A Wilder Name

by Laura Resnick

  “No.”

  She was near tears now. She felt confused and frightened. It had happened so fast, so unexpectedly. One minute she’d been drying her hair—and the next she was offering her body to this man. What was he doing to her?

  Seeing the distraught expression on Nina’s face, Luke relented. Taking a long, steadying breath, he forced an iron control on his aroused senses.

  “Okay.” He started to leave. “I almost forgot,” he said ruefully. “Jesse sent me to ask where you’d rather go tonight. I suspect you don’t particularly care right now?”

  Nina shook her head feebly.

  “I’ll tell him you’re leaving it up to him. He’ll like that.”

  She nodded dumbly.

  Luke paused at the door. His eyes were gentle, the fiery passion of a moment ago firmly under control. “Nina, will you be all right?”

  She nodded. He left.

  Alone, at last, Nina looked at herself in the mirror. She saw a small, frightened girl. There was no trace of the voluptuous woman who had abandoned herself to passion for a brief moment.

  Tears of confusion and frustration spilled down her cheeks. She was not a Brooklyn schoolgirl, she was an experienced woman! When she and Philippe stopped sleeping together, it was because she had stopped respecting him, not because she didn’t enjoy sex. But she had never been this ... wild and uncontrolled. Not with Philippe, not with the few men she’d dated since her divorce. She was frightened by these sudden surges of compulsive passion for a man she hardly knew.

  She had seen girls and young women run mad in an effort to get near Luke, to touch him. She had been repulsed by it at the time, but was she proving to be any different? Was there something about him that inspired this wanton reaction in women?

  The brief scene had left her shaken and unsure of herself. Partly to hide her emotional turmoil and partly to show Luke Swain just who he was dealing with, Nina outdid herself in preparing her appearance.

  As she met the others, she knew that there was panic in her heart, but their reaction made it clear that in appearance she was elegant, womanly, chic, and sexy.

  Jesse let out a loud whoop of approval. Robin looked stunned. Luke’s eyes sparkled with warm appreciation but he spoiled it by saying, “What? No dead animals tonight? What’s the occasion?” Nina loftily ignored him.

  Jesse never liked to go to the “usual” places. They went to a sedate jazz club on the Upper West Side. The proprietor was, of course, an old friend of Jesse’s. They were given the best table and the best service.

  Once her nerves had calmed, Nina found she was famished. She attacked everything put in front of her with such dedication that Jesse finally remarked on it with pleasure.

  “I like a woman that likes her food. There’s nothin’ more boring than eating a meal with some skinny girl that just plays with her food and whines about watching her weight.”

  “Opera singers don’t have to be skinny,” Nina pointed out. “Anyhow, I get plenty of exercise: ballet, swimming, playing football with my family.”

  After she’d eaten, Nina was able to enjoy the conversation more. Luke was avoiding any reminder of their private scene in her dressing room. His smile was friendly but impersonal, his eyes were sparkling but gave nothing away. He made no attempt to touch her, didn’t even ask her to dance after she’d danced with Jesse and Robin. He asked her about opera, her previous roles, her training, her favorite places in Europe—in short, about everything except herself.

  “What role do you most want to sing?” he asked.

  “Medea,” she answered promptly.

  “Medea? The Greek woman who murders her children?” He looked wary.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah, now that’s fascinating,” said Robin with relish. “The real moral question there, of course, is—”

  “I can’t stand this tonight,” interrupted Luke. “You don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for, Nina. Rebecca, won’t you have mercy and dance with me?”

  Luke and Rebecca got up and went to the dance floor, chatting companionably. Jesse was already dancing with Robin’s date.

  “It’s all right,” Robin grinned. “Luke’s got to listen to me all those lonely days and nights on the road.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Nina.

  “I’m working on my MA in philosophy.”

  “You are? The drummer of one of the most successful rock bands in America?”

  “I was an aimless student in Iowa when I met Luke passing through. I could see he needed a good drummer, so I dropped out and kicked in with him. He’d only been on the road about a year.

