by JM Dragon
Andrews’s eyes raked across her body again and she shivered. “Thea, my dear, please after all these years, we can dispense with the mister and you can call me George.”
Thea knew he was a snake in the grass with a slimy attitude. How her father ever let the man dupe him into believing he was a friend, astounded her. Now she was paying the price.
“Mr. Andrews, what brings you here today? Doesn’t the bank need you? It is still open at this time, isn’t it?”
Thea had almost given in and said his first name. She had decided that as far as the business and this town were concerned, she wasn’t completely dead yet. The town named after her great grandfather was a decent place to live despite the likes of George Andrews.
He gave her a speculative look and shook his head, but kept his smile in place. “I thought I would pay a social call and check on how you’re doing. As you know, the bank has invested heavily in the motel.”
Thea heard the sarcastic tone and wished she could say the place was full, but it wasn’t. All she had was a woman who looked like nothing more than a drifter and who had only been prepared to pay the lowest possible rate. Not that she had been given a downgraded room. She hadn’t. To hell with Andrews. “Actually I have a customer and she’s going to be long term and is paying the best rates,” Thea said in a defiant tone.
George gave her a shrewd look as if he was trying to determine if she were lying to him. It was no secret that there hadn’t been anyone new in town for weeks.
She held his eyes with a steady gaze.
“Who is it?”
Thea looked at his ruddy complexion and his pugnacious features. He had the look of a boxer who had been in too many fights. He was also overweight for his height and his fat stomach came out to meet you before his hand did. “She’s a traveler.”
Andrews looked at her suspiciously. “What kind of traveler?”
Thea continued to hold her gaze steady. “Ms. Lackerly wasn’t all that talkative about her personal life. She implied that she would be staying a time.” Thea had her hands behind her back with fingers crossed as she spoke the words. She didn’t want to lie exactly, but stretching the truth under the current circumstances was necessary.
George shrugged. “I see. So, how long will that be?”
“How would I know? She didn’t say,” Thea responded quickly.
“You’re right then, she isn’t talkative.” His tone was malicious.
“No. No, she isn’t. There again, would you be, in a strange town?” Thea crossed her fingers twofold at her blatant lies.
Andrews nodded and gave her another long look. “Perhaps not,” he conceded.
“So, Mr. Andrews, I have things to do. Do you want me for something in particular?” Thea countered in an amiable tone, forcing a smile.
“No. No, I will let you carry on. Thea, would you consider going to the dance on Saturday night with me?” The man’s ruddy complexion became redder still.
Thea didn’t like to hurt anybody’s feelings, but she seriously didn’t want to go with him. “Sorry, but I have other plans.”
Andrews once again glanced at her speculatively. “No problem. I will be here soon to see you again.” He gave her another long look and then disappeared out the side door.
Thea watched his retreating back and let out a sigh of relief. God, what was she going to do if he took control of the motel? She had nothing to fall back on and no qualifications.
Her eyes tracked toward the corridor where her new resident resided, hoping that she’d stay at least long enough to give her claim credence. Only time and a miracle would tell.
†
When George left the motel, he turned and looked at the shabby building before he let an evil grin cross his lips. For a brief moment, he wondered if she was telling him the truth about the new customer. Why would she lie? It certainly would not solve her problems. Was she really otherwise engaged the night of the dance? He had to concede that he would not know otherwise until she turned up at the function with someone else. He could wait. He had waited ten years, so what were a couple more months? The bitch was going to pay up eventually and when she did, it was going to be on his terms.
It was all her father’s fault. Daniel Danvers had gambled away the last of the Danvers property years before and he’d taken full advantage of the situation. Had it not been for Daniel’s sincere love for his daughter, he would have gambled her away, too, just as he’d attempted to do with his wife. A wicked smile came to his lips as he recalled the look of horror on Danvers’ face at the suggestion that he trade his daughter for his debt. Had the man lived a little longer he would have relented, of that George was sure. The stupid bastard died in a bizarre car accident. The mystery surrounding the accident was such that the insurance company still hadn’t paid off on his death policy. That put George in the driver’s seat as far as Thea was concerned. He’d do whatever was necessary to ensure that the payout never materialized.
He recalled her trim and enticing figure that always caused him to sweat even more than usual. The olive green shirt she wore was not in itself revealing, but the number of buttons open at the neck gave him a very tempting view of pale flesh. She would be his—there was no doubt about that. He held the note on the motel, which meant she was dependent on him and soon she’d have no other option than to accept his proposal. With that thought, he smiled before heading back to his bank.
Chapter Three
Jo felt decidedly better than she had two hours earlier. In fact, she was glad Jed was gone. He’d been nothing but a fucking pain and he sucked in bed and not in a good way, either. His one merit was the ability to talk bar owners into giving her a chance to sing. Only problem with that was Jed usually took umbrage when anyone made a play for her, ending in wrecking more than one bar with the ensuing fight. In the end, a sheriff would usually escort them out of town rather than them leaving of their own accord.
