Diamond (30 page)

“We need to talk,” Rita said, refusing to give up on the fact that she’d just found the woman Jesse had lost.

“Rita, don’t push your nose into places it don’t belong,” Al warned. Then he couldn’t help himself from hugging Diamond gently. “We miss you, girl.
All
of us.”

Diamond shook her head and blinked back tears. “I miss you too, all of
you
.”

Twila knew that the reunion had staggered Diamond. She could see Diamond’s panic spreading, but Rita Barkley was obviously not to be dissuaded.

“When you disappeared Jesse nearly went crazy,” Rita said. “We couldn’t find him for more than a week—and then when we did, we almost wished we hadn’t looked. I thought he was going to lose his mind. Why didn’t you call? What happened?”

Diamond moaned and buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t bear to think of the pain she’d caused him. Twila pulled her outside, away from the people in the foyer. They were entirely too interested in the conversation.

As Twila expected, Rita and Al followed. They made it down the steep column of steps, and then Twila pulled Diamond into the shadows, away from prying eyes. Falling apart in a public place made bad press.

Diamond knew what she was about to do was only going to cause more pain, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Is Jesse all right?” she asked, and then turned away in embarrassment as a sob burned her throat. It hurt even to say his name.

Al nodded as he slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Good enough, honey,” he said. “In fact, ever since New Year’s Eve, he’s been close to his old self again.”

Diamond laughed, and the sound split the silence of the night. Twila shuddered. She remembered too well Diamond’s reaction to the fact that Jesse had seen her performance at Melvin Call’s club.

“And how’s…is everyone else all right?” Diamond asked.

Twila felt there was more than common courtesy behind the question. From the expression on Al’s face, she knew she was right.

“Everyone is about as you’d expect,” Al said. “Mack’s still chasin’ women, and Tommy…well, Tommy’s the same, too. And honey, we was all real sorry about the mess with the album. No one was madder than Jesse. Him and Tommy had a hell of a fight.”

Diamond turned away. It was just as she feared. Nothing had changed.

“It’s cold,” Rita said, and shivered in the January wind. “Come back to our place. We can talk.”

Diamond shook her head. “Thanks, but no. Enough’s been said as it is.”

Rita panicked. “Where do you live? How can I find you again? You know that Jesse will—”

“Don’t tell him,” Diamond begged. “Please, Rita, if you were ever my friend, don’t tell him you saw me.” Her chin quivered, and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. “I don’t have the strength to leave again.”

“That’s just it,” Rita said. “I don’t know why you left in the first place. He’d have done anything for you, and you know it.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know. But take my word for it, I did what was right, and there’s no going back.”

Rita began to cry. “I don’t understand. But I’ll do as you ask. Only for Pete’s sake, call me sometime.”

Diamond turned away without answering and hurried toward Twila’s car. Twila followed, afraid that if she didn’t, Diamond might never stop running.

She got her inside the car and started the engine, shivering from cold as the heater kicked in and slowly began to warm the car’s interior.

“Nothing like a little music to soothe the old nerves,” Twila said, and punched a button on the console. It was probably the worst move she’d ever made in her life.

Jesse Eagle’s voice came through the speakers in a soft, coaxing tone as he pled for forgiveness and another chance. The voice of the woman who answered, singing her reply in clear tones, echoed inside the car’s small interior. And then the announcer’s voice interrupted.

“And that, country music fans, was the title song and the biggest hit from Jesse Eagle’s new album,
Lies
.”

“Oh, God,” Diamond said, and buried her face in her hands. It was the last straw. She began to cry.

Twila stared. It was all she could do. Something Al had said only moments earlier began to click. Something about the mess with the album, and how mad Jesse had been. She gasped and shut off the radio. In the silence that engulfed them, there was nothing but the sound of Diamond’s soft sobs and Twila’s swift intake of breath. Dooley hadn’t told her everything.

“It’s you! You’re the mystery woman on Jesse Eagle’s album, aren’t you?”

Diamond shuddered and wiped her face with her hands, futiley trying to gain control of her emotions. All she could do was stare blindly out into the darkness and wish that she could start over, beginning with the night Jesse had walked into their house in Cradle Creek and taken her away.

