized their implications.
“Well I’ll be…” The enclosed letter said it all.
Ms. Hart…I don’t know you except by reputation. Diamond Houston has every reason not to trust another living soul, but I know for a fact that she trusts you. That’s all the reason I need. I’m asking you to see this gets where it belongs. Suffice to say that I will explain more later. It is enough to know that someone is taking care of my lady.
There was no signature. But none was needed. Twila couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She picked up the phone, dialed, and when she received an answer, asked for the bank’s bookkeeping department. After giving the teller the correct information, she had all the verification she needed.
“Well, well, Diamond girl,” Twila said to herself. “It seems you’re not as hard-up as you thought. And whatever happened between you and Jesse Eagle, it looks like he’s trying to do the right thing by you.”
Twila stared into space. She had a suspicion that things were about to go their way. And when the phone rang and the caller identified himself, she knew it.
Diamond stuffed the broom back into the closet and tossed her apron on the counter. The glare from Dooley’s newly installed sign outside came through the window, mirroring an orange and red reflection in the beads of water drying on top of the freshly washed bar, giving the old, scarred top an oddly elegant look.
“I’m leaving,” she yelled, and then waited for Dooley to come barreling out of the storage room. She didn’t have long to wait.
“You’re through already?” Dooley asked, grunting as he squeezed through the door with a case of whiskey in his arms.
Diamond nodded. “I had to hurry. Twila called. She’s picking me up.”
“What for?” Dooley asked.
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but she seemed excited. I don’t know whether to go with the flow or get nervous. All this is still a little bit too much to believe.”
“Believe it,” Dooley said, “I always knew you were good.”
Diamond grinned. “You did not. I believe I remember you telling me that if I sucked, I would be back waiting tables.”
“That’s beside the point,” Dooley said.
He set down the whiskey and dusted his hands on the seat of his pants. Then he rubbed a hand across the small of his back and groaned.
“I’m gettin’ too old for this,” he muttered. “I need my head examined for even gettin’ out of bed.”
Diamond reached out, brushed the dust from his shirt, and wiped a smudge of dirt from his chin with the ball of her thumb.
“The only thing you need is a bath, Dooley Hopper.”
The gentleness of her touch tugged at his conscience. It was all he could do not to tell her that the man she loved had come to see him. He struggled against the urge to tell her how much Jesse Eagle seemed to care, and how much he seemed to be suffering. But he’d promised, and Dooley kept his promises.
Dooley caught her hand as it slid off his face, and he pulled her toward him.
Diamond blinked in surprise as his huge hands cupped her cheeks, gentle beyond belief in spite of their size.
“You’re real special to me, girl,” he said. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I haven’t let myself care about another single soul in too many years to remember.”
She blushed. “Why, Dooley! Is this a proposal?” she teased. But the serious expression in his eyes ended the jest.
“If I was thirty years younger, hell yes!” he said. “As it is, it’s just a fact, nothing more.”
Diamond surprised him as well as herself when she walked into his arms. The hug between them was swift but certain. And when she stepped away, each ignored the sheen of tears in the other’s eyes.
“So this is what you do when customers are scarce,” Twila said as she came in the door. “Dooley, you’re too old to be fooling around with the help. Besides, I thought I told you to fire her.”
“I’m not help,” Diamond said. “I’m family, and decent people don’t fire family. Besides, the waitress called in and said she’d be late. I was just helping out.”
Twila frowned, knowing that Diamond was going to do as she pleased with Dooley. They were too close to part company just because her career was taking off.
“Well, hell,” Dooley growled, lifting himself from the barstool and ambling behind the counter, eager to put some space between himself and the two women. He’d already exposed more of his feelings than he’d intended, so he grabbed his towel and began shining shot glasses that were already gleaming, unwilling to admit how much her words had pleased him.
“Too many damn women in the place,” he muttered without looking up. “Can’t you two find somewhere else to gab?”
“We’re already gone,” Twila said. “Have fun, you old goat. I know we will.”
“What are you gonna do?” Dooley asked, in spite of his determination to remain uninvolved.
“Diamond is going shopping and then going to practice, because tonight she will be performing at the Bluebird.” Twila grinned, enjoying the reactions to her announcement.
Dooley whooped. “Oooweee! How did you manage that, Twila Hart? I would have thought that was down the road a piece.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I have my connections,” she said, ignoring the fact that the connections were Diamond’s instead of hers. “Mind you, it’s only the early show, but it’s still the Bluebird.”
Dooley grinned. “This calls for a drink.” He turned up a shot glass and started to pour.
“None for me, thanks,” Twila said. “I’m driving.”
“None for me, thanks,” Diamond echoed, trying to still the adrenaline that had burst through her body. “I’m flying.”
It was an exaggeration, but it fit her excitement. If her manager was to be believed, she was about to perform at the most famous stepping-off spot in Nashville for country singers. At one time or another, everyone who was anyone in the business had performed there. And it was still considered a coup to walk into the place unannounced and be allowed to sing.
“What will I wear?” Diamond asked.
“The universal female question. Get out of my place and do your woman stuff somewheres else,” Dooley said.
He tried to hide a smile behind his gruff complaint, but it was no use. It was so unusual to see Diamond relaxed and happy he couldn’t suppress it. But the smile died on his face as they disappeared. If Diamond was to start singing in places like that, it would only be a matter of time before she and Jesse met again. He hated to consider the possibilities of what might occur when they did.
Darkness came early, bringing the night people of Nashville to life. It was evident from the amount of traffic that some of them were coming to the Bluebird Cafe.
