Hill listened in amazement. Four months before, when a friend had brought him to The Jelly Roll for the first time and he had heard Alexanna sing, he had been enraptured. Her voice was deep, almost mannish; smooth and heavy like thick folds of silk being pulled through the ocean. That voice had instantly become his addiction. Even after their one night together, it compelled him to return to the club for the four nights per week that she performed. The club always brought new acts, but this virtuosic singer - marketed simply as Anna - was the main act; and he suspected that people returned, not for those new musicians, but for her. He certainly did. It still baffled him that he had chosen to leave what had become his customary post in the darkest corner of the blues club, to sit front and center in the same chair in which he had been sitting on that night they got together.
Finally, he knew why he had gotten her attention that night a month ago, and why she'd acted out of character in taking him home. Something in him regretted that she would forever associate him and that seat with sadness of her grandfather's passing.
He wondered if that reminder was why she had been so cool during their lovemaking. Because, even as he tried to convince himself that their one night was nothing but an unremarkable tumble, he knew that it had been far more for him. She might have been almost aloof, but for the first time in his life, Hill had made love to a woman. Another part of him believed it was fate that pushed them together. He'd been a fan for months now, but destiny had pushed him to that table on a night when she'd needed someone. She was like Sleeping Beauty, trapped in a crystal coffin, and despite his instincts to run away from what was obviously an enchantment, he wanted to remain. To revive her.
She looked at him, but also through him as she blindly sang. It was as if he was not occupying the chair and he knew then that she was singing only to her late grandfather. It didn’t matter that it was Hill sitting in that chair. If she’d sang so soulfully for anyone but her grandfather, he might be jealous. As it was, he was already jealous that someone other than himself, even a memory, could move her so completely. Her grandfather might be her treasure, but the moment Hill had laid eyes on her, she had become his private obsession.
When Anna arrived at the lyrics, “But if you go, go, I won't cry, though the good is gone from the word 'goodbye',” she blinked away the haze of sorrow and really looked at him. Her voice changed. Hardened, in a way. On the final notes, she lifted her head higher as if to say, “Damn you and the world! I don’t need you.” She dared her love to leave, singing "Ne me quitte pas…Ne me quitte pas… Ne me quitte pas," even as her voice begged for her beloved to stay. Tragic. Emotional. Alive. For this one song, she was the living loving the eternally lost.
Slowly, as the song came to an end, as if her soul was reluctant to retreat behind the glamour of ice, he saw that defiance retreat and wished for even her resentment of him to return.
For months he had been just another member of the audience. Then the night he had chosen to sit there, Anna's song had been ‘You Can’t Tell The Difference After Dark.' The song was quirky, and she’d left the stage to mingle with the audience. Somehow she had ended up sitting on his lap and crooning to him, hiding her brittleness behind raw talent. That night, her long, dark locks were netted and pulled into huge, sexy victory rolls, like some femme fatale from another time.
Tonight her hair was dyed crimson and pulled into a bun high in the back of her head. She’d studded the bun with tiny, glittering jet. This made her look like she had a halo, which was a curious mix with the devilish black dress that she wore. He had yet to see her look the same way twice. She was like hothouse blooms, always evolving, ever stunning. By her very nature fragile.
Sometimes, she looked as thin as a reed in long, cuffed trousers and a crisp blouse. Other times, like tonight, she was the quintessential vixen with the type of curvaceous body he’d thought had disappeared halfway through the last century. Though her skin was dark as molasses it had a golden glow, as if the sun itself could not help but wake up and kiss her under the stage lights. She overwhelmed him. Her breasts were too large, her hips and buttocks too thick, and her legs miles too long. The secret of her body was her toned abdomen, smooth and tight despite the lushness of her figure. She was super-model sized, larger than life, and the ideal he had only discovered when he'd first heard her sing.
Hill looked at the leg revealed through the slit of her dress and groaned to himself. He remembered the fruity taste of her inner thighs and damned himself a thousand times a fool for running away on the morning after. He should have remained in her bed and worked harder to make her feel. When a woman didn’t know how to make love, only a coward or a fool didn’t take the time to teach her.
Hill sat, willing to wait the entire evening to speak with her. Absorbing the beauty that could not be typecast. She had the strangest, most arresting eyes. They were dark, large and slanted like a cat’s. He fancied her lashes were black feathers framing them. Her nose was straight and long, widening at the nostrils. But it was her lips. Heaven help him, her mouth was wide and full, her lips thick and pouting. She always looks as if she’s just been thoroughly kissed, he thought to himself, and wants another. Despite her appearance, and the discomfort tenting his slacks, Hill saw that she was no longer really there at the club.
With a new song, her soul had fought back against the walls of her forced self-restraint and prevailed. Tonight, Anna had become something more than just outstanding talent. She had become a diva. Her voice had become something more, and had he truly run away from their night together, he would have missed this opportunity to witness her evolution. Now he understood that the voice that he appreciated so much, had only been that - an impressive abstract, that was still more than enough for her to achieve superstardom. Tonight that voice had become the sole outlet for the feelings her reserved nature kept bottled inside. Tonight, she had become a legendary performer.
