Haunting Melody

by Mackenzie Reed

  Devra slid into her shiny, electric-blue Accord. It was an old car with a lot of history, but its black leather interior still looked like new and the carpets were dirt free. She hated a messy car. To her, a car told a lot about a person. The messier the car the more conceited the person. Like her ex-husband. Jerk!

  “No time to dwell on the past, Devra, it's time to get back to work. Joshua Thomas, here I come.” Devra laughed, put the car in gear and headed to work. She had some more research to do and then had to persuade Uncle Bob to let her do the story.

  Her laughter died. “Of course, if I don't come up with anymore research, he's going to laugh me right out of the office.”

  Devra went straight to her office checked her phone messages, read her email, answered some and then called her uncle.

  “Uncle Bob, it's Devra,” she said when he answered.

  “How ya doing girl? Feeling up to snuff now?”

  “Yes, Uncle Bob, I'm fine. I need to see you. Do you have time for me?”

  “Not right now. I'm in the middle of something. Can we do it later … say around four this afternoon?”

  Devra looked at her watch and groaned. Four o'clock? That was over six hours away.

  “Are you sure you can't see me before then?” Devra bit her lip and silently prayed he would tell her to come on.

  “I'm sure. I'm sorry, honey, but I really am busy right now.”

  “I guess I'll see you at four then.” She hung up the phone. A bit disappointed, Devra figured she might as well use the time wisely. Turning on the computer, she punched in Joshua's name and waited to see what would come up. Hopefully, she would find six hours worth of work.

  At three-thirty, Devra stretched and groaned at the soreness in her body. She was tired and hungry. Evidently she wasn't as fully recovered as she thought.

  Devra rooted around in her purse for some change to get a soda and some crackers. Hopefully that would hold her until dinner. She was headed back to her office with her snacks when someone shouted her name. Devra turned and saw her uncle at the other end of the newsroom motioning for her to come. Her food forgotten, Devra hustled to his office ready to pitch her story idea.

  Bob greeted her with a smile and motioned for her to sit down.

  Devra shook her head and started talking. “Uncle Bob, I think I might have an interesting story, but there's not much I can tell you about it.”

  He leaned back in his chair and nodded for her to continue.

  Okay, so he wasn't saying no yet. That was good. Right?

  “I want to do a story on a local pianist, Joshua Thomas. It seems he's a bit of a mystery. No one knows much about him except he can play one hell of a piano.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Devra paced the confines of the office, her heels clicking on the parquet floor and her silk skirt swishing around her knees. It was her favorite skirt, the one she wore for good luck. “Listen, I really want this story. There's something about this guy that doesn't quite add up.” And, he intrigues me, she added silently. “I can't find anything on him. No criminal record, no pictures, nothing. It's like he doesn't exist outside wherever he's performing. What I did gather is that women flock to his shows no matter where he's playing.” Why? She didn't know but she would find out. She had to. She stopped pacing and turned toward the desk. Looking her boss square in the eye, Devra did something she'd never done before.

  She begged.

  “Please. Let me do this story.”

  Uncle Bob had a real nose for news. For as long as Devra could remember his hunches had been right on the money. When her mother had passed away three years ago, Bob had been the one to console her, and push her back into the land of the living. Bob had browbeaten her into taking one story after the other until finally Devra said she'd had enough. She was going to be fine if she didn't die from overwork.

  He repositioned his rotund body in the leather chair and steepled his hands under his chin. Devra shifted restlessly from one foot to the other waiting for his answer, praying it was the right one. Or the one she wanted. The minutes ticked by like hours and she had gotten to the point of clenching her hands into fists and gritting her teeth to keep from snarling at him, when he finally answered.

  “Why do you think this story would be interesting? You haven't gotten anything on the man, no priors, and no pictures. Tell me why I should let you do this story.”

  Devra shrugged. “Because he is a mystery.” A mystery I want to solve.

  “I don't understand this obsession you have with this piano player. But, if you really want the story…” He paused and looked away.

