She felt the urge to cross her fingers that no one would expect her to sound as good as the originals, or request Jay’s song. That feverish worry led her back to the real matter at hand. The truth was she had no idea how she was going to get through the evening, whether she knew every song or not. A whole year had gone by and while some parts of life had rebounded to normal—her appreciation for the simple things like mac ‘n’ cheese to the complicated ones like sexy men who returned her workplace flirting—tonight’s event had her feeling like that numb girl again. The one who’d found her boyfriend’s lifeless body in their bed and had stood there for much too long, remembering how to breathe.
She’d be up there on his stage, with all those eyes meant for him … on her.
Every muscle in her stomach clenched as an image of Jay sitting alone on his stool with his head hung over his guitar, resurfaced. He had been the real thing before the business had chewed him up and then spit him out. It’s a damn shame … she couldn’t finish that thought and shoved her tongue over the sharp edges of her back teeth to keep from crying in front of Mark and worse, Dusty who was too new to see her tears.
“Nah, don’t worry. It’s great. I’m sure the morning coffee crowd enjoyed your rendition of ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ just as much as Dusty over there.” Mark grinned but then became serious. “Hazel, I appreciate that you prepared and that you even agreed to do this in the first place.” His mouth twisted but he tried to smile on top of it. “If you need to run home before the show and freshen up, you can. I can man the counter and I think that table is darned near perfectly spotless.”
Her hands eased up on the wiping. She probably should go home and shower. It was only a few blocks to her place. Pulling a morning shift that bled into the night had become the norm over the past year but tonight she was feeling the effects. Even with the pressure building and creeping into the tips of her toes, she knew she couldn’t bail on Mark. They were a small, local club, but Mark and his wife, Julie, had put up enough flyers that they might just draw a crowd.
Hazel scanned the long, dark picnic style tables and the people munching their bagel sandwiches and wondered if any of them would stay for the fundraiser. A tiny part of her that she didn’t terribly like hoped they would finish up and go home.
Less folks to witness her pain sounded good in her book.
Why couldn’t the stars just align and make Mark the sole heir to some long lost relative’s millions?
Or send her through the check-out line at the exact moment when the winning numbers for the lotto were spit out onto her one dollar ticket purchase?
Then they’d have the money to help prevent people from taking their lives and she wouldn’t have to do this, to feel so lost up there, on that stage. She shrugged, sad for the part of her that no longer believed in the wonder of the universe in those magical ways she used to.
Hazel cleared a table that had just emptied, feeling torn as the customers left through the front door. That was money for their cause up and leaving. She sighed.
Hazel wiped her sweaty hands into the rag and pressed harder over the dented wood where lovesick and overly caffeinated customers had carved initials and squared, jagged hearts over the years. She caught a whiff of her hair when it hung down into her eyes. The scent of cherry and mint from her last shower was gone from the strands tickling her nose, replaced with the aroma of strong coffee. Her auburn ends looked distressed.
But there was a ton to do to get ready for the night. She’d just go back to the club’s bathroom and splash some water on her face. Besides, it wasn’t like she had a reason to get prettied up.
He’d left her a year ago. There were still times, like now, when she wished she could say he’d been taken from her. But it had been Jay’s choice.
Hazel’s hands slowed. She felt an unnatural, heavy squeeze mess with the pumping of life’s blood through her heart.
“I’ll be right back,” she said and turned.
“Take your time, Hazel. Seriously. I’ve got it up here.”
Mark’s voice was lost as she nearly ran to the back bathroom.
A few splashes of ice cold water later and after an impromptu thirty minute break in the stall, she’d breathed her way through the pain. Walking back to the front of the club to the café space, Hazel reminded herself of why she’d agreed to do this, and that it was too late to back out. If doing this helps just one person, she thought. Mark was currently up to his elbows in bags of onion bagels and industrial sized fancy tea bags, showing Dusty how to count inventory.
Tonight wasn’t just about losing Jay.
Mark’s younger brother had committed suicide too. She didn’t know many of the details, only that he’d been sick his entire short life with a horrible disease and hated putting his and Mark’s mom through all that pain.
Sweet, brave, young man.
Hazel wished she’d have met him. Just the same as she’d wished Jay was still around so she could have finally introduced him to her parents. That would never happen, but it reminded her how important tonight’s fundraiser was. If they raised enough money to help just one person get into counseling or on the right meds, getting up there was worth the nausea.
“I can do the restocking, guys,” she said to her big softy of a boss, feeling slightly less edgy after her break and sorry if she’d scared Dusty. She gave them both a soft smile and patted Dusty’s shoulder. It was solid and felt nice but she pulled back when Dusty nearly reciprocated. Flirting was one thing, but leading guys on when she hadn’t really felt the spark was low. Honestly, Hazel didn’t know if she was even ready for feeling sparks, connections. She rubbed her forehead in circles.
“No restocking, you are officially released from the operation on this side of the counter. As of right now, you are the talent,” Mark said.
“God, you know how I feel about that. Please don’t say that.”
