Whitehorse Part 9

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

By the time they had crossed the main dining room, every patron, plus those at the adjacent bar, had noted Johnny's presence. Women squirmed in their chairs for a better look. Men rolled their eyes and glared at their wives and girlfriends, obviously annoyed at their blatant appreciation for another man.

The band's rendition of John Denver's "Sunshine on my Shoulders" reverberated from the half-dozen speakers suspended in the cl.u.s.ters of trees scattered over the restaurant's well-manicured and landscaped grounds. A lone middle-aged couple, holding one another tightly, slid across the dance floor, oblivious to the tables of people watching them, too wrapped up in one another to care.

Sarah scanned the crowd and the few empty tables Randy always kept set aside for his special friends who dropped by on the spur of the moment. "You can sit near the band, but that's pretty loud. There's a more secluded table just back of that wall. You can still see the band from there but you're sorta hid from gawkers, ya know?" She smiled and batted her eyelashes at Johnny.

Dolores checked out the crowd. She would choose the most conspicuous table in the place, Johnny surmised. She always did. She liked attention. She liked being seen with him. It was d.a.m.n good promotion. The more her photo showed up in the gossip rags, the better chance she had of landing a job with a more prestigious network affiliate. And he knew for a fact that her contract was up for renegotiation soon, which was the major reason she was so eager to sniff out dirt on Senator Foster. Breaking the story would get her worldwide recognition.

"Well, well, look who's here," she said.

Johnny followed her gaze, to a table where a waitress was pouring champagne and a pudgy man with a receding hairline was reaching for his date's hand and- Dolores took off through the crowd, heading straight for Leah's table. Sarah fell in behind her. Johnny wondered if he could get away with murder in front of so many witnesses.

"My G.o.d, if it's not Leah Foster," Dolores said, sweeping around the table to grab Leah in a hug. "How long has it been, Leah? Twelve, thirteen years? You remember me, don't you? Dolores Rainwater?"

The smile froze on Leah's face as Johnny walked up. The flush that had accentuated her blue eyes moments before drained down her neck. But for a spot of hot color glowing just above her cleavage, she suddenly looked white as paper.

"Dolores," Leah repeated, forcing herself to focus on Dolores and not on Johnny. So, you're So, you're that that Dolores, Dolores, her tight smile said- her tight smile said-the one who uses Estee Lauder lipstick and condoms ribbed for your enjoyment. "Sure, I remember you. I watch you every morning." "Sure, I remember you. I watch you every morning."

Dolores caught Johnny's arm and dragged him up beside her. "You and Johnny have already gotten reacquainted, I understand."

"Our paths have crossed, yes." Leah reached for her gla.s.s of champagne and smiled at her date. The man stared at Johnny and Dolores with his mouth open, obviously star-struck and speechless. "Sam, these are old friends of mine. We grew up together, sort of."

Sam sprang out of his chair, dropping his napkin to the floor and knocking the table so hard the gla.s.ses tottered precariously. "Yes, ma'am, Ms. Rainwater. Mr. Whitehorse. I know who y'all are. Geez Louise, I'm pleased to meet you both. Real honored. Leah never told me y'all were acquainted."

Leah sipped her drink, still smiling, still refusing to look at Johnny. Her color was returning little by little, creeping up her shoulders, her throat, and fingering across her rigid jaw.

"Y'all here for dinner?" Sam asked.

"Why, yes we are," Dolores replied.

"Well, you're welcome to join us if you want. Course, I can understand if you'd rather be alone-"

"Why, Sam. What a wonderful idea. Wouldn't that be fun, Johnny?" Dolores flashed him her most brilliant smile. "We can kick back a few margaritas for old time's sake."

"Sure," he replied, aware he sounded sullen and p.i.s.sed. Not sure he felt sullen and p.i.s.sed because Dolores was making an a.s.s of herself and embarra.s.sing him, not to mention Leah, or because the moron who was Leah's date had been holding Leah's hand those moments before Dolores insinuated herself into their privacy.

He pulled out Dolores's chair for her, whispering in her ear as she sat down, "Cute. Very cute, sweetheart. We're going to discuss this later. Aren't we?"

Smiling, Dolores whispered back, "I'm counting on it."

Johnny took the chair next to Leah. His knee brushed hers under the table. Without so much as a glance at him, Leah shifted in her chair, moving her legs out of his way.

"Ummm, champagne," Dolores said. "Are we celebrating something?"

Sam motioned to the waitress, who stared at Johnny in a sort of daze. "Hon, could you bring us two more gla.s.ses? Yoo-hoo. Ma'am?" He chuckled and nodded toward Johnny. "I reckon she's a fan."

