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“You all have to promise not to say anything,” I demanded.
“Sure!” Indy replied quickly, so quickly I thought maybe she was lying.
I also saw Lee’s eyes narrow on her, and then he shook his head and the crinkles by his eyes deepened.
I got the impression that I was in more serious trouble than I’d been in when they thought I was a racist, but that wasn’t even the half of it.
* * *
Later in the early afternoon,Eddie came in.
I didn’t expect him to. I thought he would avoid me too but there he was.
He walked in. His eyes scanned the room, cutting across me like I wasn’t even there, and I immediately changed my mind that I didn’t want him to think I was a racist.
He looked good. Worn Levi’s that fit real well (tight in all the right places, loose in all the right places), black cowboy boots, a black long-sleeved T-shirt that was snug on his chest and biceps, and a big silver belt buckle on his black leather belt. His black hair was kind of messy from something—the wind, his hand running through it, whatever.
He made my mouth water.
I was behind the espresso counter with Tex and Indy was behind the book counter. Eddie saw Indy and walked right to her, ignoring everyone else.
I was terrified Indy would say something, even more so when Tex elbowed me.
“You should go talk to him,” Tex stage whispered.
“I’m not going to talk to him!” I hissed back.
“You’re loopy-loo,” Tex told me.
The bell over the door rang again, and as I was concentrating on semi-arguing with Tex, I didn’t look up.
At first.
Then I heard someone sing.
“Jet! Jet!”
I looked up.
Tex looked up.
Indy looked up.
Ally walked to the front from the back where all the bookshelves were.
Eddie turned around.
And there was Ray McAlister, my dad, standing in the middle of Fortnum’s, banging his head and playing air guitar while he hummed, loudly.
My mouth dropped open.
Then Dad went on, singing the Paul McCartney and Wings song “Jet.”
He was really going at it. Singing all the lyrics, the “oo-oos,” jamming on his air guitar like there was no tomorrow, snapping his head around so hard I thought he’d give himself whiplash.
When the lyrics included the word “father,” he got a big, goofy grin on his face, put his hands on his heart, and I couldn’t help it, I started around the counter toward him.
“Dad,” I whispered.
