Page 15 of My UnTrue Love
He adored her constant energy, especially when it made her glorious breasts bounce under her blouse. Bill would have stolen Clem regardless of her bra size. Her radiant grin had woken something in him and sealed her fate. But heappreciated that his sweet little wife-to-be was built like a vintage pinup girl. It was a real welcomed bonus.
Clementine stopped directly beside him. Right where she belonged. Bill inhaled her scent, soothed and turned on by her mere presence. Hand to Christ, his girl always smelled like homemade blueberry flapjacks. He wasn’t sure how that was possible, but helovedit. He wanted to eat her up like a banquet.
“This is Dinah.” Clem gestured to the woman who’d entered behind her. “Dinah, this is Pecos Bill.”
It was hard to focus on other people when Clem was nearby. Bill dug deep and managed to pry his attention away from his stolen-mate long enough to glance Dinah’s way.
The old lady didn’t seem thrilled to meet him. She had silver hair styled into a large beehive, clothes covered in shiny sequins, and a whole lotta fake lashes. She scowled at him and popped a cigarette between her scarlet-painted lips.
Bill frowned.
“So this is him, huh?” Dinah’s beady brown eyes fixed on Bill, already counting his flaws. The holes in his jeans. The way he stood just a little too close to Clem. The indisputable fact that he was a coyote. She snorted, her ancient voice raspy and hard. “Johnny’s prettier.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
Clem delivered that lie with an admirably straight face. Bill was impressed, considering she usually blushed bright red at the tiniest falsehood. Maybe she was learning to fib.
“Besides, Bill is much more talented than Johnny.” Clem went on loyally.
“You said he doesn’t even sing.” Dinah complained.
“But you heard his guitar playing on The Yellow Roses album. And that wasn’t evencloseto the amazing music he’s capable of making. Bill’s going to be a star. I know it.”
Tony rolled his eyes.
Bill didn’t blame him.
Dinah sighed and fished around in her spangle-y pocket. “I swear your momma was just like you, Clementine. Picking up every charity case who tumbleweed-ed his way into town. Wasting time on men who dragged her down.”
“Daddy didnotdrag Momma down.” It must’ve been an old argument, because there was no heat in Clem’s tone.
“He was the worst songwriter I ever met.”
“He wasn’t a bad songwriter. I have his notebook, and he wrote down wonderful ideas. He just never found a way to put all the pieces together.”
Dinah kept talking. “And as bad as he was at music, he was even worse at mining. Your momma was a muse! She could’ve had her choice of artists.”
“Shedidchoose, and they were very happy together, even if Daddy’s songwriting career never quite developed to the levels they’d hoped.”
Dinah scoffed, as if that was a vast understatement.
“And anyway, this is about me, not them.” Clementine went on. “I know real talent, when I hear it. I was right about Johnny, when I convinced you to give him a chance. He’s always a big hit.”
“He broke up my most popular duet, when he screwed both sisters in one weekend.”
“Johnny says that was all a misunderstanding.”
“The little turd took pictures of it. He’s lucky I still let him try out new songs here.”
Bill had a real low tolerance for Johnny Jacobs and no tolerance at all for men who disrespected women. Ruining that bastard’s cushy setup with The Kitchen seemed like a fine idea. Every little bit of chaos Bill sowed in his life was time and effort Johnny couldn’t direct towards winning Clementine back.
And that fucker deserved to sink.
“Johnny still plays here?” Bill asked, like he’d had no earthly idea of such a thing. “I thought he said this place was only fit for a has-been and never-was.”
Dinah’s lips pinched. “Johnny said that aboutmyplace?” She demanded at Clementine.
“Ummm…” Clemwasn’tgetting any better at fibbing, it seemed. The damning answer was all over her face.
