Promises
Book Two - Drifters Series
Susan Rodgers
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2013 by Susan Rodgers
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Find out more about Susan Rodgers on Facebook under Susan A. Rodgers, Writer
www.bluemountainentertainment.ca
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may no be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Valerie Bellamy. www.dog-earbookdesign.com
All rights reserved.
Edited by Sarah Elizabeth Murphy.
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For my parents, Thomas and Rosaleen Mahoney
And for Joe, Shawna and Kathy
Growing up was fun with you as my companions.
Also for
Prince Edward Island, Canada,
a magical place where many wonderful stories are born each day.
***
“Love is a promise, love is a souvenir,
once given never forgotten, never let it disappear.”
John Lennon
***
Chapter One
What’s really marvelous about the Orpheum Theatre in Vancouver is the grand old theatre’s history. Its lush interior of ivory, moss green, gold and burgundy trim, grand columns and meandering staircases all lend it a sincere and delicate beauty. The time in which the theatre was built, what it was originally intended for – 1927, Vaudeville – still holds its audiences under a spell, audiences who are happy to partake of shows in the grand old dame’s belly but who don’t care to look for her cracks.
Artists relish the opportunity to perform at the Orpheum - Jessie Wheeler included. The spectacular vintage theatre is a survivor, just like Jessie. In 1973, the old place that had housed a multitude of artists and shows and even films for a time was scheduled for a gutting in favor of a cinema multiplex. But a public protest saved the aged girl. Jessie and her audiences have become a part of her tapestry, new threads in the storied history of a true and noble fighter.
This fall Jessie’s mini-tour, comprised of eight knock ‘em dead high-energy shows, was kicking off at the stately timeworn Orpheum. Besides giving audiences a taste of fresh music from the new album, the primary purpose was to raise funds for the shelters Jessie and Deirdre were building in North American cities in memory of Jessie’s young friend Terri. At least, that’s what the public believed. Dee had ulterior motives as well. She was working on a damage control mission with the Keating publicist, Janet, a dynamic git ‘er done dyed blonde in her early fifties.
No doubt about it, cracks had been peeking through the singer’s façade. But most of Jessie’s fans, like the audiences at the Orpheum, didn’t bother to look very deeply. Any image damage likely inflicted by calling off her engagement to the suave and popular Charlie Deacon was skin deep, at most. The people loved Jessie Wheeler, and were aware of Charlie’s indiscretions. The break-up was credited equally to both parties, cited as mutual irreconcilable differences, so the blame was parceled out to both. Canada and the world did not get to experience the Canadian version of the long awaited “royal wedding”. Charlie did not publicly blame Jessie for their break-up, and Jessie didn’t point fingers at Charlie and his philandering. So the fans expecting a glamorous break in their routines were left somewhat wanting, but with no one in particular to blame. The deepest crack was there, hidden, yet to be revealed, and Dee was on a tear to prevent its opening or, at the very least, to soothe it with the sweetest balm she could find.
She put Jessie on the stage.
Late on a sultry Friday afternoon, the last week of August, the dance company, musicians, technicians and Jessie were slogging it out at the Orpheum, rehearsing the show. At the end of a fast paced dance number, sweaty and tired from the long day’s demanding schedule, Jessie limped downstage and bent over to accept notes from Priya, her Canadian born Indian choreographer. Wiping beads of sweat off her brow with a small white towel that was already dripping wet, Jessie inclined her head and listened carefully to the lithe dancer whose refined black hair was tied back in braids, and who had approached from the empty seats where she was analyzing the show. As Jessie and Priya discussed the number, the rest of the dancers took a well-deserved break. Kayla Sawyer took the opportunity to grab her water bottle from the wings. She had refilled it numerous times over the day - dancing in Jessie Wheeler’s troupe was greatly satisfying, but was arduous work.
