Part 16 (2/2)
”What do you want to drink, Esther?” Harumi asked. ”There's more beer. There're some wine coolers ....”
”I'll just have a Diet c.o.ke,” Esther said, remembering what her mother had said. ”I don't feel that great.” She was already thinking that she'd take off at midnight. She'd wait until the ball dropped at Times Square.
She followed Ca.s.sie into the kitchen, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands.
”Umm, about Christmas Eve ....”
”Hey,” Ca.s.sie said, handing her a cold can. ”We'll always be friends, okay?”
Esther smiled. ”Yes. Friends.”
Back in the living room, Trudy flicked on the television. d.i.c.k Clark's face came into view. He was just announcing the first band, a bunch of blondes in miniskirts.
”Someday, we're going to be on the show,” Trudy said.
The other Divas just stared at the TV screen, but Adam raised a cup into the air. ”I'll drink to that.”
”Wait,” Ca.s.sie said. ”I have something that we can truly celebrate.” She disappeared in the back of the house.
Something about her and Adam? That painting of Ca.s.sie he'd been working on? Esther, Harumi, and Trudy exchanged glances. None of them seemed to know about the big surprise.
Ca.s.sie returned, hands behind her back. ”Are you ready?”
”Enough with the suspense,” Trudy growled, though even Esther could tell that she was enjoying this.
”Ta-da!” Ca.s.sie held out a piece of paper. A check. They all moved in for a closer look.
”My dad booked a studio so that we can record a demo, and this is going to cover the cost. It's his Christmas present to me. To all of us!”
It wasn't midnight yet, but they all started tearing paper napkins into paper confetti and kissing each other.
35.
”So how are things going with Mr. Right?” Ca.s.sie asked Harumi.
It was post-gig-a private party at some sorority house, but a paid gig all the same-and the Divas were all gathered at the Capitol Cafe. Playing onstage made them ravenous.
”Do you mean Chip?” Harumi asked, perplexed.
”Who else, silly?” Ca.s.sie ruffled her hair.
”Not so well.” She stirred the grits on her plate with a fork.
”Didn't I see him at The Cave last time we played there?” Trudy asked.
”Yeah, he was there,” Harumi said. ”I should have introduced you.”
Actually, she hadn't even spoken to him that night herself. Of course she'd seen him. He'd dressed down in jeans and a polo s.h.i.+rt, but he still looked out of place. She could imagine his discomfort, and it had moved her that he would go out of his way to prove his interest. He risked blasted eardrums and stomped-on Topsiders, all for her. Their eyes had met briefly before a taller man stepped in front of him. Then the house lights had dimmed and the overhead lights brightened, and Harumi couldn't see faces anymore.
Playing back that night in her mind, she thought she should have had a song dedicated to him, or thrown her pick, or committed some other showy rock star gesture. She should have talked to him, at least, but she was still too embarra.s.sed and too tired. Maybe it was better to retreat from the real world for a while. She could deal with Mrs. Harris and her paperback novels and scratchy old records. That was just one woman's nostalgia. And she could lose herself in the music, in the intricate movements of her fingers, whenever she was with the Divas. Even at Goatfeathers she could disappear into a role, as long as Chip didn't show up. (And he didn't; he was giving her s.p.a.ce.) She liked to daydream about him, but she wasn't ready to deal with a flesh and blood man.
”So what's the problem?” Trudy asked. ”Was The Cave too spooky for him?”
Harumi shrugged. ”He sent me flowers every day for a week after that.” The notes were always short-the first one, an apology, and then a note to ”The Rickenbacker G.o.ddess,” praising her performances. She'd arranged the flowers by her bed so she could wake to the sight of roses and hothouse orchids. The notes, she'd saved in the pages of her favorite books.
”Wow. What a romantic! I can't imagine Adam sending me flowers,” Ca.s.sie said.
Trudy snorted.
”No one has ever sent me flowers, either,” Esther added.
Harumi knew she'd never had a boyfriend. Maybe girls didn't send flowers to each other.
Sooner or later Chip would give up on her, if he hadn't already. The last note had included his phone number and the words ”call me.” If she ignored it, he'd fade from her life and find someone else.
”Do you like him?” Ca.s.sie asked.
”Yeah. I do. I just don't know how to behave. Last time we were together, he was kissing me, when I thought of something funny and I started laughing.” She raked through her grits again with the fork. ”It wasn't even that funny. I was just nervous.”
”Harumi.” Ca.s.sie waited until she looked up from her plate. ”He doesn't care. He came to our show just to see you, and he sent you flowers. You should call him.”
”Call him right now,” Trudy said. She jerked her head toward the pay phone in the corner. It was after midnight.
”No way.”
”Call him! Call him!” Trudy started chanting. And then Esther and Ca.s.sie joined in, until they were loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the restaurant. Even Pee Wee, the waitress. She sashayed over with a pot of freshly brewed coffee and filled their cups. ”Girl, you need to get on that phone.”
She pushed her plate away and swung her body out of the booth.
”Here's a quarter,” Ca.s.sie said, holding out a coin.
Harumi took it. Slipped it in the slot. Punched in the number. She'd memorized it by now. She thought about hanging up after the second or third ring, and again after Chip's first ”h.e.l.lo.”
”Who's this? Is anyone there?”
When she sensed he was about to slam the receiver down in agitation, she spoke. ”Wait, Chip. It's me.”
She heard him sigh and imagined the tension leaving his shoulders, his body relaxing to the tune of her voice. Maybe he was smiling.
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