Diamond (31 page)

Jesse was on the window seat, the guitar resting in his lap as he picked across the strings and hummed softly to himself. The sunlight coming through the mullioned windowpanes ricocheted off the instrument’s metal plates and into Tommy’s eyes as he walked into the room, momentarily blinding him to the frown that Jesse wore at the interruption. By the time Tommy’s vision had cleared, so had Jesse’s expression.

“Hard at it, I see,” Tommy said. “It sounded good, Jess. Maybe it’ll be your next big hit.”

Jesse shrugged. “Just fiddlin’ around,” he said. “It needs a lot of work.”

The encounter was strained. Their curt formality did not ease the way for anything further, and so for several moments the two men simply looked at one another, remembering their last meeting. Tommy fidgeted as Jesse stared. Finally, it was Tommy who broke the silence.

“I have something you’ll be interested in seeing,” he said, handing Jesse a thick manila folder.

Jesse laid aside his guitar and opened the folder. It didn’t take him long to realize that Tommy had finally followed through on one of his requests regarding Diamond Houston. It was the account Jesse had ordered him to open and the record of deposits made to it on a regular basis.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Tommy said.

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.”