Author's note: This was probably my favorite chapter to write in Book 1. I pushed myself to get it edited & out fast – hopefully you will enjoy reading it almost as much as I did writing it!

I don't know about all of you, but I always wanted more information about what Mick did with his life BB (before Beth). It couldn't have been all bad – and I want to understand this man more. It was a blast to research Babe & Ricky's blues place (a real-life establishment in LA) and then try to put all that history together in a descriptive way that would (hopefully) give you an idea of the 'vibe' & why Mick would be drawn to it. Everything you read about the history he relates & the representation of how it looks are drawn from articles and pictures. The musicians he talks about hearing there, all actually played there.

I'm dying to know what you think, so would love your opinions!

Enjoy…

Chapter 20

Distractions

Intro Song: Distraction, Angels and Airwaves

Mick and Beth stood on the sidewalk in front of their destination. The building was an unassuming white block structure, part of a long line of storefronts in a strip mall facing Leimert Boulevard in central L.A. Large pots of flowers sat outside in an attempt to 'beautify' the spot. The burgundy awning matched the lettering overhead, proclaiming:

Babe & Ricky's Inn

World Famous Blues

Beth looked around, trying to orient herself. "So this is Babe & Ricky's? I've read about it in some article, but I had no idea where it was. I'm ashamed to admit I wasn't paying much attention to where we were going." Because the scenery in the car was much more interesting… "Help me out, where are we? This area looks familiar but I can't place it."

Mick pointed. "Jefferson Park is that direction and if you look back down the street, that's the steeple for the Vision Theatre. Have you ever been there on a Sunday to listen to the drum circle?"

"No! What's that?"

"It's great fun – been going on for years. Completely unorganized gathering of drummers - pros, amateurs, anyone can participate. One of the oldest, most experienced drummers will choose the main beat and then kind of conducts it - decides when to begin and end, the rhythm and tempo, things like that. It always attracts a big crowd. We should go sometime." He looked down at her as they talked, his eyes shining. Being able to make plans with this woman, like a normal person would, filled his heart with joy.

"I'd love to!" She grinned back at him, his enthusiasm contagious.

Mick chastised himself – music was his thing, but that didn't mean it was Beth's. "Sorry, I get a little... over-enthusiastic sometimes. We don't have to do it..."

Beth stopped him. "Mick, trust me. I wouldn't say that if it didn't sound like fun. I'm a big girl and I'm not going to pretend to be interested in something I'm not. I love you - but I can certainly say 'no' to you. You're not that devastatingly handsome," she lied, making a face at him. Yes, you are.

"Well, first of all, no one would ever call you a "big girl", Beth. And, secondly, I know I get carried away when it comes to music, so, at some point, you may have to say no."

"Deal! Now, are you going to tell me about this place?" She gestured at the worn wooden door in front of them, adorned with a large lion's head knocker. "It looks like the entrance to a vampire bar!"

Mick threw his head back, laughter pealing from him. "Nothing could be further from the truth,. Just wait till we get inside. I just hope you haven't been pretending to like jazz." He grinned like a small boy about to open a highly-anticipated present as he tugged open the heavy door. Holding it open for her, he followed her into the dimly-lit interior, both of them pausing just inside the door to allow Beth's eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Mick needed no such assistance.

As they stood in the entrance, a tiny black woman tottered up to them. "Mick St. John!" she squeaked. "Where the hell you been, son?!" She wrapped her arms around his waist and beamed up at him.

"Miss Mickey, how are you?" Mick responded affectionately. "Hey, I want you to meet my... friend, Beth Turner." He turned to Beth and extended his hand to draw her into the discussion.

"Hello... Miss Mickey, is it?" Beth put her hand out to the old woman, who grinned back at her.

"Honey, Miss Mickey is fine... and you are here with a fine man! But, I'm guessin' you already know'd that, don't you?" She chuckled, patting a clearly embarrassed Mick St. John on the arm.

She looked up again at the tall, handsome man. "Baby, I do not believe I remember you ever bringin' a woman o' yours here before!" Turning back to Beth, she added, "And Mama and I been asking him about that for a loonnngggg time, lemme tell you. He's been needin' a woman. You must be somethin' pretty special for our Mick to bring you here. You an' I are gonna talk later!"

Mick groaned down at her. "Okay, don't embarrass me more than you already have, please. Say, where's Mama Laura?" He raised his head and looked around the club.

"Oh, baby... she passed... Jes' a couple weeks ago. That's why I came back outta retirement to man the greetin' table." The little woman's friendly face fell, and she squeezed Mick more tightly around the waist.

"Miss Mickey, I'm so sorry! I had no idea! I must have missed seeing it on the news." Mick blinked away sudden tears as he bent over to carefully hug the tiny woman. "What happened?"

