“When have I ever stood you up?” I sipped my bourbon then returned it to the table. I eyed everyone in the bar, unimpressed by tonight’s talent. Most of the women were too plain for me. They were pretty and good enough, but not quite what I wanted. My eyes were always searching for someone to entertain me, but I usually wasn’t successful. I was insanely picky.
After I finished my search, I turned to Lacy. “You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you.” She smiled back at me then drank her long island iced tea.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Parker warned.
“I’m always a gentleman.” That was only partially true.
The chair next to me was suddenly filled with a blonde woman. Her skin was fair and didn’t contrast against her bright locks at all. She had the typical blue eyes of an LA model. With just one look, I could tell she was in the same business as me.
Parker introduced her. “Cash, this is Cynthia. The woman I told you about.”
So he set me up anyway. That bastard. It wasn’t the woman’s fault, so I was polite to her. “It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand.
She shook it then smiled at me.
Lacy leaned across the table, her bright smile dazzling the room. “I told Cynthia about all your work at the studio. She was very impressed.”
Which is exactly why I hated blind dates. After they knew I was high up in the right places, of course they wanted to get to know me. It was the same story every time. Once they realized my worth, they abused it to get what they wanted. Not my cup of tea. “I can assure you, most of that was an exaggeration.”
Cynthia picked her nails while they rested on the table. She was clearly nervous around me. “I’m an actress.”
Of course you are. “Have you been in anything I’d recognize?”
“I was an extra on 24.”
Of course you were. “That’s wonderful. You have to start somewhere.”
“And end up somewhere else.” She moved closer to me then eyed my drink. “I like men who drink bourbon.”
Now she was just kissing my ass. She’d probably sleep with me to get a gig in the studio. That was a huge turn off for me. When I picked up my own girls, I was always somebody different, somebody that couldn’t be used. And I could remain unattached and unidentified. Which was why dating through mutual friends was no good.
Thankfully, the band came on stage and started the show. I was grateful our conversation would halt for the next hour.
The band was a group of two men and two women. A tall guy with arms the size of ancient trees moved to the drum set. He spun his sticks in the air then caught them without looking. I was impressed. This should be good. Then the guitarist came out with his acoustic. He looked average. Average height. Average looks. Unremarkable. Then a blonde girl appeared with a second guitar and a line of tambourines. She stood beside the piano and took a stance. When the next woman came out, I felt my knee suddenly shake. She had shoulder-length brown hair, and a smile that made my heart skip a beat. The rosy tint to her cheeks, her wide lips and perfect teeth immediately caught my attention. And kept it. She held a bass in her hand with the strap across her shoulder. I could tell she was in tune with her instrument just by the way she held it. When she walked across the stage, she had a grace to her. But she also looked slightly nervous. Her gaze was downturned, like she was out of her comfort zone. The bass she had was midnight blue, a very manly color. After she came closer, I admired her outfit. She wore tight leggings and a dark blue shirt, matching her instrument.
Something about her natural grace and beauty drew me to her. There was a natural bounce to her step, like she was always excited. And she looked real. Not plastic. Not fake. She had real curves—gorgeous curves.
But my fascination was only a sliver of my true obsession. When the band started, her vocals made my spine shiver. Bumps formed on my arms despite the heat of the bar. Which was a first for me. A better voice I’d never heard. I was irritated she was a back-up vocalist. The ordinary looking guy was taking the lead with his guitar when she deserved the spotlight. That annoyed the hell out of me.
The music was catchy so I started to bop my head.
Cynthia shouted over the music. “They’re good, huh?”
I nodded but kept my eyes glued to my muse. My musician.
The band took an intermission, and I was devastated to see them go. My emotion and need surprised me most of all. I normally played it cool. Actually, I always played it cool. But my despair ended when I saw my girl take a seat at the grand piano. She took a deep breath then placed her hands on the keys. Once again, the hair on my arms prickled.
It was a slow ballad about love won and love lost. And it broke my heart. Her voice was perfect, hitting every note with the grace of a professional. This girl was too good to be playing in a small bar. Way too good.
When she sang, she closed her eyes most of the time. And after a certain point, I could tell she forgot about the audience. It was just her and the music. Nobody else. It was hot as hell. When she finished her piece, she stood up and bowed. I didn’t clap. But only because I was shocked by the noteworthy performance.
“Damn, that girl is good,” Parker said.
“She doesn’t even need a band,” Lacy said.
I ignored them. I had to figure out how to talk to this girl.
When the band returned, I just stared at her. Her fetching smile and her elegance with the bass was eye-catching. And I enjoyed sitting in the darkness, staring at her like a piece of artwork. I didn’t have to hide and act uninterested. I could be as blatant as I wanted.
After they played their last song, the band walked off stage to a loud round of applause. There wasn’t a single person not clapping or whistling loudly. I was even tempted to buy a t-shirt. But I was definitely getting a CD. Her voice would help me sleep.
Cynthia turned to me. “That was a great show.”
“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” I left the table and walked to the bartender. “What’s the name of this band?”
“The Quakes.”
I nodded. “What can you tell me about them?”
The second question annoyed her. “I have drinks to make.”
I pulled a hundred dollar bill out of my wallet. “Tell me everything you know.”
She eyed it then shoved it down her shirt. “They’re from London. They haven’t been signed to a record company, but they are pretty good. They’re touring here for the summer.”