At the same time Kayla raised her green bottle and reveled in a long drink, excess drops spilling from the corners of her thirsty lips, the slim pony-tailed twenty-five-year-old spotted a dark figure standing at the back of the house. Silhouetted by light shining into the darkened theatre from the windows in the lobby behind, the vague shape was leaning against the doorframe, watching, hands thrust in the pockets of faded denims. Regardless of the fact that she couldn’t see him well, Kayla knew instantly that it was her brother Josh. There could be no doubt-he stood with his shoulders just a little bit forward, feet apart and toes turned slightly inward. Besides, he was supposed to pick her up right about now. They were going to dinner with Kayla’s new boyfriend, Paul.
Exuberant, Kayla waved and smiled at the same moment that Jessie wrapped up her chat with the choreographer who, clipboard in hand, wandered back to her seat to make some notes. As Jessie stood, Josh moved and the light at the top of the aisle shifted, catching her eye. She glanced up. There he was, as unmistakable to her as to his sister. Josh, the man she’d last seen two months ago at the Drifters wrap party in the arms of a teenage starlet-sloshed, wasted. Josh, the man she’d fallen in love with - the reason Charlie had released her from their engagement.
After a week of heady high-spirited days in rehearsal Jessie’s arms felt like lead weights, but she managed to lift a silent hand in greeting. She couldn’t bring herself to smile. It was enough of a shock just seeing him there, although running into him now that she was back in Vancouver was inevitable. Whether or not Jessie signed on to season two of Drifters, the film and artistic community was inextricably intertwined. There would be screenings, premieres, fundraisers and social events that both Jessie and Josh would be attending. He would be impossible to avoid.
Josh, with his typical vintage flair, had topped the jeans with a western style checked yellow 1970’s long sleeved shirt with chest pockets and pearl snaps. Always the timeless guy Jessie found in Charlie’s garbage, he sauntered carelessly down the aisle between rows of worn ageless red velvet seats. Undoubtedly the old theatre had played host to a number of love affairs in her lifetime - if she could talk, oh, the stories she would tell of the folks who had sat in the womb of her cherished red velvet, or who had lit up the stage. This meeting too, between a simple man and woman, would go down in the storied annals of the theatre’s romantic past.
Jessie jumped off the stage and waited for Josh, one booted foot placed on the other, toes in, so that they formed an L. Her back was to the stage, and she was leaning on her elbows. She had twisted her light copper-accented brown hair up into a bun, but the heavy dancing had loosened some strands, which fell lazily around her blushing pink cheeks. Tight jeans were tucked into her favorite embroidered dusty brown cowboy boots; on top she wore an eighteenth century style white linen blouse with a drawstring neck, and overtop that a corresponding baby blue mid-thigh length brocade jacket with wide umbrella sleeves, a knock-off
of the one John Lennon wore when he recorded All You Need Is Love. Jessie was a John Lennon fan from way back-she got a kick out of incorporating his wardrobe into her shows.
Josh couldn’t help but grin as he got closer. He came to a halt four feet away and critically regarded her, head tilted to the side so that the straggly lock of hair that always fell in front of his ear and graced his high cheekbone did just that, tantalizingly. Jessie’s heart was pounding. She pressed her forearms more firmly onto the stage so he couldn’t detect that his presence unnerved her.
“Is there a vampire number in the show?” he asked, gesturing towards Jessie’s John Lennon jacket and white linen blouse with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Pink cheeks growing even rosier, she glanced at her toes before meeting Josh’s soulful chocolate eyes.
“It’s a Civil War number. I had to rehearse in this outfit today so I would know whether it gets in the way. The dancing, right?”
“Looks hot.” Then it was his turn to blush as he realized what he’d said. He got a reprieve from his embarrassment when Kayla bounced over and treated her older brother to a generous hug.
“Josh! I never see you!” She whipped around to face Jessie. “Big brother is taking me and my new man to dinner. You should come!”
Jessie froze as Josh eyed her questioningly.
