"You look awfully pleased
with yourself," Verna said as she opened the door for Rona.
"That's because I have a
suggestion I want to run by you," Rona replied. She saw Verna tense and
rushed on. "Open the courtyard back up. Start the Saturday night jam
sessions again."
Verna shook her head rapidly.
"No. I can't. That was Sam's pride and joy."
"That's why you should
keep it going, in honor of his memory."
"That's not
possible." She quickly changed the subject. "We received a shipment
of books late yesterday afternoon. I would appreciate it if you could verify
the invoice and set up the display tower that was shipped with them. Get Jerry
to help you set it up," she said before racing off to her office.
Rona kicked herself as she
walked back to the storeroom. She should have approached the matter differently
and given Verna a little time to adjust to
the
idea. As she inventoried
the shipment of music books, she tried to come up with another strategy.
A steady stream of customers
kept them all busy throughout the morning. At noon, she slipped into the back
long enough to wolf down her sandwich and call Domingo at Taco Haven. There was
still no word on Malcolm. During a lull after lunch, Jerry and Rona assembled
the cardboard display tower. It was mindless work. She tuned out Jerry's
gushing review of the new rock band he had seen the night before and thought
about Anna. A shiver of excitement tickled her scalp as she thought about the
planned night before them. The last couple of days had been so hectic; they'd
barely had time to talk. Verna was right. They shouldn't take their time
together for granted.
"I'll let you enter the
stock into the system while I set out the books," Jerry said as he handed
her the invoice. "Let me know if you run into problems."
She nodded. The software
system was straightforward. In fact, it was very similar to the program she had
used while working at the auto parts warehouse. The next wave of customers
struck as she was finishing the entries. Rona spent a great deal of time
running to the storeroom to fill customer orders. It was late in the afternoon
before she and Jerry were able to sit down behind the counter and take a
breather. They were barely seated before a tall man with wide shoulders that
filled the doorway came in. He was a silhouette against the glare of the large
front window.
"That dude's big,"
Jerry whispered as he stood. "You've been running all afternoon. I'll take
this one." He turned toward the customer and greeted him.
As the man walked toward them,
Rona's heart missed a beat. She started toward him. "Lenny?"
He ran, grabbed her in a bear
hug and lifted her from the floor. When he set her down, they both started
talking at once.
"You first," he said
in his booming voice.
She reached up and tugged at
his beard. "When did you grow this thing? I thought you joined the
Navy."
He ran his hand over his
beard. "I did. After training, they assigned me to an aircraft carrier. I
was a plane handler. I had been doing that for about three months when I started
having problems with my ears. I think it probably started from all those years
of standing in front of amplifiers," he said wryly. "Anyway, after
about three miles of red tape, the Navy finally let me out."
"How did you end up in
San Antonio?"
"I went back to Austin
but couldn't find you guys. I drifted down here and hooked up with an old
friend. The guy who owns Jansen's. He needed a sound tech."
"So you aren't with a
group?"
"Nope."
She saw him glance at Jerry,
who was practically jumping up and down. Rona quickly introduced them.
"I know you," Jerry
replied. "You used to be with the Red Devils. I'd sneak into Jansen's on a
fake ID and see you play. What happened? I went to see you guys one night and
you were gone."
Lenny shook his head.
"Man, now you're going way back. That was a bad scene, too many drugs. I
may be deaf, but I ain't crazy."
"What are you doing
now?" Lenny asked Rona.
"I work here."
He shook his head. "No.
Don't tell me you had to get a day gig-"
Rona glanced at Jerry, wishing
he would go away, but it was obvious that he intended to stay.
"You're still with Eric
and Zac, right? I mean, you guys started over, didn't you."
Rona swallowed the lump
forming in her throat. "No. They left right after you did."
"Oh, jeez, you should've
called me or something."
Rona shrugged. There didn't
seem to be any point in reminding him that he hadn't left a forwarding address
or phone number.
He tugged at his ear.
"I'm really sorry about that. I never dreamed you guys wouldn't try
again." An awkward silence fell between them. "What's brought you to
San Antonio?"
To lighten the mood, Rona
resorted to the punch line of an old joke. "My thumb."
Lenny smiled. "You never
could tell a joke."
Jerry was moving ever closer,
trying to get back into the conversation. "How do you two know each
other?"
Lenny looked at Rona and
smiled. "Did you ever hear of Leather and Lace?"
Jerry nodded. "Yeah, I
read about them in the
Travis County Reporter.
They were a group out of
Houston, I think."
"Austin," Lenny and
Rona said together.
Jerry turned to Rona. "So
you met him while he was with Leather and Lace?"
"No," Lenny said.
"We met when she hired me as their lead guitarist."
Jerry's eyes grew round as he
stared at Rona. "You were in a band?"
"Hell, man," Lenny
thundered. "She was the band."
"Oh, this is too cool.
Will you guys . . ."Jerry began to shuffle from foot-to-foot. "I
mean, would it be okay if—"
"Christ, man, spit it
out."
Jerry jumped back at the tone
of Lenny's voice.
Rona couldn't help but laugh.
People were always afraid of Lenny's size, but in truth he was a big pussycat.
"Can I jam with you
guys?" Jerry stammered.
"No." Rona waved
them off. "I don't play anymore. I'm all through with that."
Lenny looked at her and
smiled. "You'll never be through. It was too deep in your blood."
"Not anymore," she
said.
