My teeth ground together, and I ripped the microphone from the stand he had brought out for me. I put it up to my lips while my left hand reached for my wig. Maybe I thought he was sexy. Maybe I was attracted to the music he could produce. Maybe I even fantasized about those damn lips of his, but I did not like him at all. I no longer thought those things about him anymore. I swear.
Before I could reveal myself, Gage called out, “Just play a damn song, Rhett!”
I glared at Gage for interrupting my moment and then released a breath I had been holding in. Because, in reality, he just saved me from exposing myself to a whole hell of a lot of people. With Keith and Jay gone, and no security, it wouldn’t have been my smartest move.
"Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty." I said the first thing I could think of. The bar had been laughing along with Rhett's teasing, and now the silence was so thick I could feel it. "Have you heard of them? Or do you only get your playlists from Rolling Stone's top 100 charts?"
Rhett's mouth dropped open, and he turned to fully look at me. We were cast under semi-bright lights that hung above the stage. They weren't anything fancy, but they got the job done in the little bar. I could clearly see the surprise in his eyes. His assumptions about me were being blown out of the water.
“Shit…” He laughed.
“So… is that a yes or a no?” I asked.
He stood from his chair, moving it back to where I left mine. Then he pulled the straw from between his lips and tucked it into his back pocket. Thank God, I didn’t need another excuse to be drawn to those lips.
“Now play, subway boy.” I pointed toward his guitar and waited for his fingers to make their magic.
His eyebrow arched, and he smirked.
Too damn sexy.
We hadn't discussed which song we would sing. It didn't matter because I knew everything Stevie Nicks had ever performed publicly. But for some reason, I was pleased that he picked my favorite, and when the familiar notes resonated from his guitar, I smiled at him.
Since I was little, I could remember singing along to Stevie Nicks. She was my idol. A female rock star? Hell yes. She was everything I wanted to be. I used to tease the hell out of my blonde hair and drape my grandma's black lace tablecloth across my shoulders. I sang into my hairbrush and danced throughout the house, putting on a show for anyone and everyone that would listen.
My dad, who strictly enjoyed country and never turned his radio dial anywhere near a rock station, was my biggest fan. He let me sing in his diner even though not all of his customers enjoyed it. He smiled and encouraged me, regardless. He knew it made me happy to sing.
Though I was lost in thought about a much younger me bouncing between booths while my dad served up hamburgers, the second Rhett hit the intro I didn’t miss a beat. I could sing this song backward and forward. I could sing it with or without instrumentals. The music was a part of me like an appendage only I could see.
Not surprisingly, Rhett played the lead guitar masterfully and my voice melted into his notes. Then something incredible happened… he joined me. His voice, just as I had hoped, adapted perfectly with the tone of the song. It was as if our voices were made to be together.
I looked up at him and realized he felt it, too. It was this weird connection that we were syncing flawlessly. I dragged out my chorus just to see if he could keep up, and he smoothly slowed down his fingers on the strings and matched me. The second we hit the next verse, he decided to test me by slamming down an extended riff but I jumped right into it with him.
The crowd was no longer in front of us. We were no longer performing for anyone but each other. I honestly couldn’t remember how long it had been since singing had been this fun. The thrill of where we would take each other musically had to have been radiating from within me, because his eyes still hadn’t left mine.
Rhett’s hand strummed steadily along with his voice, and we watched one another as we transitioned from the chorus to the next verse. I could feel the deep vibration of his voice in my chest, and it felt as if it were supporting me. As if my voice could weave in and out of his. It was perfect.
Our audience more than likely had no clue what was going on. Unless they knew this song well, they probably wouldn't have been able to notice the changes we were making. They wouldn't recognize that we were testing this chemistry we had discovered. It both confused and amazed me.
My naturally raspy voice finished off the last few verses, and Rhett closed us out with his seductive melody. I stood there staring at him, trying to decide if I was crazy. Was I just excited that someone actually wanted to sing a song by an artist I felt a deep connection to, or did we really have this profound magnetism between us while we sang together?
The audience had gone quiet and it took me a moment to register. They weren't clapping or hollering like they had when Rhett finished earlier. I looked down at our table first. Rhett's friends were staring at us, dumbfounded. I scanned the rest of the bar and noticed similar looks. Maybe they had seen our chemistry. Perhaps it hadn't just been something we felt.
"If I got down on one knee right now"—Rhett looked at me, his face completely serious, and spoke softly into the microphone—"what are the chances that you would say ‘yes'?"
I exhaled at his attempt to break the heavy tension. “Slim to none,” I replied with a smile.
“She thinks I’m joking,” he informed the crowd. They all laughed and smiled up at him. I couldn’t contain my grin either, and he said, "I'm not."
Sometimes he appeared shy and humble, but other times the performer in him came out. He really could entertain.
Once they realized we were finished, the audience roared to life with their applause. I shoved Rhett playfully and set my microphone back on the stand.
Making my way down the stairs, Rose met me with a half-smile, half-panicked look. “Time to go,” she quickly stated. “I’m pretty sure people are starting to realize who you are. Your voice is too unique. You stick around much longer and all they will have to do is stare at you to figure it out.”