  “Eventually, after I became interested in philosophy. I wanted to get back to studying, but I didn’t want to leave the band. So I did a bit here, a bit there. Finally, after ages, I got my first degree. Now I’m working on my master’s.”

  “Where does it all lead to?” Nina asked.

  “Well, at the rate I’m going, I ought to get my PhD, about the time I’m ready to retire from show business. I can find myself some quiet little university town and settle down to the good life.”

  “You don’t want to play forever?”

  “Not like this. Don’t get me wrong—I love it, it’s a great life. But it’s a crazy one. I’ll be ready for some peace and quiet in another ten or fifteen years.

  “Luke’s the genius behind the whole thing. He can always just retire to writing songs and making the occasional appearance. But I’ve got to think about my future.”

  Nina smiled, liking this easygoing, gentle man.

  “Do you know Luke well?” Robin asked tactfully. He was clearly curious but too polite to pry.

  “Hasn’t he told you that?”

  “No.”

  “To be honest, I hardly know him. I think this is the fourth time we’ve ever met. Our meetings just tend to be stormy. He hasn’t mentioned me?”

  “Not exactly. Some things you can’t get the guy to shut up about, no matter what you say to him—”

  “I’ve noticed,” Nina agreed dryly.

  “On the other hand, when he won’t talk about a thing, you’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t care or because he cares too much. Usually he’s straightforward, but he can be a cagey bastard.”

  “I see.”

  “I only wondered why he’s been so moody the past few weeks. I mean, more so than usual.” He paused. “Once Bit Is Twice Shy—that was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “He worked us all to a frazzle to get that ready in time for the concert. Since that night he won’t touch it. And our producer is interested in it. Not that it matters—Luke does what he wants to do.”

  Nina stared at the centerpiece, trying to sort out her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, Nina. It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s okay, Robin, I know you’re only asking because you care about him. But I haven’t got any answers. Not tonight.” Answers? She was probably the most bewildered person in the room.

  “Okay.”

  Nina smiled at him. “Talk to me about Medea. I hope to need the information someday.”

  They were still engrossed in conversation when the rest of the group returned to their table.

  “If you haven’t figured out what he’s saying, don’t worry,” Luke advised Nina. “It sometimes takes me weeks to plow through the rhetoric and realize that what he’s really saying is that lying, killing, and infidelity aren’t very nice.”

  Robin laughed and gave up lecturing for the evening after extracting a promise from Luke to do the same.

  A couple of young women came over to their table to ask for Luke’s autograph.

  “That reminds me,” Jesse said, once they were alone again, “I heard you tried to sneak out of that benefit concert early a few weeks back and got stormed by your fans. Is that right?”

  Luke glanced apprehensively at Nina.

  “He was leaving early to drive me and my nieces back to the city,” Nina explained.<
br />
  “You were there? Did you get hurt?”

  Nina and Luke looked at each other. Her lips twitched and they both started to laugh. The incident finally assumed its proper perspective in her mind, and she was able to laugh at herself as she and Luke told the others what had happened.

  “I must have looked like a madwoman,” she admitted, “with my clothes in shreds, my hair standing on end, limping around in one boot, and raving at Luke.”

  “Never a dull moment,” Luke said wryly.

  Jesse told a similar story about being mistaken for a popular jazz singer about twenty years back.

  “But when these girls realized their mistake, they began throwing my clothes and keys and wallet back at me as if it was all my fault!”

  “Well, I think it sounds as if Nina still owes Luke one,” said Rebecca.

  “Oh, she got her jabs in before that. I kindly offered to take her to dinner, and she took me to the cleaners.” He told them about struggling with the French menu, the imposing wine list, and the dress code at Les Précieuses.

  Rebecca laughed. “You sure got this Kansas boy good that time, Nina.”

  “Well, at least he knew which fork to use.”

  “I think I owe Nina one,” said Luke.

  “What do you mean?” she asked uneasily.