Reluctantly, he dragged his gaze away from Anna to look at the people seated around him. Cocktail napkins had become kerchiefs, couples pulled their chairs together to form loveseats, the bartenders stopped tending, and the members of the house band just closed their eyes and played their hearts to Anna's tune - the music gradually softening to a faintly echoing backdrop to her vocals.
Thinking quickly, he pulled out his cell and recorded the rest of her performance. He scanned the audience. He scanned the band. He caught the birth of an angel.
It was two hours later before Anna finished singing. Afterwards, she changed into her waitress uniform and went out to clear tables. This was the way she picked up extra cash as patrons tipped her for their drinks, but mostly for her show. Since she'd started working here as a waitress, and had been given a chance opportunity to sing, Anna also chose not to burn her bridges behind her. God forbid anything should go wrong with her voice, management wouldn't have a reason to fire her because of her dual value to them.
Tony Rascall was on stage wailing like a hound at a full moon, but he played like Jimmy Hendrix’s dreams. Anna blew him a kiss in passing and the Rascall winked at her. At the end of her performance, he'd whispered, "Don't think I want to go out there tonight, kid. Not after that show you just put on. Righteous!"
Hill witnessed their brief interaction with displeasure. He glared at the other man from his seat in the dark corner - where he'd retreated once she'd gone off the stage. Alexanna was not working this section of the club, but he could see her clearly from his vantage point. He almost felt like a stalker.
It was another three beers and a shot of whiskey, approximately four hours, before she finished working. He was leaning against her car door when she came out laughing. She and the Rascall had their arms wrapped companionably around each other. They stopped when they saw him, and Hill heard the other man ask if she would be alright.
“I believe so. I know him.” Once before, she had allowed herself to see Hilliard as something he really wasn’t. “I’ll see you later.” Tony kissed her cheek and hugged her b
efore he settled into his car. She knew he wouldn’t leave the lot until she was safely in her own vehicle and driving away.
“Hello, Alex.” Hill pretended a nonchalance he did not feel.
Anna stood ten feet away from him. “Anna,” she said, distracted by the pale light of his gaze.
“What?” he responded, confused.
“If you must shorten my name, then you should know that I prefer Anna. Alex was my father.” It was terrible that she had slept with this man, given him a piece of herself that no one else had, and he did not know her name. They had never exchanged more than first names, and had botched even that. “My name is Alezanna Dux. Alezanna with a 'z' instead of an 'x'. Lastname D-U-X.” She fitted the car key between her fingers as a weapon, just to be cautious, then folded her arms across her chest.
“I know your surname.” Hill studied her wary pose. Was she afraid of him? “I asked Jon Campbell. Are you any relation to Alex Dux, The General?”
She nodded. “He was my father.”
Hill nodded. Her father had been a great boxer who had died much too young. “My name is Hilliard Collis Griffin, III.”
Stunned, Anna gaped at him. “Griffin as in Griffin Hill Bank?”
“I was named for it, and it was named for my grandfather, the original Hill Griffin.” His cheek twitched from embarrassment. He knew what it was like to have her legs propped on his shoulders, but until he’d called Jon and asked about the woman he’d met with, he had not known Alex's - no Anna’s - full name. It was then that he realized she probably didn’t know his name either. Or was she just pretending ignorance and wanted to lure him in order to get him to grant her that loan. After all, of the ten offices along that corridor, why had she barreled into his? Hill studied her expression. No. Until this moment she had not known who he was. Nor, depressing as it was to admit, had she cared.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she groaned as an awful premonition swept over her. Anna pressed a hand to her throat and made a beeline for her passenger side door. “Would you please go away, Hilliard?”
“Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” he asked, ignoring her desperation. Even as a part of him wanted to turn around and never look back, he was drowning for her. Hill could have any woman he wanted, but beyond all reason he had been obsessed with this woman from the moment he'd first heard her voice. Then, fatalistically, he'd seen her. He’d tried to wipe Anna from his mind, but the more he pushed her away, the worse things got. She was like a mistletoe, planted firmly in his side.
Anna climbed into the car via the passenger side and quickly locked the door behind her before scooting over into the driver’s seat. “A month ago you left me a note. At the time you didn’t bother telling me your name or offer to share a meal. Look,” she leveled her gaze on him through the protective barrier of her car window, “whatever you’re offering, I don’t want it. You have nothing that I need,” she glared at him scornfully, “nor anything I want. Do what I did and forget anything ever happened between us. Now, I’m going to say ‘Goodbye’ again, and please, let this be the last time.”
He was beginning to really hate that word. It was as if she waited to see him just so she could practice pronouncing it in that particularly irritating tone. “If I have nothing that you want, then why were you at the GHIB?” Wanting to lash out, he bent and faced her through the barrier of the window. “Who’s to say you did not find out who I am, and plotted that whole scenario in order to try and get me to give you that loan?”
When the engine of her twenty year old Corolla gunned to life, he knew he had gone too far. Anna did not look left or right as she drove out of the parking lot. Tony Rascall’s car started up and pulled out behind her. He suspected, as he watched the tail lights of her car disappear around a corner, that she did not look back at him either.
