As he spoke, Mike did his best to appear interested.
And he was, at least in a self-interested way, if only to see what he was up against. But as the minutes rolled on, he began to feel as if his future were that of a salmon swimming upstream. Even he could see why Julie was interested in Richard. He was intelligent (and yes, good-looking, he conceded, but only if one like rugged, athletic types), and unlike Mike, he was both college educated and well traveled. Though he didn't laugh or joke much-or appreciate Emma or Henry when they did-it seemed that his discomfort stemmed more from shyness than arrogance. And the way he felt about Julie was obvious. Whenever she spoke, Richard's eyes never left her face; he acted like a husband waking up on the first morning of his honeymoon.
Through it all, Mike kept smiling and nodding, hating Richard's guts.
A little later on, as Emma and Julie caught up on some of the latest news around town, Richard finished his drink. After asking if Julie wanted anything else, he excused himself to head back to the bar. When Henry asked him if he wouldn't mind grabbing another couple of beers, Mike stood as well, volunteering to go with Richard.
"I'll help you carry them back."
They reached the bar, and the bartender signaled that he'd get there as soon as he could. Richard reached for his wallet, and though Mike was right beside him, he stayed silent.
"She's a great lady," Mike finally offered.
Richard turned and seemed to study him before turning away again.
"Yes, she is," he said simply.
Neither of them said another word to each other.
Once they were back at the table, Richard asked Julie if she'd like to dance, and after saying good-bye, they were gone.
"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Emma asked.
Mike shrugged, not wanting to answer.
"And he seemed nice enough," Henry added. "Kind of quiet, but polite."
Mike reached for his beer. "I didn't like him," he said.
"Oh, now there's a surprise," Henry said, laughing.
"I'm not sure I trust him."
Henry kept smirking. "Well, since you missed your opportunity, I guess we'll have to hang around for a while."
"What opportunity?"
"You said tonight was the night you were going to ask her out."
"Shut up, Henry."
A little while later, Mike sat drumming his fingers on the table. Henry and Emma had gone to say hello to another couple they knew, and now that he was alone, Mike tried to figure out what it was exactly that he didn't like about Richard Franklin.
Besides the obvious.
No, there was more to it than just that. No matter what Henry had said or what Julie seemed to think, Richard didn't strike Mike as a particularly nice guy. What happened at the bar made that plain. Once he'd said what he had about Julie, Richard had looked at him as if already recognizing Mike's feelings for her, and his face clearly expressed what he thought about that: You lose, so stay away.
Not exactly the hallmark of a nice guy.
So why didn't Julie seem to see the side of Richard that he did? And why didn't Henry or Emma? Or was the whole thing just a figment of his imagination?
Mike ran through the scenario again. No, he finally decided, I didn't imagine it. I know what I saw. And I don't like him.
He leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath as he scanned the room. His eyes found Richard and Julie, and he watched them for a moment before he forced himself to turn away.
During the band's break, Julie and Richard had left the dance floor and found a smaller table on the far side of the bar, and Mike had been glancing their way ever since. He couldn't help it. Though he tried to pretend that he was still trying to figure Richard out, he knew his compulsion to watch had more in common with what people feel when they come across the scene of a grisly accident. Or even more accurately, he thought, watching them together was like watching a car plunging off a monstrous cliff, with a bird's-eye view through the windshield.
That's how it seemed, anyway. As the night wore on, he couldn't escape the conclusion that his chance with Julie was suddenly going the way of Atlantis. While Mike was sitting by himself, Julie and Richard were staring into each other's eyes with goofy grins on their faces. They were leaning in to whisper and laugh, obviously enjoying each other's company.
Disgusting.
At least the last time he'd looked, just a few seconds ago.
But what, he wondered, were they doing now?
Slowly, ever so subtly, Mike's eyes began to travel their way again. Julie was facing the other direction, so thankfully she wouldn't see him watching her. If she caught him staring, she might wave at him, or nod and smile, or worse, ignore him. The first two would make him feel like an idiot, the last one would break his heart.
As he turned, he saw Julie rummaging through her purse for something, her eyes focused in her lap.
Richard's eyes, though, locked on his in a cool, almost confident appraisal. Yes, Mike, I know you're staring.
Mike froze, a kid caught pulling a twenty from his mother's wallet.
He wanted to turn away but couldn't seem to summon the energy to move until he heard a voice behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Drew, the lead singer from the band, standing near the table.
"Hey, Mike," Drew said, "got a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something."
An hour later, with Cobra completely inebriated, Andrea headed to the bathroom. As she'd done since she'd first spotted Richard earlier, she scanned the room looking for him as she stood in line. He and Julie were walking off the dance floor. Richard leaned over to whisper something in her ear, then headed toward the men's room.
Knowing he'd pass right by her, Andrea quickly ran her hand through her hair and adjusted her skirt and halter. She stepped out of the line, heading him off.
"Hey, Richard," she said brightly, "how are you?"
"Fine, thanks," he said. Though it took a moment, she saw the recognition in his face. "Andrea, right?"
She smiled, thinking, I knew he'd remember. "I haven't seen you here before," she said.
"It's my first time here."
