I smiled at him over my glass. “What are you doing next Sunday?”
He grinned at me.
Soon, there was a shot glass in my hand. Tequila. Oh, this was going to be an interesting night. The next thing I knew, we had created a dance floor in the middle of the room, shaking our booties to the good, the bad, and even the ugly. After a few more shots, the group decided it was time for me to take the stage.
“No, no, no, I don’t sing. You really don’t want me to,” I protested.
“I’ve heard her sing. She’s telling the truth,” Mia said.
“When have you heard me sing?”
“Please, how many nights have we spent at Howl at the Moon, singing with the dueling piano guys?” Mia’s eyes sparkled. “Actually, there is one song you manage to stay on key for.” She snatched my wrist and dragged me toward the coordinator.
“What song?” I called, suddenly terrified.
“You’ll see.” She fixed her large green eyes on me. “Pookie, it’ll be fine. When have I ever steered you wrong?”
I could think of a thousand times.
Standing on the stage, a microphone clutched my hands, my heart pounding, I thought I would faint.
“Just keep your eyes on me,” Mia said. “Pretend we’re in the crowd at the piano bar. You sing along every time. Just follow my lead.”
The familiar six-beat guitar lead-in to Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl” poured from the speakers, and I relaxed a little. Mia wasn’t kidding. This was a song we, and every other club-going woman, knew far too well. She was right. I could do this.
Even before Mia sang the first line, the crowd cheered. I waited for her to get through the first few lines, and I joined in at the part about the girl’s eyes, doing the classic disco move of framing my own eyes in sideways peace signs before running my hands down my body in time with the reference in the song.
I couldn’t see the crowd very well through the lights, but I heard Miles and Alex cheering. Emboldened by their support and the alcohol flowing through my veins, I took the lead on the second verse. When we got to the bridge, Mia and I harmonized. I couldn’t resist playing air drums during the extended solo, and Mia mimicked rocking out on the guitar.
When the song ended, the crowd was on its feet, led by Mia’s friends. The coordinator said something about the birthday girl over the mic, but I couldn’t hear him over the roar. Plus, my head was starting to ring from the alcohol. Perhaps it was time to switch to water.
Mia bounded down the stairs into the arms of her friends, and I struggled to keep up. Just as I was taking the last step, my heel caught and I stumbled forward, right into Alex, who dropped his drink to catch me.
“Are you okay?”
My cheeks were on fire. “Other than my wounded ego, I’m fine. I told you, hang around long enough, and I’ll fall over something.” I glanced at his empty glass on the floor. “I suppose that makes us even?”
“I suppose so.”
“I’ll get you another one,” I said, starting off toward the bar.
Alex pulled me back. “No, you won’t. A gentleman doesn’t allow a lady to buy him a drink. It should be the other way around even in this day and age.”
I started to argue, but the announcer called for the next singer.
“That’s me.” Alex turned toward the stage.
“I thought you said you don’t do karaoke.”
He winked. “There’s a first time for everything.”
Sliding into my seat, I watched Alex say something to the announcer. He nodded, flipped a switch, and handed Alex an acoustic guitar.
“Oh, he plays guitar,” Mia slurred, putting an arm around me. “You’ve always had a thing for musicians.”
She was right. It was as if I had musician radar. You could put me in a room filled with a hundred men, only one of whom was a musician, and I’d head straight for him, like a moth to a flame. Come to think of it, it was surprising Victor wasn’t a musician. But he was an artist, so maybe that was close enough to fit the pattern. My stupid weakness for men with guitars had been part of the reason I’d succumbed to Nick’s charms all those years ago. Ugh, bad Annabeth, no. Don’t think about Nick. I shook my head to clear it.
When I opened my eyes, Alex had finished tuning the guitar. He looked up and played the opening chords, which quickly resolved into Chris Issak’s “Wicked Game.” Looking straight at me, he sang, his voice deep and sonorous.
The world around me faded away until only the two of us remained. His song melted into my skin, into my veins, and flowed straight to my heart. And all the while, his eyes never left mine. A soft smile formed on my lips, and he smiled in response. With his voice swirling around and within me, I felt as though he was holding me. I could almost feel his hands caressing me, his lips burning my skin. As he sang, the intimacy grew until it was as if our souls were dancing. This was it, the feeling I’d been waiting for since I was sixteen.
Tears were in my eyes by the time he strummed the final chords. I stood to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, but Mia beat me to it.
She threw her arms around him and purred, “That was so hot.” Before I could move a muscle, she kissed him, long and deep. Then she whispered something in his ear.
Alex shook his head, untangled himself from Mia and steered her over toward Miles. “I think it’s time you took her home.”
Miles stood to steady Mia, who didn’t appear to quite know what was going on. “I think you might be right. Besides”—he clapped Alex on the shoulder—“no one could top the performance you just gave. That was solid, man. It really was.”
“Thanks.”
“Will you make sure Annabeth gets home all right?”
I cut between them to grab my purse. “Annabeth can take care of herself, thanks.”