  “This time you buy me lunch. I pick the restaurant.”

  “It seems only fair,” agreed Jesse.

  “Mind your own business,” said Rebecca.

  Nina’s gaze locked with Luke’s. It was another challenge. If she were smart, she’d back down.

  “How about Thursday?” she said.

  “No, I’m meeting Kate. How about Friday?”

  “No, I’m singing that night, and I just know I’ll spend the afternoon shouting at you. How about Wednesday?”

  “Wednesday it is.” He gave her the West Side address of the restaurant.

  Nina took a taxi home alone, since she was the only one in the group who lived on the Upper East Side.

  She sat in front of the mirror in her bedroom and removed her make-up. She looked at her reflection with exasperation. She must be crazy. She could easily have backed out of having lunch with him.

  She might sometimes be lacking in self-awareness, but never in honesty.

  “Admit it. You want to see him again.”

  The curly haired. woman in the mirror nodded in agreement.

  “Until Wednesday, then,” whispered Nina.

  Five

  “Dig in,” urged Luke wickedly. “It’s all good, whole meal, organic, macrobiotic home cooking. No artificial ingredients or preservatives.”

  “I like preservatives,” said Nina glumly poking at her food. She caught the laughter in his eyes. “Suitable revenge?”

  “I’m having a great time,” he agreed.

  They were sitting in a crowded, below-stairs vegetarian eatery called Raw Deal. The customers, perched on unstable stools, were packed in elbow to elbow. Nina was seated in front of the ladies’ restroom and had to stand up every few minutes so someone could enter or exit that room. Raw Deal was a colorfully decorated place with ferns hanging overhead. Posters covered the walls advocating various causes and philosophies: pro-veganism, anti-vivisectionism, Eastern mysticism, and holistic health.

  In the course of a fairly active and sophisticated life, Nina had never seen anything like it. She studied the walls in fascination for a while. Then she grew uncomfortable as she realized that several of the patrons were studying her calfskin accessories with extreme distaste.

  “I wish I hadn’t worn this outfit,” she said uncomfortably. Luke arched his right brow. “Well, I felt compelled to. I didn’t want you to think I was giving in to your grass roots sense of fashion.” She eyed his faded blue jeans and wool sweater critically.

  “Have some goat’s milk,” he advised. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  “Can I have some apricot crumble now?” she asked plaintively.

  “Finish your greens first.”

  “I hate you for this.”

  “Ah, Nina, I will long cherish the memory of this meal.”

  Nina was reluctantly raising a forkful of food to her mouth when she noticed a familiar voice flowing from the speakers overhead:

  “Is the life you lead too tame?

  Will you take a wilder name?”

  “I bought it.”

  He knew she meant the album. “Good.”

  She paused, groping for words. “You don’t like ... complacency, do you?”

  “No.”

  “I think ... you don’t necessarily want us all to agree with you. You just want us to notice things and think about them.”

  “That’s what it’s all about, Nina: thinking, caring, helping. We’re not alive if we tune out the world. We don’t matter if things don’t matter to us. No one will ever touch us if we don’t reach out.” He grinned suddenly. “Of course, I’m liable to insist someone’s wrong if he doesn’t agree with me, but that’s just because I’m stubborn.”

  “Try ornery and opinionated.”

  “At least if you ever compliment me I’ll know you mean it.”

  “Your work is good.” He looked at her. She went on, a little embarrassed. “Your songs are musical, your lyrics are clever and sincere. I ... I like listening to you sing.”

  “Thank you, Nina. That means a lot to me, coming from you.” He took her hand in his and kissed it lingeringly. Their eyes held. Nina’s cheeks started to burn. “Now finish your vegetables or it’s no dessert,” he admonished.

  After a few unhappy mouthfuls, Nina said, “Gee, Luke. We’ve been here a whole half hour and no one’s mobbed us yet. Maybe your popularity is slipping.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re such a pariah in that outfit.” She glared at him. “After bringing a woman dressed like you in here, I may not even be allowed to come back,” he confided.

