“I shouldn’t give away my secrets, but while you were navigating turns and learning how to gun the engine on my car, I texted Mariah to call the owner and let him know we needed a quiet spot and we’d appreciate coming in through the back door.”
“Ah...Mariah. Your secret weapon.”
“She makes things happen.”
“I’ve noticed. She anticipates your every move and watches out for you.”
“Yeah, like a mother hen,” he said. “Not that I’m ungrateful. She’s like my second right arm.” He lifted his broken wrist. “And in my condition, that’s important.”
A uniformed waiter pushed a food cart to their table. Zane practically salivated. He’d been craving the homemade guacamole since earlier in the day. The waiter set out a molcajete and tejolote, a mortar and pestle carved from volcanic rock, to begin preparations. Squeezing lime juice into the bowl first, he added cilantro, bits of tomato, garlic and other spices. Next he used the pestle to grind all the flavors together and scooped out three perfectly ripe avocados. The aroma of the blended spices and avocados flavored the air. Once done, the guacamole and warm tortilla chips were placed on the table.
After the waiter took their dinner order, he walked off with his cart. Zane grabbed a tortilla chip and dipped it into the fresh green mixture, offering it to Jess first. “Taste this and tell me it’s not heaven.”
She leaned in close enough for him to place the chip into her mouth. As she chewed, a beautiful smile emerged, and her eyes closed. She sighed. “Oh, this is so good.”
Drawn to the sublime expression on her face, he forgot about his craving for a few seconds. Eyeing her reaction distracted him in ways that might’ve been worrisome, if it hadn’t been Jess. As soon as she finished chewing, she snapped her eyes open. “You didn’t have one yet?”
“No...it was too much fun watching you.”
“I seem to be a source of your amusement lately.”
That much was true. Jess being here brightened up his solemn mood. That wasn’t a bad thing, was it? He dipped a chip in and came up with a large chunk of guacamole. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed. On a swallow, he said. “Oh, man. That’s good.”
Jess’s eyes darted past him, focusing on something happening behind his back.
“Uh...oh. Don’t turn around, Zane,” she whispered.
As soon as her words were out, two twentysomething girls approached the table, giddy and bumping shoulders with each other. “Hello. Excuse me,” one of them said. “But we’re big fans of yours.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“Would you mind signing a napkin for us?”
He glanced at Jessica and she nodded.
“Sure will.”
They produced two white napkins and a pen, which made things a little less awkward. Zane hated waiting around while fans scrambled for something for him to autograph. They gave him their names, and he signed the napkins and handed them back.
“Thank you. Thank you. You’re our favorite country singer. I just can’t believe we’ve met you. Your last ballad was amazing. You have the best voice. I saw you in concert five years ago, when I was living in Abilene with my folks.”
Zane kept a smile on his face. The girls were clueless that they were interrupting his meal with Jessica. “Well, that’s nice to hear.”
They stared at him, hovering close.
Jessica stood up then. Bracing her hands on the table, she smiled at the girls. “Hello. I’m Jessica, Zane’s sister-in-law.” The girls seemed baffled when she shook both of their hands. “We were having a little family talk, and we’re limited on time. Otherwise I’m sure Zane would love to speak to you. If you give me your names and addresses, I’ll see that you get a signed CD of his latest album. And please be discreet when you leave here,” she whispered. “Zane loves meeting his fans, but we really need a few private moments during our meal tonight.”
“Oh, okay. Sure,” one of them said congenially.
The other girl wrote their addresses on the napkin Jessica provided before she wished them well. Giggling quietly, the two women walked away.
Zane stared at Jessica. “I’m impressed.”
“I’ve been listening to how Mariah deals with your fan club members. I hope it’s okay that I offered them a CD.”
“It’s fine. Happens all the time. I wish I’d have thought of it myself.”
“They were persistent.”
Zane shook his head. “I could tell you stories.” But he wouldn’t. Some of the things that had happened to him while touring on the road weren’t worth repeating. “Actually, these two were a little subtle compared with some of the people who approach me.”
“You mean, compared with the women who approach you.”
He scrubbed his chin, his fingers brushing over prickly stubble. “I suppose.”
Jessica snorted. “You don’t have to be modest on my account. I know you’re in demand.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “In demand? What are you getting at?”
“You’re single, available, successful and handsome. Those two women who left here would probably describe you as a hottie, a hunk, a heartthrob and a hero. You’re in the 4-H club of men.”
His smile broadened. “The 4-H club of men? You just made that up.”
“Maybe,” she said, taking a big scoop of guacamole and downing the chip in one big swallow. “Maybe not.”
“You constantly surprise me,” he said, sipping water. He could use something stronger. “I like that about you.”
“And I like that you’re decent to folks who admire you.”
Their eyes met, and something warm zipped through his gut. Jessica’s compliments meant more to him than ten thousand wide-eyed, giddy fans. He admired her, too. “Ah, shucks, ma’am. Now you’re gonna make me blush.”
Another unladylike snort escaped through her mouth. Zane grinned and leaned way back in his seat just as his cell phone rang. Dang, he didn’t want to speak to anyone now, but only a few close friends and family knew his number. He fished the phone out of his pocket. “It’s Mariah,” he said to Jessica. He turned his wrist to glance at his watch. It was after eight. “That’s odd. She usually texts me if she needs me for something after hours. Excuse me a second.”
“Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Zane, s-something terrible’s h-happened.” Sobs came through the phone, Mariah’s voice frantic and unsteady. Zane froze, those words instilling fear and flashing a bad memory. “My mother had a stroke. It’s pretty b-bad.”
“Oh, man. Sorry to hear that, Mariah.”
“I have to fly home right away. Th-they don’t know...oh, Zane...she’s so young. Only sixty-four. She never had health problems before. Oh, God.”
“Mariah, you just do what you have to do. Don’t worry about a thing.” Her voice broke down, her sobs growing louder. “Where are you?”
“At Patty’s h-house in Santa Monica.” She shared a place temporarily with an old college roommate. The situation was perfect while he was staying on Moonlight Beach. She was close by without living under his roof.
“Pack up a few things and try to stay calm. Do you have a flight?”
“Patty