Page 27 of If Not for My Baby
Waiting for us a few feet from the bus is Halloran. He’s thrown on a jean jacket and dark green baseball cap, I’m assuming to hide from fans who might recognize him, but all it’s done is make him look like the kind of sensitive, six-six man women hope to meet in vintage bookstores. The gentle breeze whipping his man bun and buttery light slanting against the strong slope of his nose are not helping my burgeoning attraction.
“Hi,” he says to me, mimicking my earlier greeting. Is he flirting with me? Aren’t I in trouble? I don’t feel like I have a decent handle on the situation and it’s only making my stomach knot itself further. I pick at my cuticle until it’s raw. A shadow crosses Halloran’s face, but I can only look at Jen, who stares pointedly at the both of us.
Does she know somehow that just a few days ago we werehalfway undressed talking about orgasms in the middle of the night?
“Clementine,” Jen says, as if she is trying to convince herself everything is fine, “Halloran and I would like you to take Molly’s place in ‘If Not for My Baby.’ Starting withThe Morning Show with Joe Jenningstomorrow.”
“If you’re interested, that is,” Halloran adds quickly. “You don’t have to, a’ course.”
Because I am confused, overtired, and apparently not very bright, I look straight at Halloran and ask, “Me? Why?”
Despite the quirk in his full lips, Jen’s the one to reply. “Because we’ve both been impressed with your backing vocals and it’s worth seeing if your soprano voice pairs better with his than Molly’s alto.”
But all I can think about is the look in Halloran’s eyes when I sang for him alongside the hum of the ice machine. “Molly’s so talented, though.”
“Like I said,” he reiterates, “you absolutely don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want.”
“But you should,” Jen adds brusquely. Her eyes are already on her phone. “It’s the right showcase for your voice.”
It hits me like a cheesy movie flashback. Blurred edges and wide eyes. The sudden vision of getting to sing Halloran’s beautiful words to an audience that reveres his music as much as I’ve come to. Getting to singwith him. A rhapsody of love and loss. A melody I’ve not been able to shake for weeks.
I nod at Jen twice. Three times to be sure she knows I’m excited and not worried about the multiple ways Molly might skewer me. “I’d love to.”
“Good,” Jen says. “Tom, take a page out of Clementine’s book—listen to me. Do theRolling Stonepiece.”
Tom runs a broad hand over his gorgeous mouth in a half wince, half laugh. I get the vibe he doesn’t want to discuss this in front of me. “I’m thinkin’ on it,” he tells her. “I am, I promise.”
A swirling summer wind whips at our faces and tickles my nose. I turn away just in time to sneeze. It comes out like a shriek.
“Bless you,” Halloran says as I sneeze again. “Twice.”
“Good Lord,” Jen says, stepping back. “You sound like a parrot.”
“It’s just allergies,” I assure them both.
Halloran folds his lips together to hide a smile.
“Okay. Bright and early tomorrow, you two.” And with that Jen hurries into the hotel, Lionel speeding behind her.
I crane my neck up to find Halloran’s eyes. “Thank you so much.”
“Thankyou.” He shrugs, fisting his hands in his pockets. “Your voice is a splendid instrument.”
His eyes are nearly emerald in the last dregs of daylight, and as I behold them, intent upon me, I find I cannot form any more words.
Then I sneeze again.
—
“She WHAT?”
“Molly,” Indy tries. “Can we calm—”
“I’m not going tocalm down. Do not ask me tocalm down,because I’m not fucking going to,okay?”
“Okay,” I answer for Indy before Molly can bite her head off.
Molly screeches again and sinks morosely into the bed across from mine, where Indy and I sit.