I started to berate Mia, but she was nearly passed out on her feet. No sense in wasting my breath on someone who wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning anyway. With her in this condition, there was no sense in sticking around, especially since I didn’t know how to face Alex after that kiss. I strode toward the exit.
Halfway to the door, Alex caught up with me. “Annabeth, wait, please.”
I turned and found his eyes were pleading. I sighed. “What?”
He gestured over his shoulder. “Please know that I—I didn’t want—it had nothing to do with her. It was all for you.”
“I know. Thank you.” My voice cracked despite my attempts to keep my emotions in check. “I know this wasn’t your fault. I’m mad at Mia and taking it out on you, which isn’t fair. But you do have lousy timing.”
“Why?” He put a hand on the small of my back and ushered me out the door, raising the other to signal for a taxi.
“Victor…Nick…work…now Mia pulls this stunt.” I buried my face in my hands and shook my head. “It’s just all too much. I need some time to straighten out my head.”
Alex’s lips curved in a wry half smile. “Believe me, I understand that. I’m here if you need someone to talk to.” He opened the door of the cab that had pulled to the curb.
I smiled up at him. “Thank you. You know, this reminds me oddly of the night we met.”
Alex gave me a quick squeeze, not quite a hug. “Yes, but this time we won’t have to wait months to see each other again.”
And this time, I know how you feel about me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
September
The Cubbies were finally in the playoffs, and tickets were at a premium. None of us could afford them, and with Mia in the Bahamas on a photo shoot, even her connections couldn’t get us in. So we settled for watching the game at Bugsy Malone’s, our neighborhood bar, along with a few hundred of our closest friends.
“Oh, come on!” Victor yelled at the TV, his voice blending into the general mayhem around us. “He was safe. Even a blind man could have seen that.”
From somewhere behind us, someone threw popcorn at the screen, and I grabbed my drink, spinning out of the way.
I walked away from Victor and over to the other table our group occupied. Alex was debating the team’s pitching strategy with Kendra when I arrived.
“Uh-uh,” she said. “No way is he going to risk bringing in a lefty at this point in the game.”
Alex looked up. “Care to venture an opinion, or were you just bringing over free snacks?” He extracted a piece of popcorn from my hair and held it up.
I touched my hair, removing two more pieces. “Thanks. I would have walked around like that all night.”
“And you would have looked charming,” he said.
An arm snaked around me, and for one wild moment, I thought Alex might be making a move, but it was Victor.
“Hey, babe, I have to jet for a sec. My manager is here, and I need to go talk to her. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kissed my cheek.
“Okay.”
“Since when does he have a manager?” Kendra asked.
“Since that guy from Tokyo bought those pieces at the gallery exhibit. He’s been talking about moving there if he can convince Mr. Kobayashi to sponsor him, become his patron.”
Kendra frowned. “What would that mean for the two of you?”
I drew patterns on the tabletop with my finger and the condensation from my glass. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it since nothing is for sure yet.”
“I’m sure everything will work out fine,” Alex said.
Wishing to change the subject, I turned my attention back to the game, shouting my encouragement at the player at bat. When he struck out, ending the inning, I excused myself to use the ladies’ room.
Weaving through the press of sweating, swearing fans, I caught sight of Victor and Katrina in what appeared to be a heated debate. He was leaning casually against the wall, but she was towering over him, clearly trying to get some important point across. Curious, I hung back, just close enough to listen in on their conversation.
Katrina was speaking. “I mean seriously, where did you get that girl from, a consignment store? She’s cute, yes, but you’re a star on the rise. You need to think about your reputation.”
“What, exactly, is wrong with her?” Victor’s voice was edged in steel.
“Well, for one, she’s so average. Girl-next-door is fine for a starving artist, but you need someone more sophisticated, someone who understands the world you’re moving into. When you get to Tokyo, no one will pay you any mind with Raggedy Ann on your arm. She’s friends with Mia LaRue, right? So trade up. Dump her for her friend or one of Mia’s model friends. She’s bound to have a million of them.”
“And what if I love her? We have been together for a while now.”
Katrina scoffed. “Please. You’re about to move halfway around the world. How much of a hold could she possibly have on you?” She crossed her arms. “Does Little Miss Midwest even know about Tokyo?”
Guilt clouded Victor’s expression. “I haven’t told her yet—”
“Then don’t. Just go. Send her a text once you’re there. She’ll never know the difference.”
Victor looked uncertain.
“Look, I’m your manager, and I’m just trying to do what’s best for your image. If you arrive with a model on your arm, you’re fresh and mysterious. Everyone will be dying to get to know you, find out who that beauty is and what your secret is. With your name on everyone’s lips, the value of your art will skyrocket.”
“And if I arrive with Annabeth, I’m just another artist.” He sounded resigned.
“You got it. What’s one girl’s broken heart in comparison?”
Victor seemed to think for a minute, digging his hands in his pockets. “I really don’t want to hurt her, but I guess I can see your point. We really don’t have a future together anyway.” He shifted from foot to foot, his gaze on the floor.
Katrina’s lips formed a serpentine smile. “You can do it. Hell, I’ll even text her for you.”
