Play Music with Me: Indy Women Series, Book 2

By G.E. Pitts

Jude is secure in her life. She has a solid career in a top notch law firm, she co-owns a jazz club in town with her son, her children are the light in her life, she has a great circle of friends; by all accounts Jude has a wonderful life. It wasnt always so comfortable, though. She left her husband many years ago when he got lost in drugs, and to this day she has trust issues. She has gone to great lengths to ensure he can never find her and the children he doesnt know about. Jude recently met a wonderful man, and struggles with her fear of trusting again. When she and her friends come to the club one night to hear some music Jude is stunned when she looks up to see the guest trumpet player, and knows her past and present is about to collide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499013160

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The play, unfortunately, is a disappointment. Two hours later, we are heading to the Club, after giving Erin hugs and praises for her talent. It’s not until we’re all in my car, driving away, that I finally say, Does anyone know what the hell that play was about? Stella and Cara start laughing in the back seat, and even Jude starts giggling. Stella blurts out, I don’t have a fucking clue, but I was afraid I was the only one! Through her giggles, Jude reminds every one of the fines. That only adds to the hysteria, and we laugh the short drive to the club. We find a line forming at the front door, so Jude brings us around back, and we enter through Miles’s office. After we shower him with love and kisses, Miles tells us we have a reserved table off to the side. Looks like you have a great crowd for a weeknight, Miles, who’s playing tonight, I ask. He’s a trumpeter I met in New York City a few weeks back. Pretty righteous dude. Let me know what you think of him. We make our way to the table and focus on the menus. I’m starving, says Stella. The music begins, and the trumpeter starts with a solo—very bluesy, moody, and sensual. Cara notices him. I think I know what I’m hungry for! I look over at him—tall, lean, shaggy blonde hair, with gray at the temples; he has the same sensuality as his music. Oh fuck! We all gasp and turn, realizing that outburst came from Jude as she stares at the trumpet player. I lean in, grabbing her hand. Jude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do you know him? Slowly nodding her head, she says, Yes, he’s my husband!

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Excerpt from Shelter Me

CHAPTER 1

Jude

Gina grabs my hand, to calm me. Your husband, Jude? Does that make him the father of—, Jude glares at me. Please don’t say that aloud, Gina. Tears start welling up, but I’ve got to keep it together. Miles might be out here at any minute. Cara speaks up, What do you need us to do, do you want to leave? I need to get myself together. I need your help in keeping it cool. Miles and Jazz know nothing about their father, and he knows nothing about them. I need time to figure this out. Gina squeezes my hand. We’re here, sweetheart. I have a feeling Trumpet Man has spotted you though. He’s been staring at you. Just then Miles came up. Ladies, we have Cajun catfish or rib tips for specials tonight. I had the catfish. It’s good but a bit bony. If you’re ready to order, I’ll send the waiter over. I hope you can stay awhile. This trumpet player is pretty good. Stella speaks up, Sounds good, Miles, I think we’re ready to order.

After ordering, Gina grabbed my hand again. Do you want to talk about it, Jude? I stole a glance at Jackson, who was focused on the other musicians. He looks good, still lean, still shaggy light brown hair, although there are streaks of gray in the temples, and still those damn, wonderful green eyes. I slowly exhaled, gathering my thoughts. I met Jackson in 1981 at a club I was singing at in San Francisco. He was part of the house band. They signed me on as a regular, and we started dating. About six months later, we got married. Jackson was also a studio musician, and that crowd was into heavy drugs. I didn’t mind him smoking pot, but soon he started snorting coke, maybe other things he hid from me. After a while, he was stoned all the time. We fought about it constantly. I threatened to leave if he didn’t stop doing drugs. One night he didn’t show up for the gig at the club. At the first break, I went to the apartment to search for him, found him in bed with another woman, one of the studio musicians. I packed my bag and left him the next day. Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. Gina, Cara, and Stella look stunned and look to one another to say something. Gina finally said, So you never saw him again? He never came to find you? And you’re sure he didn’t find out about the pregnancy?

I shake my head at her questions. No, I packed up and headed to New York City, where my aunt lived, and I assumed my mother’s maiden name, Etienne. I waited tables, applied for college, and had my credits transferred, and after the twins came along, my aunt helped out with their care. I went to school during the day, and Auntie took care of them while I sang in clubs at night. It took over three years to finish my degree, but I managed.

Stella leaned in. You made it work and raised two beautiful children, got a law degree, and made a beautiful life. The question now is, what is Jackson doing here, and what does he know? Jude, give me his full name, and I’ll have Marcus run a background check on him. I won’t give anything away to Marcus, don’t worry. Nodding at her in agreement, she replies, Yes, I have to know what his motives are before I know what I can tell Miles and Jazz. His name is Peter Jackson, but he goes by Riff Jackson. I steal another look at Jackson, who is playing an old classic and a personal favorite of mine. His eyes are closed as they often are when he’s deeply into the mood of the music. He opens them and looks directly at me; he knows it’s me. Damn!