"Oh, you know, baby. She was a heart attack waitin' to happen... an' I guess she waited long enough. Found her in her bed. Don't fret about it." The old woman sighed. "I guess if you gotta go, goin' in your own bed in yo' sleep would be best. For most people, that is. Now, me? The devil's got his work cut out for him - he gonna have ta catch me first!" She started smiling again. "Mama'd have my head right now for keepin' you all standin' here. Come on down front!"

Beth looked up at Mick as they followed 'Miss Mickey' to their table in front of the stage, slowly weaving their way through the maze of tables. "I'm so sorry about your friend, Mick. Was she quite elderly?"

He nodded, his face sad. "She was, but she was just one of those people you thought would go on forever. She made Miss Mickey seem tame."

Beth searched for something to say to cheer him up. "Soooo, you have a fan club here, I see. 'Our Mick'?"

He groaned again. "They treat everybody like that. Trust me, it's nothing special about me. And, they rib me mercilessly, especially about women - which is why I didn't introduce you as my 'girlfriend'. I didn't think I could take it."

Beth couldn't resist ribbing him about it. "Wow what a 'delicate flower' you are!" she teased. "Can't handle the heat, huh?"

"Nope! Not here! Give me some crazed blood-thirsty vamp any day over these ladies!" he whispered to her as Miss Mickey gestured to a table centered in front of the stage. She had just shoed off the previous occupants, an act that embarrassed Mick all over again. He raised his head to address their hostess. "Miss Mickey, you put their drinks on my tab for the rest of the night after chasing them away, you hear?"

She nodded with a wicked grin. "I won't tell them till the end tho – otherwise, you'n be havin' a helluva bill, baby."

Mick smiled down at her as he pulled out a chair for Beth. "Who's playing tonight, Miss Mickey?"

"You are gonna have a good night, honey. It's Johnny Mastro and Mama's Boys!"

"Great!" Mick exclaimed as they sat down. "I was hoping they were still playing on Fridays."

"An' you know, he's gonna want you up there, so you get those fingers of yours limbered up. Maybe you can get yo' lady 'friend' here, to help you with dat!" Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she put extra weight behind the word 'friend'. "Now, you want the usual ta drink, right?"

"Sure, Miss Mickey." He turned to his 'friend'. "What would you like to drink, Beth?"

She had been watching the whole exchange between the two unlikely confidantes with great interest. "What? Oh... umm... I'll just have what he's having."

The tiny woman nodded. "Comin' right up! Now, Mick, I know you never eat if you're gonna' be jammin', but how 'bout yo' friend here? Surely, she'll eat some of our chicken!" She reached up to pat Mick on the cheek, obviously enjoying his discomfort.

Okay, not introducing Beth as my girlfriend was clearly a tactical error... He nodded, deciding his best course of action was to not react to Miss Mickey's continued emphasis on the word 'friend'. "Beth, I would highly recommend the fried chicken here. It's... to die for." He smiled innocently across the table as Beth burst out laughing.

"Absolutely. I'm starving, Miss Mickey."

"Honey, you certainly come to the right place, then. Did you know we won the 'Best Fried Chicken and Blues' award last year?!"

Beth somehow managed to keep a straight face. Not for the world would she hurt the feelings of the friendly little woman. "I didn't know that! That is amazing, congratulations! That definitely makes up my mind. Fried chicken it is!"

"I'll get you yo' drinks. And, I'll be back later ta sit with you when our Mick be up there jammin', honey. Can't have you sittin' alone on your first visit here!" The elderly woman grinned at them, then left with surprising speed to put their order in and greet the next couple coming in the door.

Beth immediately turned to Mick, eyes sparkling. "Okay, you have a lot to explain. Tell me all about this!" She turned and gestured around the club. It had an old-time, unpretentious feel to it, with scuffed wood flooring and pine paneling, darkened by age. The walls were lined with photographs in mismatched frames, some of famous musicians Beth recognized. Semi-circle booths, covered with cracked dark red naugahyde, lined two walls, and there was an ample stage just in front of them.

"You like it?" She nodded enthusiastically and he continued. "I've been coming to Babe and Ricky's since the early '60's. It was over on Central Avenue then - that was a big place for the jazz scene back in those days. Mama Laura was the original owner. She started out with a barbecue place back in the 50's over by Imperial Boulevard. After a few years, she opened Babe and Ricky's on Central and she was there for years and years, till the landlord forced her out. Then, they opened the place here. It wasn't easy. She got help from a guy named Jonathan Hodge - you've probably never heard of him."