I gazed around the bar and observed a group staring directly at me. I could practically see the wheels turning. They were starting to look past the wig and connect the dots. Rose was right. My voice was too well known for me to do things like that.
Rose handed me my jacket and phone then I kissed her cheek. “This was actually fun… thanks.” I even heard the surprise in my voice. She smiled back and scooted me toward the door.
I zigzagged through the crowd, avoiding the large group that was growing suspicious. I kept my head down and tried to blend in. Just as I reached for the doorknob to exit, a large body squeezed in front of me.
“Why rush off so fast?” I looked up to see a man with broad shoulders and a thick goatee. His breath suggested he had indulged in one too many of Alex’s beverages tonight, and I cringed. “You were hot up there.”
“Thanks, but my ride’s here.” I tried to duck under his arm.
"Don't I know you?" he asked, looking directly into my eyes, his face a little too close. "You look pretty damn familiar." His fingers wrapped around a tendril of my faux brown hair, and then I started to worry. Should I knee this guy and run, or would that make too much of a scene?
“I’m trying to leave,” I ground out.
"I'm trying to get you to stay… with me," he smoothly replied. It was obvious he wasn't budging from his spot, and I was more than a little uncomfortable.
I stepped back to get the right kind of leverage needed for a blow to the groin. Beau had taught me some necessary self-defense skills, although my mother insisted it was a waste of time. She’d snidely pointed out that if Beau were doing his job correctly, I wouldn't need those skills. Thank you, Beau, for ignoring her.
An arm encased in leather shoved between beer-breath and me, reaching for the door. I looked back to see Rhett glaring at the man that blocked my exit. His opposite hand gently pushed my lower back and guided me into the vestibule
between the entrance to the bar and the exit to the street. He closed the door behind himself, and we were alone in the tiny square-shaped area between the doors.
"You okay?" Rhett asked, stepping even closer. His eyes glanced down my body, checking for who knows what. It's not like that much could have happened to me in the thirty seconds since I left the stage.
"Yeah." I waved it off. "People can get weird sometimes." Inside, I was taking a substantial breath of relief.
Even if I could have taken that guy on—which I probably couldn’t—the commotion would have caused people to surround me. The thought immediately squeezed my chest. I'm sure there would have been a video, and probably pictures would have surfaced of me assaulting someone. Things like that quickly spun out of control.
“You aren’t leaving though, right?” Rhett’s voice broke through my internal panic. “That was incredible up there.” He nodded his head toward the door we’d just exited, and he smiled widely at me. Apparently, he wasn’t going to dwell on the drunk. “I don’t know if you do that a lot, but it’s never like that for me. That was amazing. Your voice… Wow… I mean… us together…” he started to ramble with excitement. “I know a few other songs I’d love to try out with you.”
I took a step back from his close proximity and said, “I really do have to go.”
It was one thing to go up there and feel it, but it was a whole other thing to actually stand here and talk about it, knowing how strongly he felt. Especially when I still had no idea what had happened between us on that stage.
“No big deal. When do you think you can do it again?” he asked, ignoring my brush-off.
I shook my head, not knowing what to tell him.
"Okay, let's just swap numbers, and we can work out a time later," he suggested, not fazed by my apprehension in the slightest.
“Look, this was fun…” I started to say.
His face sobered and I zipped my lips. "I'm really trying here. This is probably new to you, singing on stage or in front of people and whatnot. But I've been doing it for almost as long as I can remember. It is never like that. That was… shit, what's the word… it was exhilarating. We had real chemistry up there."
I should have just pulled off my wig and told him right then. He was right—we did have chemistry on stage. And I didn't know if I liked that or not. How could I have felt something like that and then go back to performing solo? He would ruin everything for me. It was better to step away now and hope that was just a one-time thing.
Rhett’s hand reached out and gently pulled mine up. I looked at our hands and noticed he was turning my phone over. He pressed the button and summoned the screen where I needed to enter my passcode. His eyes looked up at me… pleading.
“Zero, nine, two, six,” I whispered. Why the hell did I just say that?!
He looked surprised but quickly entered my four-digit code. With the phone still in my hand, I felt him typing in something. He could have been doing anything, but I looked up to watch his face instead.
His eyes were a deep blue color. It made me think of warm sandy beaches and oceans that felt like bathwater, which happened to be some of my favorite places. His hair was a little darker than it had appeared in the poorly lit subway. Seeing it up close, it was actually more of a light brown with blond highlights.
I couldn't let myself focus too hard on those lips. It was actually one of the first times that he didn't have something between them. They were plump without feminizing him. He was undoubtedly all man. His jawbone was rigid and perfect, his five ‘o'clock shadow dusting it lightly. I was a sucker for scruffy faces.
A catchy polyphonic beat caught my attention. His hand left mine, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket for me to see. When he flipped open his phone, my mouth dropped open.
“What is that?” I gestured to the device in his hand. “They still sell those?”
He smirked. "Apparently." He clutched the archaic flip phone in his hand. "You won't believe this, but this phone only cost me twenty-four dollars."
