“No, I don’t have to be kidding, miss goody two shoes. You think he is all hung up on you. He’s been dipping his wick in half the strippers on Bourbon Street. You, my dear, are nothing but a little piece of sweet meat, a flash in the pan. Don’t be thinking you are something special.”
Lilly’s body flushed, as an angry red cloud filled her eyes. She clutched the beer bottle in her tingling fingers. Electric shocks sped through her arms setting her elbows on fire. Her body trembled with pain and anger. Suddenly, the beer bottle flew out of her hand, grazed Agnes’ shoulder dousing her with beer as it flipped around, arced through the air and smashed into the mirror behind the bar. Agnes screamed and Lilly ran out of the front door.
Running like a thief in the night, she headed for the river tearing through the tendrils of fog swirling in the damp night air. Her head was spinning but an inner guidance brought her straight to the old oak tree near the river. Only a few days ago she had been sitting on its low branches with Roland, happy and carefree. Tonight, she clung to the tree, squeezing her arms around a low branch.
The moon rose and the wind turned cold. Lilly remained hugging the wide low branch, her tears soaking the bark of the ancient oak. Cursing herself for being foolish, she berated herself for letting her guard down. If Agnes was telling the truth, Lilly had endangered herself and suddenly, for no reason, decided to trust some random guy she met in the French Quarter.
Beating her fist against the tree branch she cried, and muttered, “Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!” Finally, exhausted she lay her head on her arm and drifted into despair.
She felt a hand on her back and bolted upright. Roland lifted her from the branch and held her close. “I thought I’d find you here. I don’t know what Agnes said to you, but know it is not true. She made some nastiness up because I blew her off. I paid for the mirror, so no worries, heh?”
Looking up into his face, Lilly almost smiled. The doubts and distrust plaguing her moments before were forgotten. “I want to go home,” she whispered.
Roland took her by the hand and said, “Let’s do something different tonight. I’m going to take you to my home.”
Chapter 19
The Magic Flute
The refurbished Greyhound bus glowed silver in the moon light. Lilly stepped up through the door and exclaimed, “Wow!” Gone were rows of seats and the narrow aisle. The bus had been transformed into an efficient traveling home for the band. Tonight, Bart and Leon were off having their own fun and Trey was enjoying a real bed in the spare bedroom of Jason’s apartment.
Roland turned on a small heater, lit a candle and looked back at Lilly. She was shivering and rubbing her hands together. He stepped close to her, took her in his arms and held her close. He took both of her hands, kissed her knuckles then turned her hands over and kissed her palms. Lilly took a long calming breath and managed a tentative smile.
Candlelight softened their surroundings and faux fur pillows cushioned their taught bodies. They sat in silence for a bit, Lilly chewing on her bottom lip as doubts returned. Had Agnes been lying? Looking Roland directly in his eyes, she asked “Roland, Agnes didn’t only say you made a pass at her. She said you were having sex with strippers. Is it true?”
Shaking his head slowly, he replied in a hushed voice, “She is hurt and embarrassed. Agnes was striking out with the most hateful thing she could say. She is jealous of you and our relationship. Can we forget it? Tonight was our last night playing at The Cave. In a couple of days, we are going to be playing up the street from here at The Dream Palace.”
Lilly looked surprised, “I didn’t know it was your last night there. I’m glad you’re finished with The Cave.”
Roland nodded, “The whole band is glad. It was a good gig, lots of money, but dealing with Agnes was a drag. It will be more convenient playing up the street, easier to do our thing at Valentine’s and we will be closer to the bus.
Lilly looked out of the window at Valentine’s Restaurant. The lights were dark and the Closed sign was on the door. “What thing at Valentine’s?” she asked.
“A few days a week we play our Celtic tunes during lunch and a few numbers during happy hour to repay him for his hospitality.”
Lilly nodded her head, “How did ya’ll know about Valentine’s in San Francisco?”
Roland shrugged, “Trey is good at making connections. The bus is his, the band is his. He did most of the planning for this tour. He has arranged for parking the bus or has found us places to stay all along the way. Tonight, we have the magic bus to ourselves. The rest of the band has found the softer company we’re all in need of.”
Lilly frowned, her lips puckered and her back stiffened. “Is that what I am to you, Roland, softer company to play with while you are in New Orleans?”
Roland shook his head and closed his eyes. “I put my foot in my mouth there, didn’t I?” He saw the doubt in Lilly’s eyes grow into sadness. Leaning back on his arms, he closed his eyes. They sat in silence as time moved like a sluggish bayou between them.
Roland stretched out his arm, opened the mini-frig and grabbed a couple of beers. He opened them and handed one to Lilly. She took the bottle and set it aside. Roland stood walked to the back of the bus and returned with an ornate wooden box. Sitting back beside Lilly, he opened the box, opened one of the