Seeing the negative shake of Beth's head, he explained. "He was a prop master in motion pictures. That's where his money came from. He played at the old Babe and Ricky's every Sunday afternoon, just for fun. I played with him a few times... good musician. Anyway, he just couldn't stand to see it fold after all the work and love Mama put into it over the years. She fought so hard to keep drugs and crime away from her club and she always encouraged new musicians. So, he lined up a few anonymous donors and got the help of a councilman to get the approvals to reopen this old club. And they've been here ever since - over 10 years now."

"That makes me wish I was still at BuzzWire so I could do a feature on this place! How have you been involved? Don't tell me, let me guess... those anonymous donors? Keeping crime away? Am I right? And, what about this jamming of yours Miss Mickey keeps referring to? And ho-..."

Mick held up his hands in supplication, laughing. "Beth, Beth! Give me a second to get a word in!"

She settled back in her chair as he confessed, "I did kind of make it my mission to make sure that the neighborhood was safe. And, I was in on it with Jon - but don't tell Miss Mickey. Neither she nor Mama Laura ever knew that. As far as they know, I'm just another random working guy who loves jazz. Mama Laura was famous for encouraging jazz - open mic nights, local groups, you name it, she gave them a chance to play. I'm sorry you didn't get to meet her - she was a wonderful woman..." He trailed off, his smile fading for a moment. Will I ever get used to losing all the humans I've cared about?

Beth saw his face and immediately guessed his thoughts. She reached over and took his hand. "I'm sorry too; she sounds like a terrific person. But, just think, you helped to make her last years happy ones!"

He smiled gratefully, raising her hand to his mouth. Miss Mickey picked that moment to reappear with their drinks, as if she had been waiting for just such an opportunity. "Oh, now honey! I don't know if you should be doin' that with a friend! She might get the wrong idea!" With a wink at Beth, she deposited their drinks and took off again.

Mick sighed and rolled his eyes. Beth couldn't help but giggle. She grabbed her glass and raised it to him in toast. "To... friends." She made her blue eyes big and round as she held out her glass to the vampire.

"To friends," he agreed, clicking glasses with her and smiling before taking a long swallow of the excellent single-malt scotch.

Beth took a sip of her matching drink and coughed, grabbing the glass of water in front of her. "Guess, I should have asked what you were drinking before I ordered!"

"You want something different?" He half-raised out of his chair, ready to chase down a more ladylike drink, when Beth waved him back down into his seat.

"Hey, if you can take it, I can take it!" She took another long swig for emphasis, her eyes watering slightly as the strong alcohol burned its way down her throat. "Okay, so that's Babe and Ricky's. Now, tell me about you and this jamming of yours..."

He grinned at her struggle with her drink, then looked down at his own glass as he began. "Well, you know I was a musician before I was turned. It was just something to hang on to - a little bit of my humanity. This area was the place for jazz in the 50's and it was a party all night, every night. It gave me someplace to come at night where I didn't stand out. And the music..." He stopped, lost in thought for a moment, then looked up at her, his eyes sparkling with the memories.

She squeezed his hand encouragingly. "Go on. I want to hear more!" This time, she took a much smaller sip of her potent drink.

"When Babe and Ricky's opened on Central, it really became the magnet for great musicians and live performances. I heard music here - absolutely indescribable, amazing music..." He shook his head, words failing him. After taking another gulp of his scotch, he continued. "I heard Cab Calloway perform here. And Duke Ellington, Count Basie, B.B. King, T-Bone Walker, John Lee Hooker-" He broke off, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry. I get carried away."

"No, Mick, please keep going, I love it! I've heard recordings of most of them. It must have been amazing to see them in person."

"It was. And it's been the same since they re-opened here. I watched Ike Turner and Eric Clapton play on that stage." Mick nodded toward the area where musicians were now coming on-stage and organizing their instruments for their set. "Mama Laura gave a whole lot of great musicians their start. Anyone who played here was her 'boy'."

"Ah! Hence the name for the band tonight. Now - tell me about your jamming. I noticed you've left that out." She nudged him with her elbow, grinning. She took another long swallow of her own drink, making a face at the strong liquor. Be careful Beth, this stuff will put you on your ass!

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. Nothing gets by her... "Well, I happened to mention to Mama Laura that I used to be a musician, and she started agitating to get me on stage with some of her boys. Johnny was actually the first to invite me to join them - and then I just kept at it. Mama Laura even let me keep one of my guitars here." He paused to wave to one of the men on-stage setting up. "Hey, Mike, how are you?"

"Mick! Where have you been, son? You comin' up to play tonight, I hope!" The musician, his clean-shaven head gleaming in the spotlights, put his hands on his hips and waited for an answer.

"If you'll have me. Next set, maybe?"

