The Day Will Come

by Judy Clemens

  I swallowed. “What time’s it at?”

  “Eleven. And we can’t be late.”

  I looked out over the field, where tiny shoots of corn lay in perfect green lines. “I’ll be here.”

  She turned back to the garden, and I knew I’d better be back in time, or I would become the latest addition on her shit list.

  In the garage I put on my chaps, vest, and jacket, and freed my Harley from the chain that locked it to a hook in the garage floor. The 1988 Low Rider and I had been through a lot together, from rebuilding the front end, to last summer’s accident, to a complete refurbishing of more bike parts than I could count. The black and chrome were now relieved by blue ghost flames and the words “Daddy’s Princess” on the tank. Lenny’s handiwork.

  Once I pushed it outside I flicked a rag over the main body of the bike and stepped back to admire it in the sunshine. A beauty, if I did say so myself.

  The ride to Granger’s Welding was pleasant, the leather of my chaps, gloves, and vest keeping me toasty in the spring air. I pulled into the gravel lane with care and parked out front, setting my helmet on the ground.

  Peering into the interior of the shop, I could see the silhouette of a very large man at the welder, and stepped out of the sun to get a clearer view. He glanced up and moved back from the machine, putting aside the piece he was working on. Pushing his safety helmet off his head, he used one hand to take it off, the other to adjust the handkerchief he’d tied around his head to keep the strap of the helmet from digging into his skull, seeing how he had no hair to protect it. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his cheeks were sucked in to his teeth.

  “You heard?” Jermaine finally said.

  “Yeah. Jordan here?”

  “Nope. Just me. Jethro’s out at a special job in Chalfont. I wouldn’t be here, either, if this job didn’t have to be done by this afternoon.”

  I leaned against a table and tipped my head back, my gaze drifting toward the high ceiling. “So where is he?”

  “Jordan? Philly. He refused to leave last night until he found that singer.” At the tone of his voice I brought my eyes back to him. “Stella, I didn’t know.” He yanked off a heavy glove and rubbed his face roughly.

  “You mean about Jordan and Genna?”

  He nodded abruptly. “You did?”

  “Just last night. I never knew she existed before then as something other than a voice on an album. But there was obviously some kind of tension between them, even though—or maybe because—she already had a boyfriend.”

  “The asshole drummer guy.”

  That about summed it up.

  “So what happened last night?” I asked.

  He took off the other glove and tossed them both on the table beside me. “I stuck around while the parking lot cleared out and I finally found him arguing with some cops in front of the club. He was desperate to get inside and look for her, or see a list of people they’d talked to who had come out of the building. They weren’t having any of it, and before we knew it, there were cops and paramedics scrambling into the club. By the time we heard there was a body, Jordan was about freaking out. It was all I could do to keep him from rushing in and getting taken down by the police. When they came out…” He stopped for a minute, his face carefully controlled, and I looked away. “When they came out and said they’d found someone, Jordan knew it was her. They wouldn’t let him anywhere near the scene, but when they brought the body out they had him take a look and he… God, I can still see his face. Still as stone. Scary as hell.”

  Oh, Jordan.

  “But they don’t know how?”

  He shook his head. “Not that they were telling.”

  We stood together quietly for a moment.

  “So Jordan’s still down there?” I asked.

  “Yup. Refused to come back. Said he’ll bring the train back, or he’ll get some other ride.”

  “You know where he is?”

  “Last I saw him, he was sitting in the lobby of the police station. Said he wasn’t leaving till they told him what had happened to his fiancée.”

  Chapter Five

  “His fiancée?”

  Jermaine held out his hands. “I’m telling you, that’s what he said. When I mentioned it to Ma this morning, she about flipped.”

  I could just imagine the Granger matriarch being shelled with this kind of news. “What did she do?”

  “Set about trying to find out where he was and what exactly he was doing.”

  “And did she find him?”

  “Nope. She actually searched his house.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I know,” Jermaine said. “Anyway, she tried calling that cell he uses for work, but it’s turned off. The cops said he’s not at the station anymore, and they don’t know where he went. Ma even called Tom Copper, who said he’d call the rest of the band and get back to her if he found him.”

  “So Jordan’s out there by himself.”

  Jermaine let out a sigh. “I’d go to him if I knew where to go.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  I stood up, brushing dust from my rear. “You hear anything else about the bomb?”

  “Just that there was a real one. Set to go off by remote.” He reached over to grab his gloves off the table.

  “Yeah. I heard that on the news. And about the missing club employee. Robert Baronne? You know him?”

  “Not really. He was the front office guy. Took care of the money and tickets. Contracts, too. Wait a minute. You were asking me about a Bobby last night. The same guy?”

  I nodded. “Did you see him after the concert?”

  He picked up his safety helmet and positioned it over his head. “Wasn’t looking for him.”

  “Yeah. Me neither.” I headed toward the front door. “You’ll let me know if you hear from Jordan?”

  “Sure will. Where you gonna be? Home?”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall and made a face. “For the next little while I’m going to be at the bridal shop, trying on dresses.”

  A short laugh escaped Jermaine’s lips.

  “Don’t even start,” I said.

