Callie says, “Donovan, go check out the pool.”
“What?”
Callie says, “Girl talk.”
“Oh. Right.”
4.
Donovan Creed.
SOPHIE’S SINGING, DANI’S standing left of the stage, watching her. Callie and I stand a safe distance from the crowd that’s gathered to watch Sophie’s band.
“Ready to dance yet?”
“Are they playing our song?”
She cocks her head and listens a moment, then wrinkles her nose.
“We need a special song,” she says. “Something melodic and dreamy. Or at least something slow, with meaningful lyrics.”
“I take it Love Dies doesn’t cut it?”
“Not even.”
“I’d like something from the sixties.”
“Eighteen sixties?”
“Funny.”
“This is a progressive country band,” Callie says. “They’re not likely to play old fogey music.”
“If they do, that’s our song.”
“I don’t plan to wait that long. The very next song they play will become our song. Say it.”
“Even if it’s Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer?”
“Even if.”
“Come to think of it, that would be funny.”
“Say it.”
“Next song they play is our song.”
“Deal,” she says. “And we’ll dance to it?”
“Deal,” I say.
She smiles.
“You spoke to the women,” I say.
“Right.”
“What did you learn?”
“Dani thinks you’re gay.”
“
Callie laughs.
“Why would she possibly think that?”
“She says you’re too pretty to be straight. Plus, you asked what it’s like to be with a woman.”
“She told you I said that?”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“It’s part of the sisterhood code.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, and walk over to Dani. I have to shout for her to hear me.
“This isn’t my face!” I yell.
She gives me a curious look, as if maybe the music is too loud to understand what I said. Then she hollers, “You look like that famous movie star. What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’ll come to me,” she says. “In time.”
“This isn’t my face,” I repeat, aware that others standing nearby might be able to hear me.
She gives me that quizzical look again, and says, “Of course it’s your face! Who else’s face could it be?” Then she shakes her head and laughs.
“What?”
“You got me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re playing with me,” she says, chuckling. “I’m a little dense sometimes. You’ve got a wonderful face, and I expect you know it.”
“What if I used to have a huge scar, from here to here?”
She laughs. “What if
“Did you?”
She cocks her head. “Are you always this intense?”
“Do you like intense men?”
“Honestly? They make me uncomfortable.”
“Me too,” I say. Then realize that probably came out wrong.
I trust Callie’s gaydar. If she’s right about Dani being straight, and if I can’t get Callie interested in me, I intend to swarm Dani like bees on Sprite. I start to say something to position myself for such a swarm, but suddenly become aware Sophie’s band has begun playing a slow, melodic sixties song with meaningful lyrics. It also happens to be, as Callie knows, one of my favorite songs.
Sounds fresh and nice, the way Sophie’s singing it. Like maybe she learned it just for today’s party?
Is it possible?
It is.
I can tell by the way Callie’s smiling at me. The look on her face warms my heart and says it all. I take two steps toward her and my phone rings. I check the caller ID, close my eyes and groan. And accept the call.
When I hang up I notice Dani looks concerned. She approaches me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good. Why do you ask?”
“Your expression changed. You look upset.”
“One of my best friends just died.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” she says. “I’m so sorry!”
I look back to the area where Callie and I had been standing, but don’t see her. I turn my head some more and squint my eyes against the sun and stare at the people entering and exiting the main tent.
Still no Callie.
Dani points to the dance floor where Callie’s dancing alone.
“We’ll talk later,” I say, then head toward Callie.
She sees me coming and says, “You’re late.” Then sees my face and says, “What’s wrong?”
“Lou Kelly’s dead.”
“What? How?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”
When we’re far enough from the band to allow normal conversation I say, “I’ve got to meet the Homeland Security team at Sensory Resources.”
“Why?”
“They claim they’re offering me Darwin’s job.”
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You’d have to move to Virginia.”
“Not necessarily.”
