Cardinal

by Sara Mack

  “Is she new talent?” Dean asks Latson.

  “Maybe,” Latson answers. “I just heard her play.”

  “No. I was goofing around. Latson was nice enough to let me hold a classic.” I hand him his guitar. “Thank you.”

  “How long have you been playing?” Dean asks.

  “Since I was nineteen.” That’s when I inherited my brother Josh’s guitar. He didn’t want it anymore, and I couldn’t let him give it away. I had always wanted to play, but he never had the patience to teach me. Plus, God forbid I touched his stuff.

  “You’re a natural,” Dean says.

  “Thanks.”

  People wandering in the front doors of Torque distract me.

  “Shit!” I push past Latson. “I left Gwen alone and got stuck dicking around with you.” I still haven’t forgiven him for the Ed comment.

  “It was good for me, too,” he says.

  Smart ass. I don’t bother with the stairs and hop off the stage despite my almost-healed incisions. It’s only a short drop. “I have to get to work. Nice to meet you, Dean.”

  “You, too,” he says.

  I speed walk to the bar and crawl underneath. “I’m sorry, Gwen.”

  “For what? Impressing us with your hidden talent? I swear we all stopped to listen to you. Well, most of us.”

  I frown. That’s both embarrassing and weird.

  She misunderstands my reaction as offense toward the people who didn’t drop everything for the Jen show. “Heidi was the only one who wasn’t impressed,” she explains.

  “Heidi? What’s she doing here?”

  “Dean’s playing. He’s a former member of Sacred Sin. You do the math.”

  “Ah.” Cue groupies.

  Some girls step up to the bar and order. As I make their drinks, I think. Apparently everyone at Torque is aware of Latson’s past. After I start a tab for the girls, I ask Gwen, “Am I the only one who didn’t know about Latson and the band?”

  “You didn’t know?” She looks shocked. “He only hires people he trusts. I’m surprised you got in.”

  “Well, I am Pete’s sister.”

  She smiles. “Pete’s a good guy.”

  As the night wears on, Dean blows me away with his set. He’s an incredible guitarist, and it’s a miracle he complimented me. The crowd is full of energy for him, even though it’s not as packed as when Riptide was here. Everyone who came tonight easily fits between the bar and the stage, including Heidi and her entourage. She has five girls with her who are acting like they’re here to see Elvis. I mean, I get it – Dean’s wicked talented – but, they’re dressed to the slutty nines, and they’ve even designated one of the waitstaff as their personal server for the night. Poor Kenzie.

  “That’s it!” She slams her tray down on the bar top. “If that red-haired bitch looks down her nose at me one more time I’m going to punch her! Or pour a drink over her head. She’s asked me a thousand times where Latson is. I don’t know where he is. What does she want from me?!” Kenzie lets out a frustrated breath and blows her bangs out of her eyes. “I need another Sex on the Beach.”

  I start making the drink. “I’m sorry. The night is almost over.”

  “Thank God. She’d better tip well or I will find Latson to straighten her ass out. She’s got me running around here like her BFF’s are royalty.”

  The crowd bursts into applause as Dean finishes a song. I look past Kenzie to see him nod thanks and grab a water bottle off the stage. He takes a big swig. I’m not sure if he’s done playing or if he has a finale planned.

  “Thank you so much, guys,” Dean says into the mic. “You don’t know how much your support means. This is a new road, but one I hope you’ll travel with me. Branching out on your own is a scary thing when you’re used to having friends behind you.”

  People whistle and clap.

  “Speaking of,” he looks around, “tonight was made possible by someone you might know. He’s here somewhere …”

  The crowd goes nuts, especially Heidi and her friends. Latson appears from the side of the stage and walks toward Dean. He squints into the spotlight and holds up one hand in a wave. They share a manly one-armed hug before stepping apart and exchanging some words. I notice Latson has changed his shirt. He’s back to the plain white tee. I have to admit it suits him. His tattoos stand out against the color, and he looks every part the rocker with his dark denim.

