Part 19 (1/2)

Quentin started the boat and piloted it fast across the rush of lake reflecting the pink sunset. Occasionally he glanced sideways at Sarah, whom he couldn't hear over the roar of the motor, talking animatedly with her friend. He'd liked her hair before, but the punked-out schoolgirl look with two pink ponytails at her nape really moved him. He let his eyes travel to her perfectly polished toenails, up her long legs to her strong, smooth thighs, and he wished for the millionth time that he could make love to her.

As he cut the engine and coasted into the pier at the marina, Sarah was saying into the phone, ”I just jumped off a cliff into a lake. Got water up my sinuses and can't get it out. Which is not nearly as bad as your experience this morning. Or perhaps somewhat similar.”

”Vonnie Conner sighting,” Owen called to Quentin.

Quentin saw the still-buxom still-a-blonde standing at the top of the hill, under the pine trees, with her arms crossed. ”She's up there waiting for us?” he asked in disbelief.

Sarah clicked her phone off. ”Who's Vonnie Conner? High school sweetheart?”

Owen said, ”Vonnie Conner broke up with Q when he tried to get his driver's license but couldn't get into the car. Because of course a girl can't date a guy who can't drive.”

”I wouldn't mention that if I were you,” Erin warned Owen.

”Doesn't matter that the guy's mother had just died,” Owen went on. ”Vonnie Conner is such a b.i.t.c.h!” He said the last word loudly enough that it echoed across the lake.

At the top of the hill, Vonnie couldn't have heard the first part of the sentence, but she heard the last word, and she knew who Owen meant. She uncrossed her arms.

”Owen, you dumba.s.s,” Quentin said. ”Thanks for telling PR more than she needs to know. Again.”

”Hey,” Sarah said, turning Quentin's chin so that he had to look down into her eyes. She whispered, ”Just because it happened when you were young doesn't mean it didn't hurt.”

Quentin shook his head to clear it. Sarah was right. He shouldn't be too mad at Owen. He could tell by the way Owen looked through him that Owen was fabulously drunk. And Owen hated Vonnie Conner on Quentin's behalf.

Quentin even managed a smile for Sarah. ”Vonnie Conner is in charge of Hank on the Banks, which is the annual Hank Williams festival here at the amphitheater. So we always crash it.” He helped Sarah out of the boat, then sauntered up the pier and up the hill with her.

As they walked, Sarah leaned into him. She slid her hand down his s.h.i.+rt and around the waistband of his bathing suit. She bent his head down so she could nibble his ear. She took his hand and guided it under the string of her bikini bottoms, which . . . Jesus, it was getting hard to concentrate on Vonnie Conner.

They stopped as Vonnie stepped into their path. ”Quentin c.o.x, you're not supposed to be here!” she hollered. ”Owen,” she called as Owen and Martin pa.s.sed carrying the ice chest, blankets, and lawn chairs, but Owen kept right on going.

”I've got every right to be here,” Quentin told Vonnie. ”The judge threw out that restraining order.” Sarah kissed his jaw.

”Only because you were in chess club with the judge in high school,” Vonnie snapped.

Quentin covered Sarah's ears with his hands. He appreciated that Sarah giggled like an idiot. ”Do you mind?” Quentin asked Vonnie. ”You don't have to go spreading that around.”

Vonnie was royally peeved. ”If you're going to come to Hank on the Banks anyway, why don't the Cheatin' Hearts play? Next year we could arrange-”

Quentin interrupted her. ”On the Fourth of July, we have a Nationally-Tell her, Sarah.”

Sarah took her lips away from his ear just long enough to recite obediently, ”Nationally Televised Holiday Concert Event.”

”What she said,” Quentin continued, ”and you think we have time to drive down here to your two-bit local festival?”

In an unusual show of apt.i.tude, Vonnie seemed to appreciate the irony. She asked, ”Is this about the tenth grade?”

Quentin winked at her and slipped his arm around Sarah's waist to lead her away.

Vonnie flung after them, ”Nice hair.”

”It's Napoleon,” Sarah called over her shoulder. ”Like the ice cream.”

Quentin glanced at her uneasily. Had her mother told her that he'd been made? Surely not. Sarah would have said something about it before now.

He rubbed his hand appreciatively across the smooth skin of her bare back. ”Thank you,” he whispered to her.

”No problem,” she said flatly.

He leaned out to a.s.sess her expression as they walked, but she wore the poker face. He said quickly, ”I didn't mean to-I'm not after Vonnie, you know. She's married. I'm just settling an old score.”

Sarah smiled at him, thank G.o.d. ”I get it. Glad to be of service.”

They reached the top of the hill and looked down at the stage loud with country music. The audience sat on blankets or in lawn chairs radiating outward in the gra.s.s.

Sarah asked confusedly, ”This is the amphitheater?”

”People around here call this the amphitheater,” Quentin said. ”To New York City, it may look like a sloping field. But it's not just any old sloping field. It's close to the original lake cabin that a local car dealer loaned to Hank Williams after he was fired from the Grand Ole Opry for drunkenness. He wrote 'Your Cheatin' Heart' here right before he died.”

”Really!” Sarah exclaimed. ”How sad. His whole life was a country song. And that's why you're the Cheatin' Hearts? Local provenance?”

”I wanted to be the Sow-Bellied Syrup Soppers,” Quentin said, ”but Erin didn't want to be a sow. Or be accused of sopping.” Owen was hiking determinedly in their direction. ”Oh boy, Owen's drunk, and Erin can't dance with him because she's in line to buy a funnel cake. I hope you like to dance.”

Owen grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her toward the stage. She glanced back at Quentin in alarm. Quentin shrugged at her. He sat down in a lawn chair next to Martin and watched Owen dance with Sarah. Owen could cut a rug, and he was patiently teaching Sarah some steps.

Quentin felt so relieved. Owen had been nice to Sarah all day. It wasn't like Owen had the hots for Sarah. It was like the dark cloud of Owen's intense emotion, seeming to desire Erin and detest Sarah, had lifted. All that was left was the big, blond, easygoing Owen whom Quentin had known his whole life. Owen wasn't breaking Rule Two with Erin after all.

”That's some necklace,” Martin remarked.

It was almost the first thing Quentin had heard Martin say all day. Quentin chose his words carefully. ”I had to keep up the image that we're really together. If I didn't give her a nice gift on her birthday, she'd think something was up.”

Martin turned toward him. ”Q, Sarah is one cool chick. I'm afraid of what Nine Lives is going to do to her.”

Quentin fought down his flash of anger at Martin's drug-induced paranoia.

”But she's still the record company,” Martin was saying. ”Her presence here is ant.i.thetical to everything we've worked for.”

”Martin, it's just a necklace,” Quentin protested. ”I've got the money. I don't spend it on anything but the foundation. And the occasional big-a.s.s truck.”

”We know you're smart, Q,” Martin growled. ”We know you're smarter than we are. But that doesn't mean we're stupid.”

”She was feeling down this morning,” Quentin said innocently. ”She's away from her family and friends on her thirtieth birthday. I wanted to cheer her up. I like her.”

”You told her,” Martin accused him.

Great. When she went into the house, Sarah must have revealed to Martin that she knew about the heroin.

Quentin said, ”I haven't told anyone. Sarah saw through you the first time she laid eyes on you.” He sighed. ”Come on, Martin. We're supposed to be taking the day off, remember?”