Twila persisted. “Why? What happened?”

Diamond’s answer shocked and silenced her. “Ask Tommy Thomas,” she said. “He was the one who was supposed to be taking care of my career.”

About fifteen blocks later, when Twila could talk without cursing, she said, “And don’t think I won’t.”

Diamond shrugged. Too much had happened, and she was too tired to care.

Twila had done some checking, mostly on the quiet, and it had paid off. She was holding some of the most explosive information in the industry and had no intention of letting it ruin any more of Diamond Houston’s life.

She parked her car in the lot of the recording studio and got out. Had anyone cared to notice, her stride toward the door was warning enough that she was about to go into battle. She hit the glass entry with the flat of her hand and grimaced with satisfaction as it popped sharply against the inside wall.

The receptionist looked up, startled at the sudden noise, and frowned.

“May I help you?” she asked.

Twila slipped out her card and leaned forward across the desk. “I’m here to see Larry Tudor.”

The receptionist looked at the card and then back up at the woman. “Ms. Hart? Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Twila said. “But I don’t think it’s going to matter. I want to speak to the studio manager—now.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to have an appointment. I’d be happy—”

“You’ll be a lot happier if I don’t have to shout,” Twila said, smiling coldly. “Now please pick up the phone and ask Larry if he’s willing to talk to me. Tell him it’s about Diamond Houston’s demo.”

The receptionist frowned and did as she was asked, hoping that Larry would come out and deal with the woman himself. Aggressive women were beyond her expertise.

Mere seconds passed before the door flew open and Larry Tudor came bursting through. He half expected to be facing a swarm of lawyers and a couple of cops. That he saw only one angry woman was nothing if not a relief.

“Ms. Hart? Twila Hart? I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I hope you’ll think so after our conversation. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Larry quickly complied, and less than an hour later Twila emerged with the missing digital copy of Diamond’s demo safely stuffed in the depths of her purse. She wasn’t sure what it was going to take, but if it took her a lifetime, she was going to make Tommy Thomas pay.

Larry Tudor would go home that night a relieved and lighthearted man, satisfied that his part in something ugly had ended in a most satisfying manner.

Twila headed for Dooley’s to get Diamond. They had a layout to shoot and no time to waste. Twila was a woman on a mission.

“Put down that tray,” she yelled as she entered the club. “Go wash your face and comb your hair, woman. You’re going to have your picture taken.” And then she grinned impishly at the shocked expressions on Diamond’s and Dooley’s faces.

“Why?” Diamond asked.

“Because I need them,” Twila said. “Don’t argue with your manager. It’s a futile waste of breath.”

But Diamond stuck her ground. She was new at the game, but not so naive she didn’t know what was going on.

“I can’t afford to have professional portraits done,” she said, then glared at Dooley before he could open his mouth. He grinned and then turned away, willing to admit defeat.

“I’m footing the bill,” Twila said, and then added, “but only for now. I’ll reimburse myself when you make your first million.”

Diamond rolled her eyes. “You’ve both taken leave of your senses. I may be green when it comes to this business, but I know this isn’t normal protocol. What’s the deal, Twila? Don’t try and tell me you pay for all your clients’ promotions before they’ve even got a foot in the door.”

Twila’s eyes turned cold. “No, I don’t normally do this much,” she said. “But I also don’t normally come across such illegal, back-stabbing behavior from one of my own. Most of the kids who come to Nashville have a dream, and few ever see it come true. But I’d like to think it’s because of a true lack of talent or not enough luck. I’d like to think that what happened to you was the exception rather than the rule.”

Diamond turned away, embarrassed by Twila’s generosity, and in some way feeling guilty that she’d been unable to prevent what had happened.

“Okay. So today I take pictures. What do we do tomorrow?”

Twila laughed. Dooley pulled Diamond off her feet and danced her around the floor, laughing uproariously at her cheeky response to Twila’s statement.

“We give ’em hell, honey. We give ’em hell,” Twila said.

18

The early-morning sun
slid through the half-open blinds on Jesse’s bedroom windows, casting light across his back and legs as he slept. Muscles across his shoulders and down his arms twitched as he reached out in his dream toward a woman who wasn’t there.

