A Better Reason to Fall in Love

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “He’s very talented,” Emmy offered.

  Addie smiled and chuckled, her happy eyes gleaming with understanding. “And he’s as pretty as any dream I ever had, ain’t he?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emmy giggled.

  “Hello, ladies,” Rhett greeted as he approached.

  Tabby and Emmy both nodded and smiled at the young man.

  “You ladies arrived just in time,” he said. “We’re already packed! It’s a good thing I thought to save y’all a couple of seats down front.”

  “What?” Tabby exclaimed. “I was hoping we could just slip in and sit in the back somewhere.”

  “Oh, nonsense!” Addie said. “Rhett will see that you’re seated properly. Won’t ya, darlin’?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rhett said. “If you ladies will just follow me. And can I get y’all anything while you’re waitin’ on the music?”

  “Lemonade?” Emmy asked as she followed him to the stage side of the restaurant.

  “You bet,” Rhett said. “And for you, miss?”

  “I noticed you had a virgin mint julep thing on the menu. Is it good?” Tabby said.

  “The virgin mint julep smoothie?” Rhett asked. “It’s fabulous!”

  “I’ll have that then,” Tabby said.

  “Great,” Rhett said, standing aside and gesturing with a nod to a small round table placed directly in front of the stage. “You ladies have a seat, and I’ll bring those right out to you.”

  “Front and center?” Tabby asked. She was somewhat mortified. They couldn’t sit front and center of the stage! Jagger would easily be able to see her if they did. “I-I don’t know if—”

  “It’s perfect!” Emmy giggled. “Thank you so much, Rhett.”

  “You’re welcome,” Rhett said, smiling. “Now you ladies enjoy yourselves this evening. All right?”

  “Oh, we will,” Emmy said.

  Tabby watched Rhett go, feeling rather awkward and self-conscious as the other people seated nearby seemed to stare at her and Emmy a moment. No doubt they were wondering how she and Emmy had acquired some sort of VIP status—how they’d managed to get the table that was front and center of the stage.

  “Ooo, I feel like a groupie with a backstage pass!” Emmy giggled as she sat down at the table. “Remind me to tip Rhett the Waiter really, really well!”

  “He’ll be able to see us if we sit here, Emmy,” Tabby whispered.

  Emmy shrugged. “So? You look fabulous!”

  Tabby glanced down at her outfit as she sat at the table. She’d worn her skinny jeans, black ankle-strap heels, and a tiger-print top. When she’d dressed for the evening, she’d assumed she and Emmy would be seated in the back of the room—totally unperceived by Jagger Brodie. Now, however, she kind of wished she’d worn a plain black dress—something more conservative, something more like what she usually wore to the office.

  “I don’t know why you don’t dress more like this for work,” Emmy said. “Though your little business skirt suits are cute too.”

  Tabby shrugged. “I guess ’cause work is work and I like to separate it from my free time at home.”

  “I get that,” Emmy said. “I think we all sort of do that. Even Naomi…obviously.”

  “I know!” Tabby giggled as she began to relax. “Can you believe what a text-aholic she’s become since Professor Anthony Lowery texts her now?”

  “I know!” Emily giggled. “She’s going to totally get carpal tunnel from it. She’s, like, in love with that guy. I mean, she’s only met him once!” Emily paused, however, nodding as she added, “But who am I to talk, huh? I’ve only been in Luke’s physical presence three times…and I want to marry him!”

  “I guess stranger things than falling madly in love with a college professor have happened,” Tabby sighed.

  “Like falling in love with a guy who dives off cliffs in his own restaurant?” Emmy suggested.

  “Exactly!” Tabby giggled.

  “Or falling in love with a guy who’s a business exec by day and a blues guitarist by night?”

  Tabby shook her head. “Crushing on someone and falling in love with him are two entirely different things, Emmy.”

  “Well, one usually begets the other,” Emmy teased.

  “Here you go, ladies,” Rhett said as he arrived with lemonade in one hand and a virgin mint julep smoothie in the other. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.”