Jerry grabbed Lenny's arm.
"We have a setup already," he said, nodding toward a display that
looked like a miniature stage setup. "You just point to the guitar you
want and I'll have it ready for you in"—he snapped his finger—"that
quick."
Lenny looked around and
pointed to an electric blue Fender. Jerry took off after it as if his shoes
were on fire.
"Damn, I thought I was
through with groupies," Rona said softly as Jerry raced around the
showroom.
Lenny draped a massive arm
over her shoulders. "I'm really sorry that we all deserted you."
His sudden tenderness made her
eyes tear up. "You remember what Zac always said."
A deep rumble of laughter
bubbled from him as he said, "What don't kill us will only make us more
money."
They continued reminiscing
about the old days but were careful not to mention Mary's name. When Jerry
began to the tune the
guitar, Lenny
leaned down to Rona. "What do you think the kid plays?"
Rona glanced at him. "It
has to be either rhythm guitar or the tambourine."
Lenny laughed. "I'd
forgotten how cynical you are," he said. "But, Christ, I sure hope he
ain't a wannabe drummer."
"It's ready," Jerry
called out as he moved behind the drums.
"It doesn't look like
it's going to be your lucky day," Rona said as she nodded toward Jerry.
"It's the best day I've
had in a long time," he replied and gently squeezed her shoulder.
"Come on. Let's show this little turd what a real band sounds like."
They took their places and
agreed on an old standard that any musician worth his salt could play,
"Proud Mary." Jerry surprised them both when he began to sing in a
rich baritone. It quickly became obvious he was no slouch on the drums either.
Rona closed her eyes and allowed her fingers to take over. How many dozens of
times had she played this song? It was almost certain that before the band
could call it a night, someone would request the John Fogerty classic. Zac and
Mary had hated the song, but for some reason, she never minded it so much. She enjoyed
the energy it always pumped into the audience. Before she knew it, Lenny
brought the song to a close. When she opened her eyes, she found a small crowd
of people standing just inside the door watching them. They began to clap as
the notes died away.
Chapter Thirty
"That was awesome,"
Jerry shouted as he jumped up. "Did you hear them?" he hissed.
"They loved us."
Lenny slapped his arm.
"Chill, man, everyone loves that song."
Jerry's shoulders drooped as
he turned to the crowd that was quickly dispersing now that the free show was
over. "I thought we sounded pretty good."
Rona nudged Lenny. As she did,
she noticed Verna standing at the doorway of the storeroom watching them.
"Yeah," Lenny
relented. "We were rockin'. You're not bad with those sticks."
"I'll be right
back," Rona said. "Don't leave, okay?"
Lenny nodded as Jerry pulled
him aside.
Verna was moving to the sales
counter. Rona joined her there.
"You never told me you
were a musician," Verna started. "But I should have realized it by
the way you played that first day."
Rona shrugged. "A lot
people who aren't musicians play an instrument."
"Is that why you wanted
me to open the courtyard again?" Verna asked. "So that you might meet
someone who'll give you your big break."
"Playing in a band no longer
interests me."
"What does?"
Rona thought about the
question. "I used to write the band's music. I enjoy that, but I also
think I'd like to get into the production side."
"You want to go where the
real money is?" Verna sighed.
"It's not just about
money. That's where the music comes alive. It takes more than good lyrics and
skillful musicians to produce a great song."
"And you think you could
do that?"
Rona looked at her.
"Maybe not right now, but at the risk of sounding conceited, I think I
could with the proper training."
Verna merely nodded before
saying, "Your friend on the guitar is good. Is he working?"
Rona knew Verna was asking if
Lenny was in a band. "I honestly don't know. We sort of lost touch over
the last couple of years."
Verna nodded and glanced at
her watch. "I noticed you didn't take much of a lunch today, so why don't
you go ahead and leave. It looks like the rush is over for the day."
"Thanks. I'll see you
tomorrow."
Verna nodded and walked away.
When Rona rejoined the guys,
they were arguing over which company produced the better guitar. Lenny swore it
was Fender, but Jerry insisted it was Gibson.
"Man, you're a drummer.
What do you know about guitars, anyway?" Lenny asked.
Unfazed by die comment, Jerry
opened his mouth to argue, but Rona quickly interrupted. "I'm through for
the day," she told Lenny.
"Great, let's go grab a
beer."
Poor Jerry looked so stricken,
Rona almost offered to stay and work for him while he and Lenny grabbed the
beer.
It took them a couple of
minutes to extract themselves from Jerry's clutches, but they were finally able
to make it outside.
"Where's you car?"
Lenny asked.
"I don't have one."
He looked at her for a moment
before nodding. "I'm parked down the street." They walked in silence
until they reached the new white Chevy Impala. "This is it," he said.
"Wow. You've bought a
Chevy Impala."
"Yeah. I always liked
your old car."
"It's brand new. I guess
the Navy pays well."
He blushed. "The pay was
okay, but I managed to save a lot while we were together. I made some decent
investments."
Rona started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"I know someone who's
going to absolutely love you." She could already picture him and Anna
gushing over mutual funds and stock prices. "What are you doing
tonight?"
"Nothing really. Just hanging
out."
"Let's skip the beer and
you come over to the house for dinner. There's someone I'd like you to
meet."
His eyebrows shot up.
"Would this someone be a woman?"
"Most definitely."
They got into the car before
he asked, "How long have you been seeing her?"