Page 36 of Georgia On My Mind (Southern Promises)

Gia shook her head and smiled. “No thanks. I’ve got to head out soon. Big show tonight.”

“Uh-huh…” Angel put her hand on her hip. “You’re a little off. What’s going on?”

Leave it to one of her best friends to read her like a book. Gia was a nervous wreck trying to gather the courage to head over to Franko Bartelli’s club and get ready for the evening ahead. Was it that obvious she was out of sorts?

“I’m fine, Angel. Really.”

“Did you and Mr. Wonderful have a fight?”

She chuckled. “No. Me and Mr. Wonderful are doing just fine. He’s out tonight with some friends celebrating his buddy’s bachelor party.”

Angel rolled her eyes. “Oh, Lord! What is it with guys and their bachelor parties? I’m sure your lover-boy is gonna come home reeking of whiskey and cigars with some poor strippers g-string stuffed in his pocket.” She let out a wallop of laughter as Gia shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“No. It’s not like that. Hart’s friends rented some lanes at the local bowling alley. It’s quite tame.” She watched as Angel poured her a mug of steaming coffee.

“If you say so. You’re not performing your Marilyn for any bachelor parties tonight, are you?” Her eyes showed humor in her expression.

Gia stirred some sugar into her drink. “Ha! Wouldn’t that be hysterical?” Angel snorted as she walked away to pick up a food order, leaving Gia to ponder the night ahead. Her costume and makeup bag were already in the car; the music for her routine loaded on a flash drive tucked into her purse.

When Angel came back, she pursed her lips. “I know you’re up to something. Spill it.” She crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

Gia sighed, shifting her thoughts. “I’m closing Dance Atlanta…”

“What? Oh, girl. I’m so sorry.” The look she gave was full of empathy.

“It’s time. Donna just moved away, and I’m losing students left and right. It’s okay.” She sipped the hot coffee nervously, hoping this news would appease her friend and get her to stop asking questions.

“Well, you’ve done the best you could in the circumstances; you’ve had a great run.” Angel paused. “Were you ever able to get your aunt’s ring back?”

The coffee suddenly felt like paste sliding down her throat, and she coughed. “I’m getting it back on Monday. I’ll have all the money by the end of the weekend.”

“Well, there’s some good news!” Angel’s face lit up, her broad smile exposing the gap between her front teeth. “I’m so glad. I know how much that ring means to you.”

Gia nodded quickly and started to stand. If she didn’t get out of there, she knew she’d cave and tell Angel what she was about to do. “I gotta run. Big night ahead. Wish me luck.”

“Girl. You don’t need no luck!”

***

The mechanical pinsetter lifted, revealing the perfectly aligned white pins standing erect like little wooden men in a formation. Hart grinned, knowing he was about to win this round. He brought the bright, red bowling ball up to his chin before moving forward with purpose, throwing the circular twelve-pound weight underhand. It glided effortlessly across the long narrow lane hitting the center pin with a loud thwack knocking every single one of them over with a crash.

“Strike!” he yelled enthusiastically, thrusting his arms up into the air in a victory pose. His buddy, Mitch Montgomery, shoved a drink in his hand while patting him aggressively on the back.

“Dude! That’s the game!”

The group of friends talked loudly among the music and the crashing of pins in neighboring lanes of the recently renovated bowling alley. The smell of fresh popcorn wafted through the air as the overhead monitor displayed a brightly colored graphic of a dynamite explosion with the bold letters, STRIKE. The entire group had kept in touch since high school, several of them ending up at the same college. It was a brotherhood of sorts, each guy holding a special place in one another’s lives. Mitch was having a destination wedding in less than a week—only close family invited. He planned a guy’s night so they could celebrate and appease his group of disappointed friends who wouldn’t be a part of his nuptials.

Taking a break from bowling, they sat in a circle on hard plastic chairs, gulping pitchers of cheap draft beer and recounting stories of their youth. Their conversations were loud and raucous, and the bartender brought out several rounds of shots, tiny glasses raised in unison among friends.

“Cheers to Mitchy, our pal forever.”

“Cheers!” they said in unison.

The bowling resumed, and Mitch leaned over, speaking very closely to Hart. “When are you gonna let everyone know about your new girl? What was her name again?”

Hart finished tying the multi-colored bowling shoe that had come loose and sat up. “Gia. I will. Not tonight, though. Tonight is all about you, brother.”

Mitch grinned and licked his lips. “I still can’t believe Gia was Marilyn at my birthday party.”

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