Free Drives Like a Dream by Porter Shreve Page A

home, and start the whole dream over again."
    Davy gave a tired sigh. "Come on, Jess. You've got to stop projecting everything on Mom. We see her about twice a year."
    "Projecting? Don't get pop-psychy on me." Jessica folded the shrimp tail into a chili-pepper-printed napkin.
    "I'm going to get a drink, and I'd highly recommend that you do the same."
    While Davy went off to the bar, Jessica dropped the napkin into an empty wineglass on a side table and retreated to a quiet corner where she could scan the room. The wedding crowd seemed right at home in this
Love Boat
version of a Santa Fe restaurant. The wine, champagne, and margaritas were going around, and as people began to find their seats, the clubby atmosphere of the night before descended once again. A whoop went up as Ellen and Cy entered the room under a faux-adobe arch, then took their places at the front table alongside Gisele and the bridesmaids.
    Jessica joined Davy at the next table over with Ivan and the Spiveys, just to the side of the evening's entertainment, a one-man-karaoke show called the Rick Stoker Experience. When Jessica sat down, Rick Stoker reached over, flashed a smile, and handed her his business card:
When a Band's Too Big and a DJ's Just Too Small.
    Davy leaned toward Jessica and whispered, "Somebody likes you."
    "Just what I need. A swinging, singing DJ."
    Rick introduced Mr. and Mrs. Spivey-Modine and cued up the first dance, which Jessica recognized with a cringe as Phil Collins's cover of "Groovy Kind of Love." As the couple swayed, Ellen pulled her husband toward her—no doubt to tie up his feet and hands, his knees and elbows. Cy had a habit of snapping his fingers when he danced, and at more than one party, Jessica had seen him trotting out strange moves as well—hands on hips, karate chop, wrist over wrist. Ellen was no fool, Jessica thought as she watched them dance close and slow. The song moved into its last bars, and the guests streamed onto the floor. Ellen helped her father to his feet, and Casper led her in a series of steps. No doubt sensing his audience, Rick sang Dean Martin's "Memories Are Made of This," Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight," then closed with Air Supply's "Two Less Lonely People in the World."
    Casper bowed to the crowd's applause, then followed M.J. around the room to greet their friends.
    After the Rick Stoker Experience turned off his microphone and left a CD of dinner music playing, Ivan said, "That was pure Velveeta."
    "Are you disrespecting my man?" Jessica asked. "He's got a velvety voice, and that's not all."
    A waiter brought their dinner plates: rolled chicken breast and a square of salmon; Mexican rice garnished with pico de gallo. "He's the perfect singer for Dad—a mimic, a follower, someone who buys the whole package, then claims that he invented it." Ivan took a fork and punctured the top of his chicken. A stuffing of pepper-jack cheese oozed from either side.
    "That sounds like the ideal consumer." Davy ran his finger over an ear of dried corn, part of the table's centerpiece. "Make the consumer believe that the product was designed especially for him—so much so that he feels like he created it."
    "Right," Jessica egged him on. She could tell that Davy was looking for a way to steer their brother off the subject of Cy.
    "Bring the consumer into the fold—that's the trick," Davy continued. "Teresa and I were just arguing about that. Did I tell you she's come to work for us?"
    "I thought she had been." Jessica took a bite of the salmon. Overcooked, of course.
    "She's full-time now."
    "That's great," Jessica said, though she was thinking it was a terrible idea.
    "I wouldn't say great, exactly. We were cramped before—five hundred square feet in Lakeview. Now Sanjay's put us in the same office at work. We're on each other like sweat." He paused to pick at his meal. "Every day I wonder what I've gotten myself into."
    "What are you talking about?" Ivan said. "You're a change