"You know we always want you up here with us! I'm holdin' you to that - next set!" He pointed at Mick menacingly, then a grin broke spread across his face and he turned back to his drum kit to finish his preparations.

Mick turned back to Beth. "Anyway, there's not a lot more to tell. I've kept playing all these years - and I come here occasionally and sit in on a set if guys I know are playing."

"You must be really good."

The handsome vampire shrugged off the compliment. "Well... remember, I've had a lot more years to practice than all these guys. One of the few advantages of being a vamp."

"Does anyone here know you're a vampire? I mean, you've been coming here all these years - and you don't age. How have you gotten away with it?"

"No - nobody here knows. This was always an oasis for me - someplace I could come and almost feel human again. I've never wanted anyone connected to this place to know about me. When they had to close on Central, they were out of business for a couple of years. I waited a few more years to come back - and then told them I was the son of the man they knew before. Bless their hearts, they never questioned it. And I dressed differently and my hair is longer, so I looked a little different. If they ever did question it, I'd have to quit coming. I think it's not an issue because it's just about the music here, not the people. Doesn't matter if you're black or white, rich or poor. What matters is the music. It's why everyone is accepted. Music has never let me down... well, almost never." He stopped, thinking back to his first encounter with Coraline, and took a long swallow of his drink as Beth's food appeared.

"What do you mean... almost never?"

"Some other time, okay? I think they're about to start." He eyed her plate, with its heaping mounds of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, greens and cornbread . "Got enough food there?"

Beth laughed, pretending not to notice his change of topic. "Maybe - I'm pretty hungry. Oh - and Mick? Thanks for bringing me here. This is fun already." She turned her attention to the food on the table as the band wandered onto the stage and began tuning their instruments. Between bites, she continued to quiz him. "So, you know the guys in this band that play with Johnny Maestro...The Mamas Boys?" She squinted to read the front of the bass drum.

He guffawed. "Johnny Mastro and The Mamas Boys, not 'Maestro'. Although, he is certainly a maestro with jazz music. But, yeah. Yeah, I do know them all. They've all been playing here together for years, usually on Friday nights. Johnny's a good guy."

As they spoke, the musician in question strolled onto the stage. He sported shoulder-length wavy hair, worn tucked behind his ears, and a ragged goatee. Despite the subdued lighting, he wore sun glasses. The smile he beamed when he spotted Mick was clearly genuine. He waved and motioned for him to come to the stage, but the vampire shook his head with a grin and held up two fingers, indicating he would join him for the second set.

"Mick, go ahead if you want to. I'm fine - and contrary to what Miss Mickey thinks, I don't need an escort. This chicken is so delicious, I may just sit here eating it all night!" She rolled her eyes and smacked her lips to emphasize her point.

"No, I want to sit here with you and listen to them for a while. It's been a long time since I've been able to get in here - and besides, I want to know what you think of them. Glad you like the chicken!" He eyed her messy fingers and grinned.

Beth stuck one thumb in her mouth to lick it, smiling, her eyes daring him to say anything, but he wisely held his tongue. "So," she said, putting down her chicken to wipe her mouth and hands on a napkin from the pile in front of her. "Have you ever gotten to eat here? I noticed Miss Mickey thinks you don't eat because you play."

"No, I didn't get the chance to eat here when I was human - but I can tell just by looking at it that it's great. Besides, they won the 'Best Fried Chicken and Blues' award last year, didn't you hear?" he teased, to deflect Beth from the topic.

"Yeah, I did hear something about that...," she grinned back at him.

At that moment, the last member of the band walked onstage, a giant of a man, tall with an enormous gut, wearing old-fashioned horn-rim glasses and a tweed fedora.

"That's Gino Matteo," Mick told Beth. "A fabulous guitar player. I hope you like these guys." Without any introduction, the band started playing, starting with a cover of Bobby Blue Bland's "Down Home Blues", then swinging into "I'll Take Care of You".

They are as good as the fried chicken, Beth thought. The volume of the music made conversation difficult, so she contented herself with smiling at Mick and continuing to work on the chicken on her plate. It really was the best she'd ever had. Mom would have loved this place, she thought wistfully.

The evening unfolded at a leisurely pace, with the band outdoing themselves on each number and Miss Mickey keeping a constant supply of drinks coming to their table, until Beth was pleasantly buzzed. She finally pushed her plate away from her and contemplated the heap of chicken bones on it. "I cannot eat another bite!" she announced, as the band started a break between sets, patting her flat stomach for emphasis.

Mick looked pointedly at her plate, commenting dryly, "I think you gave it the good old college try."

Beth poked him with a slightly greasy finger. "Well, I figured I was eating for the two of us - and I didn't want Miss Mickey to think there was anything wrong with her food! I'll be right back." She wiggled her fingers at him, indicating the need to wash up.

