After The Music

With drooping eyelids she dragged herself into the exclusive Bourbon Street nightclub where she and the band were working. She’d never felt less like working, but the rehearsals went on regardless.

It was late afternoon, barely an hour from curtain time, and she was just finishing a tune about lost love, when Al came walking in. He looked as miserable as she felt, and his face looked sullen.

“Can you spare a minute?” Al asked.

“Sure,” she said, jumping down from the stage in her satin shorts and top, and black leather boots. “Be right back!” she called to the boys.

Ricky Turner, the tall, thin bandleader and pianist, waved back. “Ten minutes, no more. We’ve still got two numbers to go over.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “He worries,” she told Al as they sat down at a nearby table while around them busboys put out napkins and silver and glassware. “He’s terrified that the stage will fall through, or the lights will come down on our heads, or that I’ll trip over a cord and bash in the drums.” She laughed softly. “Concerts are hard on Ricky’s nerves. He’s just started to relax since we’ve been doing this gig.”

“What happened last night?” Al asked bluntly.

She flushed and averted her eyes. “Ask your brother.”

“I did. And he said the same thing. Look, if he hurt you…”

“I think I hurt him more,” she said angrily. “I hit him just as hard as I could.”

His eyes widened. “Thorn? You hit Thorn?”

“Just as hard as—”

“I get the message. No wonder he was so icy.” He studied her. “He wants to see you.”

Her mouth dropped. “Oh, he does, does he? Did he say when?”

“In fifteen minutes. Now, before you go up in flames and say no, listen to me. I called my mother and told her I wanted to bring you to the ranch for a few days over Easter. She called Thorn and talked to him. Apparently he’s ready to back down a little. I think all he wants is to issue you a personal invitation. But if you don’t go to see him, everything’s off. Including,” he added gruffly, “my children’s hospital benefit. I can’t get another backer. Without Thorn, we’ll just have to do a one-night live concert at some theater. We won’t raise nearly enough money that soon. I haven’t told him much about the benefit. He won’t even listen to me right now.”

“And you think he’ll listen to me?” she said crisply. “And I don’t think I want to spend Easter with your family.”

“Sure you do. It’ll be great fun. You’ll like my mother.”

“I’m sure I will, but I don’t like your brother!”

He sighed. “The new hospital wing would cater to families who can’t afford proper medical care,” he said, eyeing her. “Especially children with fatal illnesses, like cancer. It would boast a research center, as well.”

Her eyes glittered at him. “Al…”

“Of course, it will eventually get built. In a few years. Meanwhile a lot of children will have to go to other cities, some won’t be able to get treatment…”

“I’ll do it, you animal,” she said irritably. “You know I can’t turn my back on any kind of benefit. But if your horrible brother tries to cut me up again, I’ll paste him one!”

“That’s the girl.” He grinned. “Get over to his office and give it to him!”

She left him to explain her departure to the band. She was just going out the door, still in costume, when she heard Ricky wail. Sabina quickened her pace and tried not to grin.

Minutes later, she paused at the door of the plush New Orleans office that housed Thorn Oil’s executive officer. Taking a deep breath, she forced her racing heart to slow down. She told herself not to let her apprehension show or give the enemy any weakness to attack. Anyway, there was no reason to believe that old poisonous Hamilton Regan Thorndon the Third might want anything worse than a pleasant chat.

She laughed to herself. Sure. He just loved having the youngest son of the family mixed up with a rising young rock star and wanted to tell her so.

With a resigned sigh, she opened the door and walked into a lavish but sleek office, where a lovely blond receptionist was typing at a computer keyboard.

“Yes, may I help you?” she asked politely, smiling at Sabina.

“I’m here to see Hamilton Thorndon the Third,” Sabina said, returning the smile. “I believe he’s expecting me?”

The blonde looked wary as her eyes examined the slender figure in thigh-high black leather cuffed boots, tight pink satin shorts with a low-cut white satin camisole and silver-beaded vest under a thin jacket. Sabina almost chuckled. The outfit was so outrageous. But she had a performance in less than an hour and no time to change clothes, so the big man would just have to see her in her working garb. Her expression darkened with worry. She had grave misgivings about this. Especially after last night. But this business was best taken care of now. Thorn was the kind of man, from all description, who wouldn’t mind walking up on the stage right in the middle of her nightclub performance to question her.

“Uh, I’ll announce you,” the blonde stammered, then buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Thorndon, there’s a…” She put her hand over the receiver. “Your name, please?”

“Tell him it’s Sabina,” she replied in the clear voice that was her trademark.

“…Miss Sabina here. She says you’re expecting her. Yes, sir.” The receptionist hung up. “Mr. Thorndon will see you. Go right in.”

Sabina was waved toward a door beside the desk. Smiling coyly at the blonde, she opened the door and poked her head in.

Immediately she regretted the lack of time to change into something more suitable. She’d have to bluff her way through. As usual.

“Here I am, your worship,” she told the man behind the desk as she closed the door breezily behind her. “Fire away, but make it fast. I’ve got a performance in less than forty-five minutes.”

He rose from the desk like a shark slicing through water, all sleek, smooth pursuit. The tan suit he was wearing did nothing to disguise the huge muscles of his arms, chest and legs. As he moved around the desk toward her, she felt his eyes sweep over her, as if she were being brushed all over with a flammable liquid.

His disposition was as cold as she remembered it. Sabina tried to block the previous night out of her mind while his blue, unblinking eyes were riveted on her.

A finger hit the intercom button. “No calls, honey.”

“Yes, sir,” came the edgy reply. Then there was silence while the oil magnate did what he was best at—intimidation.

He folded his arms across his chest and his blackened eye narrowed as he studied her graceful figure. “You do advertise it, don’t you?” he murmured with a faint smile.

“This is my stage costume. Al said you wanted to see me immediately, and I just dropped everything and rushed right over. Satin is my trademark,” she reminded him.

“So I’ve heard. How much do you want? What’ll it cost for you to promise to leave Al alone?”

“Characteristically blunt,” she remarked, eyeing him. “Have you ever found anything your money couldn’t buy? Besides that oil refinery, I mean. Obviously, it’s much more important than a little thing like Al’s happiness.”

An eyebrow jerked and the blackened eye squinted. She remembered that telltale signal, but she ignored it. “I hear through the grapevine that Al flew to Savannah to tell you about that singing engagement in my nightclub.”

“Your nightclub?” she asked. “I understood that it was jointly owned by the two of you, and your mother.”

At the mention of his mother, his body went rigid. “Al caused one hell of an argument last night. I do not want you at my ranch over the holidays. That’s the one place I don’t have to suffer women.”

Her chin lifted. “I like Al,” she told him. “And if he wants me to join him for Easter, I’ll be delighted to accept.” As she said that, she wondered vaguely why Al had invited her when Jessica had his whole heart. Was he trying to put up a smoke screen?

“Listen to me, you half-baked adventuress,” he said suddenly. “I’m not having my brother taken over by a wild-eyed rock singer with eyes for his bankbook!” Moving toward her, he reached into his vest pocket, caught her roughly by the arm, and stuffed a piece of paper into the valley between her high breasts. “You take that and get the hell out of my brother’s sight. I make a bad enemy. Remember it!”

He escorted her to the door and shoved her out of his office. “I’ll make your apologies to my mother,” he added sarcastically. The door slammed shut behind her.