Victor looked up then, his eyes bright with excitement. “So what are you thinking? California blonde, or should I go for someone a little more exotic?”
My heart constricted, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. No future together? Apparently he was done waiting for me, especially since Katrina had presented him with a better option. Who did he think he was? I’d given him four months of my life, and now he was going to discard me like a piece of garbage just because I didn’t measure up to Katrina’s idea of a sophisticated woman? No, he wasn’t getting away with this.
I pushed through the people separating us, shoved Katrina aside, and grabbed Victor by the shirt. He was taller than me, but my rage and his surprise gave me enough leverage to pull him down to my level.
“You forgot one thing about us Midwestern girls—we know an asshole when we see one.” I slapped him so hard he stumbled backward. “Don’t bother trying to defend yourself. There’s no excuse. We’re done.”
I stormed into the ladies’ room and took my rage out on a jammed stall door. There was no way I was sticking around and pretending everything was fine. After I washed my hands, I was out of here.
As soon as I emerged into the bar, a commotion drew my attention.
“If you’re stupid enough to think her plain, then perhaps you need some sense knocked into you.”
I heard the threat, but it took me a moment to realize Alex was the one who had issued it. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had overheard Victor’s conversation.
“Really, man, I wasn’t going to leave without saying good-bye. I was just saying what Katrina wanted to hear.”
“You sounded pretty sincere to me. How would you like to arrive in Tokyo with a broken hand? Not much use if you can’t paint, are you?”
I rushed over then, yelling for Alex to stop and shoving gawkers out of my way, but I wasn’t fast enough to prevent the first blow. Alex’s fist connected with Victor’s cheek before I could get between them. Victor stumbled backward but quickly recovered and launched himself at Alex. Tables tottered and tall chairs tipped while Kendra and I tried in vain to pry the two men apart. Security arrived within seconds. The two burly bouncers hoisted Victor off Alex as though he weighed no more than a barstool.
A few moments later, we were all standing in the street, our entire party ejected for causing a fight. Alex’s face was scratched, his shirt ripped, the tails untucked, but he seemed no worse for wear. Victor was dabbing his swollen and bleeding lower lip with a paper napkin. While Miles talked Alex down, Victor pulled me aside.
“I never meant for things to turn out like this.” He brushed a lock of hair that had come loose back behind my ear, and I shrank away from his touch. “I was going to tell you about Tokyo, I swear. I just found out myself.”
I stared at him, willing all my anger into a piercing gaze. “And when were you going to tell me you we were trading me in for a fancier model?”
He shook his head. “I never planned to leave you for someone else.”
“Not until Katrina put the thought into your mind. I saw your face, Victor. You were as excited about the idea of dating a model as she was. If you really cared about me, that wouldn’t be more than a fantasy.”
I had him there, and he knew it. “I guess this had to happen sooner or later.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m going to Tokyo. Your life is here, and I’m starting a new one halfway across the world—”
“One without me, you mean. One with models and women who can build up your image. Women who will sleep with you right away. Ones who aren’t broken.”
“It’s not that. I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t, and that’s exactly my point.” I stormed off, passing Miles and Alex on my way. “Hit him one more time for me, will you? I don’t want to break a nail,” I hissed at Alex.
Rounding the corner onto Michigan, I looked back just in time to see Victor picking himself up off the ground.
CHAPTER TWELVE
October
I couldn’t remember the last time I�
��d had a day off. Sitting on the outdoor patio of my favorite café, I savored the autumn sunshine, letting it warm my face as a temperate breeze lifted my hair. I leaned back, perfectly content to let the world pass me by. I was free. For the first time in months, I had no one to worry about. The Banned Books event had gone off without a hitch, garnering national press for the University of Chicago, with Dean McAllister and Alex at the center of the attention. To say they were happy with our management of the first phase of the campaign was an understatement. The rest was now Nick’s problem; I could return my focus solely back to copywriting, which was my first love. Victor was long gone; he had been smart enough to not try to contact me after the scene at the bar. Mia was caught up in preparations for Fashion Week, so even she couldn’t bring me down.
“Excuse me, miss.”
I opened my eyes to see the waiter delivering my glass of sauvignon blanc along with a basket of baked cheese and herb artisan crackers. He took my order, then I relaxed again in the wicker chair, pulling my sunglasses down over my eyes as I sipped the crisp, fruity wine.
I pulled a book, an epic fantasy about a slave woman who discovers she has the power to control the elements, out of my bag. But after only a few pages, I found I couldn’t concentrate on the story. My mind kept drifting back to two nights ago, when Alex and I had had one last late-night working session in his office to debrief after the Banned Books event. He had convinced me to read him some of my historical novel. Of course, in reading it aloud, I’d found a million typos, but he seemed to really like it.
“You’ve got a great authorial voice,” he said. “And your main character is very fresh. There are a lot of flapper stories out there—Dollface, Ingenue, and The Diviners—but Millie stands out as spunky and strong. I think she’s someone today’s women, especially the eighteen-to-thirty demographic, would really relate to. You should think about getting it edited and seeing if there’s any agent interest.”
“Wait. You think this is good enough to get published?”
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