Anna received a call from Jon Campbell’s secretary the following day to arrange a meeting with the loans manager. The next morning, she was again directed to the conference room at the other end of the hall from Hill’s office. She could see Kevin seated at his at his desk, and wondered how she could have missed seeing him that terrible morning. This was Hilliard's workplace. If she wasn’t so desperately in need of the loan she would have cancelled her application rather than chance meeting him again.
The nausea was even more frequent now. Sometimes it seemed that all she had to do was open her eyes in the morning to feel queasy. Wisely, she’d made an appointment to see her doctor that afternoon. Perhaps it was food poisoning, or she’d caught the flu. Everyone knew illnesses got worse overnight, and this illness usually faded by early afternoon. The same week of what she now referred to as the ‘unfortunate incident’ with Hill, she’d woken at three in the morning in a rush to kiss the porcelain. Since then, her body felt as if she’d been working overtime on a chain gang. At first she’d thought the bug would pass on, but now that she was a full thirteen pounds lighter, Alezanna admitted to herself that it was time to see the doctor.
Someone had requested that a trash can be left near the door of the conference room. Probably Hill.
Hill?
Anna groaned and collapsed into her chair. Frantically she pulled out her calendar and checked the dates. “Six weeks!” It was a full six weeks since her last period. Tony had given her three condoms when she’d first gotten the job. Though she had never had occasion to use them before, Anna had kept them around and eventually used them with Hill. The last one had broken, but they hadn‘t realized until it was too late. She didn’t need to go to the doctor to find out what was wrong with her. She was pretty sure he would tell her she was about a month pregnant. "Great! Just add some lighting to the pouring rain."
For the second time in three days, Anna stumbled out of the conference room and barged into Hill’s office. This time a protesting Kevin was at his station. He scrambled to his feet and followed her inside, but at a curt nod from his employer he zipped his lips and backed out, closing the door behind him.
“You selfish bastard,” Anna rushed over and slapped him hard across the cheek.
Hill’s cheek stung from the blow, but he ducked just in time to avoid another one. Something had drawn her out of that cool shell. “What has gotten into you, woman?” He grabbed her hands and pulled her forcefully to his chest.
“You told him to deny my loan didn’t you? I rejected you and you told Mr. Campbell not to give me that loan.” Accusation blazed from her eyes. “Didn’t you? What did I ever do to you that you would actively seek to make my life miserable, Hilliard?”
“Anna,” he pressed her face to his chest and kissed her brow despite her struggles to be released. “What are you talking about, Anna? The only things I asked Jon for were your last name and your phone number." Even that admission was embarrassing. He'd slept with her and walked away without her phone number. Even the most casual strangers exchanged more than they had that night. Right now however, it seemed prudent not to mention he'd learnt her full name by reading her file and proposal. Because of that, he could list the reasons why her loan was denied, but he'd had nothing to do Jon's decision. "Nothing more. I did not interfere with your loan application.” He held her tightly to his chest until she stopped struggling.
Anna stepped back, more subdued now, and as if in a trance walked out of his office. Jon Campbell had denied her application. She’d failed her grandfather. “I can’t do this.”
Seconds later, Kevin rushed to his door. “Sir, the young lady has collapsed in the hallway.”
Hill never knew such panic as he felt when he heard those words. Racing out of his office, he felt his world tilt on its axis. There was Anna’s prone frame lying on the blue carpet.
“Anna. Wake up, sweetheart.”
“Hmm…” As if she were caught in a thick fog, Anna heard her name being called. She heard the worry in the caller’s tone, but could not answer.
“Anna, darling. Open your eyes and look at me.” Hill alternated between pressing the damp cloth
and warm kisses over her face. “Come on, baby. Just open your eyes. I have you,” he crooned softly.
“Hill?”
“It’s me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Anna’s eyes fluttered open, and widened as she realized where they were and what must have happened. Shame overwhelmed her and she burst into tears at finding herself so vulnerable once again. Three times now she’d cried in his presence. That thought sobered her almost as quickly as she’d begun crying. She never cried.
“Shh, darling. Everything’s going to be alright.” Hill murmured into her ear as he carried her into his office.
“I can walk.”
“I know that, but you obviously can’t walk right now.”
His tone was comforting, but his mollycoddling was grating on her nerves. “Put me down, Hilliard.”
Instead of doing as she asked, he strode over to the gray linen sofa near the window, and sat with her on his lap. “Have you seen the doctor, Anna? First you are sick all over my office, and now you’re fainting in the halls. How long has this been going on? Are you eating properly? You look like you’ve lost weight. You look like hell, in fact.”
Anna slid off his lap into the seat next to him. “I’m fine. Just a little bug, but thanks for telling me of the 'fact' that I look like hell.” For every question he delivered, she had a snappy response.
“Press 'Pause' on the attitude for a few minutes,” he brushed aside her last complaint and looked at her soberly. “I know that you are taking your grandfather’s death hard, but you can come to me if you ever need someone.”