Four Kinds of Rain Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Thanks for the chance.”
    Bob looked at the other band members, who all nodded their heads at once.
    “You want the gig, you got it,” he said.
    “Oh my God,” she said. “Really?”
    “Really,” Bob said. “We don’t
have
to hear any more. That was totally cool. What do you say?”
    “Yeah,” she said. “I say oh yeah.”
    “Welcome to the Rockaholics,” Ling said.
    “Thanks,” Jesse said. “I feel like I just won
American Idol.”
    There was a cheer from some leather-jacketed art students in the back of the bar, and suddenly Bob was hugging Jesse Reardon and feeling the warmth of her body, her lovely breasts crushing against his chest. “Let’s do another tune,” Curtis said. “You know ‘Tell Mama’?”
    Jesse bit her bottom lip, smiled from the corner of her mouth, and said:
    “Tell Mama
all about
it, baby!”
    Everyone laughed and Bob screamed into the lead, as the band kicked in behind their new lead singer.
    That night the new lineup, ragged and unrehearsed as it was, was a huge hit. And Bob Wells heard himself play better, tougher, tighter than he had in twenty years. The crowd went wild. Old and Young Finnegan grabbed Lizzie Littman, the porn filmmaker, and danced on the bar. Tommy Morello picked up Lou Anne Johnson, twirled her around, and tossed her to Dave, who caught her and crashed to the floor. Gabe DeStefano was so thrilled he wrote five really bad poems about boats and the bay. Even old, drunken Wyatt Ratley, a burn victim from a fire at Larmel Steel, and one of Bob’s patients, got up and did a kind of clog dance with two sexy Maryland Institute girls who’d stopped by. At the end of the night, the band was called back for four encores, and even after three whiskeys and five beers, Bob was barely tired at all. In fact, he hadn’t felt this good since … well, since his old street-fighting days.
    The only blight on the evening was that the music was so loud, and so good, that it attracted some street people who were hanging out outside the front door.
    After trying and failing to come in the front door, 911 and two of his gutter pals got in through a back window, and started a fight right in the middle of “Money.”
    Dave McClane intercepted them as they tried to leap onto the dance floor, and Nine immediately kicked him in the balls. Dave fell back right into Lou Anne’s waiting arms, howling in pain. Old and Young Finnegan quickly restored order, however, by throwing Nine and his smelly buddies bodily out into the street. Other than that, things rocked at the Lodge in a way they hadn’t for a long time.
    As they packed up their amps and guitars at 3:00 A.M., Bob thought about the old Dinah Washington song: “What a Difference a Day Makes.” She had it dead right, he thought. His life looked considerably brighter the minute Jesse had walked through the door.

CHAPTER SIX
    During the next few weeks, Bob tried hard not to think of Jesse Reardon. He tried not to think of her lips, her breasts. He tried not to think of the way she swayed into the mike, or the smell of her perfume so close to him as he leaned into her, singing harmony on “Rainy Night in Georgia.” He tried to forget her little half smile, and her laugh … so fully alive … so wonderful … God help him.
    He tried to forget her because he was sure, absolutely sure, that she
must
be seeing a guy, though none ever showed up at any of the Lodge gigs. Then Dave told him that he’d heard that Jesse had been married to a redneck house painter named Dwight Reardon who’d gotten hooked on pills and booze and was living in the street.
    Which meant she was free, but not for long. Every man at the Lodge was hitting on her. Christ, she’d caused a sensation. He had to do something, make a move….
    But he did nothing. Doubt had overtaken him. He was twelve years older than she was, and not in the greatest of shape. What shot did he have?
    None.
    Who was he kidding?
    But still, the way she sang with him onstage, the