  “What do you think?” Dean leans toward the mic. “Can we convince him to join me for a reunion? One night only?” He laughs.

  People start to chant Latson’s name. It doesn’t take much convincing though, as he willingly grabs the Fender. The crowd goes ape-shit crazy.

  “No way.” Gwen grabs my arm. “He never plays.” She meets my eyes. “Never.”

  Anticipation runs through me as Dean moves to the side and swings the acoustic he was playing in front of him. As he messes with the tuners, Latson steps up to the mic and grabs it with both hands. He says four words that put everyone on their feet: “This one’s called “Easy”.”

  Holy hell. His voice. Amplified it’s…it’s… I look away from the stage.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  Dean starts to play, and Latson joins him. The crowd continues to cheer. The song stays instrumental for a few moments before I hear:

  “It’s supposed to get better, not worse

  It’s supposed to hurt less, not more

  But I can’t stop loving you

  There’s nothing I can do

  Nothing about us is easy.”

  The song is a ballad, but it has a hard edge to it. A vague memory hits me full force. Yep. Summer of 2005. I walked in on my brother, Adam, making out with his girlfriend to this same song. Shirts were off, hands were places. No wonder I repressed it. Now, hearing the song live, Latson’s voice is trying to make new memories for me.

  “What do you think?”

  I hear Pete over the music and the crowd. I find him, Felix, and Carter standing near Kenzie. As I glance around, all the employees I can see have stopped to enjoy the show. Gwen sings along, Kenzie sways, and Felix is playing air guitar. It makes me smile.

  “I think it’s great!” I shout to Pete.

  He gives me a thumbs up, and I let myself be a fan.

  When the song ends I clap with everyone else. Performing the song that started their career was the perfect end to Dean’s show. The people can’t get enough. I put my thumb and forefinger in my mouth and whistle. The sound is loud and sharp, and it carries through the bar.

  As the noise dies down, I start to clean up. We’ll be closing any minute. I move along the bar, grabbing empty glasses with my fingertips. With four in each hand I carry them over to the dump sink and start tossing out the used ice and drink stirs.

  “Okay, okay. One more.” Latson’s voice echoes.

  I hear shrill shrieks and assume they’re from Heidi and her crew.

  “This one …” He pauses. “I didn’t write this one.”

  I dump the last glass and stand up straight, curious. Latson pulls his guitar strap over his head and sets the instrument on its stand. He returns to the mic, then holds up a hand to block the spotlight shining on the stage. He squints as his eyes roam the room, until they find me.

  “Today … today I was told I know nothing about romance.”

  I freeze. I hear more shrieks for the word romance and a few boos for the awful person who told him that.

  “I know, right?” He shifts his gaze downstage to the dissenters. “She’s crazy,” he mouths and makes a swirling motion with his finger. People cheer and his eyes land back on me. “So, this song is for that person. She knows who she is.”

  Oh no.

  Latson takes the microphone off the stand and says a few private words to Dean. Dean nods and smiles, then starts to play. He strums and plucks the strings of his guitar in a familiar, upbeat tempo, and all the blood drains from my face.

  I know this song. By heart. I know the chords. I know the
transitions. I know when it was written and what album it’s on. When Latson opens his mouth and sings the first line, I mouth it with him.

  It’s “Little Bird” by Ed Sheeran.

  I’m rooted in place, my pulse keeping time with the music. As Latson sings he works the stage, his eyes occasionally jumping to where I stand. It’s obvious he didn’t just learn this song for my benefit. He anticipates each line and clips his words in all the right places. Ed is a pansy my ass! What a liar.

  I decide to focus on that, his lie, to get through this without literally swooning. It’s tough when he’s singing about mouths reading truths, missing you, and lips tasting like strawberries. As long as he stays on the opposite side of the room, I should be fine.

  He hops off the stage.

  Fuck.

  He tries to make his journey casual, by stopping every now and again to sing a few notes. As he gets closer to me I can’t decide if I want to throw myself at him or hide. He focuses on my face, and it’s obvious who he’s singing to now. My eyes dart to Pete. His smile is rapidly fading.

