The Cove

people are chasing her. If you could keep an eye on her, I can wail on my sax without worry."

    "Ms. Lilly is going to try to feed her, Quinlan. She doesn't look like she's had a good meal in a month. You hungry, Chicky?"

    "Not yet, but thank you, Marvin."

    "A chicky with real good manners. It warms a man's heart, Quinlan."

    "Amazing," Sally said and nothing more. But she was smiling. She gave Marvin a small wave.

    "He'll watch over you, not to worry."

    "Actually I hadn't even thought about it. I can't believe you just spit out the truth to him."

    "Ah, Marvin didn't believe me. He thought I was worried some guy would try to pick you up, that's all."

    Sally looked around the dark, smoky interior of the Bonhomie Club. "It's got lots of character, James."

    "It gains more by the year. I think it's because of the aging wood. That bar is over a hundred years old. It's Lilly's pride. She won it in a poker game from a guy up in Boston. She always calls him Mr. Cheers."

    "Lots of character."

    He grinned down at her. "Tonight's just for fun, all right? You look gorgeous, you know that? I like that sexy little top."

    "You're into jet beads, are you?" But she was pleased. He'd insisted on buying it for her at Macy's. She actually smiled. She felt good, light and easy. Tonight, she thought, tonight was for fun. It had been so long. Fun. She'd simply forgotten.

    Nightmares could wait for tomorrow. Maybe when James took her home he'd want to kiss her some more, maybe even make love to her. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her.

    "You want a drink?"

    "I'd love a white wine. It's been so long."

    He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if Fuzz the Bartender has ever heard of such a thing. You sit down and let the atmosphere soak into your bones. I'll go see what Fuzz has got back there."

    Fuzz the Bartender, she thought. This was a world she'd never imagined. She'd cheated herself.

    She looked up to see James gesturing back at her and an immense black man with a bald head shiny as a cue ball grinning at her, waving a dusty wine bottle. She waved back and gave a thumbs-up.

    Where did the name Fuzz come from?

    There were only about half a dozen whites in the club, four men and two women. But no one seemed to care what color anyone was.

    An Asian woman with long, board-straight black hair to her waist was playing the flute on the small wooden stage. The song was haunting and soft.

    The conversation was a steady hum, never seeming to rise or to fall. James put a glass of white wine in front of her.

    “Fuzz said he got the wine a couple of years ago from this guy who wanted whiskey but was broke. Fuzz got this bottle of wine in trade."

    She sipped it and gulped. It was awful and she wouldn't

    have traded it for a glass of Kendall-Jackson. "It's wonderful," she called out to Fuzz the Bartender.

    James sat beside her, a beer in his hand. "The wig's not bad, either. A little too red for my taste, a little too curly, but it'll do for tonight."

    "It's hot," she said.

    "If you can just hold out, I'll try to think of something indecent to do with that thing when we get home."

    At nearly nine o'clock, he kissed her mouth, tasted the white wine, and grimaced.

    "That's rotgut."

    "It's wonderful rotgut. Don't say anything to Mr.

    Fuzz."

    James laughed, swung his saxophone case off the other chair, and wove his way through the tables to the stage.

    She couldn't take her eyes off him. He hugged the flautist, then pulled a lower stool forward to the microphone. He took his saxophone out of the case, polished it a bit with a soft cloth, checked the reed. Then he began to warm up.

    She didn't know what she'd expected, but the sound coming out of his instrument would have made the devil weep. He played scales, bits and pieces of old songs, skipped from high notes to low ones, testing, soft, then

    loud.

    "So you're the little white girl that's hooked my Quinlan, are you?"

21

    "I WON'T BE so little in another six months."

    "Why's that?"

    "I'm not usually so skinny. I'll fatten up."

    "Maybe my Quinlan will even get you pregnant. You just watch out, Sally, all the ladies salivate while he's playing. Poor boy, he tells himself it's because of his beautiful music. And he does look so soulful while he's playing."

    She shook her head, her voice mournful. "I don't have the heart to tell him it's his sexy body and gorgeous eyes. Ah, now he's playing Sonny Rollins, my favorite. Well, aren't I forgetful? I'm