by Linda Opdyke
Relief flooded Wylie’s face and Jack knew it was relief that Jack’s story was close enough to his own to pass scrutiny.
Wylie’s father held Jack’s gaze and Jack tried not to shrink from the scrutiny. “No, he didn’t,” the man said flatly. “Nor did he mention the rope swing. Only that you fell into the creek.”
Jack looked sheepish and felt his cheeks redden. “He was sparing me from looking the fool that I acted at the creek,” he stated. “He’s a good kid and I don’t mind telling you how grateful I am for his help. And I will make it right.”
“You have no shoes on,” came from Wylie’s mother.
“That’s part of my act,” Jack said feebly, closing his eyes in disbelief and turning himself so that Wylie’s parents also turned, putting their backs to the building’s entrance. Kelly Jo had returned, carrying something large and white, and disappeared around the corner that led to the auditorium.
Wylie’s father held Jack’s gaze steady. “Part of your act? And so was playing on a rope swing?”
Jack flushed. Now, how could he possibly answer that? “Yes,” he blurted. “I’m singing Old Man River.” His smile was weak. “Just trying to…set the mood, I guess.”
Wylie’s mother interrupted with, “Harlan, we have to go…our dinner reservations.”
Wylie turned to his father, his voice eager. “Can I stay and watch the show? Please? I know where you’re going to dinner and I’ll meet you there when the show’s over. I promise!”
Wylie’s mother looked skeptical. “I don’t know, Wylie…”
Wylie rushed out, “Mom, you and Dad deserve this special dinner. It’s hard to fight and then make up with me or Sylvie around…”
“Wylie!” his mother gasped.
Jack saw Wylie’s father bite back a smile.
“Okay,” his father agreed, though with a touch of reluctance. “But don’t come to the restaurant. We’ll pick you up here. Don’t leave. With anyone,” he reinforced, giving Jack a hard stare.
“Thank you!” Wylie hugged his parents, begged the money for a ticket and then hurried over to stand in the ticket line.
As Wylie’s mother blew Wylie one last kiss and walked off hand-in-hand with Wylie’s father, Jack wondered what they’d say if they knew the real reason Wylie begged to see the talent show was that Wylie couldn’t wait to see Kelly Jo wearing the costume Wylie had pilfered from his mother.
Chapter Twenty Two
Jack nodded and gave a mild, “How you doin’?” to the people that stared at him as he made his way to where Kelly Jo had disappeared around the corner. He found her waiting for him, none too patiently, by the auditorium door.
The band was so loud that he dragged Kelly Jo off a short distance so he could hear what she said.
“What were you doing?” she asked him.
His brows shot up in irritation. “What was I doing…never mind that. Where did you go in such a rush?”
Kelly Jo’s grin was mischievous and ear-to-ear. She opened the big, fluffy white bulk she held and Jack gawked.
Motorcycle boots. A leather jacket.
“Where did you get these?” he demanded.
“That’s not important,” she informed him. “But you can’t get inside with bare feet - you’ll have to make do with no socks, though.”
Jack gave a low whistle. “That’s some jacket.” He held it up and took a good look at it. A large but faded rattlesnake in full strike pose, outlined in silver, decorated the center of the back. Unquestionably it had been expensive when new but the jacket had obviously seen a lot of use. Jack was no expert on leather jackets, but knew that this type of jacket wouldn’t normally be found on a department store rack.
Should he ignore the bad feeling in his gut?
“The boots should fit,” he said hastily. “Hurry up and put them on so we can get inside. I need to register for the show and there’s only a few minutes left.”
“We need to register.”
“I need to register.”
Jack pulled one boot on, surprised that even though he had no socks on, it was a comfortable fit. “Do you,” he asked, hopping on the booted foot while he pulled on the second boot, “intend to sing to yourself?”
“Not at all,” she answered easily. “I intend to sing to you.”
Jack smirked at the thought of Kelly Jo, as Grease’s ‘Sandy’, singing and dancing, ‘You’re the one that I want’ to Jack, then hopping to where he, playing Danny Zuko, would stand, and then echoing it back to herself as a one-person duet. Oh, she’d win a prize all right.
Kelly Jo shoved the bulky white thing into the bag with her backless heels and tossed the bag to the side so she could help Jack slip on the black leather jacket.
Perfect fit.
“Where did you say you got this?” he asked.
“I didn’t.”
He sighed. “Kelly Jo, I really don’t feel like playing games. Where did these come from?” He shrugged and took a strutting 360 degree turn. He couldn’t help feeling just a little bit mega macho in these clothes, even if he did suspect that Kelly Jo had used her feminine wiles to obtain them.
Her sigh was deeper than his and edged with irritation. “If you must know I stole them from that group of bikers down the block.”
Jack went cold with shock. “You did what?”
Jack’s panic that the biker would come hunting for his stolen boots and jacket and would instead find Jack must have shown on his face.
“Don’t worry, honey,” Kelly Jo said softly and put a reassuring hand on the side of Jack’s cheek. “The owner won’t miss them and he certainly won’t be needing them anymore.”
Jack’s gut felt like a stone, one about to sink in deep dark water, but he had to ask, “Why won’t he be needing them?”