  I don’t know what to do. The song is coming to an end and all attention is on us as Latson takes his final steps. He stops directly in front of me, and I think I might overheat. His chocolate brown eyes bore into mine as he sings the last line of the song. I can’t breathe.

  The crowd erupts in applause. They start to converge on Latson. He continues to stare at me as random hands pat him on the back for a job well done. Ignoring them, he lowers the mic and leans over the bar top.

  “How’s that for romance, Little Bird?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “I knew it was you,” Gwen whispers. She’s found me standing in the corner, in the farthest spot behind the bar.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I respond over the rim of my cup. “Everyone knows it was me.”

  For this evening’s round-up drink, I’ve opted for something with a little kick. The first time I worked here, I chose water for Torque’s closing time tradition. The second time, I never made it that far. The third time ... well, I need something to calm my frazzled nerves. Or my raging hormones. I’m not sure which is higher.

  “I meant I knew before he sang.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re the only one who would tell Latson he isn’t romantic.” She turns and glances around the bar. “What an insane night.”

  I follow her gaze. No one wanted the impromptu Sacred Sin semi-reunion to end, and my brother and Carter, amongst others, had a hard time getting people to leave. Now, an hour after closing, most of the staff has finally taken a seat. They’ve given up trying to throw Heidi and her friends out. They’re busy at the opposite end of the bar, fawning over Latson and Dean while obnoxiously giggling.

  Ugh. The giggling.

  I take another drink.

  “He doesn’t look interested, you know,” Gwen says.

  I avert my eyes. “What?”

  “Latson. He looks like he’d rather descend to the seventh circle of hell than put up with them.”

  I look at him again. He’s talking to Dean, despite Heidi trying to weasel her way between his legs. He’s sitting on a stool, and she keeps touching his knee. I mentally smile when he grabs her hand and shoves it away.

  “You should go save him,” Gwen suggests. “Put her in her place and claim your man.”

  I make a face. “He’s not my man.”

  “Please.” Gwen gives me a blank look. “Denial looks awful on you.”

  Pete approaches the bar. “Are you ready to go?”

  I nod.

  “What are you drinking?” He reaches out, snags my cup, and smells it. “Whiskey?”

  “And Coke.” I grab the cup back. “Is there a problem with that?”

  He scowls. “You’re not supposed to have either.”

  “I can eventually.”

  “Eventually is not a week after surgery.”

  I quickly down the rest of my drink. “Pffft. Surgery was eight days ago.” Not only will the alcohol relax my mind, it will soothe the tiny twinges of pain I’m starting to feel. Maybe working a full shift tonight wasn’t the best idea.

  Pete shakes his head. “I swear …” He starts to walk away. “I’m going to get the car.”

  “’Kay.” I toss my cup in the trash. Grabbing my bag, I duck under the bar and notice my shoe is untied. I fix it, then stand. “See you tomorrow, Gwen.”

  She grins. “’Night.”

  Is something funny?

  I turn around and run smack into Latson’s chest. He catches me by my arm and his woodsy scent invades my senses. “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  What kind of ride?

  Sweet Jesus. Did I just think that? “No,” I say. “Pete’s getting the car.”

  He steps closer. “I think we should talk.”

  I think so, too. However, in my periphery, I catch a glimpse of Heidi staring at us. “I think you’re busy. You shouldn’t leave your adoring fans.”

  He nudges my arm, pulling me closer still. “Forget them.”

  That would be easy to do, but whatever is going on here is already conspicuous enough. “You know I can’t leave with you. Pete will bust a nut. We can talk tomorrow.”

  Latson looks uncertain, like I’m trying to brush him off. I’m not. I’m trying to avoid questioning stares and a lecture from my brother.

  “I promise,” I say. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

  Latson wasn’t expecting my rhyme and tries not to smile. “What are you? Seven?”

  I shrug and he sighs. “I’ll walk you out.”