Outside, the wind whistled through the trees as a reminder that winter still existed beyond the warmth of his house. But Jesse was unaware of his uncovered state or the weather. He was dreaming of a woman with long blonde hair and wide green eyes who sang like an angel and made love with unequaled passion.

The strident summons of the telephone beside his bed brought Jesse into reality with a jerk. He rolled and grabbed for the receiver, and his unused voice came out in a growl as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jesse! It’s me! Tommy. I’ve got some papers you need to sign as well as a few items we need to clear up. Have you got time to come in, or do you want me to come out?”

“You come out.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and mouthed a curse Jesse didn’t hear. “No problem,” he answered, lying through his teeth about the inconvenience of having to drive out of the city on a cold, blustery day. “I’ll see you shortly.”

“Give me an hour,” Jesse said. “You woke me up.” He hung up before Tommy had time to argue.

Tommy uttered the curse he’d been thinking as the call disconnected in his ear. Patting his pockets, he cursed again as he realized he’d forgotten to buy cigarettes. The thought of facing Jesse weakened his resolve to quit, and he made a mental note to buy a pack on his way out of town.

He knew there was no use prolonging this meeting. He’d been dreading it ever since he’d sobered up enough to remember what had happened between them on New Year’s Eve. The passing of weeks since had not alleviated the weight of guilt.

Tommy gathered the papers he intended to take, including the special folder he’d pulled earlier from his files, and headed for the door. Since he had an hour to kill, there was no reason not to treat himself to a hearty breakfast. Ham, biscuits, and red-eye gravy sounded too good to pass up, and he knew just the place to get all three.

Henley opened the door to Jesse’s room carrying a tray of hot coffee and biscuits still warm from the oven.

“I knew you were awake,” Henley said. “I heard the phone, but you answered it before I could get to it.”

Jesse swiped his hand across his face and sat up in bed. “What’s this?” he muttered, waving at the tray in Henley’s hands. “I’m not sick. Why breakfast in bed?”

“Why not?” Henley asked, and waited for Jesse to pull up the covers before he lowered the tray.

In spite of his bad temper and the rude awakening he’d suffered, Jesse grinned. It was impossible to argue with a man like Joe Henley.

“Why not, indeed, Henley.” His face creased into a wide, almost boyish grin as he reached for the tray. “Just make damn sure you don’t let this get around.”

“Of course not, sir,” Henley said, allowing himself a small smile. “Will there be anything else?”

“Tommy’s on his way out with some papers. But he won’t be staying for lunch.” Jesse grinned. “Mainly because I didn’t ask him.”

“Good,” Henley said, then had the grace to blush. “I mean—”

Jesse grinned again. “Don’t make it worse by trying to explain yourself,” he said. “Believe me, I understand. I don’t know why, but Tommy has an awful time winning friends. He’s a lot better at making enemies.”

Henley left Jesse to his breakfast before he could make another faux pas regarding his employer’s business associates.

Jesse lifted the heavy crockery mug and gratefully inhaled the coffee aroma, allowing its essence to tantalize his senses before taking a sip. He remembered how Diamond had raced for the coffee pot each morning, unwilling to communicate until she’d had that first cup. He tried to smile at the memory, but it wasn’t worth the effort. All he could manage was a long, deep swallow that was too hot for comfort.

Tommy knocked. Expecting Jesse to answer, he instinctively took a step backward. When the door swung open, Tommy was so happy to see Henley that he overdid his welcome.

“Henley! Howya’ been doin’, old buddy?”

From the look on Henley’s face, it would have been obvious to a fool that Tommy was not one of Henley’s buddies.

“Mr. Eagle is waiting for you in the music room,” Henley said, and walked away, leaving Tommy to close the door behind him and make his own way to Jesse. Henley could hardly bear to look at the man he considered responsible for Diamond’s departure.

There was no way to make this easier, and Tommy knew it. He hitched up his pants, stuffed his Stetson tighter onto his head, and headed down the hall. The heels of his boots clicked forcefully against the shiny wood floor, announcing his arrival in staccato time.