  She held her breath. Bob turned back, a slow smile spread across his lips. “Go for it, girl.”

  Devra squealed with delight, ran around the desk and hugged him. “Thank you, Uncle Bob, you won't regret it.” With one last squeeze and a quick peck on his jaw, she ran out the door like a shot.

  * * * *

  Back in her office, Devra closed the door and picked up the phone. One ring, two rings… She blew out a frustrated breath and sat down.

  “Come on … come on. Answer the phone.”

  She was about to give up when she heard a voice. “Hello?”

  “Sus, it's Dev. I got the story on the piano player.” She chuckled “I can't believe Uncle Bob agreed because I don't have any information, just my instincts screaming there's a story here.”

  “Dev, that's fantastic. I'm telling you this guy is sexy, mysterious, and can play the hell out of the piano. I can't put into words how I felt when I heard him play.” Susan sighed over the phone and continued, “You'll just have to listen for yourself.”

  “I know he's playing at Jazzy's tonight and I plan to be there.”

  “Uh, Dev?”

  “What.”

  “He normally plays two sets. Which one are you going to? Early or late?”

  “I hadn't really thought about it. I guess the early one. Why?”

  “Because you don't have long before his first show. It starts at seven.” Devra heard muffled voices in the background and then Susan came back. “Listen, I've gotta run. There seems to be a crisis here. Later!”

  Devra replaced the receiver in its cradle, glanced at her watch and gasped. It was five o'clock. Where had the time gone? “Damn! I don't have much time to get home, changed and to the club before his first song.”

  She jumped from her chair, grabbed her bag and headed out the door. Tonight she was going to see Joshua Thomas. Just the thought of him made her skin tingle. Tonight she would have her answers.

  * * * *

  After driving around several times to find a parking space at the club, Devra finally found one at the back of the lot. She climbed out of her car, tucked her tank top into her jeans, leaned back into the car, grabbed her bag, tossed it over her shoulder and kicked the door shut. Hopefully the place wasn't too crowded. She was going to talk to Joshua tonight! No matter what. She had to know why his music made her feel the way it did.

  Words could not describe her emotions. Excitement, frustration, and desire all warred within her body. How could she want a man she'd never met, much less seen? For all she knew he could be average, although Susan had said he was gorgeous and she was a good judge of male attractiveness. Devra shrugged. She would reserve judgment until she saw him with her own eyes.

  Now, as she glanced around the crowded parking lot of Jazzy's Club, she was beginning to have second thoughts. But the reporter inside her screamed there was a story here and if she didn't pursue it she would regret it. Devra never gave up on anything, and she sure as hell wasn't about to start now. That was one thing her mother had pounded into her head from the time she was seven. “Devra, honey, a true born-and-bred Southern woman never gives up on anything. Never let them see you panic and never, ever let them see you sweat.” Devra wondered what her mama would say if she were here right now.

  A hot breeze combed its fingers through her hair. She opened the black wooden door of the club and stepped inside a s
oftly lit room with ceiling fans lazily moving cool air around. The soothing wail of saxophones and sultry vocals from the group on stage wove their way past the patrons and wrapped around her. She blinked and focused on the fact that there was hardly any room to move around, it was so crowded. Every table in the place was taken, filled with women of all ages. There were some men scattered around, but not many.

  “Geez, did everybody decide to come here tonight?” she muttered. “All this for a pianist? Maybe he does a striptease too.” She silently cursed. Now why did that thought sound so appealing? Shit! She needed a drink and a man. And not in that order. Devra continued her perusal of the room and finally spotted a table.

  At the far corner, to the left of the stage, there was one empty table. She wove her way through the crowded place, sidestepping drunken college guys with fast hands. Just as she reached the table, two women wearing skin tight mini skirts and jewel toned tank tops that exposed identical rose tattoos on their shoulders shoved her aside.

  Standing on tiptoes to look over the massive crowd, Devra spied another table in the shadowed corner by the curtain. It was a smaller table with one chair. She elbowed her way through the crowd of yuppie males and twittering women. Three more steps and she'd be home free.

