Sarah smiled at him, thank God. “I get it. Glad to be of service.”
They reached the top of the hill and looked down at the stage loud with country music. The audience sat on blankets or in lawn chairs radiating outward in the grass.
Sarah asked confusedly, “This is the amphitheater?”
“People around here call this the amphitheater,” Quentin said. “To New York City, it may look like a sloping field. But it’s not just any old sloping field. It’s close to the original lake cabin that a local car dealer loaned to Hank Williams after he was fired from the Grand Ole Opry for drunkenness. He wrote ‘Your Cheatin’ Heart’ here right before he died.”
“Really!” Sarah exclaimed. “How sad. His whole life was a country song. And that’s why you’re the Cheatin’ Hearts? Local provenance?”
“I wanted to be the Sow-Bellied Syrup Soppers,” Quentin said, “but Erin didn’t want to be a sow. Or be accused of sopping.” Owen was hiking determinedly in their direction. “Oh boy, Owen’s drunk, and Erin can’t dance with him because she’s in line to buy a funnel cake. I hope you like to dance.”
Owen grabbed Sarah’s hand and pulled her toward the stage. She glanced back at Quentin in alarm. Quentin shrugged at her. He sat down in a lawn chair next to Martin and watched Owen dance with Sarah. Owen could cut a rug, and he was patiently teaching Sarah some steps.
Quentin felt so relieved. Owen had been nice to Sarah all day. It wasn’t like Owen had the hots for Sarah. It was like the dark cloud of Owen’s intense emotion, seeming to desire Erin and detest Sarah, had lifted. All that was left was the big, blond, easygoing Owen whom Quentin had known his whole life. Owen wasn’t breaking Rule Two with Erin after all.
“That’s some necklace,” Martin remarked.
It was almost the first thing Quentin had heard Martin say all day. Quentin chose his words carefully. “I had to keep up the image that we’re really together. If I didn’t give her a nice gift on her birthday, she’d think something was up.”
Martin turned toward him. “Q, Sarah is one cool chick. I’m afraid of what Nine Lives is going to do to her.”
Quentin fought down his flash of anger at Martin’s drug-induced paranoia.
“But she’s still the record company,” Martin was saying. “Her presence here is antithetical to everything we’ve worked for.”
“Martin, it’s just a necklace,” Quentin protested. “I’ve got the money. I don’t spend it on anything but the foundation. And the occasional big-ass truck.”
“We know you’re smart, Q,” Martin growled. “We know you’re smarter than we are. But that doesn’t mean we’re stupid.”
“She was feeling down this morning,” Quentin said innocently. “She’s away from her family and friends on her thirtieth birthday. I wanted to cheer her up. I like her.”
“You told her,” Martin accused him.
Great. When she went into the house, Sarah must have revealed to Martin that she knew about the heroin.
Quentin said, “I haven’t told anyone. Sarah saw through you the first time she laid eyes on you.” He sighed. “Come on, Martin. We’re supposed to be taking the day off, remember?”
Martin didn’t respond. But when, after four songs, Owen finally brought Sarah back and traded her for Erin, Martin led Sarah down to the stage for a dance. Quentin watched them with pleasure. Sarah looked carefree.
She was having so much fun that even Quentin had to dance with her. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he’d played enough honky-tonks that he couldn’t avoid picking up a few steps. Then Owen danced with Sarah while Quentin danced with his AP chemistry teacher. Martin danced with Sarah while Quentin danced with the wife of his math team coach.
It was getting late, and the featured band started its last set. If they were going to crash the festival, they needed to go ahead. He called Owen, Martin, and Erin over to discuss it.
A few minutes later, Sarah bounded over and poked her head in between them. “You look like you’re in a football huddle,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Come with me,” Quentin said. He emptied the ice chest and piled her with blankets and a few lawn chairs.
“The concert isn’t over,” she pouted as she followed him down the hill to the boat. “Why are we packing up?”
“So we’ll be right ready to go when the police come.” He threw the ice chest into the boat, then took the chairs and blankets from her and threw them into the boat. Then, because she was so beautiful with the full moonlight filtering through her crazy hair, he threw her into the boat.
He sat down in a seat and pulled her into his lap. She straddled him in her very small bikini. He kissed her to distract her while he pulled at the string around her neck to release the bathing suit top.
This was quite a sight: Sarah with pink ponytails, the emerald necklace, her br**sts bare in the soft light.
“It’s a marina,” she said. “Someone else is going to come down to their boat and see—”
Her protest transformed into a gasp as he put his mouth on her nipple. He sucked at her first, then bit her gently, then laved her with his tongue, testing her reaction to see which she liked best. She liked being bitten. Interesting. But when she began sliding the crotch of her very small bikini up and down on his erection, he forgot about the scientific method in a dark rush.
The night was black. The lake was black but for a few reflected lights from houses far across the lake, rippling in the water. He had his mouth on this pale girl. God, he was going to have to make love to her soon. He couldn’t, but how could he not make love to this woman?
Finally he moved to her other breast to be fair. He shouldn’t have let her go. She had the opportunity to ask, “Is this to make Vonnie Conner jealous, or to make Erin jealous?”
“No one can see us. This is for me,” he said, his lips still brushing her. He pulled away and glanced at his watch. “We have to go crash Hank on the Banks in five minutes. See me tomorrow morning about finishing this. Until then, live a little. It’s your birthday.”
That seemed to satisfy her for the time being. He suckled her, teased her, and held her as she groaned. Pressed her down on his erection. Thoroughly enjoyed himself. But thought the entire time how much better it would be if he knew he could have it again, and again, and again. He had to have her. Oh God.