"Wait." Nicole called out. She could see disaster approaching. She hurriedly moved several items destined for the floor. "Ok, now you can set it up there."
"Thanks." Phil stepped back with relief.
"I must say you have lovely taste, Philippe." Father Jason examined the flowers. "If I recall, these are Mrs. Adia’s favorites."
"Yes sir, they are." Phil answered.
"Hold that thought, the ambulance just pulled up." Stan pushed open the screen door. "Should we make them bring her through the side door?"
"I don’t know." Melba shrugged.
"Yeah, I think the side door has a straighter shot. Stan, yell at your mom to go through that way." Nicole took over. "Melba can you make sure the nurse has everything ready?"
"Yes Nicole." The housekeeper turned on her heels and headed back to Adia’s room.
"You go, general." Jay whispered in her ear.
"Thanks. Shall we go greet everyone?"
"I think that would be appropriate." The priest answered.
Fortunately for Adia, the EMT personnel loaded her emancipated frame into a wheelchair before opening the back of the ambulance. It was easier on them that way, and it helped ease their patient’s anxiety. Though Adia accepted the truth of her situation, Nicole made sure her grandmother would not lose all of her dignity. She knew Adia would not want the neighbors to see her brought home on a stretcher. It was vain and it was petty, but it was her wish, and Nicole honored it.
Each person present made sure Adia knew they were there. They then left the nurse and EMT personnel with the task of settling her in her room. Only Melba stayed to supervise. The rest acknowledge their lack of skill in that department. They knew they would be in more hindrance than help.
It was only after the ambulance returned to its regular duties that everyone entered the room. It was almost heartbreaking. Once, the room held a large canopied bed, antique chest-of-drawers and dresser, a make-up table and a quilt rack. Now it held only a hospital bed, an IV stand complete with IV, and a rolling bed tray. It had taken them days, but they had made it as sterile yet comfortable as possible.
"You all are positively depressing. You look like someone’s been brought home to die." Adia’s comment was out of character. Morphine had that effect on some people. That the doctors consented to prescribe it to her showed their lack of faith in her recovery. They had given up the battle to save her life and taken up the one to make her as comfortable as possible.
"Nonsense, Mrs. Adia. We’re here to make sure you get a proper welcome home." Father Jason attempted to dispel the aura of unease.
"Phil and Jay brought you a lovely arraignment of flowers." Nicole favored her uncles with a look. They read it correctly and hurried off to collect the bouquet.
"And, we got you this." Stan produced a CD player and several packages. "These are a few books on CD." He explained at Adia’s quizzical look.
"We thought you might like to hear some of your favorites. This one is read by the poet." Nicole showed her grandmother a CD of poetry.
"I got you this." Melba produced an antique brass bell. "Now I can finally ask if you rang."
"This is all marvelous." Adia laughed.
"Has it all be sterilized?" The nurse looked at everything suspiciously.
"How on earth are we going to sterilize a CD?" Stan asked.
"Here’s the flowers." Phil announced as he and Jay brought the large bouquet into the room. They were forced to set it on the floor, as there was not a place large enough to hold it left.
"Oh my!" The nurse turned three different shades of red.
"Can I talk to you a minute?" Nicole grabbed the unresisting woman by the arm and forced her out into the hall.
"You have got to be careful about what you bring in there. Germs you know."
"Look, Miss Sunshine, my grandmother is home to die. I know it and you know it. More to the point, she knows it too. Now, we are going to make her remaining time on this planet as nice, easy and normal as possible. We are not trying to speed anything up, we’re trying to make her feel better." Nicole explained. "What we need from you is to make sure she’s comfortable, she eats, and she’s given the proper care she deserves. What we don’t need from you is objections to the way this family behaves, objections to our attempts at pleasing my grandmother, and nonsense rules about germs. For God’s sake, you’re breathing on her. With your breath, that’s more germs added than Phil’s flowers."
