It was Frank Madsen—Rob’s friend from his office. No, not his friend—an acquaintance, Rob had called him. Jess hadn’t noticed Frank at first, standing quietly behind Ian.
“You don’t mind if we join you?” Ian asked mockingly, pulling another chair up to the table and sitting down. “You all know Frank Madsen, right? Of course you do. I first met him at one of your gigs, Jess. And he works over at that computer place with Robert, isn’t that correct?”
Jess smiled tightly at Frank as he shook hands briefly with Rob. She had to get Ian and his abusive mouth away from Kelsey. “Actually, Ian, I do mind—”
He tossed a ring with two keys onto the table. “Here are your car keys, Robert,” he said. “Thank you so very much.”
Jess looked up at Rob in surprise. “You lent Ian your car?” she said.
I’m sorry, his eyes said. His arm was still protectively around her, and she felt her pulse quicken from the warmth and solidness of his body next to hers. “He had some kind of emergency,” Rob told her quietly, “and I didn’t need it…. He was going to drop it off tonight, so I called and left a message on his machine that I wouldn’t be home—that I’d be here, with you.”
He clearly hadn’t expected Ian to come all the way out here to return his car—and to hassle Jess. But despite the words of warning he’d given her recently, he obviously didn’t know Ian very well. Certainly not well enough to lend him his car. But Rob was always loaning people his car. Jess remembered a few months ago she’d heard that he’d even let Stanford Greene borrow it.
“I told you just to leave it in the driveway,” Rob said to Ian. “With the key under the mat.”
Ian shrugged expansively. “I thought I’d do you a favor and bring it out here.”
“I have to get ready for my next set,” Jess said abruptly. “And no doubt Ian has someplace else to be…?”
“Actually, no,” he replied, sitting back in his chair and stretching his legs out underneath the table. “Frank and I were just talking, weren’t we, Frank?”
“Ian—” Frank said in a warning voice, shaking his head. He met Jess’s eyes apologetically. He was older than the rest of them, in his midforties at least, with straight golden brown hair and rather nondescript hazel eyes. He was tall, quite a bit over six feet, with a paunch starting out front. He looked like a former football player gone to seed, still quite handsome, but fading around the edges.
“I was wondering just how many men in this place want to make it with my ex-wife,” Ian mused. “I’d guess there are three right here, sitting at this table.”
Kelsey put down her crayons and stared at her father, hostility on her small face.
Rob squeezed Jess’s shoulder, then crossed around to Kelsey, digging several quarters from his pocket. “C’mon, Bug, why don’t you go play a video game?”
“With you?” Kelsey asked hopefully.
Rob glanced across the table. Jess nodded once. Yes. She wanted Kelsey away from there. She could handle Ian, particularly with Frank nearby.
As Rob led Kelsey away, Ian laughed. “Look at that guy, auditioning for the part of ‘Daddy,’” he mocked. “Isn’t that sweet? It makes me want to puke.”
“Ian, please leave,” Jess said quietly. She could feel the bartender watching them, his sharp eyes picking up the undercurrents of trouble.
Frank stood uncertainly near the table, unsure whether to sit or stand or leave Jess and her ex-husband alone.
Ian leaned forward. “Can you believe I saw Stanford Greene sitting at the bar?” he said, his voice lowered to a loud stage whisper. “How on earth did you persuade him to leave his mommy’s basement? Really, Jess, he’s not quite your type. I just can’t imagine the two of you together. Well, actually, I can, and it’s really rather hideous—”
Frank made his decision. “Ian, leave Jess alone. Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”
“Without seeing Jess’s last set? We couldn’t!”
“Yes, sir, we certainly could,” Frank said firmly.
“You go then,” Ian said with a shrug. “I’m staying.”
“Excuse me. My break’s almost over.” Jess smiled one last time at Frank, then escaped into the crowd. When Ian became so absolutely pigheaded, there was no use arguing with him. She could only hope that he wasn’t loaded enough to start heckling her during her set.
She headed toward the bar, hoping to get a cool glass of soda to ease the headache that had started with Ian’s arrival. But she caught sight of Stanford Greene’s unblinking stare directly in her path, and made a quick detour to the stage. There were only a few more minutes before she had to go on, and she might as well spend the time tuning her guitar….
A hand touched her lightly on the back of her neck, and she jumped, spinning around. “Oh! Frank, you startled me!”
“Sorry.” The older man smiled apologetically. “I just wanted to say that I’ll try to keep Ian away from you.”
She looked up into Frank’s kind eyes. “Ian’s not your responsibility.”
Frank shrugged. “It’s not a problem. I’m happy to run interference.” He paused. “You know, Rob gave me a call, to let me know you were playing out here tonight. I guess you got this job sort of last minute, huh?”
“The manager called me just this afternoon.”
Frank nodded slowly. “Good for you,” he said.
Jess gazed across the club, to where she could see Rob’s brown hair near the pair of video games in the corner. “I can’t believe Rob lent Ian his car.”
“Good old Rob.” Frank smiled. “I’ve borrowed his car several times myself in a pinch.”
“He’s very generous,” Jess said.
“Yes, sir, he is, indeed.” Frank hesitated. “I didn’t know you two were…dating.”
Jess smiled. “Tonight’s our first date,” she said. “If you can even call it a date. I mean, Kelsey’s with us, and I’m performing….”
Frank nodded. “Oh. Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”
He turned to go. Jess put her hand on his arm, and it was Frank’s turn to jump.
“Sorry.” She smiled gently at his tense expression. “I just wanted to say, if I don’t see you after the set, thanks for coming. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Jess strapped on her guitar, and sat back up on the stool. From over at the bar, she caught a glimpse of the bartender, Pete, watching her.
All evening long she’d been aware of his pale gray eyes following her around the room.
She met his eyes almost defiantly, and he smiled. Or at least he moved his lips upward in an approximate facsimile of a smile. This was not a man to whom a broad, heartfelt smile was a natural expression. It was strange that Lenny should hire him as a bartender. He normally liked retired bouncers—big, tall men with biceps the size of her thigh. Either that, or Lenny hired out-of-work stand-up comics. This Pete was obviously neither.
He wasn’t skinny, but he was no Arnold Schwarzenegger. As for his sense of humor…well, he was no barrel of laughs, either. There was something strange about him, and it was more than just the way he always seemed to watch her—after all, she was a performer. People were supposed to watch her.
Adjusting her microphone, Jess began to play a soft, soothing instrumental. She closed her eyes and