Lennon's Jinx (20 page)

Zoe
pokes my nose. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

“What
about me?” Currie asks. “I’m your best friend.”

“You’re
cute, but you’re not a hunky monkey like Lennon.”

Currie
throws a small stuffed animal at Zoe who catches it and throws it back.

While
the girls finish their food, Mrs. Nowak talks on the phone. I hope everything
is going well. From her raised voice, the conversation sounds heated.

Zoe
squishes up her face. She leans forward in her bed to peek out of the room,
searching for her mom.

“What’s
wrong?” I ask.

“I
have to pee really bad. Is Mom off the phone yet?”

“No,”
I say.

Panic
seizes her expression. “I’m a little dizzy. I don’t want to fall.”

I
tear the sheet from the corners of the bed. “It must be toga time.”

“It’s
what?” Zoe asks. “This is embarrassing. The hospital gown opens in the back. I
don’t want you to see me naked.”

“I’m
a master at togas.” I wrap the sheet so that it’s short and loop it over her
arm. “Ready?” I say as I lift her from the bed.

Zoe’s
arms hug my neck. “I guess so.” She studies her new look. “Kind of catchy.”

Currie
follows us into the bathroom where I set Zoe on the pot.

“Currie
will help the Goddess Aphrodite on her throne.”

Zoe
giggles.

“Call
me when you’re ready,” I say, closing the door behind me.

Mrs.
Nowak stuffs her phone in her pocket and enters Zoe’s hospital room. “I’m
sorry. Crisis at home. Brea doesn’t know what to wear for the dance tonight. I
bought her two dresses.”

She
sighs. “Her first date.” Mrs. Nowak’s face pinches. Tears form at the edge of
her hazel eyes. “I want to be there for her, but I can’t leave here.”

In
all the years I’ve known the Nowaks, I’ve never seen Mrs. Nowak break. Her
normally kept hair is disheveled and bags hang under her eyes.

I
get the distinct impression that this isn’t a routine chemo treatment. “What’s
wrong with Zoe?”

“The
doctors want to do a bone marrow transplant for her leukemia. They’ll be able
to give her higher doses of chemo. I just…don’t want my baby to go through this
anymore.”

I
know it’s selfish, but I’m thankful Currie isn’t sick. I give Mrs. Nowak a hug.
She’s the mom I never had.

“What
time does Brea’s dance start?” I ask.

“Eight.
Don’s out of town on business. I’m not sure what to do. Currie hasn’t been
sleeping well. She should go home and rest tonight.”

“How
about I come back to the hospital after the wedding, around five-thirty or six?
Then you can help Brea.”

Mrs.
Nowak grasps both my arms. “Would you? I’ll come back after Brea leaves for the
dance, so you can take Currie home to bed.”

“Sounds
good.”

Currie
yells from the bathroom. “A little help here please.”

Mrs.
Nowak will have a hard time lifting Zoe, so I’m ready for duty. “Are you
decent?” I ask, knocking on the door.

“Close
your eyes,” Zoe says.

I
do. Currie takes my hand over to Zoe. As I stoop, I reach out my arms. Zoe
loops her arms around my neck. I pick her up. “Can I open my eyes?”

“Yes.”

“There’s
my goddess. All that bright light. I think I might fall.” When I stumble, Zoe tightens
her grip on my neck.

“Don’t
drop me,” she says.

Zoe’s
still wrapped in the toga I made her. I carry her to bed and gently place her
in it.

“Do
you like my toga, Mommy?” Zoe asks.

“It’s
beautiful. Did Lennon make that for you?”

Zoe
nods. “He’s the best.”

“What
are you ladies doing this afternoon?” I ask.

“Movies
and homework.” Zoe makes a face. “That’s Currie’s idea.”

“It’s
a good one.” I check my phone for the time because I don’t wear any jewelry,
other than the keys around my neck. Jonathan does. He has almost enough to look
like a thug. “I’m going to head to the wedding. What do you guys want for
dinner?”

“Chinese,”
they both say.

“The
usual?”

Both
nod with enthusiasm. Before I leave, I give all the girls a hug including Mrs.
Nowak. She whispers in my ear, “You’re a prince. Thank you.”

I’m
glad somebody thinks so. She should talk to Jinx and put in a good word for me.