“Maybe we should’a bought the red outfit,” Twila grumbled as she pulled off Hillsboro Drive and into the small parking lot in front of the club, giving Diamond’s tight black jeans and long-sleeved black shirt a last look. She shrugged and smiled as Diamond made a face. The clothes were a perfect contrast to her long blonde hair and green eyes, and they both knew it.
“It’s so small!” Diamond said, referring to the club and the insignificant sign outside.
Twila grinned. “You think it looks small now, wait until you get inside. It’s one small room that might hold a hundred people if everyone held their breath. It’s got maybe five barstools at a bar shorter than my bed, and a tiny kitchen in the back. Add a couple of bathrooms, one pay phone on the wall in the hall, some old church pews for the overflow—and you’ve got the Bluebird.”
“And it’s that important?”
Twila nodded. “It’s that important. The Bluebird’s reputation sort of outgrew its size, but the owners chose not to relocate. Probably the smartest move they could have made. Tennesseeans are big on tradition.”
Diamond shivered with anticipation and looked around the lot. “I hope Doug’s not late. I really want him to play with me, especially on a couple of particular songs.”
Twila frowned. “I don’t know this Doug Bentin, so I hope you know what you’re doing. You wouldn’t want to mess up this big break by having some half-bit fiddle player accompany you.”
“Believe me,” Diamond said. “He’s not half-bit. He’s great. Besides, we’ve played together several times before.”
“Really?” Twila said. The more she learned about Diamond, the more she realized that this lady had more experience in the business than she’d first imagined.
Diamond nodded. “Once at Dooley’s, but that was after I’d cut the—” She never finished her sentence. It still hurt to think of those times…and of Jesse. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get set up. I don’t want to keep the customers waiting.”
Twila followed Diamond’s hasty exit from the car. There was nothing more she could tell her without revealing the role Jesse had played in this booking. Even though Diamond didn’t know it, Jesse Eagle was back in her life in a very big way. And for whatever reasons he had, Twila was willing to keep it to herself until Jesse changed the rules.
“Come on in here,” the cook said, grinning to himself as he opened the back exit to the Bluebird to admit the tall man in the big black hat. “You’ve been here several times, Jesse. But I can’t say that I ever remember you comin’ in the back door.”
“Keep it down, will you?” Jesse asked, and yanked off his hat before someone spotted it and his presence was revealed. He stepped into the tiny kitchen and peered through the small horizontal opening between it and the dining area, assuring himself that he’d have ample view of the performance when it took place.
It didn’t take him long to spot the three men sitting at a table toward the back of the crowded room. Jesse smiled. They were here, just as he’d asked. Although she didn’t know it, the rest was up to Diamond. All she had to do was be herself and sing like an angel. If those men were as smart as they claimed to be, they’d take it from there.
“Want a drink?” the cook asked.
Jesse shook his head. “No, but thanks. All I want is to remain unseen. Think you can manage that?”
“Hell, yes,” the cook said. “No one gets in here but me. Ain’t no room, anyways. You just stand here to the side of the pass-through and you’ll be able to see what you want without being seen.” Then he grinned. “I just sure would like to know what’s so special about tonight.”
Jesse returned the smile. “One of these days you will, I promise. For now, it’s enough that you’re about to witness a little Nashville history in the making.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I know,” Jesse said. “But down the road, you will.”
It was all he could say without revealing his plans. But if everything went accordingly, within weeks the world would know who the mystery woman was who’d sung with him on the album, Diamond would have the recognition she deserved, and he’d have the love of his life back in his arms.
“Ooowee.” The cook whistled under his breath at the sight of the woman dressed in black who’d just entered the club. “That’s one fine-looking woman.”
Jesse shuddered, wiped his hands on the back of his Levis, and then stuffed them into his pockets. He tried to concentrate on the smell of hot grease and hamburgers cooking or he’d lose control and walk into that room, toss Diamond over his shoulder, and carry her off into the night, to hell with explanations and excuses.
“God give me strength,” he whispered as he watched her step up onto the tiny stage and adjust the microphone to her height.
“If you got her in bed, you’d need it,” the cook said, grinning.
Jesse frowned as a man stepped onstage, kissed Diamond lightly on the cheek, and then took a fiddle from its case. He knew the greeting was nothing more than friendly, but it had still been hard to watch. He wondered how many other men had befriended his lady and wished them all to hell on a one-way bus.
The audience grew silent as Diamond stepped up to the mike.
“This man beside me who’s teasing his fiddle strings is Doug Bentin—in my opinion, one of the best musicians in Nashville. And I’m Diamond Houston, from up north, a place called Cradle Creek. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it; I can’t even say for sure it’s on the map. But it’s there—and once, so was I.”
Jesse inhaled slowly and closed his eyes, letting the sound of her voice flow over him, praying that it would ease the pain in his chest. If it didn’t he feared he would die, and he hated to think his life would end in the kitchen of the Bluebird Cafe.
She began to sing. The accompanying sound of Doug’s fiddle was a powerful addition to her pure, clear voice. And when he knew that she was lost in her music, unaware of the crowd to whom she was singing, he stepped out of the shadows and looked. He didn’t hear anything or feel the heat from the grill at his back. All he could do was watch her mouth forming the words of the songs, her hands on the guitar, and the way her body moved to the music—and remember that once, she’d done the same for him.
“Man, you were right,” Shorty said as he and his two business partners walked with Jesse to his car. “And you know what? The strangest thing was that I’d swear I’ve heard her before. You know how I am—I can’t remember names to save my soul, but I never forget a voice.”