Mick watched her go, her gait slightly uneven. He was impressed that she didn't appear to be even more impacted by the alcohol they'd consumed so far - Miss Mickey seemed to be making it her mission to over-serve them. He settled back to listen to the next song, enjoying the contentment that came with having Beth here. In all the years he had been coming to Babe and Ricky's, he had never had the opportunity – or desire - to bring a companion. Sharing it with her made the whole experience that much more enjoyable. I'm glad Beth is the first.

He would have been perfectly content to sit at the table with her and listen for the rest of the evening, but at that moment, Johnny Mastro appeared at his table. "Mick!" he exclaimed. "It's been too long, son! I would ask where you been keepin' yourself, but I can see you been very busy." He grinned and jerked his head in the general direction of the ladies' room.

Mick stuck out his hand to shake the musician's hand and nodded toward an empty chair. "Sit down, Johnny! Yeah, keeping up with her is pretty much a full-time job. Hey, you guys sound great, as usual."

Mastro declined the seat, saying, "I gotta get outside to have my cancer stick before the next set - and we'll sound even better when you get up there with us! Next set?"

"Maybe for just a couple of songs. I don't want to leave Beth stranded - and I'm pretty rusty."

The musician snorted. "You? Rusty? That'll be the day when I live to see that! Okay, I expect you up there, then." He hurried off, anxious for his cigarette break.

Beth returned from her trip to the bathroom. "Mick! You have to tell me what all the lipstick 'kisses' on the wall outside the women's restroom are for!"

Miss Mickey popped up table-side at that moment, sitting two more drinks down on their table and taking the empty seat Mick had offered to Johnny Mastro. She was more than happy to fill Beth in on the tradition. "Oh, that's been goin' on fo' years, honey. Women just like to show they appreciation for a clean bathroom and leave they mark on Babe and Ricky's!"

"Well, I've gotta go do that then!" Beth announced, grabbing her lipstick out of her purse and spinning around, laughing as she almost fell into Mick's lap while trying to execute the maneuver. He steadied her with his strong hands on her hips, then followed her progress as she picked her way through the tables.

The elderly black woman watched Beth go with shrewd eyes, then turned to the private investigator. "I like her, Mick. She a keeper, son. You done good!"

"Why thank you, Miss Mickey." He patted her hand. "I think she's a keeper, too. That's why I waited so long – had to be the right woman to bring here." He grinned.

"OK, ok, you was right. She's worth waitin' on, fo' sure. Now, you gotta get up on dat stage this next set - I saw Johnny over here so I knowed he asked you. That'll get her attention!"

"Okay, Miss Mickey, but just a couple of songs tonight. I want to spend the evening with my... friend."

She rolled her eyes at him. "If she don't leave you 'cause you don't call 'em like they are, I'll be surprised! I been watchin' you two tonight. If she ain't yo' girlfriend, son, then I ain't black!"

He laughed and amended his comment. "Okay, okay, I hear you."

As Beth reappeared, plopping back down in her seat, fresh from her trip to apply her 'mark' to the wall outside the bathroom. Miss Mickey scooped up the plate filled with the remains of the chicken and stood up. "Okay, Miss Beth, I'm gonna get rid o' this evidence an' I be back to set with you while our Mick, here, plays for you."

"Oh, good!" Beth threw her arms around Mick's neck and kissed him solidly on the lips. "Now I've put my mark on you, too!" she laughed, reaching up to wipe off a smear of lipstick from the edge of his mouth. "I cannot wait to hear you play. Get going!" The band had reappeared and was taking up their instruments and tuning up for the next set. Mick kissed Beth back, a hard, heated kiss that he broke reluctantly, then got up to find his guitar, stored in Mama Laura's old office. When he re-appeared on stage, holding the neck of his instrument, Miss Mickey, as promised, returned to sit with Beth.

"You heard this man play?" She peered inquisitively up into Beth's face.

"N-no." Beth shook her head. "I knew he used to play but I didn't even know he still did until tonight!"

"Well, honey, you just sit back an' relax. You gonna enjoy this, I'm tellin' you." The old woman crossed her arms and settled back in her chair.

Beth watched, chin in hand, fascinated, as Mick slung his instrument around his neck and quickly tuned up with his band mates. They launched into a song that Beth didn't recognize. "What song is that, Miss Mickey?" she asked, leaning forward to speak in the old woman's ear.

"That's 'Chasing the Dragon', honey. Gino wrote it. Just wait'll you hear yo' man an' Gino doin' the guitar solo together! It'll make yo' mouth drop open!"