Kelly Jo smiled. “I saw the boots on the motorcycle stirrups and the jacket was hanging on the left mirror. The boots faced backwards, which means the biker who owned them is the one the other bikers are inside making toasts to and telling stories about.”
Jack’s mouth moved for several seconds before he fairly screamed in horror, “You brought me boots and a jacket that you stole from a dead biker?”
Chapter Twenty Three
“Ssssshhhhh!” Kelly Jo ordered frantically and pulled Jack to the side. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Do you want to get me into trouble?”
Flabbergasted, Jack jerked his arm from her grasp. “Get you into trouble?” He stared at her calm, serene expression. “Are you nuts or something?” He raised his hands. “Don’t bother answering that,” he told her. “And I’m taking these things back right now.”
“We don’t have time,” she wailed, pulling on his arm when he started to walk away from her. “Jack,” she begged. “I have only enough time to sign us in and get ready.” She gave him a coy, eyelash-batting look, the most obvious, phony look he’d ever received.
“You’re a piece of work, Kelly Jo,” he told her flatly. “And as soon as this show is over…”
He had no chance to finish it. She cried, “Oh, I will, I will, Jack, I promise. Whatever you say.” She scooped up the bag with her free hand and was already tugging him toward the auditorium door. “But we have to hurry.”
“You did say we need to sign in, right?” he questioned, both relieved and irritated that she’d managed to include him in the show. He knew their chances of winning were better if he performed solo, but she wasn’t about to be deterred. He was a pro and knew a few tricks that would cover for her if she wasn’t quite as good a singer as she bragged.
Tricks like…stuffing this dead man’s jacket in her mouth.
Kelly Jo ignored his question of and what’s that other white thing that you stole? and instead grabbed his hand and literally dragged him into the cool, darkened auditorium. Once inside, Jack realized the band wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought. In fact, they were pretty good. Now all he needed was to figure out which key would be best for her and to grab a few minutes with the band.
Kelly Jo hesitated only long enough to scout for the sign-in table, then hustled to it, still gripping Jack’s hand.
“Am I too late to sign in for the show?” she eagerly asked one of two dark-haired young men behind the table.
Both men gaped at the blonde beauty and half-rose from their seats. Jack might as well have been invisible for all the attention they gave him.
One man continued to gape, but the other finally found his voice. “Oh, no, you certainly are not too late.”
Kelly Jo cocked her head and gave them a sweet smile. “Thank you so much,” she cooed as she signed Kelly Jo and Jack on the performers roster. My partner needs to be seated front row center. Is that okay?”
Jack’s head jerked toward Kelly Jo.
Both men’s heads bobbed in vigorous assent. Kelly Jo winked, blew them each a kiss and preceded Jack to the front row seats.
She stopped dead center and pointed to an aisle seat. “Sit here.”
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “I’m not going to have a mic and I am not singing from my seat.”
She giggled. “Of course you aren’t, silly! But we didn’t have any money for you to get inside so I had to fib and say you’re my partner.”
Fury raced through Jack. Why hadn’t he seen this coming?
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his nose. “Sit down and I’ll see you after the show.”
He stopped her with one touch on her arm. “Kelly Jo,” he said quietly, seriously. “This isn’t one of your funny little games. We owe Wylie for the clothes that he brought to us. We need to win this prize money. Let me…”
“I will let you,” she cut him off. “I will let you watch and enjoy the show. And I will let you congratulate me when I win. Now,” she added in a breathy tone as she brushed her lips against his, “I need to speak with the band members.”
Caught off guard by the whirlwind of warmth that laid against him and which he immediately missed when she pulled it back, Jack was speechless.
Without another word Kelly Jo turned her back and walked up the stage steps and straight to the band.
Chapter Twenty Four
Jack took off the black leather jacket and tossed it into the cushioned seat to save it, then raced after Kelly Jo. He caught up with her a few feet before she reached the band. Since the band, mainly the keyboard player, was busy finding a good key for another singer, Jack forced Kelly Jo to back into the now open pleated gold curtains that would raise and drop in between performances.
“No,” he told her before she could protest. “We can’t chance this.”
Kelly Jo studied him, then gave him a shaky smile. “Trust me, Jack, that I know what I’m doing.”
Jack saw the trepidation in her eyes and despite himself, softened his tone. “Look, most cover bands keep current on what’s hot on the pop music charts and since the movie Grease is such a huge hit I’m sure this band will be able to play the title track for me.” He smiled. “You’re off the hook.”
Kelly Jo’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God. You weren’t planning to do that goofy hip thrust, were you?”
“No,” Jack stammered, almost guiltily, then drew himself up straighter in a huff. “What do you mean, goofy? I might not be the best dancer around, but I tried to…” He shook his head in warning, then snapped, “Wait a minute. Don’t try to spin this and put me on the defensive.”
Kelly Jo giggled. “Jack, there is no defense for your hip thrust. I popped in for that part of your concert.”
“Oh, really?” he sniffed. “My fans liked it.” He blushed when he realized how conceited he sounded, then shrugged it off. “I don’t have the exact leather jacket I wore for that number, but I do have the…the…” he blew out a breath, really unwilling to put it into words.