“I was actually thinking of asking you, even though I know you’re busy with the new show and all that…but I figured you have to eat sometime, right?”
Smiling happily, Kayla seized the moment. “Come on, Jess. Paul would be beside himself if he got to meet you. And anyways he’s a lawyer. We can talk about more than just motorcycles and cars and horses.”
“You’re sure?” Jessie asked, peeking up at Josh. It was common knowledge that over the summer her co-star had been seeing Leeza, the young actor who had entertained him at the Drifters wrap party last June. Jessie wasn’t sure how much more time she could spend in his company and not be his.
He shrugged his shoulders and nodded casually, hoping she couldn’t detect his quickening heartbeat. “We’re going somewhere in Kits. Somewhere quiet.”
“Maybe somewhere Irish pub-bey”, Kayla tossed in as she turned to go. “I’m off to shower. I’ve lost ten pounds in sweat since I started on this show. Meet you back out here? Assuming rehearsal’s wrapped?” she asked Jessie, who nodded just as Priya called “That’s a wrap, everybody.”
As Kayla skipped off to her dressing room she glanced back at Jessie, who was peering at Josh rather intently, she thought. The singer had crossed her arms in front of her body and seemed curious about something.
“I guess we do have some stuff to talk about,” Jessie was saying to Josh.
Tilting one black-booted ankle over on its side, Josh shoved his hands back in his pockets. “Like what?” He grinned again - that lopsided half-smile that Jessie wanted to swallow up.
She stepped forward and grabbed his left elbow, placed his arm around her waist, then reached for his right arm and did the same. Jessie wrapped her own arms around his shoulders, then squeezed, held on tight, and sighed.
“Stuff,” she said into that cozy hollow between Josh’s shoulder and neck.
He closed his eyes and held her close, breathing in the musky damp scent of her sweat-soaked jacket. “Why, Miss Jessie Wheeler. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been missing me.”
Jessie lingered there for a moment without responding until finally she dared to peek up from underneath her long eyelashes. He spied the ice-blue eyes that never failed to take his breath away.
“Josh,” she said. And that was it, just his name, although it was so much more than that-it was hope and reconciliation and love and friendship, all wrapped into one. He brushed wet strands of hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead.
“Okay, little one,” he said. “I’ve missed you too.” Then, tenderly, “Go have your shower. I’ll see you back here in a bit.”
Pulling away, she smiled mischievously up at him. “Who says I need a shower?” She waved her arms out to the sides as she backed up, so that the sleeves of the rich brocade jacket fell open. Jessie looked like a human cross standing there like that. A sacrificial totem.
Josh put a thumb and finger on his nose, teasing. Then he grabbed her one more time and squeezed tight.
“Jessie Wheeler,” he whispered into her ear, “you will be the death of me.”
Josh felt a shiver course through Jessie’s body. He released her, shocked at the sudden extreme fear that zigzagged across her face. He touched her cheek with his fingertips and then let his palm rest there.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s just an expression. That’s all.” She tried to smile but couldn’t. Was that a sign that she needed to keep her distance from him? Was the universe trying to tell her something?
Nervously Jessie swallowed, turned on her heel, and then held five fingers up behind her as she walked towards the stairs on the side of the stage. “Five minutes,” she said.
He watched her walk away. What the hell was that about?
Jessie Wheeler was indeed a mystery. Josh knew there were obscure aspects about her past that she never seemed willing to discuss. He understood that they were dark - sinister perhaps - and that they pertained to life as a teen runaway in South Carolina. He could imagine what kind of things might happen to a sweet young girl on her own in a large city, although he generally pushed those thoughts away when contemplating Jessie’s past misfortunes, mainly because they were too painful to bear thinking about. He would do anything to protect Jessie, and the thought that she’d been hurt so badly that she had never spoken of it except in the most vague terms - well that was too much. Maybe someday she would open up - if he could keep her in his life.