"Don't you think it's great?"
"Not really."
"Oh, well, neither do I, but there's not that many other places to go around here. Small-town life, you know?"
"I'm learning," he said.
"Friday nights are usually better, though."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. That's when I usually come. In fact, I'm almost always here then."
He paused, looking directly at her and holding her gaze, before finally nodding in Julie's direction.
"Listen-I'd love to stay and talk, but I really can't."
"Because you're with Julie?"
He shrugged. "She is my date."
"Yeah, I know," Andrea said.
"Well, listen-it was nice seeing you again," he said.
"Thanks. You too."
A moment later he pushed on the door, letting it close behind him. While Andrea was staring at the door, Cobra staggered up behind her, mumbling something crude about bodily functions.
As soon as he followed Richard through the door, she decided it was time to leave.
Seeing Cobra one more time, she thought, would ruin the feeling she'd had when her eyes met Richard's.
Just past midnight, with the world glowing silver, Julie stood with Richard on the porch. Frogs and crickets were singing, a light breeze was moving the leaves, and even Singer seemed to be more accepting of Richard. Though his face was poking through the curtains and he was eyeing them carefully, he hadn't made a sound.
"Thanks for tonight," she said.
"You're welcome. I had a wonderful time."
"Even at the Clipper?"
"As long as you had fun, then I'm glad we went."
"Not your kind of place, huh?"
He shrugged. "To be honest, I probably would have preferred something a bit more private. So you and I could be alone."
br /> "We were alone."
"Not the whole time."
She looked at him, a quizzical expression on her face.
"Are you talking about when we sat with my friends for a while?" she asked. "Did you think I did that because I wasn't having fun?"
"I wasn't sure what to think. Sometimes women use that as a kind of escape, when the date isn't going well. As in, 'Help! I need rescuing!' "
She smiled. "Oh, that wasn't it at all. They were the ones I was supposed to go to dinner with tonight, and when I saw them, I wanted to say hi."
Richard's eyes drifted to the porch light, then back to Julie. "Hey . . . listen, I know I was kind of quiet with your friends. I'm sorry about that. I never seem to know what to say."
"You were fine. I'm sure they liked you."
"I'm not too sure that Mike did."
"Mike?"
"He was watching us."
Though she hadn't noticed, she realized she should have expected something like that. "Mike and I have known each other for years," she said. "He watches out for me. That's all."
Richard seemed to evaluate that. Finally, a small smile flickered across his face. "Okay," he said. For a long moment, neither of them said anything else. Then Richard moved toward her.
This time, though she expected the kiss and though she wanted him to do it-or at least thought she wanted him to do it-she couldn't deny the slight feeling of relief when he turned to leave a minute later.
No need to rush into anything, she thought. If it's right, I'll know.
Seven
"There he goes," Henry said, "right on time."
It was Tuesday morning, a few days after their evening at the Clipper. Henry was drinking Dr Pepper and watching Richard as he made his way down the street toward the salon. Richard was carrying a gift-a small box-but that wasn't the reason Henry was curious.
Because he'd told Richard where he worked when they met on Saturday, he'd expected Richard to at least glance toward the garage. The day before, Henry had even waved, but Richard either didn't see him or pretended not to. Instead, he'd kept his eyes forward and walked right on past. Just like today.
Hearing his brother, Mike emerged from beneath the hood of a car. After removing a rag tucked into his belt, he started wiping his hands.
"Must be nice being a consultant," Mike said. "Doesn't that guy ever have to work?"
"Don't get upset now. You used up your yearly quota of pouting last week. Besides, you'd rather have him go see her when she's working than when she's at home, right?"
One look told Henry that Mike hadn't thought of that. Then, almost immediately, Mike's face took on a startled expression.
"Is he bringing her a gift?" he asked.
"Yep."
"What's the special occasion?"
"Maybe he wants to impress her."
Mike wiped his hands again. "Well, if that's the case, maybe I'll just swing by there a little later with a gift of my own."
"Now you're talking," Henry said, slapping his brother on the back. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear you say. A little less whining, a little more action. We Harrises have always been men who rise to the occasion."
"Thanks, Henry."
"But before you head off with guns blazing, let me give you some advice."
"Sure."
"Scrap the gift."
"But I thought you just said-"
"That's his thing. It won't work for you."
"But-"
"Trust me on this. It'll make you look desperate."
"I am desperate."
"You may be," Henry agreed. "But you can't let her know that. She'll think you're pathetic."
"Richard . . . ," Julie said, staring down at the open jewelry case in her hand. Inside was an ornate, heart-shaped locket supported by a gold chain. "It's beautiful."
They were standing outside the door, unaware that Mike and Henry were watching from across the street and Mabel and Singer were peeking through the window behind them. "But . . . why? I mean, what's the occasion?"
"No occasion. I just saw it and, well . . . I liked it. Or rather, I thought of you and knew you should have it."
Julie's eyes flashed to the locket. It was obviously expensive and, consequently, carried added expectations.
As if reading her mind, Richard held up his hands. "Please-I want you to have it. If you have to, think of it as a birthday present."
"My birthday's not until August."
