Sara's Song by Fern Michaels Read Free Book Online Page B

nights.”
    Dallas wondered what wonderful nights she was referring to. Sandi had come to an audition when one of his backup singers made the choice to go back to school to finish her degree. It was short notice, and she’d been the best of the lot, appearancewise. Voicewise she left something to be desired, but the high-tech equipment made it work. He regretted the six-week relationship. He knew it was a mistake. Billy had said it was a mistake. Even old Adam had voiced an opinion saying business and pleasure didn’t work. If it hadn’t been for Adam’s comments, he probably wouldn’t have let it get off the ground. Billy said Sandi was like chewing gum. Everywhere he stepped, there she was. Feathering her nest was the way Billy put it. He offered up his favorite phrase a second time “Oh, shit!”
    â€œDallas, honey, open the gates. I have an exquisite bottle of wine and some wonderful cheese and crackers. We can sit out under the stars and talk. The guys are all worried about you. I’m worried too, honey. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. That’s what friends are for. Open the gates, Dallas.”
    â€œRight now the best thing you can do for me is to leave me alone. I’d like to do my grieving in private. Don’t make me say things I’ll regret. It’s over, Sandi. I’ll have Adam get in touch with you when I decide what I’m going to do. Your paychecks will be in the mail.”
    â€œWhy are you being so ugly to me, Dallas? If you don’t want me to come in, at least come down to the gate and talk to me. Please, Dallas.”
    Dallas eyed the clock. Sara would be arriving any minute. “Shit, shit, shit!” The spaghetti bubbled, splattering the huge white stove. He still had the salad to cut up. “I have to go now, Sandi. Please don’t call again.” He broke the connection. Now he was going to have to get a new number.
    He was whirlwind as he chopped and pared the vegetables. He turned down the stove and took the stairs three at a time. He was in and out of the shower in three minutes, dressed in five. He used up two more minutes running his electric razor over his face and neck. Two seconds to splash on cologne and another two seconds running the brush through his tight springy curls. Done!
    Back in his kitchen, Dallas looked at his polka-dotted room. He didn’t dare go near the stove. What he needed was a goddamn raincoat. Spaghetti, his favorite food, was supposed to be easy to make according to the cookbook on the counter. You just put everything in a pot and watched it cook. Instead of the sauce cooking down, the mess had seemed to expand at an alarming rate of speed. He’d switched pots four times so far. He didn’t have a clean pot for the pasta. That meant he had to wash one and risk splattering his clean shirt. The raincoat idea was looking better and better. The urge to give it a try was so strong, Dallas burst into laughter as he headed for the mudroom and one of the yellow slickers hanging on the peg near the door. He put it on, buckled it, sniffing appreciatively at the garlic- and basil-scented kitchen.
    The only pot for the pasta was the one the sauce was cooking in. Dump it out and let it finish cooking in the microwave. Oh, yeah. He carried the bubbling mess to the sink and poured. He flinched when the sauce splattered on the pristine organdy curtain above the sink. The white cabinets became one long smear of red. The sauce dripped down the yellow slicker onto the shoelaces of his new Nikes. “Oh, shit!”
    The electronic pad next to the door came to life. “The main gate is now opening. A vehicle is driving through. There are ten seconds left and counting. The main gate is now closing. No other vehicles have entered.” Dalla pressed the End button to cut off the transmission. The cell phone rang again. Answer it or not? It might be Nancy, Billy’s wife. He clicked the On