Keith didn’t like the idea of contradicting anyone as powerful as Alaina Sheridan, but he had to stand his ground. “Nope. The deal was I don’t have to open my mouth in front of the camera. Just play guitar. No singing.”
“How about this,” said Sheridan. “You sing over the closing credits. Do that one you were just singing.”
“Well, Ms. Sheridan, I’m not a singer. I just—”
“Al. Please, call me Al. Tell you what, there’s no need to decide right now. I mean, we just threw this at you. Give it some time, and if you still want to pass, fine. That fair?”
It was, he had to acknowledge, fair. And everyone got to save face. But he wasn’t doing it and that was that. Leave singing to people who did it a lot better than he did and let him do what he did best, play guitar a lot better than most others did. Once the director got everyone back together, the scene got wrapped up one, two, three.
Keith got to the hotel and realized he’d left his shaving kit in Minneapolis. He’d have to have them mail it to him. He stretched out on the bed and decided not to catch another nap — he was going to get some actual sleep for a change.
He woke up feeling rested for the first time since leaving New York. Rolled over and grabbed the phone. And woke her. “…Uh?”
“Darlin’, I’m sorry.” He hadn’t stopped to look at the time. It was a little after one AM. Nearing the dead of night back in New York.
“Baby,” she groggily responded with a sexy frog in her throat, “what time is it? You back?”
“No, we’re in Chicago.”
“Chicago?” She was gathering her wits.
“Yeah, it came up out of nowhere. But I didn’t mean to wake you. Go on, get some sleep.”
“Was there anything important?”
“No, I just opened my eyes and was thinking about you.”
“That’s sweet.”
“You ain’t return none of my calls.”
“Well, baby, I’ve…I’ve been kind of tied up.” He could’ve sworn she was making an excuse.
He heard himself blurt out, “Let’s get married.”
“I thought we’d already agreed on that, didn’t we?”
“No, I mean now.”
“Honey, I’m not getting dressed and fly to Chicago at…at whatever time it is in the morning.”
“Les, I’m talking about soon as I get home. First thing. Run down to the City Hall, see the justice of the peace and just do it.”
“But you haven’t even given me a ring.”
“Girl, by the time you settle on one you like, the baby’ll be born, growed up, and on his or her way to college.”
“…Okay. We’ll do it.”
“Really?”
“Really. As soon as you get here.”
“Great.”
“So, when’s that?”
“I’ll get a flight tomorrow. Be there by the time you get off work.”
“Fine, let’s do it. See you soon.”
“See y’ soon. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie. ’Bye.”
“Bye, babe.”
Next week: Keith and Sam chat in Chi-Town.
Dwight Hobbes welcomes reader responses to P.O. Box 50357, Mpls., 55403.
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