Now she was on the sidewalk gazing up at a sign of what must be the only bar in the small town. With swift steps, she was at the entrance of John-Henry’s Tavern within seconds. As she placed her hand on the wooden door she noticed it needed a paint job. “This whole town could do with a makeover,” she muttered.
She opened the door and sauntered in, her guitar case slung over her back as if she didn’t have a care in the world. The bartender looked at her in speculation before he grinned.
Good start.
“Hi.” Jo gave a wide smile.
“Hi, yourself. New in town?” he asked in a friendly, open manner.
“Yeah. Wonder if you have any openings for entertainers hereabouts?” Jo looked him straight in the eye. She’d know before he said the words if he wasn’t interested. Eyes always had that kind of way of letting her know things like that. The man returned her eye contact and she could see that his brown ones had a serious expression in them. He was clearly weighing her merit.
“What kinda entertainment?” He nodded at her guitar. “Do you play that only or sing, too?”
Jo gave him a keen glance. “I sing some and play this some, too.”
“Wanna let me hear you and decide if my customers will like what they hear?”
“Sure, why not?” Jo reached behind her and set free the clasp that held the guitar’s harness in place. It dropped into her securely waiting hands, deftly removing the casing.
“The people hereabouts like country music.”
“Country it is, then. Have a request?” Jo strummed absently on the strings of her beloved guitar. It had cost her a fortune way back when she was playing in a club in her hometown and making real money, not just enough to live.
“Surprise me.” The bartender settled his elbows on the bar’s smooth clean surface and waited.
A soft strum of the strings brought about an intro and Jo started to sing…. “I’m a traveling girl. I travel the world to find you….”
Jo finished the soft ballad, glanced up, shaking the dark hair out of her eyes, and gave the man a small smil
e. Sucking in a breath, she waited for his verdict.
“Lady, I can’t pay you much, but the package you have to offer, I’d be a fool to let pass. How about fifty dollars a night and all the drinks you want are free,” he offered.
Jo didn’t give much away, but she was happy. It meant she could afford to stay at the motel, have a decent meal, and still have change. It was better than sharing with Jed and she could sleep on her own if she wanted to. “Works for me.”
“John-Henry Bascome.” The man held out his hand.
“You’re the owner?”
The man nodded.
“Joanna Lackerly. My friends call me Jo.”
“Jo, it is then.”
“When do you want me to start?” Jo asked.
John-Henry raised an eyebrow. “Be here at seven this evening. I’ll expect my money’s worth. If you need a place to stay, I’d recommend the Danvers Motel. Might not look much from the outside, but believe me, it’s worth going inside.”
Jo heard the warmth behind the words about the motel. “Already been there and you’re right, it’s not what I expected from the outside.”
“No. Well, sometimes nothing is exactly what it appears to the outside world,” he replied.
“Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you later, boss.” Jo replaced her guitar in the case before slinging it over her shoulder with practiced ease and clipping it in place. “See you at seven sharp.”
Jo turned to leave, deciding that she needed to get some of her stuff cleaned if she was going to be performing in a few hours. Walking out of the bar and into the afternoon sun, she glanced around for the nearest coin-operated laundry and crossed her fingers that they had one. She didn’t see one initially and surmised she’d have to go looking for it. With the size of this town, it wouldn’t take that long.
†
John-Henry watched the woman leave. She was certainly beautiful and could play the guitar and sing as well as she looked. He was impressed and had no doubt that his customers would appreciate her style of entertainment. In his time he’d come across far too many men and women who had called themselves entertainers. This woman surely had a voice that was appealing.
“Wonder why she isn’t in some fancy town making money off her talent.” It really didn’t matter to him since the folks around there would be in for a treat for however long she wanted to play to them. He went back to polishing the surface of the sparkling bar top, whistling an out of tune song that the woman had just played.
“Catchy tune. Wonder why I’ve never heard that one before.”
Chapter Four
Thea gazed across the small yard out behind the motel. It brought tears to her eyes as she contemplated losing this one final family possession. Her family had been some of the earliest settlers in the area and had been the largest landowners for a thousand miles. Death, gambling, and silly forays into unsuitable investments during the past couple of generations had left Thea and her father as the only Danvers left alive in the area. And they’d had nothing but the ranch, the motel, and the local bar. Her father had succumbed to the gambling fever that was a common trait in the family line and first lost the bar and then the ranch to the bank. Unless she could come up with the mortgage payments, the bank would have the motel, as well. That meant that George Andrews would have full control of everything she held dear.
Her father’s death hadn’t helped at all. They told her that he’d been drinking heavily the evening he’d left town to visit a sick friend—at least that’s what his friends said. Her father hadn’t had a sick friend that she was aware of, and his car crashing into the ravine ten miles from town had been senseless and totally unlike her father. Whatever condition he was in, he would never have hit the ravine—it was just too far away from the road.
When the autopsy revealed a high alcohol level in his system and interviews revealed his financial troubles, the insurance people became suspicious. The insurance company hadn’t paid out his death benefit, claiming that the circumstances had been suspicious and that there was a suicide clause. If it had been her father’s decision to end his life and leave her with the insurance money, it had backfired in a big way.