The waitress blinked and focused on Sam.

"Two more champagne gla.s.ses if you will, darlin'."

"Sure." She nodded and moved like a robot toward the kitchen.

Dolores laughed. "G.o.d, you can't take Johnny anywhere that he doesn't cause a scene. You get used to it after a while. The women simply love him."

"I have to admit, I got two daughters back in Austin who think you're G.o.d's gift to women," Sam declared, shaking his head. "They ain't ever gonna believe this."

"I'll bet Johnny would be more than happy to give you a couple of autographs to send them."

"That would be super." He searched his coat pocket and found a pen, but no paper, so he grabbed a couple of napkins. "Just sign one to Debbie, and one to Lynda. That's Debbie with an ie ie and Lynda with a and Lynda with a y. y. h.e.l.l, my ex is going to be green with envy. She met Willie Nelson once. Ran into him on the street in downtown Austin. She's got his autograph framed and hung over the mantel in the living room. Just something else she got in the divorce." h.e.l.l, my ex is going to be green with envy. She met Willie Nelson once. Ran into him on the street in downtown Austin. She's got his autograph framed and hung over the mantel in the living room. Just something else she got in the divorce."

Johnny scrawled his name on the paper napkins as Leah continued to sip her champagne and Sam fidgeted like a nervous kid in his chair. Finished, Johnny shoved the napkins at Sam and said, "So what were you celebrating ... Sam?"

"Celebrating? Oh. Ah. Well." His face flushed and he glanced at Leah. "Our third date."

"How sweet," Dolores offered. "I can see you're a real charmer, Sam."

Sam reached for his gla.s.s, tipping it toward Leah before drinking it down in one long quaff.

As the waitress returned with two gla.s.ses, the band struck up "Heard It through the Grapevine." The sc.r.a.ping of chairs was followed by a half-dozen couples heading for the dance floor.

The waitress took Dolores's order for a pitcher of margaritas for the table, then their food order, so fl.u.s.tered by Johnny's presence that she was forced to start over twice before getting it right.

Dolores and Sam chatted through the margaritas and fajitas while Leah and Johnny stared into their drinks and did their best to listen to the music that was fast becoming diluted by the growing din of conversation and the clattering of dishes.

Johnny did not have an appet.i.te after all. Obviously Leah didn't either. She poked at her food and nibbled on greasy tortilla chips, pretending to be immersed in Dolores's and Sam's conversation, which focused entirely on Dolores's career. At one point, Johnny found his foot nestled against Leah's. He waited for her to move it; she didn't, and for a moment her eyes became distant, her expression dreamy. Was she thinking about yesteryears, when they would meet on the sly at Mojo's Truck Stop way out on Highway 70, halfway to Roswell, sit in the back booth with their legs pressed together and plan how she would sneak out of her room that night and meet him behind the stables? Or were the champagne and margaritas simply catching up with her? She'd never been one who could handle her liquor. It made her sleepy, and romantic.

A beeper sounded. Sam dug through his pocket and withdrew the credit card-sized machine. "Looks like the boss needs me. You ladies excuse me while I use the phone?"

As Sam made his way toward the pay phone, Dolores poured herself and Leah another margarita. "What a pleasant man. He seems to adore you, Leah."

Leah moved her foot away from Johnny's. "Sam's a good guy."

"Is it serious?"

"Define serious." Leah sipped her drink.

"Think you two will ... you know. Get married?"

"This is only our third date."

"So? There are a great many people out there who know the moment they meet someone that they're destined to be together forever."

"That's not the case with Sam. He's a ... friend. Nothing more."

Smiling, Dolores looked at Leah sternly. "I get the idea that Sam feels differently. He positively beams when he looks at you. Of course, who can blame him? You're still as lovely as you were in high school. Isn't she, Johnny?"

Johnny tossed down the chip he'd been eating and gave her a flat smile. "Prettier. Much prettier. In fact I'd say she was the best-looking woman in this room. And probably the brightest. At least she knows when to keep her mouth shut."

"Goodness. Seems I've hit a nerve." Picking up her gla.s.s, Dolores toasted Leah. "Here's to old friends and lovers. To pasts, and futures."

Johnny looked at Leah. "I'd like to dance with you. As I recall you always enjoyed this song."

Leah tipped her head, listening to the band's version of the Righteous Brothers' "Soul and Inspiration."

Pushing back his chair, Johnny reached for Leah's hand. "If you say no I'll probably make a scene. I'd hate that because it would wind up on the front page of the paper tomorrow, making me look like the a.s.s I'm feeling like right now." He flashed a glaring Dolores a bright smile. "Just for old time's sake. Right, sweetheart?"