"I’ve never…"
"You will or we’ll find another nurse. Is that understood?" Nicole looked the nurse in the eye. "You were hired because they informed us you were the best. Act like it."
"Yes ma’am." It was not a tone full of respect, but it was full of submission. It was acceptable for the moment.
"Good. Now, let’s see to your charge, ok?" She asked in a more hospitable tone.
"Yes Ms. Hebert." The nurse turned and reentered the room.
"Dear gods, what have I become?" Nicole asked herself softly as she leaned back against the wall. Her answer, when it came was shocking. She was growing into herself.
Chapter Twenty One
There were many realizations Laurel was coming to while touring the country. One of them was that solitaire is an addictive game. It was generally the way she tried to go to sleep each night. She played solitaire until the noise in her head quieted. Tonight however, they had the night off and she did not want to play the game all night. She was starting to feel restless, but she did not know what to do about it.
BJ and a few of the others had gone to see a movie. Laurel was invited but declined. She was in the mood for something different. Sighing, the bassist grabbed the phone book from table between the beds. She was not expecting to find the type of bar she was looking for listed, but it was. She copied down the address and called the front desk to request a taxi.
The driver did not look at her twice when she told him the address. He just nodded and started the car. It was raining again, and she watched the water bounce off the windshield. She thought South Mississippi had wet falls, but she was learning more about the country. It seemed as if every region had a wet period, and she was present for most of them. It really did seem to rain eight days out of ten on the tour. She might be wrong, but that was her estimation.
The taxi pulled to a stop in front of an abandoned looking building. Laurel thought it never failed. Gay bars and clubs always seemed to be in buildings that should be condemned. This one at least had neon signs advertising various types of beer. It also had that most important of signs, the one that read open.
"Thanks buddy." She handed him the cost plus tip before opening the door.
"You want me to wait for you?" He asked.
"Nah, but thanks for the offer." She considered it for a moment. "Tell you what. If you drive back by here in about three hours and see me standing outside, stop."
"I can do that. Have a good night, miss."
"Thanks." She waited until the taxi pulled away before locating the door.
Like most bars she had been in, this one boasted several pool tables, it was dark and smoky, the bar itself was in the center of the room, and rickety chairs and tables surrounded it. This was a women’s bar. It was the first one she had ever been in, and she expected a bit more from it. It looked so typical.
Regardless, it was a bar, which meant it served alcohol. Plus, it was a women’s bar, which meant if the occasion arose, she could find a willing partner for an hour or two. The main reason she was restless was her lack of companionship. It had only been three full months, but that was a record for her.
"Can I help you?" The bartender asked as Laurel took a seat.
"Beer. I don’t care what type as long as it comes in a bottle."
"Are you old enough to drink?" The bartender looked at her curiously.
"Yep." She pulled out her wallet and showed the woman her driver’s license.
"Laurel, eh? You’re a long way from Mississippi. What are you doing up here?" She
asked as she reached beneath the wooden bar and pulled out a beer. "Need a glass?"
"No thanks." Laurel took the bottle and then took a long swallow.
"I don’t want to sound rude or anything, but don’t I know you?"
"Don’t think we’ve ever met." The bassist knew her behavior was running contrary to her upbringing. "Sorry. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and need a night out."
"That’s not a problem. We get some real surly ones in here." The bartender laughed. "You do look familiar though."
"Guess I have one of those faces." She shrugged. She did not want to hide her identity, but could not be certain of the reaction. She definitely did not want to trade off her so-called fame. Her natural ego was a little too large for that. She liked to win people over by her charm, not her position with a best selling band, or as the object of a scandal. "Is it always this crowded in here? I mean it’s early and a Wednesday night."
"Usually. On Wednesdays we have the pool tournament and two for one shots." The bartender explained.
"Cool. Can you set up a tab, or do I have to pay drink by drink?"
"I can set you up a tab, provided you are good for it." The bartender laughed.