So Kelly Jo did it for him.
“You have the dead man’s black leather jacket,” she said. “What’s the big deal with where I got the jacket and boots, Jack? Honestly…”
“The big deal?” he exploded. “I’m wearing a dead man’s clothes.” He dropped his head into his hands and groaned at the absurdity of this situation.
“Keep your voice down,” Kelly Jo hissed, then Jack saw what she saw - the drummer returning to his set watching them with interest. “And so what if you are?” she continued. “Did you forget that you’re dead, too? That we’re both dead?”
With that, the drummer shook his head and walked over to them. “Can I have some?”
Jack glared at him. “Can you have some what?”
The drummer snorted. “Whatever you two are smoking.”
Jack grimaced, dragged Kelly Jo away and tossed over his shoulder, “Very funny. But this is a private argument.”
Jack waited until his irritation subsided, then said quietly, “Look, I can see how nervous you are, Kelly Jo. Let me do this.”
She cocked her head to the side, but held his gaze. “Is that what you think? That I’m too nervous to take the stage?” She shook her head, but her smile was weak. “I don’t…I’m not…” she stopped, searched his eyes, then said, “Never mind, you wouldn’t understand,” and started back toward the band.
A hand on her upper arm stopped her. “Try me.”
She inhaled, then let it out slowly. “Okay,” she finally said. “It’s…it’s this outfit. I’m not comfortable being seen like this.”
Jack stared at her, not comprehending. “I don’t get it. You knew what costume Wylie was bringing. Not only did you put it on, you’ve been wandering around in it without hesitation, including down the street and back from where that pack of bikers is boozing it up. Where did this sudden modesty come from?”
Blue sparks shot from Kelly Jo’s eyes into Jack’s hazel ones. “It’s not sudden modesty. And for your information, this get-up was perfect for blending in while I walked around those motorcycles…”
“And stripped the belongings from one of them.”
She ignored him and continued. “We were so rushed to get here in time and to get signed in that I didn’t really have time to consider it like I should have. Now that I have…”
Jack threw his hands into the air. “Stop it, you’re driving me crazy!” he yelled. “I offer to do the performance and you tell me to get lost. Then you turn around and tell me you’re too modest to go out and do what you’ve been fighting me over.” He glared at her. “So, now you’re saying that I should prepare to take the stage and you’re headed to the seat to watch?”
Kelly Jo’s look to Jack was that he was truly dense. “Of course not. Go sit down.”
The keyboardist called to Kelly Jo, “You’re the last one. Let’s get a move on.”
“Coming,” she called quickly.
Jack held Kelly Jo’s gaze but she didn’t blink.
Wordlessly, he turned and headed for his seat. Kelly Jo performed last. Would they, like she claimed, be able to hand Wylie the prize money, or would they need to beat a hasty retreat when her boasts proved much stronger than her voice?
Chapter Twenty Five
Jack sat quietly in his seat, his right leg crossed over his left knee, absent-mindedly drumming on one of the scuffed black boots while he watched people file through the now-opened-to-the-public admittance doors. Some small family-type groups, some larger family-type groups and a whole lot of high school age groups. The boys were the noisiest, but the groups of teen girls gave them a run for their money in how loud they could be selecting where they’d sit.
The front row was filling quickly with a group of late-teen boys engaged in whispered conversation. The only part Jack caught was that the sister of one of them was performing and should they cheer or boo. He turned to give them a reproachful look and when their arrogant faces turned to him, he realized they could care less what he or anyone else thought, that they’d do whatever they pleased. They went back to deciding on cheering or jeering.
All of a sudden Wylie rushed up to Jack and claimed the empty seat beside him.
“Oh, wow,” Wylie said as he
plopped down. “I was afraid I wouldn’t find you. There must be five hundred people in here. I heard somebody say there’s fifteen acts this year. Last year there was only six.”
Jack smiled with more assurance than he felt. “I’m sure Kelly Jo will do well.”
“I can’t wait to see her…sing,” Wylie stated, but Jack knew he really meant that he couldn’t wait to see Kelly Jo dance around in the sexy outfit.
Neither could Jack, though he tried to suppress that truth.
Finally, the heavy gold curtains closed but the stage behind it remained brightly lit. Although the audience lights dimmed, the amount of chatter didn’t.
Then the stage lights dimmed and a spotlight picked up a tall, well-groomed middle-aged man on the stage corner, a microphone in his hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said over a slight mic feedback. “Welcome to this year’s Budding Star talent show.”
When the audience applause quieted completely, he continued. “I’m delighted to announce that this year we have fifteen entrants, all with their own unique style with which to entertain you.”
Jack bit back a laugh. Oh, boy, he’d heard that before. It meant that some of the acts would be fantastic, but others would send you running for Pepto Bismol.
The group of teens in his aisle began whistling through their fingers and were quickly joined by others throughout the auditorium
Jack briefly closed his eyes, hoping what promised to be a long night wasn’t made longer because of audience antics. But he knew it would be.
The man on stage glared in the direction of the front row teens, then cleared his throat. “And now on with the show and our first performer.”