  “Oh, I ain’t startin’. But I’d love to be a fly on that wall.”

  “Bridal shops,” I said, “do not have flies.”

  Mustering what dignity I could, I jammed my helmet on my head and fishtailed out the drive.

  Lucy was waiting for me in the living room, flipping through a copy of Redbook.

  “I’m here,” I said.

  She didn’t look up. “I didn’t doubt you would be.”

  Uh-huh. And my neighbor’s bull was now producing milk.

  I hung my leathers and jacket in the closet. “You ready?”

  “Just have to call Tess down from her room.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I’ll get her. You might want to take a minute to wipe off the bugs who lost their lives on your face.”

  I stalked to the downstairs bathroom and swiped at my cheeks and forehead with a washcloth. The woman hadn’t even looked at me, and she found issue with my appearance. But then, no doubt the saleslady at the bridal shop probably would have, too, since there really were several spots of bug guts to be removed.

  The three of us were soon belted into the Civic—it was Lucy’s deal, so she could use up her gas—and on our way to Harleysville.

  “What color dress are you getting, Stella?” Tess asked from the back seat.

  I looked at Lucy. “Well?”

  She grinned. “Pink? Fuschia?”

  I growled.

  “We’ll just see what they have, honey,” Lucy said, looking at Tess in the rearview mirror. To me she added, “I asked them to pull everything in your size that’s modest, simple, and as unfrilly as they come.”

  “Great. Can’t wait to see what they have.”

  She laughed, but I really didn’t see what was funny about the situation.

&n
bsp; “Jordan didn’t call while I was gone, did he?” I asked.

  She sobered up. “No.”

  When we finally made it through the light at the intersection of Routes 113 and 63 I wasn’t exactly relieved, since that meant the dress shop was only a few minutes away. I took a deep breath, focusing on the fact that I was doing this for Lucy. Lenny, too, I supposed. He’d been my friend for as long as I could remember. Not that he’d give a rip what I wore to the wedding.

  “Can we get pizza afterwards?” Tess asked.

  Lucy shrugged. “Sure. If Stella’s a good girl trying on dresses.”

  “Can’t we just skip the dresses and go straight to the food?” I asked.

  “Now, now. Don’t be a party pooper.”

  “A wedding pooper!” Tess shrieked, giggling.

  Lucy swung into the parking lot of Marlene’s Bridal Shoppe and shut off the car. “Ready?”

  “For lunch,” I said.

  “Grump.” She opened the door and got out, Tess doing the same.

  I decided I’d better get my ass in gear if I wanted that pizza, so I followed them up the stone walkway to the front door that played “Here Comes the Bride” when we opened it.

  The interior of the shop—oh, sorry, the shoppe—was everything I feared it would be. Lace, ribbons, bows, lingerie, garters, veils, elevator music, cake toppers… And those didn’t begin to compare to the vast array of gowns. Wedding gowns, mostly, which threatened to suffocate or perhaps just eat anyone daring enough to wander further into the store.

  “Ms. Lapp!” A young blonde woman wearing a linen suit—bright green, of all things—and a widely displayed mouthful of teeth welcomed Lucy with open arms. “We’re so glad to see you again. And Tess, of course. How lovely to have you along.” She turned to me and the bionic smile lost a bit of its power. Whether it was my tattoo, my seen-better-days jeans, or the scowl on my face I wasn’t sure.

  “This is Stella,” Lucy said. “Stella, this is Allison.”

  “Uh, hello Stella.” Allison tentatively reached out her hand and I decided I might as well shake it.

  “So what do you have for us?” Lucy asked, her eyes twinkling.

  “Well…” Allison’s eyes darted from me to the back, where the dressing rooms lurked. Now that she’d seen me, she was obviously uncertain of her choices.

  “Might as well show us,” Lucy said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Allison made a strangled sound, and I tried not to think of the answer to Lucy’s question.

  I followed the little procession, staying as far from the racks of white gowns as I could, afraid I’d somehow manage to stain, rip, or otherwise disfigure a piece of clothing that cost more than I made in a month but would only be worn once. I stopped when the others stopped, and got my first look at my options.

  Lucy studied them while I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t be offensive. She turned to Allison with a tight smile. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a few minutes while we go through these?”

  Allison’s expression reeked of relief, and I fought down a hysterical giggle. When she’d gone, I let out the breath I’d been holding. Lucy shuffled through the dozen or so dresses on the rack, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  “You might as well take out those pinks,” I said. “The lavenders, the peaches, and my God, who would wear that shade of yellow? That brown is hideous—is that actually a color someone would wear for a wedding? And I look terrible in silver.”

  That left about three dresses. Lucy pulled them out and hung them against the rail so we could see them.

  “That dark green’s an okay color,” I said, “but good lord, that bow is bigger than my butt, and the blue one would do a great job of showing the cleavage and hips I don’t have. Besides, it’s…” I snorted. “Four hundred dollars.”

  “Well,” Lucy said through her teeth. “That leaves this lovely black one.”

  “Now that’s a color I could live with. But what about that funky skirt, or whatever you call the bottom part of a dress. Is it supposed to look like that?”