  One step, two, three. She claimed the table by slamming her bag on it, then flopped into the chair and sighed in relief. God, it felt good to sit down. She noticed the candlelamp in the center of the table and smiled. That explained the dim lights.

  Obviously ambiance was top priority in this place, Café-style round black lacquered tables sat about three feet apart, leaving the waitresses plenty of room to maneuver. The chairs were actually high-backed, tall stools with leather padded seats. In the center of each table was a mosaic glass candleholder with a candle burning inside. A plush, deep burgundy carpet covered the club floor ending at the edge of the bar.

  “What in the hell am I doing here? This guy can't be all that good.” But she knew that was a lie. Who was he? Where did he come from? These were the questions that she planned to get answers to tonight. One way or another, Joshua Thomas was going to talk to her.

  The cool interior was slowly having its effect on her heated body, but the sweat drying between her breasts left her feeling sticky. She was glad now that she had braided her hair in a single braid. Otherwise the heat outside would have turned it to a frizzy mass when she perspired. And that just simply wouldn't do. “I need a drink.”

  Turning around, she saw a waitress headed her way. The girl looked to be in her mid-twenties with platinum blonde hair piled on top of her head, a sleeveless white blouse and a short black skirt that hit about mid-thigh. “What can I get for ya?” She asked in a slow southern drawl that reminded Devra of Georgia.

  “I'd like an ice-cold beer in a frosted mug, please.” She flashed a quick smile at the young woman.

  “Comin' up. My name is Luanne, by the way.” Luanne smiled and turned, heading for the bar to get the drink. Devra sat back and tried to figure out if one of the few men scattered throughout the club was Joshua or not. It was tough not knowing what he looked like. All she really had to go on was Susan's description, which wasn't much. Tall, dark, and sexy. What the hell kind of description was that? And from the owner of a prominent, big money magazine too. Devra laughed to herself. “Susan, honey, I'm going to have to teach you the art of observation.”

  She mentally flipped through what little information she had, and contemplated what little she knew about Joshua Thomas. Her exuberance faded along with her smile

  The man appeared to be an overnight success story from the bits she had found. “There's got to be something more than meets the eye here.” She muttered to herself. “Why are there no pictures, no sightings of him in restaurants? What about a lover or something?” She blew out a breath. “There's something going on here and I intend to find out what it is.”

  A frosty mug was plunked down on the table in front of her. In one graceful move, Luanne picked up the five-dollar bill Devra had put on the table and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

  Devra grumbled, “Thanks,” after Luanne had already gone, and took a long swallow, letting the icy coldness soothe her parched throat. Before she was finished, she had drunk half the beer without taking a breath. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she giggled at her barbaric ways. If her gently-bred mother could see her southern belle now, she would faint dead away. To hell with that. Tonight she wasn't a gentle-born lady—tonight she was a reporter looking for her story. It just so happened the story was about a man.

  Picking up her beer, she finished the last of it and had motioned for Luanne to bring another when the stage spotlight came on. Devra set the empty glass down. The room suddenly quieted and a tall man came on stage. It was him. It had to be. He was larger than life and demanded attention

  “This stops tonight.” Crossing her arms over her chest she looked him over from head to toe. “You aren't getting away from me, Joshua Thomas. Huh-uh, no way. Not until I have some answers.” Another beer was set down in front of her, but Devra didn't notice. Her only thoughts were of Joshua.

  His hair was inky black, almost as long as hers, and pulled back in a ponytail. Dark eyebrows covered a pair of crystal blue eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea, and his nose was aquiline with a tiny bump, probably the result of being broken at some time. His cheekbones were so nicely shaped, any woman would be jealous of their perfection. But his lips. They were luscious and wide. Devra wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. She wanted to. Fiercely.

  In the same way, she'd give a lot to see him out of that snug black t-shirt. It was obvious even clothed, that he had a body to die for, with broad shoulders, a massive chest and muscular arms. What might he be hiding under those snug black jeans?

