Hungry

© 2002 Lisa J. Rowley
All rights reserved.

My hands shook as I returned the telephone handset to its cradle. Ten years. That's how long it had been since Dan had disappeared from my life. Ten years of unanswered questions and fruitless speculation.

I'd fallen hard for the dangerous-looking guy with the long hair. Not because of how he looked. No, it was more in the way he saw. His eyes could rape your soul and leave you feeling as though everything you knew—everything you were—was laid bare. A man like that is impossible to walk away from.

For three years, our mutual love of music and lust for each other ruled us. We'd sit, surrounded by the acrid, sweet smoke in my basement apartment, writing our music together. His fingers worked their magic on his twelve-string, my voice meeting every challenge he set to it. Three years of perfection that ended with no good-byes, no explanations, and no pleading.

He hadn't dropped off the face of the earth. I'd seen the entertainment news. I'd even bought the CDs when they'd been released. It hadn't taken long. Only six months after he'd walked out of my life he was almost a household name. I loved and hated him all at once, and I never tried to kid myself that I was over him. Eventually I gave up trying to figure out why he'd left and got on with my own life.

For five years I'd been managing the dinner shift at the city's most popular steak house. Late nights were nothing to me. I had no husband to go home to and no kids to worry about. I got all the social interaction I cared to at the restaurant. Truth be told, it was more than I cared for. I much preferred to sit up in my third-floor study writing into the wee hours of the morning. Not music. The music had left my soul with Dan. I let other people write the songs. I stuck to exorcising my demons.

The night I received the call, I was sitting in my study, with Billie Holiday crooning her soul away as I scribbled some dark piece of misery.

When the phone rang, I immediately assumed it was one of the servers from work, calling with a minor complaint, calling to tell me they needed a shift covered the next night.

I picked it up after the first ring.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to Jaqui Rollings, please?"

The voice was like malt liquor, and I felt my throat closing even as I choked out the word.

"Speaking."

Everything I'd spent ten years trying to forget came crashing back in that moment, and I sat waiting for whatever would come next, afraid to speak for fear I'd scream. All the while, Lady Day continued pouring my heart out of the stereo's speakers.

"You may not remember me," the person on the other end of the line said, "but this is a voice from your past."

He no more thought I'd forgotten him than he thought the sky was paisley.

"Hello, Dan." I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice was.

"I need to see you, Jaqui." He sounded slightly frantic. "I have a lot of explaining to do, and a few amends to make."

He's got to be joking, I thought. Ten years of nothing, and I'm supposed to jump at the chance to see him after three sentences? Even in my disbelief, I knew that was exactly what was going to happen; but I would be damned if I was going to make it that easy for him.

"Why in hell should I listen to a damned thing you have to say?" I snapped at him. "I don't owe you a thing."

"I know that, Jaqui, and I wouldn't blame you if you hung up on me right now, but this is serious." The frantic tone was becoming more pronounced, and my resolve was weakening with every word he spoke.

After a moment, I sighed, told him my address, and told him he could pick me up the next night at eleven.

"I'll be there, Jacks. I always should have been." His parting words, and he hung up.

That son of a bitch, I thought. My hands shook as I returned the telephone handset to its cradle.

At exactly eleven o'clock the next night, a plain white Jimmy pulled into my driveway. I double-checked my reflection in the hallway mirror and left the house, locking the door behind me. I didn't want Dan to get as far as the door, knowing that if he did, we wouldn't be going anywhere. Time had done little to detract from his good looks, and I felt fairly secure with my own image, as well.

As I walked down the steps, off the front porch, the driver-side door of the truck opened and he stepped out. My heart didn't stop—it stuttered. He looked better than I remembered. His hair was shorter, in keeping with the times, and he appeared to have lost that "starving musician" look. Now he was solid in all the right places. Success obviously agreed with him.

"You look fantastic," he said, his eyes glued to mine. I felt that old, familiar sensation of being mentally stripped, as though he knew my thoughts just by looking me in the eye. It was ridiculous.

I looked away.

"You do too, Dan." I went around to the passenger side of the Jimmy, with him following close behind. He opened the door for me, and put his hand on the small of my back as I climbed in, sending the ghost of a memory down my thighs as he did so.

