Four Kinds of Rain by Robert Ward Read Free Book Online Page A

the weird, green, moldy thing out and took a big unhealthy bite out of it. It tasted like somebody’s science project and he could barely manage to keep it down. But when he was done gagging, he smiled and said, “Mmmm-mmmm, tasty,” and old Pop smiled and said, “That’ll keep you young, young man,” which may have been the first time he’d said anything but “Fucking niggers are taking over the city” since Bob had first met him fourteen years ago.
    The love Bob and Jesse felt for each other only enhanced their communication onstage and soon the Rockaholics were jamming with a new level of passion, as the two of them played off each other.
    In love himself, Dave managed to slip a short piece into the Scenes section of the
Baltimore Sun
with the title “Rockaholics Really Rock!” The piece was pure Dave, overgenerous in its assessment of the band’s talents, though dead-on regarding Jesse. “The purest soul and blues singer this town has seen in twenty years!” Jesse was embarrassed and thrilled by the write-up and kissed Dave on the head, as the four of them ate Lou Anne’s waffles after staying out all night. “Nobody is going to believe I’m
that
good, honey!” she said modestly. But she was dead wrong. Dave’s over-the-top review brought in the fans, and soon the Rockaholics were playing at the Lodge two nights a week and people had to be turned away at the door. Onstage, the excitement of the crowd coursed through them and Bob and Jesse communicated in a near-subliminal way. Jesse had started to move around the stage now, rocking to the music, and sometimes they moved toward each other as if they were stalking each other. Bob would come toward her, desire on his face, as he blasted his way through “Hold On,” and Jesse would back off, fear in her lovely face. Then Bob would lunge at her, and she’d sidestep him just in time to avoid a collision. It was sexy and a little comical, and something they didn’t have to plan. It just happened one night and they incorporated it into the act. It worked, drove the audience wild. The onstage chemistry between them was now so hot that when Bob came near Jesse, riffing out, she’d touch his shoulder and then blow off her finger. The crowd loved that, as well. They were the toast of downtown, interviewed on the radio and on a local morning television show. There was even talk of a record label getting together with them to do an independent CD.
    “It’s too great,” Bob said, as they headed out with Lou Anne and Dave to yet another party. “How old are we, twenty?”
    “That’s too old,” Lou Anne said. “I’m eighteen, baby.”
    “Yeah, darlin’. Eighteen is just about right,” Jesse said, hugging Lou Anne as if she were her best high school girlfriend. Which is how they felt. The two of them had gone through so many of the same things, bad men and low-paying jobs and tough childhoods, that they were like twin sisters.
    “I just love Lou Anne,” Jesse said. “I can tell her anything.”
    “She’s the greatest,” Bob agreed. “The best.”
    What was a little odd, Bob thought, was how Lou Anne and Jesse’s relationship seemed to mirror that of Bob and Dave. Lou Anne positively worshiped Jesse. She baked blueberry pies because Jesse said she liked them. She gave Jesse back rubs in the little room off the stage where the band got ready for their performances. When Jesse came offstage, sweat pouring off her, Lou Anne stood by with a towel and rubbed her down.
    Some nights Bob thought it was a little much, but then immediately chided himself for questioning it. Jesse was a star, so why shouldn’t Lou Anne, as her best friend, worship her, as well?
    The four of them were great pals and Bob told himself to cool it with all the lame questions. Enjoy. Accept. Be grateful for what’s been given.
    Not only was Jesse a fantastic lover but also a great listener. She wanted to know all about his work and his wild past. After a two-hour lovemaking