Two hours later with night time rolling in, she made her way to the front window and pulled back the heavy, dark purple drapes to check the sidewalk outside, curious if they had a line for the show admission yet.
“Oh!” she said and fell back into the thick curtain—thank God it had caught her. She hadn’t expected the extreme close up view of the man hunched over, shading his eyes from the glaring street lights and neon signage, staring into the club, directly at her.
She stared back even though her instinct should have been to turn away.
It had been awhile since she’d looked, really looked, into someone’s eyes for fear of what they’d figure out about her. No one needed to know the ways in which she was broken inside. Assured this stranger couldn’t see her very well through the heavy tint, Hazel stayed, feeling safe. Plus, he was interesting.
He blinked but then his deep set, intense green eyes caught her attention even more. There was something very attractive about him but what disarmed her most was his authenticity. She’d never seen anything like him. Was that animal print on his shirt? Wait, could he see her?
Any other night, she thought, maybe she would have given indulging in this moment a try. She was just about to shove off but before she knew it, Hazel set her fingers to the glass window, at the level of his shoulder. The old feelings she’d had of being in touch with auras surprised her as she drew from his energy. It was only a guess, but oddly she was sure. He was out of balance, missing something. Familiar with that feeling, Hazel guessed he’d been this way for a long time now. It showed the more she gazed at him.
But that was crazy, she thought, as she noticed more, unable to pry her eyes from his telling face. Thick dark eyebrows brought out his long black lashes, giving him a fascinating boyish, mannish air.
No, it wasn’t crazy. What she was getting from his stare was true enough. She hated not trusting in the way of the world, in destiny and karma and the loving way her parents had raised her like she had before. But studying him brought a tiny part of that back. Her brow crinkled because who knew if she was ready to have any of that empathic hea
rt back? She’d found a safe zone with her flirting and skirting around the edges of real life.
Hazel’s fingertips warmed against the window. No longer sure this heartbreaking yet fascinating man couldn’t see her, she had no idea what else to do so she waved, like an idiot.
What was wrong with her?
Hazel was about to finagle her way out of the grasp of the drapes, embarrassed, when his frown softened and he looked down toward his side of the ground. Reminding herself she was safe behind the window glass, Hazel stood, perplexed by him, and waited. For what, she had no idea. Curiosity? Attraction? He was definitely cute, handsome, and sexy even. His shirt choice made her smile. Definitely didn’t fit in to the norm around here which intrigued her all the more.
He brought his head back up, stood to his full height, and then pushed long, lush brown bangs from his forehead. The look on his face nearly tugged her hand up with him; she wanted to touch, soothe. The more intrigued she became, the more her senses collected tiny bits about him, tuning her in. When he waved back, she had about as much sense as the dead wooden counter she’d been wiping up all day. Good thing he turned and walked away before he saw her absentmindedly pawing her way through the curtains. Breathlessness hadn’t overcome her in a very long time, flirtations aside. For a second, she’d had an actual craving to connect with him. It hadn’t just been mental, which surprised her.
Just like that, the moment passed. But Hazel couldn’t stop hoping he’d end up inside somehow. That he’d come back and she’d see him again, if only to figure out what he’d been looking for at the window. She balled up the ends of her blouse in her hands, noticing how sweaty they were, and blindly made her way from the trappings of the curtains. If she didn’t know any better, Hazel would think she’d just made a connection. And there might even have been a teeny tiny spark mixed in there somewhere.
She bolted from the window.
Chapter Two
It was close to show time and Hazel didn’t need to pinch herself, she needed a full on leather-gloved slap to the face. Seriously, what would have been more nerve wracking, sliding up to Jaxon James, lead guitarist for mega band Sin Pointe, to ask if he’d like his bagel toasted, or having to sing random song requests karaoke style in front of him on this very night?
But she already knew the truth.
The best option would have been to slink away and keep her distance altogether. She wasn’t in awe because of who he was, but rather sick to her stomach from remembering it was a gritty musician’s lifestyle that had stolen Jay. She’d seen how no one in this industry cared about anyone else and something about Jaxon James just rubbed her the wrong way. Most women would think she was crazy.
She wanted no part of it.
Except for one saving grace, her sexy man with the brilliant but solemn green eyes was seated with him. She wondered what their connection was and what her deal was becoming so fascinated by her stranger in the leopard print shirt. Seeing his unique style again made her grin. Not many guys walking these streets felt as comfy as Mr. Eyes obviously did to sport animal print, a skinny tie and the massive amount of black rubber-looking bracelets he did on his one wrist. Not to mention pants that tight.
Long legs, big feet and a cute butt.
Maybe the stars had once again aligned for her, bringing this much needed intriguing distraction out here tonight.
As Hazel swallowed and did her best not to lose the diversion Mr. Eyes had created, she made her way to the small, square stage in the very back of the club. She took her place next to the mic stand and thanked the heavens Mark had gotten his wife, Julie, to agree to play guitar for her so she wouldn’t be up there all alone. And then she heard her boss welcoming their small-sized crowd.
As in practically non-existent except for the one table with their famous patron and those who appeared to be in his small circle of significant others.