She heard the entrance door to the motel open and walked quickly back into the lobby. Thea saw the back of the woman, Joanna Lackerly, who was staying in room five as she reached for a cup and poured herself some coffee.
“Have you settled into your room, Ms. Lackerly?” Thea asked.
She couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face as she saw what appeared to be a guilty start from the otherwise poised woman.
When the steel blue eyes captured hers, Thea was puzzled at the feeling of familiarity.
Ms. Lackerly nodded. “Call me Jo, please.”
Thea saw the nod and inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Will you be staying in town long, Jo?”
“I might be here longer than the end of the week like I originally planned.” She pushed a strand of dark hair away from her eyes before sipping the coffee. “I put the money in the jar.”
Thea smiled. “I think since you are going to be staying longer, the coffee will be on the house from now on.”
“Thank you. I must say this is great tasting and very refreshing. I’ve just spent the past few hours at what must be the smallest laundromat on earth.”
Thea laughed. “Does it still have only one machine that works?”
“Yes, and there was some guy there that kept telling me the story of his life.”
“That would be David Mahoney.” Thea grinned. “I think he is the only one in town who uses the laundromat.”
“And now me.” Jo laughed.
“Is there a reason you might be staying longer?” Thea asked. “It’s not like Danvers is a bustling hub.”
“I’ve a job at John-Henry’s Tavern. If it works out, I can stay longer. If not….”
Thea frowned. John-Henry rarely employed strangers and she wondered exactly what the woman’s role in the bar would be.
What does it matter to me anyway? She is a drifter and can do what she wants.
“John-Henry is a good man. He wouldn’t have employed you if he didn’t think you’d work out. What exactly do you do? If you don’t mind me asking.” Thea was genuinely interested.
“I sing and play the guitar. An entertainer of sorts, I’d guess you’d call it.” Jo once again sipped her coffee.
“Are you good?”
“Depends on your taste.”
“I like country music. Cissy Lenard style, although I do have eclectic tastes in other music.” Thea was frustrated talking to the woman since she didn’t answer anything with any clarity.
“Then I could sing a few that you’d like, I guess.”
“What do you prefer to sing?” Thea persisted. For some reason she wanted to know what the other woman preferred.
“My own compositions. I need to do a few things if you don’t mind, Ms—?”
“You write your own songs? You must be very talented.” Thea saw a change of stance from mild interest to boredom. When she raised an eyebrow, Thea realized she hadn’t answered the question.
“Oh, sorry. My name is Danvers, Thea Danvers. I own the motel.” Thea could feel her cheeks heat from her oversight. The woman turned away and Thea was immediately disappointed that she wasn’t going to get an answer.
“I have many talents. You would have to hear them and decide for yourself if they were any good.” The woman said before heading toward her room.
Thea, surprised by the rejoinder, smiled slowly as she watched the retreating woman. “Perhaps I will. Perhaps I will,” she whispered.
Her eyes once again strayed to the yard and the colors that presented themselves there. Her tears this time stayed away. She might be poles apart from the woman she now had as a customer, but perhaps her luck was turning. If her new tenant was paying and became a long-term resident, who knew what else might change in her favor. Idly thumbing through the guest register, she saw the bold and precise signature
and knew that the woman probably reflected that style.
†
John-Henry watched his new singer enter the bar and saw heads turn at her appearance. She was dressed in faded denims that had seen better days or maybe were just fashionable. She was wearing a denim shirt that had studs everywhere and on the back of the shirt, he could make out the name JO. The shirt itself was open to reveal a cleavage that would keep the male customers happy even if she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. The plus was that she could sing and just maybe she would bring in more customers. If she failed tonight, it will only cost him fifty dollars and free booze. He didn’t think she’d fail, her voice was too good for that.
†
Jo was pleasantly surprised to find that the bar was busy. The customers appeared to be local ranch hands and others that she surmised were professionals of some sort. There was a distinct lack of women, but that was usual in small town bars. She looked at John-Henry then at the crowd before putting a hand behind her neck to ensure that her hair was secure in a band.
“I cleared an area for you over there,” John-Henry pointed to a raised area with a stool on it.
Jo went toward the area. As she moved, she could feel the eyes on her. It was always the same—men leering, along with the requisite wolf whistles that followed. She sat on the stool, lifted her guitar plugged it into a nearby amplifier, and began strumming. After sucking in a deep breath, she sang.
†
When Thea entered the bar shortly before nine, she was amazed at the excited buzz coming from the normally reserved patrons. The guitar sounds amplified by a speaker system playing an upbeat tune and she felt the excitement of the evening and the music start to pound in her body.
Thea moved to a stool at the end of the bar, away from the mass of people that were surrounding her new motel guest. She looked at the way the woman casually played to the audience, clearly knowing exactly what would excite them. A chanting of ‘Jo’ sounded throughout the room.
“Ms. Danvers, nice to see you,” John-Henry said. “Haven’t seen you in here in a long time,” he added.