"I’m good for it." Laurel pulled out her wallet. "Here, if there’s anything of this left, you can have it as a tip." She handed the woman a large bill.
"I can live with that. Anything else I can get for you?"
"Not at the moment. Well, another beer would be nice." Laurel finished the one in her hand. "Thanks." She watched the bartender set another bottle in front of her.
Just then another woman took a seat at the bar. The barstools were a little too close together for Laurel’s comfort. She wanted to scoot hers over an inch or two for breathing room, but resisted the urge. She could not think of a way to pull off the move without looking almost hostile. She was really trying not to draw attention to herself. She knew the stories about groupies. More than once, some person on tour was robbed, used, or slammed in the press after a seemingly harmless one-night stand. Laurel had no desire to be news again. It was bad enough that the Hattiesburg paper had ran yet another story on her. Harold was busy keeping the fall out to a minimum. That was the real reason behind her restlessness. She wondered if Nicole were somehow involved in that story. By now, several other papers and two leading entertainment magazines had picked up that story. It was not hurting the sales of their CD, in fact it was boosting them, but Laurel still craved anonymity for one night. Sadly, she was not in a place that would let her get it.
"Don’t I know you?" The other woman at the bar asked.
"I don’t think so." Laurel kept her eyes on her beer. She knew how rare gray eyes were. It would be a dead give away.
"You look familiar. We didn’t sleep together by any chance did we?"
"Nope. I think you have me confused with someone else." Though she could not remember the names of all the women she had been with, Laurel felt she would remember this one. This one broke the one rule she lived by, never sleep with someone butcher.
"You know, I was wondering the same thing." Another woman approached them. She was really starting to question her sanity. This seemed an insane thing to do under the circumstances.
"Ladies, let’s leave her alone ok?" The bartender made her presence known. "You don’t like people pestering you when you’re trying to drink."
"Yeah, but look at her. I know I’ve seen her somewhere before." The first woman protested.
"That’s right you have." The bartender answered. "But I don’t think you’ve seen her in years. Ladies, I’d like you to meet my niece. Say hello to the other patrons, Natalie."
"Hi." Laurel did not turn in her seat much.
"Hi, yourself, kid." The two women seemed to lose interest, but remained polite.
"Can you get me another drink, Jude?" The second woman asked.
"Sure." The bartender, now known as Jude, handed two more beers across the bar. Satisfied, the other two women went back into the abyss behind the bassist.
"Thank you." Laurel said quietly. "But how did you know?"
"I saw a copy of the paper behind the bar. It was opened to the entertainment section. That’s a bad rap they’re giving you there kiddo." Jude looked sympathetic.
"Tell me about it. Now that you know who I am, literally and so forth, who are you?" She did not mean for it to sound that rude. Fortunately, Jude laughed.
"I’m the owner, barkeep, and dishwasher. Name’s Judith, but every prefers to call me Jude." They did not shake hands. It would have given the game away. "I do have a niece called Natalie, so keep the identity for the evening. She won’t mind."
"Thank you again." She smiled. "I was worried about being recognized. I really just needed a night out, you know?"
"A little normalcy?"
"Yeah. All this is happening way too fast." Laurel commented more to herself than to the bartender.
"Believe it or not, I’ve heard that story many times. Have another beer and go mingle. They’ll leave you alone now that the two larger mouthed members of our congregation have informed them all that you’re my niece." Jude handed another beer over the counter.
"I think I will. I should be ok, as long as they don’t ask me to sing." Laurel hopped off the barstool.
"Yeah, I think that would blow your cover." The bartender laughed again.
The other patrons, laboring under the assumption that Laurel was Jude’s niece, were extremely polite. It took them a few moments to loosen up, but before too long, she was just another patron. It felt nice to be treated as someone normal. It was September. The madness had started the second week in June when they began touring. In three full months, Laurel had a number one hit single, another that debuted in the top ten, a hit video, a very successful band, a fast selling CD, and now a reputation. She wanted to kill whoever had written and researched that article. Most of it was untrue, but people did not care about that. They sensed a scandal, and blue gecko was the flavor of the moment.