It did just that. Beth sat at the table, mesmerized, her mouth hanging open just as Miss Mickey had predicted, as Mick and the heavy-set guitarist played off each other through riff after riff. Her eyes traveled from his flying fingers to his face, and back. He was concentrating on his partner, watching for the chords, his tongue caught between his teeth and hair hanging in his face, as they played. She had never seen him look happier.

Song: Chasing the Dragon, Gino Mateo

Without taking her eyes off him, she leaned over to her table mate, shouting over the music, "He's amazing, isn't he?!"

"Oh yeah, honey, that man can play! An he feels dat music – makes it even better. And looks? Yessir, he's a long drink of water! Pass me a glass, I'm gonna be here a while." Miss Mickey chuckled, patting Beth on the shoulder. "I'm jes happy fo' him that he found someone nice. I can tell you are real good fo' him. Mama Laura woulda been real happy to see this, real happy. We been on him fo' a long time, tellin' him he needed a woman. He's been a real lonely man, we could both see dat. The Lord knows why with those looks. Now, you need ta go have some babies with that man real soon, you hear? He needs hisself a family!" She settled back again to listen to the rest of the song, bobbing her head in time to the music.

Beth smiled sadly at the old woman, thinking about the babies that would never be. She shook off the thought and turned back to the stage, trying to imprint the image in her mind. The solo and the song came to an end and she jumped to her feet, cheering and clapping madly. She was not alone. The music-wise audience was appreciative of superior musicianship and showed it. The band, including Mick, bowed. He sought her out, smiling almost shyly at her as their eyes met. She favored him with a two-fingered whistle and two very enthusiastic thumbs-up, then sat down, settling in for the next song. It was one she recognized - Sam Cooke's classic, Little Red Rooster with a heavy jazz twist.

Song: Little Red Rooster, Junior Wells

Mick played a half-dozen more jazz tunes with Johnny and 'Mamas Boys', each more accomplished than the last. They ended with a New Orleans treatment of the Clapton guitar classic 'Layla' that had everyone on their feet. When he finally removed the guitar from around his neck and left the stage, the crowd treated him to a standing ovation. He bounded back to their table, catching Beth up in his arms to hug her before collapsing into his chair.

Miss Mickey, standing and clapping like the rest of the crowd, reached over and kissed him on the cheek. "Honey, you ain't rusty at all - you ain't lost a lick! I think this is yo' chance with this woman here - you might even be able ta turn her inta yo' girlfriend. She was mighty impressed, weren't you, darlin'?"

Gathering up the drink she'd been sipping during the performance, she patted Beth on the shoulder again. "Make him bring you back, now, sugar, okay? Yo' welcome anytime here, anytime. Now, I gotta get back ta work." With a final squeeze of Beth's arm and a grin to Mick, she left their table.

"Well, she's right about one thing," Beth said. "I am mighty impressed - that was incredible!"

"I might just try to take advantage later, then." He leered charmingly. "Do you want to leave now?" He didn't want to bore her - and was mindful of the fact that they had both had a long, tiring week. The evening's activities seemed to have re-energized Beth, however.

"Oh, no!" she protested. "I don't want to leave yet. Let's at least stay until the end of the next set." She smiled seductively at the handsome vampire and purred, "I'll make it worth your while later..."

I've created a monster! "Okay, we leave at the end of this next set, then." He noticed that Beth was jiggling the ice in her glass - a glass devoid of the liquor that had been there when he got up to play. "Um, would you like one more drink?" he asked, amused, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes!" Beth shouted enthusiastically, slamming the empty glass down on the table.

He cocked one eyebrow at her. "On second thought, maybe you should switch to water."

Beth leaned over the table to bat her eyes at him, propping her chin up on one hand. "Come on, Mick, one more scotch. I'll make that worth your while too..."

He gave up, laughing and shaking his head, as he went off to get a fresh round of drinks. Returning with a small glass of scotch on the rocks for Beth - and a large glass of water - he set both down in front of her. Pointing his finger at her, he commanded sternly, "Water first, then the scotch. Drink water!"

"Yessir," Beth replied meekly, obediently downing the water, making a face at it as she did.

"Trust me, you'll thank me later." He sat back down and pulled the inebriated young woman against him. She snuggled happily in his arms and they spent the next hour listening to the wonderful music, laughing, talking, and occasionally, kissing. Mick told her stories about the Central Avenue music scene, bands and performers he had known, and more of the history of Mama Laura and her family - stories he had never had the opportunity to share with anyone before. Beth was enthralled.

When the set came to an end, she was disappointed. "You have to promise to bring me back, Mick! This has been so much fun. And..." she leaned over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear, "I've never slept with a jazz musician before."

He snorted and corrected her. "Sure you have - you've been sleeping with me!"

Beth shook her head emphatically. "Doesn't count. I didn't know I was sleeping with a real jazz musician till now!"

