Free Unforgettable by Karin Kallmaker Page A

be singing. “Someone will meet you at the gate, probably have your name on a card or something. There’s a big, fat bonus for your trouble. I told Jerry it was only fair, which he already knew. Not to beat a dead horse, he also told me — I didn’t ask — he was glad he only had to work with me and not Trish.”
    “I’ll let you know when I want you to stop beating it — she gave me back the car keys this morning, by the way.”
    “Are they somewhere that Tamla could find them? She’ll be dropping by to make sure your place is okay, pick up any mail or parcels that get left.”
    “I’m glad I sent you the new front door key already. I put the car keys on my desk. They’re on a Lexus key ring along with the security remote.”
    “Tamla will drop the car off at the dealer, then. Good — I’m glad that’s all wrapped up. She’s gone for good?”
    “Took all her stuff and some of mine, but she’s gone. And you know what? I don’t miss her at all.” Angel came readily to mind and Rett lost some of what Naomi said to the memory of Angel’s skin.
    “— look before you go leaping again, okay?”
    “Yeah, sure,” Rett said absently. Shit, she thought. She was leaving town and hadn’t called. She doubted she’d be able to call in the next forty-eight hours. And if she could find out who Angel was on Monday what would she say? Sorry I didn’t call for two days and guess what, I’m gone for the next three weeks, but this isn’t a brush-off? Sure, Angel would believe that.
    She had no choice but to push thoughts of Angel into the background. The plane ride was only an hour or so, barely enough time to mentally review the numbers she would be performing. Her mind might remember every word and her ear might remember every note, but her vocal cords were far more fallible.
    She knew enough about Henry Connors’ style to know there would be a chance to rehearse each song at least once. But time wouldn’t allow for much more than that. They would all be counting on her ability to do it perfectly. Pedal hits the metal, she told herself.
    Jerry Orland himself picked her up at SFO. He’d been Henry Connors’ promoter for a number of years. His short, dark hair was tipped with more gray, but his charm was just the same as the last time they’d met. “Rett, you are a darling to get here so fast.” He embraced her with a peck on the cheek. “I’ve got a car waiting.”
    The airport was a mess — construction everywhere and only two lanes circling the pickup area. Jerry’s driver was idling in the parking lot just outside the elevators and Jerry ushered her into the back seat, then joined her. They both flipped open their cell phones.
    “I made it, Naomi. Jerry picked me up.”
    “I’m looking right at her, Henry, in the flesh. So you can relax. We’ll be there in thirty-five minutes.” Jerry glanced at her. “You don’t need to go to the hotel first, do you?”
    Obviously, the only acceptable answer was no, so that was the answer Rett gave. To Naomi she said, “I think you can relax now. Keep an eye out for reviews. I can always hope.” She switched off the phone and took a deep, calming breath.
    “She’s being a real sport,” Jerry reported. He clicked the phone shut and heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ve been wanting to dump Gilda since Chicago. I can handle high-strung, but she was a purebred poodle.”
    Rett laughed politely. “What does that make me?”
    “If you had red hair, I’d say a beautiful, talented, sensitive Irish setter. But you’ve got that sort of blondey-brownie thing going on. Beautiful, talented and sensitive will have to do.”
    Rett knew when she was being flattered and she certainly didn’t mind. After the horrible past few weeks, flattery was more than welcome. “Oh, stop,” she said insincerely. “Why, it’ll go right to my beautiful, talented, sensitive head.”
    Jerry grinned. “I think this is where I have to admit I was the one who threw you over in favor of