'I'll listen good.'
Ms. Lilly patted her on the back, nearly sending her face into the glass of wine, and moved away like a ship under sail to a booth that was very near the stage.
Quinlan began to play a sexy, weeping, slow blues song. It sounded like John Coltrane, but she couldn't be completely sure. It was still so new to her.
She noticed for the first time that no one was talking. There was total quiet in the club. Everyone was focused on James.
She watched at least four women get up and move closer to the stage. God, he played beautifully. His range was excellent, each note full and sweet, enough to break your heart. She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed. The song he was playing cried torrents, the notes sweeping lazily from a high register to low, deep notes that tore at the soul. His eyes were closed. His body was swaying slightly.
She knew she loved him, but she wasn't about to admit it here and now, knowing that it was his damned music that was making her feel as mushy as the grits Noelle had tried to make for her once. Men in uniforms and men playing soul music-a potent combination.
James spoke into the microphone. He said, 'This one's for Sally. It's from John Coltrane's A Love Supreme.'
If she'd ever doubted what he felt about her, that damned song put an end to it. She gulped down Mr.
Fuzz's white wine and her tears.
Two more women moved closer to the stage, and Sally smiled.
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When James finished, he waved to her. Then he cleared his throat and called out, 'I got a request for Charlie Parker.'
She listened, took a last sip of Mr. Fuzz's wine, and realized she had to go to the bathroom.
She slipped out of her chair, looked at Fuzz the Bartender, who was pointing to an open door just beside the bar. She smiled and walked past him, saying, “Can I have another glass when I come out, Mr. Fuzz?''
'You sure can, Sally. I'll have it waiting.'
When she came out of the unisex bathroom, she was smiling. She could hear James getting into his next song, one she recognized, a soft, searching song she hadn't realized was blues.
Suddenly she knew she wasn't alone. She felt someone very close to her, just behind her. She heard breathing, a lot of soft breathing.
The corridor was narrow. There hadn't been any other women in the bathroom. But that was silly. It had to be another woman, she thought on the edge of her brain, her attention on the song James was playing.
But it wasn't a woman.
It was Dr. Beadermeyer. There were two men standing just behind him. One of them was holding a needle in his hand.
He took her arm with a lover's light grasp. It changed quickly enough. She felt her skin pulling and sinking in at the increasing pressure of his fingers.
With his other hand, he grabbed her jaw to hold her still. He leaned over and lightly kissed her.
'Hello, Sally. How lovely you look, my dear. You shouldn't be drinking, you know, it doesn't go well with the kind of drugs your body is used to. I watched you drinking that dreadful stuff. Why are you here? I assume that man up there making a fool of himself in this backwater hole-in-the wall is James Quinlan, that FBI agent you were with in The Cove? He's not bad-looking, Sally. Now I know he's your lover. A man like that wouldn't stay with a woman unless she delivered.
'How desolate poor Scott will be when he finds out. Let's go now, my dear girl. It's time you came back to your little nest. A different nest. This time that bastard won't come to get you.' It couldn't be him, but it was. Her father was dead. Why did he still want her so badly?
'I'll hold her. Bring the needle. Let's get out of this godforsaken place.'
'I wouldn't go to heaven with you.'
'Of course you will, my dear girl.'
He was gripping her arm hard now, pulling her back against him, one hand over her mouth. She shoved her right elbow hard into his stomach.
He sucked in his breath, and she jerked free. 'James! Marvin!' Then she screamed, just once before a hand smashed down over her mouth.
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'Damn it, grab her! Gag her. Give her the shot!'
She grabbed the edge of a small table below the public telephone and gave it a shove, sending it crashing over, knocking against one of the men with Beadermeyer. She screamed once more, just a whisper of sound this time because the man's hand was hard over her mouth, covering her nose as well and she couldn't breathe. She was jerking, kicking back with her heels, feeling flesh, but still the man held her.
She felt fingers fumbling around her arm.
A needle.
He was going to shove a needle into her arm. He was going to make her into a zombie again. She kicked back as hard as she could. For an instant the man's hand loosened over her nose and mouth.
She leaned down and bit the man's hand, the hand that held that needle, and yelled again. 'James!'
The hand went back over her mouth. A man was cursing, another man was jerking at her other arm, but she