Every little girl fantasizes
about her fairytale wedding, and I’m no different. Katie Winthrop even gets the
castle. I gaze up at the Carlton, Mansion, a historic landmark. It reminds me
of the Tower of London. I want to go there someday. If only I could click my
heels together to make a wish.

I
arrived early, ahead of the guests and the guys to practice on the baby grand at
center stage. After Lennon’s reprimand, I spent a few more hours holed up in my
dad’s den going over the solos again. I hope I can do them justice. Two of them
aren’t easy and are a stretch for my range.

The
staff lets me in but tells me that when the guests arrive I need to wait at our
table until the rest of the band is here. We have our own table where the
wealthiest and most powerful Chicagoans will dance, eat, and toast the bride?
How did Lennon manage that?

The
tables are set with linens, and American Beauty roses adorn every one of them.
I wonder what it’s like to have this kind of money and a dad like Mr. Winthrop.
He either loves his daughter or wants to impress his friends.

My
dad won’t be around to give me away, and that rips open my heart. I wish Lennon
understood how important a dad can be, even one who’s made oodles of mistakes
like Lennon’s.

As
requested, I wore the purple dress Lennon picked out with black stockings and my
character shoes from theater. They were the only ones that looked good with the
dress. I used to perform in the musicals during the spring but haven’t the last
two years because of work.

My
keyboard at home is nothing like the baby grand here or at the warehouse. I
yawn as I set out my music, hoping I don’t fall asleep.

I
practice an hour, pressing harder on the keys than I normally would. My voice
sounds good, but I worry about getting the shakes like I did last night. Thankfully,
Zach won’t be here today.

I’ve
never had a problem with performing on stage for choir or theater. Somehow,
this is different. It’s real. Maybe because I’m getting paid. Performing doesn’t
seem to affect any of the guys. Lennon’s singing is effortless. When he sings,
his voice works its way into my bones, giving me goosebumps.

A
cute waiter, probably a student at the University of Chicago, walks over to me.
“The rest of your band is here. You have a beautiful voice. I look forward to
hearing you with them.”

Heat
prickles my neck. “Thanks.” I keep my lips locked tight, so I don’t say
something stupid.

Zach’s
comments about my singing last night still hurt, though I was happy he hadn’t
brought Kelly. What’s up with that? At school, they’re normally stuck together like
Siamese twins.

The
waiter tidies up a few place settings before disappearing into what I assume is
the kitchen. He winks at me, which sends sparks spiraling up my arms.

Lennon
strolls in carrying three guitars. Clive has a violin case, a sax, and his
bass. Danny has Susan in tow along with his sticks. The guys all have on Armani
suits with purple silk ties. They look professional. Susan has on a
calf-length, flowing dress and heels. Despite my designer label, I feel shabby
next to them.

“You
look beautiful,” I say to her.

She
twirls in her dress. “I can’t believe we’re at the wedding of the decade.” She
squeals with delight. “I can’t wait to see what Katie and her bridesmaids are
wearing.”

It’s
the first time she’s really talked to me. I’m glad she’s loosened up. I hate
being the only girl, and I can’t talk to the girls flocking around Clive and
Lennon during the breaks. They seem dumber than dirt.

“You
look ravishing,” Clive says to me, clasping my waist.

I
shudder only a bit, biting back the flashes of memories of that night.

Lennon
nods at me. “You look good.”

The
compliment works its way into me, heating my cheeks. He can be charming when he
wants to be.

“Ready?”
Lennon asks.

The
lump in my throat sticks to my larynx. Hope it doesn’t ruin my singing. “I
guess.”

“You’ll
do fine,” Lennon says. “Relax.”

The
guys hook up to the existing amps and mikes on stage.

Lennon
taps the mike. “These are crappy. Danny Boy, let’s get our mikes, the Rowland
amps, and our soundboard.

Danny
beats on the existing drum set. “I’m going to get my snare and cymbals, too.”

Clive
stays while Lennon, Danny, and Susan go out to the SUV.

“Susan
shadows Danny,” I say.

Clive
laughs. “I didn’t think it would last. Danny was a bigger whore than me until
Susan came along. They’ve been together for over two years, sharing an
apartment since they started college.”

Danny
is really good looking, but they all are, even sleazy Lennon. “Danny’s older
than us?”

“By
a couple years,” Clive says. “College is the backup plan. Danny Boy wants to
make this work, but Susan keeps him real. Poor guy.”

That
doesn’t sound too bad. “What do you want to do after you graduate?” I ask.