As we headed toward a small pub a few blocks away, I mentioned how odd it was that he should be driving a Jimmy when he could obviously afford whatever he wanted these days.

"Yeah, I could be driving a Testarossa, but it doesn't do a whole lot for me in the way of anonymity. I've grown to love not being recognized."

"That's funny," I shot back, "considering how badly you wanted to break into the music scene—" I stopped myself from walking too far down that path. This was his idea, and I thought it best to let him do the talking.

He looked over at me as he pulled into the pub parking lot.

"I know. The irony isn't lost on me. Believe me."

I didn't wait for him to come around and open my door. I wanted him to know that I'd managed to find my independence since he'd left.

We entered the smoky pub and found a quiet booth tucked into the back of the place. We sat across from each other and ordered a bottle of Shiraz from the waiter. After our glasses were poured, Dan took my hand, looked me directly in the eye, and said "If I hadn't left you, Jaqui, you'd be dead now."

I hadn't known what to expect, but this sure as hell wasn't it.

"I beg your pardon?" I emitted a nervous little titter. "What do you mean, I'd be dead now?"

"I suppose I should start at the beginning."

I retrieved my hand from his grasp and raised my wine glass to my lips.

"I think that's a hell of an idea," I said, and drained the Shiraz in a single draught.

"When I went out that day, I was going to an audition," he began. "When I got to the studio, at first everything seemed normal. I played for this guy—" his eyes went distant for a moment before he continued "—Bill. His name was Bill, and he said he liked my sound. He asked a few questions about where I wanted to go with the music, and a couple of questions that seemed kind of weird at the time."

"What kind of questions?"

"Well, first he asked me how badly I wanted the job. You know how broke I was back then. I told him I'd do pretty much anything to get the gig."

"That doesn't sound so strange." I said, pouring myself another glass of wine. I noticed he hadn't touched his yet.

"That wasn't the weird part," Dan said, playing with the paper napkin in front of him. "This guy, Bill, he looked at me with this look on his face, and he asked me, 'But how hungry are you?' I guess I gave him the right answer, because he told me I had the job and that I'd have to go with him to fill out all the paperwork. I figured his office was in the studio, but he took me out to his limo, and we ended up at his house. It was really more like a mansion—almost what I'd call a castle."

"Sounds like this guy is pretty powerful."

"You have no idea, Jaqui." He leveled his gaze at me, and a chill snuck up under my blouse. Something told me I didn't want to hear the rest of this story, but I was in it for the duration, regardless.

"Just out of curiosity, Dan, when he asked you how hungry you were—what did you tell him?"

Dan licked his lips before he answered me.

"I told him the truth. I told him I was starving."

I looked at him for a long moment. I was afraid of him. There were a million reasons for my fear, and his story was the least of them at the time. I wanted him, and that, more than anything, terrified me. I could see in his eyes that he wanted me to say something, and I was starting to feel the effects of the red wine. I was treading on dangerous territory, and I knew it. Instead of saying what I wanted to, I settled for, "Go on—what happened at Bill's place?"

"He took me to his office and sat me down in front of a bunch of papers. I was so stupid, Jaqui, that the only thing I wanted to know about was how much I was getting paid. When he told where I'd be starting out, I just signed everything."

The disbelief must have been plain on my face, because he shook his head.

"I know; it was stupid."

"It hasn't hurt you any, though. You have money and you have fame. Seems to me you got exactly what you wanted. You made out just fine."

"But that's just it, Jacks. I have nothing that I need. Everything I wanted back then is mine—almost—and my life is a living hell." He looked miserable. I decided that this was not the best place to be having this conversation.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get out of here. We can talk at my place, where there's a lot more privacy."

He agreed. I called over the waiter, and we paid for the wine. We left the pub and headed back to my house.

Neither of us said anything in the truck. I led Dan into my house and told him to make himself comfortable in the living room while I retrieved a bottle of wine from the kitchen, along with an opener and two glasses.

I returned to the living room. He'd lit the candles I'd placed in the fireplace opening. He was going over my music collection.

"I have to tell you, Jacks, your taste in music has really broadened since I last saw you." He plucked a CD from the maple tower I'd had my brother make for me. "I can't believe you have this," he said with a grin. A few moments later, the unmistakable bass of Jaco Pastorius emanated from the speakers.

