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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nancy

S omeone was pounding on my door, and had been pounding for a while. I struggled out of a dream that had a great deal of pounding in it. Liam stirred as I slid out of bed.

I found my nightshirt and slipped it on as I went for the door.

I pulled it open and beheld Peter and Enid, who looked electrified.

“Good God, Nancy! You’re not dressed!” Enid peeked into the room, eyes widening as they landed on Liam sitting on the bed, dressed only in his jeans.

“Remember yesterday at the Exhibition Hall when you were talking to the promoter for the Jericho Arts Center in D.C.? Where Bonnie Blair is opening next week?”

“Uh, yes, of course. I gave him a packet. He seemed interested in an opening act sometime,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“That’s just it! Sammy Phillips with the Phelps Bay Blues Band was opening for Bonnie, but he wrecked his car yesterday, and?—”

“Oh, no!” Dismay shocked me to full consciousness. “Sammy had an accident?”

“Don’t worry, Sammy’ll be fine,” Peter said impatiently. “But he broke his collarbone. Enid and I were having a drink at the bar, and the promoter came up and asked if we’re free Wednesday. I told him, are we ever!”

I was wide awake now. “Opening for Bonnie Blair? At the Jericho? This Wednesday?”

Enid and Peter nodded, identical grins splitting their faces. “Is that spectacular, or what?” Peter crowed.

“That’s incredible! I’ve got to get on the phone to the presenter. To all the venues in D.C., Maryland, and Virginia. And get pictures to the press.”

“But that’s not all,” Enid said. “There’s more. Get this, Nance. There just happened to be this exec from MGM Studios in Hollywood staying at the hotel, and he heard our showcase! He loved it!”

“Hollywood?” I rubbed my stinging eyes. “Excuse me?”

“His name is Maitland Sills, and he’s going to put his production department in touch with us,” Enid burbled.

“He says ‘The Far Shore’ is perfect for the closing credits of a big-budget feature film they’re producing!

Talk to him pronto, because he’s leaving for Logan Airport in an hour.

He’s got a meeting this afternoon in L.A. ”

“Holy crap,” I said slowly. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Enid and Peter exchanged glances. “Your phone was turned off,” they said in unison.

“I would’ve introduced you to Sills right after the showcase, but you vanished,” Peter sounded long-suffering. His eyes flicked over my shoulder, to Liam.

“Why not call the room?” I demanded. “You knew my room number!”

“We tried,” Enid said, her voice aggrieved. “It was disconnected.”

My head whipped around to check. Sure enough, the jack of the room phone had been disconnected. I stared at it, horrified. Liam met my gaze and gave me an unapologetic shrug.

Tension gathered in my neck. My throat tightened.

“See what I’m saying?” Peter sounded triumphant. “Focus, Nance. No distractions. You’ll come to the Jericho gig, right?”

“I definitely should,” I said.

“It’s finally happening, Nance!” Enid said excitedly. “We’re going to totally slay!”

Liam moved around in the room behind me, and I suddenly remembered our sailboat plans. “Oh. Wait. I, um, did have plans for the next few days,” I said.

Liam’s muscular back was to me as he rifled through his overnight bag.

“Postpone ’em,” Peter said, waving a dismissive hand. “This is the chance of a lifetime. Nothing trumps this.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing anxiously around.

Peter followed my gaze. His face hardened. “He’s not coming with us.”

“Don’t worry.” Liam’s voice was remote. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Peter made an impatient sound. “Good. So? Enid will go down and stall Maitland Sills while you get yourself together. But hurry! See you in a few.”

I shut the door and turned to face Liam.

His face looked as hard as a mask. “So we can forget our plans, I take it.”

I pressed my fist against my mouth. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m sorry, Liam, but everything has to stop for this gig. I’ll be on the phone nonstop for days to publicize?—”

“I understand perfectly.”

Hope stirred briefly. “You do?”

“Of course. I should never have put down a deposit. It was stupid. There’s always going to be something more important for you. Always.”

Hope shriveled and died. I stared at his averted face as he fished under the bed for his shoes. “Liam, I would love to go on this trip! Let’s do it when I get back!”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “We won’t. Something else will come up. And something else after that. I know that tune by heart.”

“We’re not listening to the same tune,” I said. “Besides, we couldn’t keep up this eternal vigilance routine much longer anyhow. I understand the feelings behind it, but we both have to make money, and this is the biggest?—”

He held up his hand. “Stop. You’re just making it worse.”

My knees weakened with dread. “We’ve … we’ve hit that wall, haven’t we?”

Liam dragged a shirt over his head and tucked it into his jeans with swift, economical motions. “We are roadkill,” he said.

I laid my hand on his chest. “Liam. It can’t be over just because of this. This is stupid. This is just bad timing. That’s all!”

He stepped back, and my hand dropped, with nothing to hold on to. My jaw trembled. “I was starting to think we had a chance,” I said.

“So come sailing with me.” His voice was hard and cold. “You can’t, can you? Of course not. You’ll never prioritize that. You’ve made your choice. Own it.”

“Liam, I’ve been working for this moment for my whole adult life!”

“So good luck with it.” He took the revolver from the back of his jeans, opened the cylinder and shook the bullets out into his hand.

He tossed the empty gun into his bag and looked up at me, his eyes flinty cold.

“Better start making those phone calls. No time to lose. And don’t you have a producer downstairs to schmooze with? ”

“Wow,” I whispered. “You are the most rigid, uncompromising person I have ever known.”

“Remember what I said last night, about putting my foot down? This is what that looks like. I never said it was pleasant.”

“And you don’t care what gets crushed under your boot?”

He shrugged on his coat. “This conversation is over.”

I grabbed his arm. “You can’t just cut me off, Liam!”

He wrenched away, a muscle in his jaw pulsing. “I’ll do what has to be done.” He walked out, and the door thunked shut behind him.

I sank down onto the bed, shaking. Wrapped in the deafening silence.