"Oh, I believe it, grandpa." I laughed.
"I need my phone to call and text, and this bad boy right here does just that. I'll have you know this has made it through some rough times unscathed. Falling off the roof of a cab, taking a swim in the Bethesda fountain, even getting chewed on by a dog. Still here, still trucking along." He held up the device to prove its existence. "I'd like to see your fancy, more-than-my-rent phone do that.”
“We live in very different worlds.” I cringed inwardly, knowing I shouldn’t have said that. It could only lead to more questions.
“I’ll bet they’re more similar than you think.” Wanna bet? I wanted to say.
The corner of his lip pulled up, almost tempting me to pull him closer. Fortunately, the shrill, rigid tone of his phone started up again.
"The Who?" I smiled at his memorable ringtone.
“Nice. You really know music, huh?” He looked at me as if he were genuinely surprised. If only he knew. “I called myself from your phone. Now we have each other’s numbers. When do you think you’ll have some free time?” he asked.
“I pretty much never have free time.” It was the truth.
“Everyone has free time once in a while. We’ll make this work.” He sounded confident.
"I really do have to go…" I gestured at the door. When I reached for it, his hand beat me to it and he pulled it open for me. "You don't have to walk me out," I said, turning toward him.
He pointed to his lips that, of course, now held a cigarette. “Smoke break.”
Silently, I prayed that Beau had parked down the block a bit. No such luck. He was front and center, like always. I knew he would pay someone to move before he would park down the street.
He quickly exited the vehicle, and his eyes were locked on Rhett standing behind me. I smiled at Beau, letting him know that Rhett wasn’t a threat.
“I had a good time,” I offered to Rhett while walking backward toward the car.
“Don’t act like it was a one-time thing… doesn’t have to be,” he called as I continued to retreat.
I smiled at him before I scooted into the backseat of the black Range Rover.
“Wait! What’s your name?” Rhett called out. I almost laughed that he had let me go this long without giving it up.
I poked my head out the door and chickened out by replying, "E.J." I more than likely wouldn’t see him again.
He probably figured something was up. I was climbing into a chauffeured, high-end SUV. I could have just told him, but I didn't want to ruin my memory of the night we shared.
Beau raised his eyebrows, most likely because of my self-appointed nickname, and then shut the door, safely closing me off behind the heavily tinted windows. I let myself look at Rhett one last time. His mouth was agape, and his still unlit cigarette barely clung to his lips as he stared at my vehicle.
Sienna came bursting out of the bar and looked up and down the sidewalk. Rhett wrapped his arm lazily around her shoulders and gestured toward me. I could see Sienna sigh and then wave sulkily, even though she couldn't see me. I waved back for no reason at all. They watched as we pulled away, and I felt a little pang at no longer seeing Rhett.
It was something that needed to be done, though. He would taint my career for sure. I enjoyed singing and performing for stadiums and crowds so large I needed a fleet of security. Hell, if I was being honest, I was obsessed with the money and fame too. I relished it and all the perks it offered.
But along with that, I’ve learned to harden myself to this lifestyle—a lifestyle I have chosen. It wasn’t all happiness and rainbows. It wasn’t all about the music and creating what you loved. With Rhett though, after one song it was like I had been teased with what a life making music could be about. I knew going down that path would only lead to disappointment. It couldn’t be that good all the time.
And then there were those vibes that basically shot through the both of us and ma
de me feel as if our voices weren’t meant to do anything but sing together.
Yes, it was for the best to not see him again.
Which meant I probably wouldn’t see Sienna or Gage. Or even Alex. That sucked because I actually liked them.
Shit, I might have to change my number… again.
— FOUR —
"Babe, keep your head up," Lola chastised again while jostling my chin.
My lids fluttered and I forced them to open. She went back to curling my hair with her dangerously hot iron, creating a thick wave.
Lola was my makeup artist plus hair stylist plus best friend. She liked to shop too, so she was often my clothing stylist as well. She was a Jack-of-all-trades. And though it wasn’t typical for celebrities to have one person doing it all, the less people I had to trust, the better.
There wasn't anyone in my entire life that I spent more one-on-one time with than I did with Lola. The fact that it was necessary to sit in her chair at least once every day aided our relationship. It didn't hurt that she was absolutely brilliant with a cosmetic brush and a curling iron either. She knew I would do just about anything to have her work for me until the day I decided to leave the spotlight.
But that day wasn’t today. I had back-to-back meetings that would require me to be awake, even though they didn’t really need my full attention. Decisions were typically made before they were brought to me.
“Ever!” Lola growled when my head bobbed in exhaustion, causing her curling iron to slip and nearly burning my skin. “What is going on with you, girl? You’re never tired.”
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” I replied while trying to keep my eyes as wide open as possible.
“You never sleep… what’s different about today?”
"I always sleep. I don't sleep long, but I always sleep." I felt the need to clarify.
“So what happened? Let me guess, the dick bag did something.” She rolled her eyes like she always did when she brought up Noah. Her distaste for him had been evident since the first week we started dating.
Ever Lonely (Ever James Band Book 1) Page 4