With his fingers wrapped around Leah's wrist, he threaded their way through the tables and onto the dance floor. Pressed and jostled by swaying dancers, Johnny slid his arm around Leah's waist, entwined his fingers with hers, and drew her up against him, close.

She felt rigid, her movements clumsy as they settled into the slide-and-sway rhythm that Johnny set for them. So far, she had not said a word, just set her focus on the wall of bodies around her and appeared to tune Johnny out.

"Relax," he whispered. "You feel as if you're going to shatter. I don't bite-unless you want me to." He grinned.

"Why do I get the feeling things are a little tense between you and Dolores tonight? It wouldn't have anything to do with our spending last night together, would it?"

"Probably."

Her head fell back as she looked up at him, her blue eyes serious. "You told her?"

"It's not like we have something to hide."

"I hardly call your practically undressing me on the hood of your truck innocent conversation."

"Just a kiss for old time's sake."

"You didn't tell her that." that."

"You know I don't lie, Leah. She asked me. I told her."

"No wonder she looks as if she'd like to scratch my eyes out. I don't blame her."

He pulled her closer. "Remember the first time we danced to this song? I'd bought that collection of old 45s at a flea market. I think I paid a whopping five bucks for the entire box."

"And we used your father's old phonograph to play them."

"The record kept skipping and I'd have to kick the player-"

"And you broke the needle-"

"My father got p.i.s.sed-"

"And you drove all the way to Alamogordo trying to find a needle to replace it."

"Yeah, well, the old man was pretty fond of that phonograph." He spun her around and drew her in again, this time close enough that he could lay his cheek against the top of her head. "Still using the same shampoo, I see. Apple. No wonder I was always hungry around you."

He felt her laugh, and she relaxed, allowing her body to melt slightly into his. Turning his lips against her brow, he closed his eyes and allowed the essence of apple to filter through his senses until the heat of close bodies became a coc.o.o.n of memories of her and him dancing under a spray of pine trees to a tune he hummed in her ear.

The song ended. The couples parted and shuffled back to their tables.

Reluctantly, Johnny stepped away, releasing her hand only after she turned and moved back toward their table. He watched her walk, remnants of her childhood ballerina days still evident in her graceful stride, shoulders back, arms loose. She glided smoothly as a swan on water.

Sam had returned. Dolores, however, was missing.

Smiling as he moved around the table to join Johnny and Leah, Sam said, "Dolores stepped away to speak to a friend. She'll be back directly. Mind if I dance with my date?"

Stepping aside, Johnny watched Sam take Leah's arm and escort her back to the dance floor.

He thought, Yes I do mind. If you hold her too close I'll pound out your brains, Sam old boy. You won't ever get the chance to sell another of the rolling c.r.a.p cars you foist on unsuspecting customers.

Leah and Sam were immediately swallowed by the couples sliding and spinning to the rhythm of "A Whiter Shade of Pale."

"Mr. Whitehorse, would you care for another drink?"

He looked around. The waitress smiled and stepped a little closer. "A drink?" she repeated, pointing to the empty margarita pitcher.

"Better not. I'm driving."

She handed him a piece of paper. "My phone number. Just in case, you know. If you got nothing better to do."

Johnny smiled and tucked the paper into his pocket. Her eyes widened; her cheeks flushed. As she walked away, he dropped down into his chair, thinking about all the phone numbers women had shoved into his hands. No doubt they had waited by their phones for hours, days, believing he would call them on a whim and sweep them off to fantasyland. He often wondered what was worse for them: to sit around waiting for a call that never came, or to know that the minute they were out of sight he would toss their numbers into the nearest trash bin.

The song ended. Another began.

Where the h.e.l.l was Dolores?

Where the h.e.l.l were Sam and Leah?

He searched the dance floor, so packed with bodies that couples were forced to dance between the tables.

"Hey, Buddy."

An overweight, bald man wearing a dyed chicken-feather Indian headdress tapped Johnny on the shoulder, his jowls flushed by too many drinks, his eyes bloodshot.

Where the h.e.l.l was Dolores?

"How," the man said, grinning.

"How what?" Johnny replied.

"You know. How." The man lifted his hand, palm out. "How."

Where the h.e.l.l was Dolores?

"Don't you speak Injun?" the man slurred.

Johnny glanced at the table of snorting, chuckling tourists from which the drunken moron must have come. Another man got out of a chair, an instant camera clutched in both hands as he headed across the room, bouncing off diners and a waitress who nearly dropped her tray of empty gla.s.ses.