Clive
shrugs. “This is good for now. I may go to the university. Haven’t really
thought about it much.”

“What’s
Lennon doing?”

“No
big plans. His life revolves around Currie. If he wanted a recording contract,
his dad could get us one.”

“Why
doesn’t he?”

“Lennon
doesn’t get along with his old man. I don’t think they even speak to each
other. They do yell a lot when they’re together.”

“Why?
He can’t be that bad.” If my dad were a famous musician, I’d beg him to help me
get started.

“Jonathan
Tyler was never a father to him or Currie, and Heather isn’t much of a mother.”

Clive
must know Lennon well. Maybe I shouldn’t have butted my nose into Lennon’s
business over his dad. Before I can ask further, Lennon returns, carrying two
amps and a soundboard. Susan has the mikes and a snare drum, and Danny has two
more amps and cables.

Lennon
takes off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and hooks up the equipment. He tests
and adjusts the sound with the mixer. “Let’s run through your solos real quick.
The Billie Holiday first, Aretha Franklin, Celine Dion’s two songs, and then
the Cliff Black duet.”

Every
song, except the last one, stretches my range to the point of cracking. It was
awful when I tried them last night. Some parts sounded good but others were
downright embarrassing.

Lennon
straightens my posture. “Sing in your upper register for the high notes. Don’t
strain your voice to reach them.”

We
work on the Cliff Black duet
When I Said I Do
. It’s incredibly sexy and
Lennon’s voice complements mine. This song is well within my range and melts
into me as we sing it together. My cheeks burn when I realize how he’s looking
at me with those shark eyes of his.

“What
do you think?” Lennon asks the guys.

Danny
Boy flips his drumsticks. “The duet is hot. The Holiday song and
My Heart
Will Go On
are Jinx’s two best.”

Clive
sets his bass down. He puts his hands on my waist. My body tenses as memories,
lurking in the shadows of my mind, take hold. I have to get over this, or I’ll
never get Zach back. “Calm down. I won’t bite unless you want to get frisky
later. Waggle your tongue. Loosen your throat. Go back over the build up for
the Celine Dion song. I’ll pinch you when your throat closes.”

As
the song reaches its pinnacle, Clive squeezes my waist. I forget about what I’m
doing wrong, and my throat opens. It sounds awesome. It’s amazing how much
these guys know.

“Thanks.”
I’ve learned much from them, and Lennon doesn’t seem to hate me for dumping
beer on him, though the thought of Bailey’s face buried in his crotch still
makes me gag. He did get to see me soaked in alcohol, which gave him way too
much pleasure.

The
wedding guests filter into the ballroom and head to the open bar. Supposedly,
anyone who’s somebody will be here.

Mr.
Winthrop arrives with his wife. I recognize them from the newspaper and all the
hype for his daughter’s wedding. Mrs. Winthrop wears a designer gown while he
wears a suit much like the band’s. Wealth exudes from the guests entering the
ballroom. It’s the kind of affair Lennon would normally be a guest at if he weren’t
playing.

Mr.
Winthrop comes over to Lennon and shakes his hand. “How’s your father?”

“He’s
doing well.”

If
he never speaks to his dad, how would he know? So he just lies?

“I’m
looking forward to the music we selected,” Mr. Winthrop says. “I can’t wait to
hear that Billie Holiday song.”

I
swallow and feel my knees buckle under me. Clive comes to the rescue by steadying
me. The guys certainly watch out for each other, including me. And Lennon, he’s
not the complete sleaze I thought he was.

“How
did the ceremony go?” Lennon asks.

Mr.
Winthrop grins and elbows Lennon in the arm. “My wife is pleased, so it went
very well.”

“Understandable,
Sir. We’ll play some light music as your guests arrive.”

“Good,
good.”

This
is such a different side of Lennon. Unlike school where this big guy floats
through school like a ghost, he fits in with these people. I will never be one
of them, and it’s not that I want to be. There’s a fake quality to these people
that I can’t describe, like they have to impress everybody. That’s where Lennon
differs. He’s polite but indifferent to them.

The
wedding party waltzes into the ballroom. From what I’ve read, Katie wears a Vera
Wang strapless gown with a Basque waistline that cost as much as a new Porsche.
She’s stunning. I can never wear a dress like that unless I wear plenty of
makeup to hide the zits dotting my shoulders. Her skin is flawless.