I had just placed the wine glasses on the coffee table and was about to open the bottle of wine, when his arm circled my waist, drawing me backward so I was pressed up tight against him.

"Remember how we used to do this?" he murmured, as we swayed to the melodic bass riffs. He took the wine bottle from my hand and moved away. I turned and handed him the opener, heart hammering in my chest.

"I remember it well."

He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured the wine.

"Here's hoping I can make up for ten years of idiocy," he toasted, raising his glass. I let it pass without comment and sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, my legs tucked underneath my skirt. He sat beside me, legs crossed.

"So. You were telling me how you'd sold your soul for rock and roll," I quipped. Dan's eyes didn't laugh when he did. "I still don't know why I haven't heard from you until now, or why you think I'd be dead if I had."

"You are going to hear it, Jacks. Just don't rush me. You'll think I'm crazy when I tell you."

"Okay," I said. "At least tell me why you never even called."

He reached over and ran a finger lightly down the side of my face.

"I wanted to, Jaqui, but I'd already signed the contract. I told Bill I needed to call you and let you know where I was. You know what he told me? He said 'That life is gone, Danno; you belong to us now.' I thought he was kidding. I mean, how could he be serious? I said something like that to him, and he told me I'd better read my contract. So I did.

"I can't tell you everything that was in it, but it clearly stated that for the term of the contract I was to have no personal contact whatsoever with anyone other than those who were deemed 'appropriate' by Bill himself. Well, Bill had very—ummm—set ideas about who was appropriate. He said that people from my life before this deal would only serve to hold me back, and if he heard of me contacting anyone he would fix it so that they couldn't pose a threat to his 'ten-year plan.' I was pretty sure that could have only meant one thing."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You mean he threatened to kill people?"

"Bill's not stupid. He never said anything as blatant as that. It was implied, though, and after what happened to Carlos, I knew he meant business."

"Carlos!" I croaked. "But, he died on the job! It was an accident."

Carlos had been one of our best friends. In fact, he'd introduced us at one of his house parties. He'd been killed while doing some electrical work at one of the department stores downtown, when someone had thrown a breaker at the wrong time.

"It was no accident, Jaqui. I'd tried to get in touch with him the night before it happened. I wanted him to tell you how sorry I was. All I got was his damned answering machine, though. The next day he was dead. That's when I knew for sure that Bill wasn't messing around. What scared me most was that I had almost dialed your number, instead."

I began to shake then, realizing how easily it could have been me lying in a cold grave. A question suddenly sprang to my mind, and I looked at Dan in horror. "Is someone going to try to kill me? Why did you call me?"

"No—Jaqui, no. Relax. My contract ran out the day before yesterday. You're safe, and nothing's going to happen to you without my say-so. Okay?"

"You mean all this time you've wanted to come back?"

"Jaqui, all I want is to be with you, now. That is, if you're willing to let me back in. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't." He turned those incredible eyes on me again, and I knew I was lost.

His hand found its way into my hair, and he pulled me toward him until our faces were within a breath of each other.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered.

"More than anything," I replied, and his mouth came down on top of mine, stealing my breath and any misgivings I'd been clinging to. I could blame it on the wine, but I'd be lying. I'd been thinking about this since the telephone rang the night before, and now that his lips were on mine, I wanted more. I put my arms around his neck and let him pull me up from where we'd been sitting. He let his hands roam freely over my body. My blood was racing, and my skin was feverishly hot.

"Jaqui, I need you," he breathed in my ear. "I am so hungry for you."

"I'm hungry for you too, Dan," I gasped, short of breath.

"How hungry are you?" he asked, drawing back and staring at me.

"Starving," I answered, and he smiled that famous grin of his before doing what he'd come back to do.

I can't remember if I screamed when I saw the change come over me. I don't really think it matters anymore. It was over so quickly and painlessly.

I didn't go into work the next day. In fact, I haven't been back since that night. The music is back in my soul, you see, and I've returned to my true loves.

Now we sit in Bill's castle and work our magic together: his fingers flying over his twelve-string, and my voice exceeding every challenge he sets out for me. We've returned to our perfection.

The price?

Ten years of contractual obligation, after which I am required to sign someone who is hungry.

How hungry?

Need you ask?

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