Jaxon James was the only member of Sin Pointe she recognized. No Stefan Calderon, Marion or Will Cordero with his signature mohawk. Mentally flicking herself in the forehead, Hazel snapped back to the here and now. She couldn’t be thinking about Mr. Eyes and his friends, because it was time to concentrate on breathing.
“Thank you so much for being here tonight. It is a very special night as we are doing what we can to help raise sorely needed funds for suicide prevention. And a huge thank you to Mr. Jaxon James for sponsoring our event last minute.”
Hazel nearly choked at that part. What did Mark mean by sponsoring? Was that why the club looked like it had been reserved for a private event with all of five guests present? Yes, she’d wished for a smaller crowd earlier but now it kind of pissed her off. If that was the case, Hazel hoped Mark had made Jaxon James pay a pretty penny to rent them out. She could feel her spine arch and crack with new tension and old memories of greedy, grabbing hands out to steal Jay and his once beautiful gift.
Why couldn’t she see it as the rock star having done her a favor? Maybe it was his cool smile, the one that promised the stars and grated on her nerves. As soon as Jay’s manager had discovered him, their sky had gone black with promises. And then one night, Jay had disappeared. She prayed he was in the light now, just to quiet the whispers she heard here and there that people who took their own lives were weak, selfish and hell bound. He wasn’t any of those. He was simply hurting.
Hazel took in a deep breath and let it out, trying to force away the negativity she’d become lost in so suddenly. This night was about hope and helping.
Mark continued on while Julie rubbed Hazel’s back. “So tonight we’re doing things a little differently than on our normal open mic. We have a special young woman here, one of our very own, who will be performing your requests and my beautiful wife backing her up on acoustic guitar. The deal is, it’s one dollar for every request you make and each song the lovely Hazel can successfully perform, the club will match your donation,” he said to the one table. “And consider yourself forewarned, this girl knows her music.”
Hazel would have cringed at that but was busy trying to distract herself by doing the math—how much would they really earn off of five people—when someone she didn’t recognize dressed in jeans and a light blue western shirt called out loudly from the table. She saw that he was seated next to Mr. Eyes. Her anger died a tiny bit. “What do you say we up that to ten bucks a request?” The broad shouldered, long-haired man made a sweep of the other four who all nodded in agreement.
That was when his table mate, Jaxon James, leaned over and whispered into the ear of a blonde lady seated practically on his lap. A second later, the lady kissed his forehead and chimed in. “And whatever your club makes at the end of the night, we’d like to double that in thanks of accepting our request to make this a private event.”
Of course. She’d been right. It was easy to throw money around, Hazel thought.
If she remembered correctly, she’d heard on the radio that a female close to Jaxon James had died the year before. Most likely collateral damage. Hazel shook her head, not liking the conclusion she’d jumped to so quickly but unable to get over her irritation at such a blatant move by the rock star.
Who did he think he was?
Buying their club out for the night? But another turn of Mr. Eyes head back toward the entrance caught her attention and she wondered what he was looking for. He brought his head back to the stage and with that, his fingers slid easily through his long, cocoa brown bangs, calling to her. Like the silly way she’d unknowingly brought her fingers up to the window earlier, she felt them begin to leave the mic in his direction and stopped before she made a giant fool of herself. Again. But she couldn’t deny how drawn she was to him. Her heart beat pumped a little too much blood and she felt herself warm from the inside out. If she were to lay a hand to her long neglected throat, surely she’d feel a sting on her skin and maybe a few beads of sweat.
Mark turned to her. He looked speechless for a moment. If he only knew the love-hate relationship she’d instantly formed with their table
of guests. Hazel forced a thumbs up at his hopefulness, finally conceding that they would indeed be making a fair amount for their fundraiser tonight.
With that acceptance, the pressure was now squarely on her shoulders to deliver.
She had to nail each song request because although she wasn’t a fan, Jaxon James was willing to leave without some cash tonight for their cause. It was her goal to be sure he did. And, no way could she muster up the guts to pull off another night like this. Not with Jay’s image haunting her at every old scuff on the black stage floor. How many of those had been left by Jay’s rubber soled biker boots? She didn’t belong up here. Her place was at the door or behind the counter. Not here.
Her palms sealed around the mic stuck in her grip.
“Well, all right then, ten bucks a pop it is and thanks.” Mark covered his heart with his hands and bowed in the direction of the rock star’s table.
Mark turned to Hazel again and quietly asked, “You ready, hun? You’ve got this.”
Hazel just nodded and gave him a smile. She owed Mark her sanity.
He gave Julie a quick kiss and then returned to the nearby bar.
It was dark. But as Hazel stepped closer to the mic to take her first request, she stumbled. She looked up as if on cue, feeling some need to apologize for her clumsiness. And also that Mr. Eyes and his friends weren’t even getting an actual artist for their money tonight. Nope, just her, glorified coffee bar slash bagel mistress by day, tired cocktail waitress by night. Nerves could have caused her trip up, but she knew it was because of what was going on back by the curtain.
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