"So I'm a little early." He paused. "Please."
Still . . .
"Richard . . . it's sweet, but I really shouldn't."
"It's just a locket, not an engagement ring."
Still a bit unsure, she finally gave in and kissed him. "Thank you," she murmured.
Richard motioned toward the locket. "Try it on."
Julie unhooked the clasp and slipped it around her neck. "How does it look?"
He stared at the locket, an odd smile on his face, as if he were thinking of something else. He kept his eyes on it as he answered.
"Perfect. It's exactly the way I remember it."
"Remember?"
"From the jewelry store," he said. "But it looks better on you."
"Oh. Well, you shouldn't have."
"You're wrong there. It was exactly what I should have done."
Julie put one hand on her hip. "You're spoiling me, you know. People don't usually go around buying me gifts for no reason at all."
"Then it's a good thing that I do. And do you really believe there always has to be a reason? Haven't you ever seen something that you thought was perfect for someone else, and bought it?"
"Of course. But not like this. And I don't want you to feel like I expect you to do these things, because I don't."
"I know you don't. But that's part of the reason why I like to do it. Everyone needs a surprise now and then." He paused. "So, are you up for doing something this Friday night?"
"I thought you were leaving town for a meeting."
"I was. But it turns out the meeting got canceled. Or rather, my part of it got canceled. I'm free all weekend."
"What did you have in mind?" she asked.
"Something very special. I'd like to keep it a surprise, though."
Julie didn't answer right away, and as if sensing her uncertainty, Richard reached for her hand. "You'll love it, Julie. Trust me on this. But you'll have to get off a little early. I'd have to pick you up at your place around four o'clock."
"Why so early?"
"It takes a while to get where we're going. Do you think you can make it?"
She smiled. "I'll have to shuffle my schedule a bit, but I think I can make it. Should I wear something dressy or casual?"
It was a polite way of asking if she should pack a bag. If he said both, it meant a weekend away, and she couldn't see them doing that just yet.
"I'll be wearing a jacket and tie, if that helps."
It certainly sounded like a legitimate date. "I guess I'll have to do some shopping," she finally said.
"I'm sure you'll be beautiful no matter what you wear."
With that he kissed her again, and when he finally left, Julie's fingers traveled to the locket. It opened with a click, and she saw she was right in assuming small photos could be placed inside. She was surprised to see that he'd already had it engraved with her initials, one on each side.
"This is not looking good, little brother," Henry admitted. "I don't care what Emma said the other night. This is not looking good."
"Thanks for the update, Einstein," Mike grumbled.
"Let me give you some advice."
"More advice?"
Henry nodded, as if telling Mike there was no reason to thank him. "Before you do anything, you're going to have to come up with some sort of plan."
"What kind of plan?"
"I don't know. But if I were you, I'd make it a good one."
"It's lovely," Mabel said, eyeing the locket. "I guess he's really taken with you, huh? It looks like it cos
t a small fortune." She motioned toward the locket. "Do you mind?"
"No, go ahead," Julie said, leaning forward.
Mabel looked it over. "And it's definitely not from one of the jewelers in town. This looks handmade."
"Do you think so?"
"I'm sure of it. Not only that, you've learned something important about Richard Franklin."
"What's that?"
"He's got good taste."
Mabel let go of the locket, and Julie felt it tap gently against her chest. She looked at it again. "Now I just have to find a couple of pictures to go inside."
Mabel's eyes twinkled. "Oh, honey-if you're beating around the bush, don't worry about it. I'd be more than happy to give you a picture of me to carry with you. I'd be honored, in fact."
Julie laughed. "Thanks. You were the first one I thought of, you know."
"I'm sure. So-you gonna put a picture of Singer in there?"
At the mention of his name, Singer looked up. He'd been standing beside Julie since she'd come back into the salon, and Julie ran her hand along his back.
"With this bozo, I'd probably have to stand a hundred yards away to get one of him that would fit."
"True," Mabel said. "What's going on with him, anyway? He's been so clingy lately."
"I have no idea. But you're right-he's been driving me crazy. I keep stumbling over him every time I turn around."
"How is he with Richard? At home, I mean?"
"Like he is here," she said. "He stares, but at least he doesn't growl like he did the first time."
Singer whined, a low squeak emerging from his throat, sounding almost too small to be coming from him.
Quit complaining, it seemed to mean. We both know you love me no matter how I act.
A plan, Mike thought, I need a plan.
Mike rubbed his chin, unaware that he was leaving grease along his jaw. Henry was right, he thought. For once, the guy had actually said something important, something that made sense. A plan was definitely what he needed.
But the problem, Mike soon realized, was that it was a lot easier to say that he needed a plan than to actually come up with one. Mike wasn't much of a planner and never had been. Things just sort of happened and he went along with the flow, like a cork bobbing atop the waves. Usually that wasn't such a bad thing. For the most part, he was happy; for the most part, he felt pretty good about himself, even if the whole artist and musician thing hadn't worked out so far.
But now the stakes were a little higher. The chips were down, and it was time to lay the cards on the table. Put up or shut up. The going was rough, and it was time to get going. There was no time like the present, because the early bird catches the worm.