  “We will. Thanks,” Tabby said as Rhett set their beverages on the table.

  “Did you say the guy who’s performing tonight is your cousin?” Emmy asked.

  Rhett’s smile broadened. “Yeah. Jagger Brodie. Our dads are brothers.”

  “Is this a family business then?” Tabby asked.

  Rhett shrugged. “Yeah…pretty much. Our Maw Maw Genevieve owns it. She used to have a place in New Orleans before Katrina hit, but she moved out here to live with our Aunt Addie after the hurricane. Last year she was gettin’ kind of restless, so Aunt Addie suggested they open a new restaurant out here. There’s a bunch of us grandkids who live out here, so we’re all helpin’ out…at least until things are rollin’ good.” Rhett chuckled. “Maw Maw had a time talkin’ Jagger into performin’. I’m glad she was able to, though. We’re finding it hard to dig up good blues and jazz musicians out here. We haven’t found anybody yet who’s as good as Jagger.” Rhett’s smile broadened, “Then again…I’m probably a little one-sided on the issue. Right?”

  “I don’t know,” Tabby said, shrugging. “He was really good when we heard him this afternoon.”

  “And Tabby knows her blues and jazz,” Emmy interjected.

  “Sweet,” Rhett said. “Then you oughta really enjoy the show tonight. Jagger writes some of his own stuff, and it’s brilliant.”

  “We’re looking forward to it,” Tabby told him.

  “You can even buy some of his CDs in our gift shop,” Rhett added. “Or download ’em.”

  “Really?” Tabby asked. He’d been recorded? How ultra-intriguing!

  “Well, if you need anything, just let me know,” Rhett reiterated.

  “Thank you,” Emmy said.

  Tabby watched Rhett head to a nearby table, stop, and inquire of the couple sitting there if they needed anything.

  Emmy slurped her lemonade through the straw Rhett had provided.

  “Well, well, well! The plot just keeps getting thicker, now doesn’t it?” Emmy whispered. “Now he’s a songwriter too?”

  “I guess so,” Tabby mumbled. She took a sip of her smoothie, smiling as the cold, icy sweet-mint flavor of it sent the thrill of a new experience racing through her. “He’s too good to be true, that’s for sure.”

  “What do you mean?” Emmy asked.

  Tabby shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s just too handsome to be talented too…or too talented to really be a nice guy. You know what I mean. Nobody’s everything like that.”

  “Maybe he’s not everything to everybody,” Emmy suggested. “I mean, to Naomi, a stuffy old college professor who recites poetry could way outshine a hot Latin restaurant owning cliff diver. But to Joss…well…she wouldn’t have looked twice at Professor Anthony Lowery…or at Luke for that matter. Somebody is everything to somebody, Tabby.”

  “I know,” Tabby admitted. “But Jagger Brodie…he’s too everything to be anything to somebody.”

  Emmy giggled and slurped her lemonade. She smiled a knowing smile. “You mean he’s too everything to so many that you think you could never get your hooks in him. That’s what you mean to say.”

  “Exactly,” Tabby said, smiling. “I’ll just drool at him from afar…for now.”

  “Well, it looks to me like you’ll be drooling at him from pretty close up tonight,” Emmy pointed out, nodding toward the stage.

  “Maybe he won’t notice me,” Tabby said, only half-hoping it was true.

  “Oh, right,” Emmy giggled. “With that red hair and those sexy shoes? You’re dreaming.”

  Tabby smiled. �
�Well, maybe he’ll notice me, swagger down off that stage—”

  “—toss you over one shoulder, and drag you home with him?” Emmy interrupted.

  Tabby giggled. “Something like that.”

  “Well, it could happen. I mean, if you can link the Muppets to Kevin Bacon, then I truly believe Jagger Brodie can step off that stage and have his way with you.”

  “Do not dis the Bacon-ness, Emmy,” Tabby teased. “I cannot be stumped.”

  “Oh, I know it.” Emmy laughed. “And I cannot wait to see Naomi eat a frog! I’ll hold her to it, you know. When the day comes that you can link Jagger to Kevin Bacon, I will watch with relish as Naomi downs an amphibian.”