  Lucy stared at me, her expression flat, and I realized what I’d just done.

  “I’m sorry, Luce. I’m sorry. It’s your show. I’ll try on whatever you want. Except maybe the pink ones.”

  She looked at me some more.

  I shut up.

  In the end she pulled out one of the lavenders, the gold (it wasn’t yellow, she explained stiffly), and the last three.

  “Shoes?” she asked.

  “I don’t have any.”

  “I know that,” she said evenly. “What size?”

  “Oh. Eight. Sometimes eight and a half.”

  She left, and I heard her talking to Allison in the front room. Tess sat in the corner, watching me like you would an unfamiliar dog.

  Lucy returned without any shoes.

  “Didn’t have my size?” I asked.

  She cocked her head. “Can you wear high heels?”

  “Well…”

  “That’s what I thought. We’ll figure that out later.” She grabbed the lavender dress off the rack and shoved me toward a stall with a curtained doorway. “Just try this on.”

  I tried it on. I tried them all on. I tried on more styles that Allison brought us. Some that she’d had in storage that had gone out of fashion two years before. I even tried on one of the pink monsters. But when it came down to it, I might as well have been one of my cows trying on the dresses. They just weren’t…fitting.

  “I’m sorry, Luce,” I said when I’d changed back into my clothes.

  “Yeah.” She led us back through the store and paused to check out the display of white gloves near the counter.

  “Hey,” I said. “Look at that.”

  A poster for the concert the night before was taped to the door, showing Tom Copper in front, with the rest of the group angled out behind him, like a fan. Genna stood directly to his left, a hand on his elbow. A lump formed in my throat.

  “I was going to go to that,” Allison said.

  I looked at her with more interest, surprised someone working in a wedding boutique could have good musical taste. She was leaning on the counter, her elbows resting on the glass.

  “You didn’t go?” I asked.

  “Nope. Husband got sick. It was too short notice to find someone else, and I didn’t really want to go by myself. Guess I’m glad I didn’t get there, the way it turned out.”

  “We were there,” Lucy said.

  Allison stood up. “Really? With the bomb threat and everything?”

  “Yeah.” I put a finger on Genna’s picture. “She’s the one who…” I glanced at Tess, who was listening all too carefully. “Who was on the news.”

  Allison wrinkled her nose. “Oh, wow. That’s…that’s too bad. She was nice.”

  “You knew her?”

  “I used to go to their concerts when I was at Temple. Five, six years ago. I was kind of a groupie, actually. You know, they only did local shows, then, before they got bigger and started touring.” Her face grew nostalgic. “I used to follow them to the bars where they’d hang out. Went out with Donny a couple times, actually. The guitarist? Loved that bull tattoo on his arm. He had another one, too, of a dragon, but you wouldn’t see it unless—” She broke off, color creeping up her neck. “Anyway…”

  “Which drummer was with them then?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “What? Parker. He was always…oh, that’s right. They got a new one, didn’t they? A year or so ago? I stopped hanging with them a year or two before that. I did hear they switched, though. Not sure why.”

  “How come you stopped hanging out?”

  “Different reasons. I graduated, moved out of the city. But Tom Copper got married, too, and that changed things. The band sort of seemed to get over the whole groupie girl thing, became a little more tight with just a few. You know. You get older. Wiser.”

  She l
eaned back against the counter and gestured around the shop. “Life happens. People get married. Move on to different things. Better things, if you ask me. Things that last a lifetime.” She smiled at Lucy. “Right?”

  Lucy smiled back. No reason to tell the girl that Lucy had already had that better thing, and it hadn’t lasted a lifetime. Brad, her first husband, had died two and a half years before. But now Lucy had Lenny, and was ready to add a new dimension to her life. And hope that this time it did last as long as one would hope.

  And Lucy was still smiling. “Better things,” she said, “can still include good rock and roll.”

  “Oh,” Allison said. “Absolutely.”

  Maybe this chick wasn’t so bad, after all.

  She looked at me, seeming a little more comfortable now we’d had this chat. “So you didn’t find anything back there?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not made for this girly stuff. I’ll find something somewhere.”

  She laughed and looked at Lucy, who rolled her eyes.

  “Just wait till it’s your wedding,” Allison said to me. “Then you’ll see how important it is what your bridesmaid wears.”

  “I’m not having a wedding,” I said.

  Lucy and Tess looked at me, probably wondering if Nick was aware of this.

  I smiled. “I’ll just elope.”

  Chapter Six

  Lucy didn’t talk much on the way home. She was probably worried about what I’d show up wearing next Saturday, and in her place, I would’ve been, too. I guess I should’ve been more concerned about her feelings, but it was hard for me to get worked up about a frou-frou dress when Jordan’s fiancée—or whatever she was—was dead.

  Then again, it was Lucy’s wedding.

  “I’ll find something,” I said. “I promise.”

  The way her jaw bunched wasn’t exactly a show of confidence.

  “You could wear that fancy white and black leather outfit you showed me,” Tess said.

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m not sure that would be…appropriate.”

  Lucy snorted. “If you’re talking about the one with the short shorts and halter top that you won at the HOG Club winter party, I have to agree.”