  She muttered softly, “Well, Susan, forgive me. I guess your description fits him to a T.” Something about him seemed familiar, but Devra couldn't place it. All coherent thought fled her mind once he played the first note.

  He began with a song that was dark and rich. A sultry, alluring melody that penetrated every cell in her weary body, its notes drifting like a cool breeze across her skin. Like a phantom lover's fingers, the music caressed the tight knot of tension inside her, relaxing it, easing it. Slowly it faded, eased by the poignant tune coming from the stage.

  The music caressed her soul giving her a sense of peace, a calmness she hadn't felt in a long time. It reminded her of lazy days lying on the riverbank watching the sunset, her first kiss, and her first lover.

  The nervousness she'd felt about finally seeing Joshua disappeared, replaced by something different—arousal, need. This music was like nothing she'd ever heard before. It certainly wasn't the one on the tape she'd been listening to. The notes seemed to wrap around her body, entering her soul, their spectral fingers a wash of energy, electrifying, sensitizing her nerve endings. A hum of sensation tickled below the surface of her skin, moving through her veins, into her vagina. Her pleasure bud swelled, her womb contracted and clenched tightly within her aroused body.

  She gasped softly as her nipples hardened, brushing against the lace of her bra. Her muscles tightened in need, her vagina gushed cream, saturating her panties. Every cell in her body screamed out for him, crying out for his touch. She watched his fingers stroke the keys like a lover, wishing it were her body he was stroking. The haunting melody drifted through the room, gaining everyone's attention and holding them in thrall of its beauty. Every woman in the place stared at the stage, never taking their eyes from him.

  With effort she pulled her thoughts back to why she was here, to investigate how he pulled this off. Was it something in the drinks? Did they spike the drinks before he came on? She picked up her mug, sniffed at the contents and smelled only beer.

  As she set the beer down she noticed the trembling in her hands and frowned. What was happening to her? Her body responded to his music as if a missing piece of her soul had been found. She closed her eyes, fig
hting to breathe through the hunger pulsating deep within, only to find images flashing behind her closed lids.

  The first was of his hands caressing, stroking her skin, his lips gliding over every inch of skin he revealed, their bodies writhing on satin sheets. She ran her hands over his naked, sweaty chest, loving the way his skin felt under her fingertips. When he moved over her, sliding his dick deep into her hot, wet sheath, she moaned. His cock filled her to the brink and then filled her more. Grabbing his ass, she pulled him closer, as close as she could get him. That's when he started to move, out and in. Slow, measured strokes, meant to drive her wild.

  Oh God! She was close. So close to the edge that one stroke would push her over, sending her into the dark abyss of ecstasy.

  Suddenly, in the background, Devra heard applause, pulling her from her vision to the present. Her hands hurt and looking down, she understood why. She had a white knuckle grip on the wooden seat. Slowly releasing the seat, she shook out her hands glancing at the stage just in time to see Joshua leave and go through a black curtain.

  “Oh, no, you don't.” Jumping up from her chair, she grabbed her bag and parted the curtains.

  “Hey, lady! You can't go back there. It's off-limits to customers.” The bouncer moved fast to stop her. The fact that he was already on his way when the music ended, meant that he was used to keeping women from going backstage, and by the look of him, he took his job seriously. Well, hell, what was she going to do now?

  Taking a deep breath, and plastering what she hoped was a sultry smile on her face, she turned to him. “I have a date with Joshua tonight. He said it was okay.” She prayed that there was some truth in her words otherwise, her ass was grass.

  His brow furrowed for a moment, his body shifting with his thoughts. Finally he waved her on. “Go ahead then.”

  Devra breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know why he'd let her through and she didn't care. All she wanted was to find Joshua Thomas. Now!

  She pushed through the curtains and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darker interior. Up ahead she saw Joshua round the corner. Walking quickly so she wouldn't lose him, she rounded the corner about five steps behind him, stopping when she spotted the shadowy outline of a man leaning casually against the far wall by the outside door.