"Watch out. That's how he starts," Bobby Dee mumbled. "First it's the back and then it's the arms and then--"
"Never mind, big mouth," Mel said. He took the lotion and stood behind me. His hands felt warm on my skin, but the lotion was cold and I jumped.
"He's the guy with the magic touch." Bobby lowered his reflector and really looked at me. "You don't sing, do you? We're looking for a new lead singer."
"I sing when I play the fiddle," I said. "But I'm not good enough to be in anyone's band."
"Fiddle. You mean as in hoedown music?"
"I guess so," I said. Mel rubbed the lotion into my arms and then spent some time on my shoulders and neck. "Thank you," I told him. I had the feeling if I didn't speak up, he'd keep at it all afternoon. "No problem."
"Hell's a Poppin' has a fiddle player in their band," Bobby said. "They got a gig in the valley, at Market Square off of Ventura. Ever hear of them?"
"She just got here, Bobby. She doesn't even know what you mean by the valley," Mel said.
"Oh yeah?" He studied me a moment and then went back to his sun reflector.
Sandy and one of her girlfriends dove into the pool and swam over to us. The young men jumped in after them.
"Hi again," Sandy called and raised herself up to look at me.
"Hi."
"You've met Mel, I see," she said.
"At my office," he told her.
"Watch out, he bites," she warned, laughing as she pushed herself away.
"Why is everyone warning me about you?" I asked him.
"Jealousy," he said. "Beware of the green-eyed monster. It possesses everyone around here eventually." Bobby grunted.
"Look who's talking," he said. Mel spun on him.
"What, you're not jealous of Tommy and the Loafers?" Mel asked him.
"It was just luck that they got that contract instead of us," Bobby replied.
"You're still jealous," Mel said. "See?" he told me. I smiled, lay back and closed my eyes. Someone turned on a radio and the music drifted our way. The sunlight was warm. There was laughter around me. It was easy to forget problems. I could get used to this, I thought shamefully.
"Are you going to Sandy's party tonight?" Mel asked.
"I think so," I said.
"Good."
I opened one eye and glanced at him. He was on his side, turned toward me.
"Why don't you bring your fiddle to Sandy's tonight," he suggested.
"I didn't bring it to California," I said.
"You didn't? Why not?"
"I . . . didn't think anyone would want to hear a fiddle player," I said.
"Doesn't Jerry have a fiddle?" Mel asked Bobby. "Yeah. We'll dig it out for you. I'll bring it tonight."