“It’s no dream. I had to make sure you’d be okay.”
“Thanks. Um, could I get your autograph?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I think that can be arranged, as long as I get your phone number in return.”
Dee smiled and winced again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I need to see you again.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Jeremy growled.
Adele pulled him aside and whispered in his ear, but her words were loud enough for Rodney to hear. “Look at him. I bet they could make some pretty grandbabies together.”
“Ma!” Dee protested.
Jeremy eyed him up and down. “He’s probably loaded, too. I suppose she could do worse.”
Rodney had stopped listening. He was too busy picturing the meaning missing from his life—a child playing on his lawn.
But how would having a part-black wife fit the Dixie image of his band? It wouldn’t.
Rhonda pulled paper and pen from one of her many pockets and handed it to him so he could write the autograph he’d promised.
I wish we’d met under better circumstances.
Rodney Walker
When he gave it to Dee, she read it and thanked him with a smile so sweet he had half a mind to kiss her in front of everyone. Next, Rhonda scribbled down Dee’s phone number and address, and handed it to him. It seemed to burn his hand as he enfolded it in his grip.
He should throw it away when he walked out of here. Rush home to Jack, his band, his life. She wouldn’t be the first woman he never bothered to call. Instead, he tucked the slip of paper into his wallet.
Because he would call, no matter what it cost him.
Chapter Three
Wheeling, WV
“Baby, stop checking that phone. He’s not going to call,” Ma said as she brought Dee her breakfast on a tray. “Now, move your laptop so I can feed you.”
Dee moved it from her lap to the coffee table, letting it recharge off the generator running outside. Trying to work off the grid at her parents’ place while she recuperated hadn’t been easy.
After the awful day at the rally, though, it was nice to be taken care of. Last winter, when she’d gotten really run down from work and the flu, coming here would have been better than languishing in her apartment.
She should have known the rally would turn violent. Racial tension was as bad today as it had been in the 1960s. Maybe worse.
Luckily, the knife hadn’t pierced any internal organs. She had frequent nightmares, reliving its hot stab all over again. What if she’d been permanently disabled and forced to quit working? Who would take care of her parents then? Or her, for that matter? Now that she’d indulged her wild streak, she could settle back down.
It felt strange to wear sweatpants and a T-shirt all day. Best of all, no shoes! It reminded her of running around here barefoot through her entire childhood.
“You know what?” Dee asked as she buttered a homemade blueberry muffin. “I’m glad he hasn’t called. My injury has put me so far behind at work I really won’t have time for a man.”
Especially a white one who waved the Confederate flag around. She’d been trying to make junior partner for a couple of years. They sure wouldn’t give it to her if she dated someone like him. It would sabotage the reputation of the whole firm, sending the wrong message to potential clients with civil rights claims. They’d take their business elsewhere.
So why had she fantasized about him? His long, golden hair tickling her bare breasts as it brushed across them. His broad shoulders, firm and muscular as she dug her nails into them. While he thrust into her, slow and…
Okay, it helped take away the pain, but her injuries had mostly healed. Time to drop the fantasies and return to work. In fact, she planned on driving back to her apartment tomorrow.
Every woman needed a fangirl moment in her life, and she’d had hers when he rescued her and gave her his autograph. She’d definitely never forget him. His sunny scent. The warm, solid feel of his body. His gentle touch.
“Well, if you don’t make time for a man eventually, you’ll be mighty lonely when you retire.” Ma set her apple juice on the table. “But you’re probably right about him. Loving a rock star doesn’t sound easy, and that’s on top of dating outside your race.”
“You did it,” Dee pointed out.
As always, a smile played across her mother’s lips when talking about Jeremy. “Our skin may be different shades, but we’ve always been on the same side racially.”
“Got more gas for the generator,” he declared as he swept into the front door and wiped his shoes on the small rug there. “I’m pulling the plug on that crap-top soon, though. Damn noise gives me a headache.”
Dee giggled. “It’s called a laptop, Dad, and I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Ma touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to leave so soon, do you?”
“Thanks to you guys, I’ve mostly healed, but I’ve got to get back to my life.”
So why wasn’t she looking forward to it?
* * *
“I hate flying,” Rodney complained as he stood beside the small charter plane in Tupelo, Mississippi, bound for Memphis.
“Yeah, you say that every time,” Jack said as he tossed his overnight bag into the hold. “Now, get your ass onto the plane.”
Jack wore his usual travel outfit—light-colored cotton shirt, stonewashed jeans, and beige hat. Next to Rodney’s dark—usually black—jeans, hat, and T-shirts, people could easily tell them apart.
He climbed the stairs behind his brother. “Why don’t we use the bus more often? It’s a lot more comfortable and lets us enjoy the places we visit.”
“We’ll have time to sightsee when we’re retired.” Jack glared at him over his shoulder. “On a bus, we’d only be able to hit half the tour stops.”
Would playing in twice the cities really make them doubly famous, or twice as tired? Would he ever have time to fish again? He didn’t want to wait until retirement; he