That was the thing - Josh had been pushed to come here tonight. He had asked Kayla out to dinner on the pretense of meeting her boyfriend, but the real reason was that his cast mates on Drifters, Jessie’s friends as well, were tired of waiting for her decision on whether she’d be shooting season two with them when the show started up in late November. She was the last holdout. Everyone else had signed. What was she waiting for, more money that she didn’t need? Knowing Jessie, they doubted it. A good portion of her earned income went to charity. Money - its inequality and the toils it expended on many because of its lack - took a back seat in Jessie’s life.
Easing comfortably into a ghost-worn velvet viewpoint in the historic theatre, Josh watched as a few of the dancers stayed late to review a part of the Civil War choreography. Intrigued, his eyebrows furrowed as the athletic dancers, four men and three women, mimicked raising a flag amidst gunfire. Little did he know that soon he, too, would be fighting a major battle.
Crossing an ankle over one knee, hands clasped contentedly on his lap, Josh settled in to wait for his girls.
***
After maneuvering her cherry red 1966 Mustang into the underground parking lot beneath her downtown condo, Jessie jumped into Josh’s brand spanking new dark grey metallic King Ranch pick-up.
“Comfy,” she grinned, wiggling her butt deeper into the roomy saddle-leather seat.
Chuckling, Josh shook his head and steered towards a new place in trendy Kitsilano - an Irish pub called Liam’s where Kayla could order a foamy pint of Guinness in which to finger-draw a smiley face. She didn’t need to worry about calories when she was dancing with Jessie’s company; all of the dancers burned more than they could consume.
Kayla’s newly minted boyfriend Paul was not tall. Also rather thin, he was dressed in the latest hipster trends. He had what he referred to as a Mother, Mother haircut – long on the top and shorter on the sides - the same fashion as the lead singer of the popular band. Styled in an old army jacket with a red checked shirt underneath, skinny jeans, and black ankle boots, he looked like anything but the suited lawyer Josh and Jessie expected at dinner, but he was smart and funny and not cowed by Jessie’s fame. They liked his good humor immediately and were happy for Kayla, who had been dredging th
e singles market for more than a few years.
Dinner was comfortable in the dark tavern with its warm ginger cushioned bench seating. Although both Josh and Jessie refrained from ordering alcohol, they enjoyed their traditional meals with homey, old-style Irish flair. Josh had coddle stew with plenty of bacon and sausage; Jessie used Kayla’s dancer calorie rationalization and delighted in a rare treat of bangers and mash. The Pogues were piped over the speakers; Jessie closed her eyes and soaked up the lead singer’s mournful, political lyrics. Infused with a traditional combination of tin whistle, mandolin and accordion, the songs added to the cozy feel of the place.
“Did you know that The Pogues’ original band name, in English, meant kiss my arse?” Jessie laughingly told the group as she bit into biting hot gravy and mashed potatoes. And that launched a crazy discussion about famous bands and their original monikers. Then they started to come up with new names, the best from Paul and Kayla growing in equal part to their second and third pints of Guinness. It was a fun evening, and although Jessie was sorry to see Josh’s effervescent sister and her new beau make their exit, she and Josh had some serious discussions ahead of them, and the sun had already long gone to bed.
Josh paid the bill at the front cash and they left Liam’s with promises to the star struck wait staff that they’d be back with friends in tow.
As he opened the pick-up’s passenger door for Jessie, Josh asked hopefully, “Interested in a drive? Or do you have to get to rehearsal early tomorrow?”
Jessie climbed into the truck and settled herself comfortably on the leather seat. “No hurry to get home. We’re just scheduled for the afternoon tomorrow, since it’s been a heck of a week. Everybody’s tired.” She was considerably more relaxed than she had been when they arrived at the restaurant, as Kayla’s infectious good humor and gentle sparring with Paul and Josh had eroded, in a good way, Jessie’s nerves and discomfort.
Promises Page 1