Our food arrives, which is a distraction, but I’ve lost my appetite. Cara tries to lighten the mood. He’s a damn fine trumpet player, Jude, and a hunk! I just glare at Cara, and she smiles sweetly. Sorry, just sayin’! I take notice the band is about to go on a break. Breathe, Jude, breathe.

Miles approaches our table. Ladies, I want to introduce you to Riff Jackson, hailing from San Francisco. Riff, these are my aunts, Gina, Cara, and Stella, and this is my mother, Jude Etienne. He graciously shakes all our hands, and when he takes mine, he smiles and says, It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Etienne. Miles chuckles at the Mrs., but I don’t correct him. Gina tries to distract him. We’re enjoying your music, Mr. Jackson. Have you played in Indianapolis before? He smiles at her while combing his hair back with his fingers, like he always did. Please call me Riff or just Jackson, as he looks back at me. No, this is my first time here. When I met Miles in New York last month, he invited me here to see for myself that Indy has a solid blues and jazz vibe going on. Miles stepped in. I’ve asked him to stay on for a week, knowing he’d be a good draw, but he’s got commitments in San Francisco. I’m going to try to get him to sign on for a weekend engagement here and there. Miles slaps Jackson on the back, and Jackson looks thoughtful, then looking back at me, says, I might be interested, Miles. Oh Fuck! Gina jumps in. I love your music, very soulful. Cara nodded and said, Sensual! Gina glared at her, and Cara smiled her innocent, charming smile. Miles laughed, I forgot to warn you about these women, Riff, they’re all flirty and a bit crazy! Jackson and I exchanged a quick glance as the band started tuning up for the next set. He smiled and said, It was a pleasure to meet you all. I do hope you’ll stay for the next set," and turned and headed for the stage.

Miles lingers to chat, but I have to get some air and excuse myself to go to the restroom. As I come out of the ladies room, I hear his voice, Ah, there’s my bride now. I whip around to see Jackson standing there and look around to see if anyone else heard him. It’s okay, Jude, we’re alone. As I approach him, I see pain in his eyes. Jackson, I don’t know what to say to you. It was a shock to see you, and I need some time. How long are you in town? Jackson’s jaw is clenched. It’s a shock for me too, Jude! I leave Sunday afternoon. How about lunch tomorrow or an early dinner before I have to be here? I take out a business card and scribble my cell phone on it, handing it to him. How about 2:00 p.m. tomorrow, call my cell when you get up, and I’ll give you directions. He smiles and asks, Are you sure Mr. Etienne won’t be upset? I try not to roll my eyes, and simply say, It won’t be a problem. Now, excuse me, Jackson.

When I get back to the table, Miles has pulled up a seat, squeezed in next to me. He stands to help me with my seat, and I give him a quick peck. He looks at me with those same green eyes that are his father’s. His latte-colored skin is lighter than mine, a beautiful blending of the races, and his long dreadlocks are pulled back in a ponytail. I wonder if Jackson has put things together. As I sit down, the girls look at me for some sign, but I just give them a small smile. It looks like we’re going to be here for the next set. His music is beautiful, and Cara’s right, it’s very sensual. I steal glances at Jackson and Miles and see the resemblance, although most people tell me both my children look like me. They have my cheekbones, mouth and nose; but they have their father’s eyes that are a bit sad unless they’re smiling. I wonder how long it will take for him to figure it out. I guess I should have put more effort into finding him when the twins were small, but the last reports I had, he was strung out pretty bad on heroin. The room fills with applause as Jackson finishes a long solo. "Thank you, Indy. This next piece is something I wrote over twenty years ago. I had been going through some rough times, not able to get over a big loss in my life, so I wrote this in an effort to try to put the pain away. It’s called, Lost Love. Instead of the trumpet, he picked up a sax, and as he put it to his mouth, he looked over at me.

I feel so naked and exposed, I drop my head. The music is so sad and beautiful. I tear up. Miles says, You okay, Mama? I smile at him, nodding. As the song comes to an end, we all applaud. Gina says, Ladies, I don’t know about you, but I’m beat and have to work tomorrow. Would you mind if we leave? Cara fakes a yawn and nods. Miles offers, If any of you want to stay, I’ll take you home later. Stella and I start to get up. Thank you, son, but I’m beat too. Stella grabs the bill and throws down some cash. Cara kisses Miles. He is a wonderful musician, Miles. I’m glad I got to hear him. We say our good-byes and leave, and I can’t look back.

We had left our cars at Gina’s and make the short drive to her house in her SUV. When she pulls into the drive, she asks, Do you want to come in, talk some more? I shake my head but make no move to get out of the car. He was waiting for me when I came out of the restroom. He even said, ‘There’s my bride.’ I told him I was in shock and didn’t know what to think let alone what to say to him and agreed to meet him at 2:00 p.m. tomorrow. Stella, I hope Marcus can get that background check done quickly. I barely finished the request before Stella was on the phone to Marcus, I try to stop her. Stella, for god’s sake, it’s after 11:00 p.m.! She rolls her eyes and gets out of the car to talk on the phone.