Johnny Mastro and Gino Matteao came back over to their table and Mick introduced Beth. Johnny took her hand. "Ms. Turner, it's a pleasure to meet you - and you are in the company of one of the finest jazz guitar players I know. Just wish we could get him to drop that day job o' his and play with us regular!"

"Not gonna happen Johnny - and I think you already have one of the finest jazz guitarists in your band!" Mick nodded toward Gino, who smiled his thanks for the compliment. "But, listen, thanks again for letting me sit in. It was a real treat."

"Anytime, Mick, you know that. Anytime. Great to meet you Miss Turner. Hope you'll come back."

"Beth. Please call me Beth. And I intend to. Your music is wonderful!"

After a gentlemanly shake of her hand, the band leader and his guitarist left to pack up their equipment.

"That's our cue." Mick stood up and offered her his hand to pull her up. "I'm gonna take you home, okay?" He started slightly as he remembered voicing those same words all those years ago when he had picked her up in his arms to save her from Coraline's deranged plan. A fleeting image crossed his mind, the likeness of Beth as a small, frightened child superimposing itself on her upturned face. When she took his hand, smiling up at him as he hoisted her to his feet, her touch dispelled the vision, leaving the adult Beth in its place.

They stopped on the way out to say goodnight to Miss Mickey. "Thanks so much for sitting with me!" Beth exclaimed, giving the diminutive old woman a hug. "You were right about everything, Miss Mickey. Your fried chicken is the best in town - andthat man can really play!" She jerked her head toward her escort with a grin.

Mickey Champion hugged her back. "Honey, you come here any time - with o' without yo' friend, here!"

"An' you!" The elderly woman turned to Mick and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Don't you dare stay away this long agin. An' when you bring this woman back here again, yo' make sure yo' gonna introduce her to me as yo' girlfriend. You hear?!"

"Okay, okay!" Mick laughed, admitting defeat, his arm around the old woman. "Before I leave, Miss Mickey, I'd like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Beth Turner." He drew Beth to him with his free arm.

Mickey beamed. "Al' right then! Now y'all get on home an' make some babies!" She disengaged herself from Mick and shoved them both none-too-gently toward the door. The couple spilled out onto the sidewalk in front of the block building, laughing.

"She is a hoot, Mick! And, boy, does she ever love you!"

He deflected the compliment as they started down the street toward his car, his arm still around her. "They love everyone - it's part of their charm."

Beth staggered suddenly, turning her heel on an uneven piece of sidewalk, and would have fallen if not for the lightning fast reflexes of her escort.

"Um, Beth, do you want me to carry you?" He looked down into her laughing face, one eyebrow crooked in the questioning way he had.

"No!" came the indignant reply. "I can't walk myself...wait, wait, I mean I can walk myself! It's just these darn shoes!" Beth proceeded to remedy the situation by plopping down on the curb in her designer dress and removing the hot pink stiletto Stella McCartney pumps from her feet. "There! All better!" she pronounced, her cheeks almost matching the shoes, a combination of alcohol and the hot air in the jazz club.

"You sure you want to walk barefoot out here?" Mick skeptically cast an eye toward the sidewalk in front of them.

"I seem to remember being barefoot on a street with you before." Beth grinned up at him mischievously, swinging her heels at her side.

Mick's heart did a somersault as his mind flashed back to that night when he saw the now-adult Beth in person - at two A.M., walking barefoot through a fountain of freezing cold water, shoes in hand, so similar to tonight. That was the moment when he fell in love with the grown-up Beth Turner. "I remember it too," he said softly, "Blue jeans, white striped shirt, tan jacket…" Reaching down to take her free hand in his, he guided her to the car, watching carefully for broken glass.

As they started out in the old Mercedes, they continued talking about the club and the music they had heard there. Mick turned on the radio, searching for a jazz station to retain the atmosphere the music had created.

Beth picked up her phone for the first time all evening, squinting to make out the time displayed on its surface. "Oh, it's almost two! I had no idea! I think this has been the most fun evening I've ever had, Mick."

He looked over at her, the wind blowing her long hair across her face as she flashed a radiant smile at him. "Me too, Beth." His response was heartfelt. The sense of belonging, of connection to another person, was a new and treasured experience. He hadn't fully realized how lonely an existence he had led until he wasn't alone anymore.

She leaned over against her seat belt restraints to kiss him on the cheek. "Oh - and thanks for introducing me as your girlfriend - even if Miss Laura did have to bully you into doing it!" When he smiled that devastating Mick St. John smile back at her, she added softly, "That sounded good." Even if we can't 'make some babies'...