  Tabby laughed and almost choked on her smoothie. Emmy was so funny! She loved nights out with Emmy. She sighed as she began to relax—to really feel like herself. She always felt so restrained, so pent up at work, and sometimes it seemed it took her several hours to let go of that feeling and just enjoy herself. She glanced to the stage—the stage where Jagger Brodie would soon be performing. She smiled, feeling just like a groupie, wondering if he’d look down to the front tables of the room and do a double-take at seeing two girls from the office seated there. If he saw them, he’d instantly know his secret identity would be in jeopardy. She giggled, thinking Jagger Brodie really was living somewhat of a double life. However, so was she, in a manner. After all, didn’t she go to work every day in her conservative work attire and then race home and change into something more colorful or faddish? Was it really any different than Jagger Brodie wearing a suit to the office and then changing slacks and a tie for jeans and a stylized shirt?

  “What do you think Naomi and the professor are doing right now?” Emmy asked, pulling Tabby back to conversation.

  “Probably taking turns reciting poetry or trying to disprove the human web theory,” Tabby said, smiling.

  “I hope she’s having the time of her life!” Emmy said.

  “I hope they’re sitting in the back of his rental car making out instead of texting,” Tabby giggled.

  This time it was Emmy who choked, spitting lemonade into the napkin in her hand.

  ❦

  Tabby watched as four men stepped onto the darkened stage through the curtains at its rear. The instruments—an electric guitar, an acoustic guitar, an electric bass, a set of drums, and keyboards—had been on the stage since Tabby and Emmy had arrived. Yet now, four men were moving around, taking positions on the stage.

  Being so close to the stage, Tabby could see well enough to recognize Jagger Brodie as he lifted the electric guitar, placed the strap over his shoulder, and adjusted the mike stand.

  “Ooo! I’m all excited!” Emmy whispered.

  “I know, huh?” Tabby breathed.

  He was wearing the silver-tipped boots again, another pair of jeans, and a white button-up, mod-western shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. Tabby’s heart was pounding like mad. She felt as if she were at some big-name rock concert!

  A spotlight lit up the stage, and everyone in the audience and restaurant applauded.

  “Thank you,” Jagger mumbled into the microphone. “Y’all ready for some blues?”

  Everyone whistled, calling out assurances, and Jagger chuckled.

  “Then we’ll kick it for you with this,” he said.

  Tabby smiled and held her breath as Jagger counted off the band and then ripped into a blues guitar lick that sent the delicious sort of chills up her spine.

  “You bewitch me, baby. You wrap me in your spell with your eyes,” he sang. “Bewitch me, baby…and let me feel the breath of your sighs. Tell me that you’ll kiss me soon…underneath that southern moon. Promise me…promise me even if it ain’t true. Just bewitch me, baby. Bewitch me, baby. Wrap me in the warmth of your arms. Girl, bewitch me, baby. Puppet master me with your charms. I don’t care if you already know…you’re usin’ me just to let me go. Just kiss me, baby…kiss me, baby…’cause you’re bewitchin’ me.”

  As Jagger broke into a blues lick that caused the crowd to cheer, Tabby smiled. He was astounding! She watched him grimace as he concentrated on the riff—watched his fingers play the strings at the neck and body of the guitar.

  “Baby, just pick me out…’cause I won’t never, never doubt…that you own me, that you own me. You’re bewitchin’ me! Go on, bewitch me, baby…just bewitch me, baby. Come on and just bewitch me, baby.”

  As the band riffed a blues finish to the song, Tabby couldn’t keep from joining the applause. Jagger Brodie was an incredible musician—an incredible vocalist! The adrenalin he’d sent coursing through her body was fast overtaking any trepidation that still lingered in her at being recognized by him.

  “Thank you,” Jagger mumbled into the mike. “Thank you so much. Y’all like my Maw Maw’s place here, Sweet Genevieve’s?” he asked. The crowd cheered, whistled, and applauded. “Did you enjoy dinner…if you had it?” he asked as he began to pick a slow melody.