"Natalie?" Laurel turned. It was a good thing she was used to several nicknames, or she would not have known the conversation was directed to her.
"Yes?" A tall brunette was standing in front of her. Out of habit, Laurel looked for blue eyes. This woman’s were green. She let out a sigh mixed with relief and longing.
"I just wanted to know if you wanted to dance?" The woman seemed shy. "My name’s Carrie."
"It’s nice to meet you, Carrie." She turned on the charm. It was also habit. "I’d say a dance sounds like a good idea."
They danced to a slow country song. For Laurel to say that she hated country would be an understatement. However, this song she rather liked. It was with regret that she released her partner. It was with sorrow she returned from her fantasy and realized her partner was not Nicole. Still, life is made of moments, and this was a good one.
"Do you wanna get out of here?" Carrie finally asked the big question.
"I kinda need to stay close to the bar. My ride’s coming back in while to get me." Laurel did not want to run the risk of taking the woman back to the hotel. She also did not want to get stranded at a stranger’s home. She knew sex was inevitable. In fact, she wanted it, but she was at a loss as to where it could take place.
"That’s not a problem." Carrie took her hand and led her to the bathroom. A small gathering of women in the bar cheered.
"Not to sound like a wet rage or anything, but I’m not all that good at holding up walls." She did not know what it would do to her knee. She also did not want to be a cliché again. "Do you have a car here?"
"I do." Carrie smiled as they changed direction. Laurel hoped it was a large car and not a truck. She did not want more trouble than it was going to be worth.
This area of the city was dark. Carrie’s car was parked behind the bar and off the street. Laurel was relieved to see the mid-sized sedan. At least she would have a little more room than normal.
Wordlessly, Carrie unlocked the car. They climbed into the b
ackseat instead of the front. The front had bucket seats. Laurel missed Nicole’s Chevy. It had a nice front seat. She had very fond memories of it.
"You’re not nervous are you?" Laurel asked quietly as Carrie turned to her.
"Not really. I mean this is my first time in a car, but not my first one nighter." The woman replied. "I just don’t want your aunt mad at me."
"I don’t think she will be." Laurel laughed as she pulled her close. "I really don’t think she will be."
"Good."
"Do you happen to have anything to use?" Laurel asked. A search of her pockets and wallet did not reveal items she normally carried. Then again, she had not needed them with Nicole.
"Any what?" Carrie asked. "Oh, yeah, I have something." She reached into the front of her car and pulled a condom from the glove compartment. Laurel used her pocketknife to reconfigure it.
After that there were no more words, just rough grunts and moans. Laurel was well acquainted with a woman’s body, and she enjoyed displaying her skills. Before too long, she had Carry crying her pseudonym to the heavens. Twice.
"Damn I needed that." Laurel sat back on the bench seat.
"You got off?" Carry seemed amazed. Now came the tricky part for the bassist.
"Yep." She lied. There were very few people who could invade her personal space that far. Laurel was more comfortable giving than she was taking. Several people seemed to appreciate that part of her. Only rarely did someone protest during a one-night stand.
"That’s not fair. I want to make love to you too." Carrie was the type to protest.
"Sorry." Laurel tried to think of a way to phrase her refusal tactfully. "I can only really go once a night. It’s a genetic thing." It was a lame excuse and she could tell Carrie had trouble accepting it. "It’s a medical thing." She clarified. She really did hope no one in the bar figured out her real identity. She did not need to be labeled contaminated goods on top of everything else. She was proud of her clean bill of health.
"That happened to my cousin. She had to have an operation before she got married so it wouldn’t hurt on her wedding night." Carrie took the meaning in an entirely different direction. Laurel was glad. She would rather be deformed than diseased if word got out.
All That Jazz Page 23