Gina asks, Do you think he has any idea that Miles is his child? I ponder the question, No, but only because he thinks I’m married. He asked if Mr. Etienne would mind our meeting. But it’s only a matter of time, so I have to tell Jazz and Miles soon. Cara looks at Gina, then at me. Assuming the man has cleaned up his act, what are you going to tell him? I close my eyes and wonder. Stella gets back in the car and says, He’ll have it to you by 10:00 a.m., sweetie. In the meantime, what can we do?

Thank you all for getting me out of there. That song made me very emotional. Gina holds my hand and says, Do you want to stay with me tonight? Eric’s at his house, and it would be just the two of us. I reach over the seat and give Gina a hug. Thanks, sweetheart, but I need to go home and do some soul-searching.

If you want to talk, anytime, Jude, just call me. Let us know how the meeting with Jackson goes, okay? We all get out of the car and share hugs.

CHAPTER 2

I wake up after only a couple of hours of sleep, anxious. I decide to have Jackson meet me at my downtown law office; it will be an environment that’s easier to control and is less revealing than my home. I get ready and go into work early; I need the distraction.

My phone pings about seven o’clock, hours after I arrive at work. Thinking of you, call if you need anything. I say a silent thanks to Gina; I need her strength today. Another ping, from Cara. Be strong. God, I love these women.

Stella calls before nine o’clock. I take a deep breath and answer the phone. "Hey, sweetheart, do you have anything for me?

Yes, and most of it positive. Until about twenty-two years ago, Jackson was pretty strung out on drugs, including heroin. Some sort of epiphany happened, evidently, as he went into rehab, came out clean, and has been working his recovery ever since. He earned a master’s degree in social work. Jude, he’s been an addiction counselor for twenty years! We couldn’t find any significant relationship, no trace of other kids, no arrests, and no major debt. Also, this is interesting, he’s only been earning money or paying union dues as a musician the last four years or so, the first evidence of it since he got clean.

Jude, are you there?

Yes, sorry, I was just trying to take it all in. Sounds like he got in pretty deep for quite a while, but he still managed to pull himself out of it. I’m happy for him for being able to do it. I had a recurring thought over all these years that he probably OD’d a long time ago.

Not only did he survive, but he’s helping others to recover.

Yeah, that says something, doesn’t it? I am having trouble absorbing it all.

So what are you going to do, Jude?

I am meeting him this afternoon, here in my office. I owe him the truth about his children, but don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it. God, what did I do? What if I was wrong about him? I’ve kept him from his children and them from their father all these years.

You did exactly what you had to in order to survive and not get pulled into the nightmare that became his life for many years, sweetheart. Do not feel guilty about that.

But I should have kept in touch. After checking in for several years, I was filled with dread. I just didn’t want to learn he died, I guess. No, you’re right. It is wasted energy to second-guess myself at this point. His self-destruction led to a betrayal, and I couldn’t trust him. I was in so much pain. Thanks, Stella, for getting me the information.

CHAPTER 3

Jude, Mr. Jackson is here for your two-o’clock appointment. Even though he was expected, the announcement is still jarring. Send him in.

I walk over to the windows and look out over the circle in downtown Indianapolis—such a long way from San Francisco and my life there.

Nice view, Jude. I turn to face Jackson, who is clad in dress pants and a light green pullover sweater that makes his green eyes sparkle. Hi, Jackson, have a seat. Would you like some water or coffee? I guide him over to the couch. Coffee would be great. It’s the one addiction I’ve never been able to kick. I buzz my secretary for coffee and two glasses of water, then sit in a chair facing the couch. She comes in almost immediately and sets the tray of drinks down on the coffee table. Thank you, Susan. Please hold my calls.

Jackson takes a sip while looking around my office. You’ve done well for yourself, Jude. A lawyer in a fancy office—club owner, and you have a great son. Not that it matters to you, but I’m proud of you. His deep sultry voice is soothing.

Thank you, Jackson. For some reason it does matter to me. I actually have two children. Miles has a twin sister, Jazz.

A sad expression washes over his face. Jazz, huh. I bet she’s great too.

What about you, Jackson?

Me? Well, if you have the time and interest, I’d like to tell you about my journey after you left.

I would like that, Jackson.

He pauses before speaking, looking at me. You’re even more beautiful than you were thirty years ago, Jude. I dismiss the comment by shaking my head and take a drink of water to collect myself.

"Maybe that’s because I have clearer vision now. Anyway, I was in trouble with drugs before you left as you know, but after you left me, I just sunk into a self-loathing mire. For several years, I was so stoned I could barely play music. Hell, I could barely function. Eventually, I started shooting up to try to completely numb myself from the pain. Then, something happened. One of my musician friends died from an overdose. Through the fog, something made me wake up. I made a hotline call one night while holding a needle in my hand, ready to shoot up, and some dude helped me get