  Again the crowd cheered and shouted confirmations.

  “Well, good,” he said. “Mind if I slow this down a bit? Do y’all know ‘Yellow Moon’ by the Neville Brothers?”

  Several people applauded, and Tabby bit her lip. She glanced to Emmy and whispered, “I love this song!”

  “I remember from lunch,” Emmy giggled.

  “Well, then…we’ll try to play it for you,” Jagger said as he licked into “Yellow Moon.” The arrangement sounded even more rich and bewitching with the other instruments, and Tabby sat back in her chair—sighed as she watched and listened.

  She was enthralled—mesmerized—as she enjoyed the music. However, midway through the song, following a smooth jazzy guitar lick, Jagger Brodie glanced down from the stage and locked gazes with Tabby for a moment. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as his eyes narrowed—as he smiled a moment before continuing the vocals of the song.

  “He saw you!” Emmy whispered. “Did you see that smile he gave you?”

  Even though Tabby’s insides were trembling with ecstatic energy, she was determined to appear outwardly calm.

  “It was a grin,” Tabby whispered. “And he probably just can’t believe we’re cool enough to be here.”

  Tabby’s excitement rose, however—for every once in a while Jagger would look down and smile—he would smile at her! He glanced to Emmy too—even smiled at her. But the smile he smiled when he looked at Tabby was different; she was sure it was. Oh, she was probably just imagining it—caught up in the “groupie at the edge of the stage” thing—but she didn’t care. Tabby was determined to enjoy the eye contact with Jagger Brodie—his smile—no matter what it meant, even if it meant nothing.

  As she watched him, she began to imagine that he really was some sort of secret identity toting spy—a superhero or something. Surely the guy on the stage with the goose-bump-inducing voice, the guy with the ultra-cool swagger and sexy tousled hair, couldn’t be Jagger Brodie, the sales and marketing analyst from the office. Sales and marketing analysts didn’t wear silver-tipped cowboy boots; they didn’t keep guitar picks in their pockets or sing about kissing some bewitching woman under a southern moon. Sales and marketing analysts grabbed a hamburger on the way home, plopped down on the sofa, and watched the news. Didn’t they?

  For over an hour Jagger Brodie and his band performed, song after song, with only minimal breaks during which Jagger would relate humorous anecdotes or trivial song information to the audience. Tabby was mesmerized, most of the time forgetting Emmy was even in the room with her—forgetting that anyone else was in the room with her. It was as if Jagger had some strange power over her, as if he’d managed to hypnotize her with the sound of his voice, with his gaze and the occasional smiles he’d send her way. She began to wonder things about him she’d never dared wonder before. She knew he wasn’t married—every female in the office made certain that fact had been ascertained long ago. Yet she wondered if he had a girlfriend. She glanced around the room once or twice. There were several very beau
tiful women listening to Jagger’s music, yet she hadn’t seen his gaze linger on any one of them. Thus, Tabby decided that if he did have a girlfriend, she wasn’t in attendance. She wondered about his past and his family. Rhett had said Jagger was his cousin, that their fathers were brothers, and that their grandmother was from New Orleans. Rhett had a very discernable accent, so it was obvious he’d spent at least his formative years in the South. Though Tabby had spoken with Jagger on several occasions, she didn’t note the same accent in his speech, however. Still, she wondered where he grew up—wondered if Katrina had driven him out of New Orleans the way it had his grandmother. She wondered how many other members of his family were employed at the restaurant. If the hostess was Jagger’s aunt, the owner his grandmother, and one of the waiters his cousin, then was the pretty little waitress attending a nearby table also related to him?

  As the song Jagger was singing ended, Tabby’s attention snapped back to the stage.

  “Thank you. Y’all are great,” Jagger said, “Hey…we’re taking a little break. Just give us about fifteen minutes and we’ll be back. All right?”

  Tabby watched as Jagger set his guitar on the stand—as he followed the band back across the stage to disappear behind the wall of black curtains.