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Adrienne could see that he was in a lousy mood, so she tried to cheer him up. She tapped him lightly on the leg. “Aren’t you going to iron your clothes first, honey?”
He sighed, not bothering to hide his irritation. “I’m not in the mood to go dancing.”
Adrienne spoke softly. “We need to have as much fun as we can, Mel.”
The look on her face stopped him from asking why. She was trying to look cheerful, but he could see the desperation in her eyes. Adrienne never asked much of him, and for the most part, she let him do what he wanted to do. If going out tonight would make her feel a little better about herself, well, he guessed he could manage it. But Mel still didn’t feel like dressing up, and bumping and grinding around a bunch of young bloods barely old enough to remember “old school” wasn’t his idea of fun. He clicked the TV off before the game started and he could change his mind. “I hope this DJ plays some good music,” he said as he dragged himself over to the ironing board while Adrienne dressed.
By eleven, she was looking good in a clingy white skirt that fell right above her knees, accenting her long legs. She wore a sheer white blouse with a white tube top underneath, silver jewelry, and matching heels. Adrienne knew she looked good, and Mel’s approving glance confirmed her opinion.
Mel was decked out in a pair of creased dark-gray slacks and a light-gray silk shirt. He refused to put on a tie. “It’s too uncomfortable,” he grumbled.
Adrienne wore her evening cape, and Mel put on his black dress coat.
They took a cab down to Fourteenth Street. Nell’s was packed. They worked their way through the crowd and waited at the bar until two seats became available. Adrienne’s heart was heavy; Mel hadn’t said a word since they left the house. She put on a brave smile and squeezed his hand. He responded by ordering drinks for both of them and tapping his foot to the music as he turned to watch the well dressed men and women who were gyrating to Will Smith’s “Getting Jiggy Wit It.”
“I thought you said this was old-school dance night,” Mel grumbled.
“It starts in a few minutes, Mel. Please be patient.”
“Well, I hope it starts soon, ’cause this music ’bout to get on my nerves.”
Adrienne didn’t answer. When the drinks arrived, Mel swiveled around to watch the dancers and sipped his rum and Coke with a grimace on his face.
Adrienne drank her sloe gin fizz quickly and slid down from the barstool. “I want to dance,” she said flatly.
They danced two songs before the disc jockey played a slow jam. It was a real old tune called “Sideshow” by a group called Blue Magic. Mel held Adrienne close. “This song brings back a whole lot of memories,” he murmured.
Adrienne sniffed. They hadn’t known each other when “Sideshow” was a hit song, so he was obviously thinking of someone else.
When the song ended, Mel’s expression was unreadable.
“Who are you thinking about?” Adrienne demanded.
“It’s not a ‘who,’” he answered. “I was remembering a time when my life was carefree and happy.”
They were poised at the edge of the dance floor when Mel spoke. Adrienne felt tears well up, but she blinked them back and squared her shoulders. “Perhaps you’ll be happy again someday, but right now I want to go home.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Really? Well, it sounded like you meant it,” Adrienne said, staring at him under the strobe lights. “You know, I don’t understand you. If you really didn’t want to go dancing with me, you could have stayed your ass at home.”
“Look, Adrienne,” Mel said, raising his voice. “I told you from the get-go that I didn’t feel like going, but you was the one standing there looking pitiful. I told you I didn’t mean it that way, and you need to let it rest.”
“I’ll let it rest, all right,” Adrienne said, pulling her purse under her arm. She tipped the bartender and started heading for the door. Angry, Mel followed behind her, weaving through the crowd of dancers who were swaying blissfully to the music.
When they pushed past the line of couples still waiting to get into the club, Adrienne stood on the sidewalk, forcing back the tears. Mel wouldn’t even look at her. He stood in the street and held his arm out, signaling a cab.
The cab ride home was silent, and that night, Mel and Adrienne slept back to back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mel was lying on his back with the radio playing softly on the nightstand beside him. His hands were folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. Adrienne had questioned him again about the “mugging,” and he had lied his ass off. But now that the episode was over, he was really scared. He had meant it when he vowed to leave drugs alone. Yet once he and Debra’s girlfriends had finished off the liquor, the craving for cocaine had been intense. Had he developed a drug problem during the horrible months after the fire? Mel had known a lot of dudes who had believed it when they said, “I can stop whenever I want to.” Most of them were either dead or in jail. He shivered even though the bedroom was warm. A phone call interrupted his gloomy reverie.
“Wassup, little brother?” Debra asked playfully.
“Not a hell of a lot. Adrienne just went to work. I’m gonna go back to sleep. Gotta be at work at four.”
“When you comin’ to see me?”