  He lets go of my arm and sets his palm against my lower back, guiding me toward the door. I didn’t expect his touch and his hand burns a hole through my shirt. I know he’s held me in his arms before, but this feels different. This feels intimate and possessive, and I’m not the only one who notices.

  “Bye Little J,” Carter says as we pass him. He takes one look at Latson’s hand and does a double take. “Or is it Little Bird now?”

  Ah, Christ. “It’s Jen,” I say and keep walking.

  Latson holds the door for me as we step outside. When we get to the curb and separate, he pulls his cell out of his pocket and looks at the screen. “It’s after four a.m.,” he says.

  I nod.

  “Four hours ago, today became tomorrow.”

  I’m confused. “What?”

  Pete’s car rounds the corner and Latson doesn’t explain. As my brother pulls to the curb, he steps forward and reaches for the door. He starts to pull the handle, then stops. “Don’t fall asleep when you get home.”

  My forehead creases. “I think I’ll do what I want.”

  He opens the door an inch. “Today is tomorrow. You said we could talk.” He meets my eyes with a sincere expression. “Don’t fall asleep when you get home.”

  Now I get it … and there goes my pulse. I have no idea what he’s planning, but damn it if I don’t want to find out.

  He opens the car door, and I get inside. Pete pulls away as soon as the door shuts behind me. We make it one block before he asks, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  My head falls back against the head rest. “I wish I knew.”

  As Pete drives, I stare out the window and wonder what is happening. Latson has hit on me since the day I met him, but it’s always been fun and something I could handle. Tonight went to a whole new level. He used music to get to me and it worked. Am I ready to have his babies? No. But the idea of playing house is starting to grow on me.

  “He’s not good for you.”

  I look at Pete. “You keep saying that. I thought he was your friend.”

  “He is,” he gives me a warning look, “which means I know a lot about him. Just like I know Carter and Felix. Guys talk. Trust me. He’s not for you.”

  “You need to elaborate.” I cross my arms. “What are you saying? He’s abusive? He’s into drugs? He has a foot fetish? What?
”

  “No.” Pete shakes his head. “Relationships aren’t for him. I know you, and you’re not into casual. He doesn’t do long-term commitment.”

  “Long-term? Like weeks or like marriage?”

  “Marriage.”

  I snort. “You’re one to talk. Have you looked in the mirror lately? If marriage were the basis for a relationship, Jules should have left you years ago.”

  “What makes you think we’re not married?”

  “Um, because you’re not.” I look at him like he’s lost it. “I don’t remember a wedding.”

  Pete sighs as he turns the wheel. “That’s because you weren’t there.”

  I blink. “I’m sorry?”

  He gives me a resigned look.

  “You’re married?!”

  “Since March.”

  “How ...” My face falls. “Why didn’t you include us? Mom and dad are going to be so hurt.” I’m hurt.

  “We had a scare,” Pete says. “Jules found a lump. Cancer runs in her family.”

  My stomach knots. Jules looks so healthy. “Is she okay?”

  He nods. “The tests turned out fine, but it was a huge reality check. We decided there was no point in waiting, so we went to the courthouse. I mean, why plan a party for a year when the important part of the day is the actual marriage?”

  I’m stunned. I lean over and try to see his left hand under the passing street lights. “Where’s your ring?” Come to think of it, I haven’t seen one on Jules, either. I know I would have noticed a diamond.

  “We don’t have rings,” Pete confesses. “Jules didn’t want to discuss her health when asked why we did what we did. We’ve decided to keep it between us for a while. Things happened fast. No one knows we’re married.”

  I frown. “That is unacceptable, Peter. Jules deserves a gorgeous ring, even if she’s not wearing it.” My eyes get wide. “And you need to get down on one knee and propose like a gentleman!” I shove his arm. “You were raised better than that, jerk face.”

  “I know.” He looks sheepish. “That’s the favor I was going to ask you when I called a few weeks ago. Remember? I dropped the subject when I found out your life was falling apart. I was going to ask you to help me pick out a ring.”