The Way You Make Me Feel by Francine Craft Page B

told I’m part owner of. He’s a very nasty man, and I think he hates me. Detective Rollins told me I’m set to testify against him in his tax evasion trial this October. Apparently I have a lot of guts.”
    She stopped for a long moment. “Something on a different subject. I sing on Thursday nights at Club Insomnia. I want to start singing again as soon as possible.”
    The doctor smiled. “You need to give your head a rest, but depending on what your doctor says, I’d think next Thursday would be good. You do have a lot of guts and that’s what it’s going to take to beat this thing. Now, let’s free associate some more.”
    And for the next half hour the doctor gently said words and Stevie responded. Only near the end did she remember to tell him about the statement she had made regarding Bretta while Detective Rollins was there. “That’s very good,” he said, “and you tell me you’re getting more and more images as we talk. Don’t be surprised if after a few days, this comes to you in blocks and in a short while you’ll remember most of your past.
    It may take no more than a week or a few weeks or a few months. I’m very hopeful about this. You’re doing beautifully, my dear, and I’m very proud of you.”
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    Damien took Stevie to the Gold Standard restaurant downtown. The place was one of the most popular in Nashville, and if you lingered there for a while, you’d see most of the city’s musical people wander in. Damien waved to a young man seated at a table.
    â€œAny table at all,” the maître d’ promised, coming up with a wide smile.
    â€œI want Wilson with my company,” Damien told her. “He’s as good with gospel as he is with hip-hop, maybe better. Jake’s trying to get him. His life’s a mess. His wife left him and took his son that he adores. He’s clinging to me as a lifeline.” He looked around. “Order for me, too. I’ll have whatever you’re having. A lot of people here today. I’m just a few tables away and I’ll have my eye on you. If this conversation weren’t so private, we three would be together.”
    â€œI’ll be fine,” she said.
    Damien went to the other table and Stevie looked around. A tall, grim-faced man with wavy black hair and ginger skin left his table and made his way to hers. Once there, he glared down at her.
    â€œWell, if it isn’t Joan of Arc, on the warpath to save humanity.”
    â€œI beg your pardon.” She looked at him levelly.
    He was very angry. His skin seemed to have hot coals under it. She glanced over toward the table where Damien sat and found him studying the scene. She drew a swift breath. “What can I do for you, Mr.—?”
    â€œThe name’s Keith Muncy and, yeah, I heard almost as soon as I got out that you no longer remember anything. Too bad that didn’t happen a long time ago.”
    â€œI’ve been warned about you, Mr. Muncy, and I have nothing to say to you.”
    â€œWell, I’ve got plenty to say to you. Watch your back, lady, ’cause like the old country song, I always repay every debt I owe, and I owe you big-time.”
    His fists were clenched; she remained calm. As Damien started to get up, the man walked away abruptly, looking back over his shoulder. Damien looked at her and raised his eyebrows. She put her fingers to her mouth and blew him a kiss and his nutmeg-colored skin flushed. Grinning, he returned her kiss.
    The waiter came and she ordered barbecued baby-pork ribs, lima beans, zucchini squash, macaroni with cheese and a garden salad. She’d let Damien choose the dessert.
    She was facing the door so she saw the party when they came in, just as they’d come into Club Insomnia the day before. Jake McGowan, Honi, Jake’s bodyguard and his lawyer. As the maître d’ led the group to a table and seated them, Jake