  “That might not be such a bad thing,” Nina concluded, shoving away her plateful of food.

  “Had enough?”

  Nina’s deadpan expression answered his question.

  “Would you care for something else? A soya milk shake? Some carob coffee?” he asked solicitously. “I know! How about some red bean pudding?”

  Nina went a trifle pale. “All right, you’ve had your revenge, now fair’s fair. You can’t make me eat something like that,” she insisted weakly.

  Luke’s eyes danced. “Maybe you’d like to leave now?”

  Nina bolted for the door while Luke paid the bill.

  “I want ice cream,” she said as soon as they were out on the street together. “And hot fudge. And nuts. I want gooey, sugary food that’s bad for me and full of preservatives and additives. You owe me that much.”

  Luke laughed and took her to a popular ice cream parlor where the customer could get any three ingredients mixed into the ice cream before sauce was poured over it.

  “Are you really going to eat that mess?” asked Luke, eyeing the lumpy, chocolate-covered, candy-stuffed dish placed before Nina. He had ordered a chocolate malt.

  “Yes!” she said and dug in with relish.

  “You’re going to be a fat opera singer someday,” he said, laughing.

  “Voluptuous, maybe. Fat, never. Anyhow, I get—”

  “—plenty of exercise. Yes, I know.”

  Nina finished her ice cream and then polished off what was left of Luke’s malt. His eyes widened in amazement when she reached for a few chocolate mints.

  “I’m famished after that meal,” she explained.

  “Did Philippe ever find your appetite—uh—unrefined?” he asked curiously.

  “Not as long as I stayed svelte and beautiful,” she said lightly. “Anyhow, in the midst of those fancy five-course meals he couldn’t keep track of how much I was packing away.” She grinned. “And when I first met him, I did pack it away. He’d buy me dinner on Wednesday, and I was so broke I just wouldn’t eat until he bought me dinner again on Friday.”

  “I
remember doing things like that,” Luke said. “I started out singing in college cafés, Meals were included, so I ate as much as I could hold. I couldn’t afford to eat between gigs in those days.”

  They had coffee, chatting companionably about their salad days, then left the ice cream parlor and strolled aimlessly down the street, both aware that a lot was being left unsaid between them.

  They paused in front of shop windows, feigning interest in pop art, punk jewelry, rare books, and Indonesian antiques. Nina’s mind was not on window-shopping, and she suspected Luke’s wasn’t either. His face wore that introspective, brooding expression she’d already come to recognize: He was thinking, probably about her.

  He seemed to have been enjoying himself. It was he, after all, who’d come to see her at the opera and invited her out to lunch. What would he do now? Had he satisfied his curiosity about the Brooklyn girl turned opera star? Or would he still want to know more?

  Nina wondered what she herself wanted. She was undeniably attracted to him, dangerously drawn to him. Concentration was an essential discipline in her profession, and there was nothing she couldn’t force out of her mind when she was working—until Luke Swain entered her life. Those dark eyes, that drooping brow, and that teasing smile haunted her even in the rehearsal room now, and that worried her. That worried her enormously.

  Nothing, not even her scandalous divorce, had ever distracted her from her work before. And yet how many times lately, when working with Elena or singing with Giorgio Bellanti, had she drifted away to those burning, shattering moments she and Luke had shared in her dressing room? Too many times to count, she thought disgustedly. She was mooning over him like a lovesick groupie and it had to stop.

  And now, amazingly enough, she was discovering she rather liked Luke. Liked him a lot, in fact. He was infuriating, opinionated, volatile, and just plain stubborn; but he was also honest, generous, caring, intelligent, talented, dedicated, and more than willing to laugh at himself. She admired his courage, too: the courage that had seen him through ten long, hard years on the road to success; the courage that inspired him to put his heart and soul into his songs and then perform them before thousands of people; the courage that had led him ask Nina Gnagnarelli to see him again after she’d walked away from him.