When Last We Loved by Fran Baker Page A

door.
    “Remind me to check my aspirin supply,” she sighed. “He's so pickled that we could stamp dill on his forehead and peddle him at the city market.”
    “Do you really think that Purdy guy can do us any good?” Scrappy fiddled with the knob of the van's radio until he located the station he wanted. A glimmer of excitement rode the edge of his question, and Cassie smiled in understanding. He shifted gears, gunned the motor, and pulled into the southbound lane of the Central Expressway.
    “We'll just have to wait and see.” She yawned. “I'm not holding my breath for anyone.”
    Dusk drew the curtain on a hectic day. Cassie's highs and lows had extracted a merciless toll and she wondered whether she truly possessed the stamina and drive necessary to see her ambitions through. Sheer physical exhaustion soon drove the thought of anything but sleep from her mind.
    Lulled by the steady hum of the engine and the soft background music on the radio, she closed her eyes. Hovering in that twilight zone between reality and fantasy, Cassie mentally matched wits with a handsome blue-eyed demon who mocked her attempt to unwind after a grueling day.
    When Scrappy shook her awake a block from the Stardust, she was jolted out of a restless nap. The knowledge that Hoyt still owned so much of her memory rankled her. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and hopped out of the van when Scrappy stopped a few feet from her door.
    “Are you coming down with something?” Scrappy asked, letting the engine idle. A worried look clouded his eyes as he studied the petite figure huddled in the dark alley behind the restaurant “You look a little peaked.”
    “Don't worry about me.” She waved away his concern. “I'm fine. As a matter of fact, I've never felt better in my life.” Cassie flashed a grin that illuminated the empty street like a neon signboard. “I think I'm just coming down with another song.”
     
     

Chapter 7
    “Where in hell have you been?” Allen paced like a caged lion when Cassie scampered up the stairs to her apartment the following Sunday. He ran an impatient hand through the thick shock of his hair and glared at her. “I've been pounding on this door for damned near two hours!” he roared.
    Cassie winced when she caught the odor of bourbon on his breath
    “I have to eat sometime, and it's too hot to cook,” she said in her own defense and glanced at her watch, seeking confirmation that she hadn't been gone nearly as long as he made it seem. “I was here all day, and it's only a little after seven now.”
    Allen was wearing a hole in the cheap carpet outside her apartment door. The dim hall light played tricks on his sallow complexion and his scarecrow shadow climbed the walls of the alcove.
    “You're going to have me jumping out of my skin if you don't light somewhere.” Cassie pulled the key out of her purse and unlocked the door. Allen hurried by with three giant steps and fell into the chair that she'd shoved into the corner.
    “Look. I finished another song today.” She snatched the top sheet of paper off the stack littering the Formica table that was her dining room. Neatly penciled verses were triple spaced on the front and back, ready for the chords that Scrappy would add.
    “Harlan Purdy called me this afternoon about five-thirty. He's got a couple of free hours tomorrow and he's going to stop by here about one o'clock.” Allen accepted the two aspirin that Cassie shook out of the newly opened bottle. He chased them with the glass of tepid water she handed him. “What I really need is another hair from the dog that bit me,” he grumbled.
    “I told Scrappy that Purdy would come around if he was really interested!” Cassie exclaimed, ignoring Allen's hangover in her excitement about tomorrow's audition. “I wonder if we've got time to polish this up and rehearse it.” She studied the lyrics that she'd spent the entire week writing, and tapped her foot in time to the tune she imagined. “No,