Owing to the late hour, they were back at the penthouse in record time. As soon as they were safely inside, with the reinforced steel door shut behind them, Mick pulled her into his arms, kissing her enthusiastically. She struggled to return his kiss while simultaneously trying to untangle her arms from the sweater she had somehow twisted when she donned it at the club.

Laughing, she gave up the fight and collapsed into a sitting position on the floor in front of him in order to sort out her uncooperative clothing. Mick looked down at her, hands on hips, watching the struggle. "Uh, need any help, Beth?"

She looked up at him, still laughing. "Nope! Got it!" With a flourish, she flung the offending sweater in the general direction of the couch and staggered to her feet. "I think it's time for me to sit down."

"Uh-huh," he smirked, "I'd say it's sit down or fall down time for you, Ms. Turner. I'm going to get a drink and... I hesitate to say this... would you like one?"

Beth primly answered, "Just water, thank you," and managed to make her way over to sit on the floor in front of the glass fire display without incident, leaning back against the leather sofa with a huge sigh of relief. Mick poured blood for himself and ice water for Beth, pausing to turn on music before strolling over to throw himself down next to her.

"Here you go." He handed her the tumbler of water and clicked their glasses together, teasingly echoing Beth's earlier comment. "To the most fun evening ever." After they both drank deeply, Mick leaned over, prying her tilting water glass out of her hand. He hopped up to deposit them safely out of reach on the kitchen counter, pausing only long enough to rinse his mouth with her remaining water.

Turning around, he was surprised to see Beth back on her feet, swaying in time to the music with her eyes closed, a look of contentment on her face. He approached her quietly, reaching down to take her left hand in his right, pulling her against him. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him as he wrapped his left arm around her waist.

Bending his head so that his lips lightly brushed her ear, sending a shiver of desire through her, he whispered, "May I have this dance?"

"Absolutely." She entwined her arms around his neck and fitted her body to his as Norah Jones began to sing. Their feet barely moved as they swayed in time to the song.

"You know," Mick said quietly, running his forefinger down her jawline tenderly, "The Nearness of You was playing the first time I ever asked a girl to dance. It had just come out – not sung by Norah Jones then, of course."

Beth opened her eyes and looked up at him in amazement. "Really?!"

"Yup. Written by Hoagy Carmichael. 1938. It was the wedding reception for the daughter of friends of my parents and they made me go. I was so mad at them - had to dress up, mind my manners, be expected to dance - a fifteen-year-old boy's idea of hell on a summer night." He pivoted them both around the fire and began gently swaying with her again.

"But..." She wanted to hear more.

"But, turns out that this girl I had a crush on was also there - and there was a real shortage of teenage boys." He laughed and spun Beth around, holding her tightly when she staggered slightly. "So, I got up my courage, walked across a ballroom that seemed to be about as long as a football field, and asked her to dance. My palms were sweating, my stomach was churning... it was... exhilarating."

"And did she? Dance with you, I mean." she asked softly, already knowing the answer. She half-closed her eyes, trying to picture a teenage Mick St. John.

"She did. Made my summer." His smile was wistful as he recalled that long-ago night.

Beth hugged Mick even closer and rested her head on his shoulder. The night had held so many surprises and revelations from him. I wish this could go on forever, she thought, closing her eyes and concentrating on the sensation of being close to him.

They stayed that way for several minutes, savoring the intimacy of just being together, the outside world held at bay. Their undoing was a sudden dip Mick executed at the end of the song, causing a tipsy Beth to lose her balance and tumble to the floor, shrieking with laughter as she pulled him down on top of her.

"I give up," Mick announced. "I think you're safer on the floor." Springing up, he snagged the cashmere throw from the couch and spread it out on the floor in front of the fire display with a flip of one strong arm. "Your bed, ma'am."

Rolling over onto it, Beth looked up at him, loving the way the firelight danced in his hazel eyes as he dropped to his knees beside her. She whispered, "Am I safer, Mick? I hope not."

Reaching up, she tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him down to her. His hard body covered her slender frame, his mouth seeking out hers. She loved the feel of him, pushing her hands inside his shirt to touch his cool skin as they kissed.

Mick briefly broke their embrace to sit up, straddling her while he stripped off first his shirt, then her dress. Her flimsy bra was no match for the speed and dexterity of a vampire and she was bare almost before she was aware of it.

Beth smiled up at him. "Wow, vampires make really good strippers!"

"Damn right," he growled, dropping back down next to her, close enough for the erotic touch of bare skin on bare skin as he drew her to him. Their kissing grew more intense, the need for one another more urgent. Mick's mouth traveled from her mouth to her neck, then down her body, pausing only long enough to pull off the rest of his clothes. He dropped back down to her, music and passion carrying them along through the night.

End Song: The Nearness of You, Norah Jones