by Selena Kitt
I hid a smile behind my beer bottle. “Hi, Jimmy, great set.”
Voss gave me a nod, his dark eyes flickering to where my flesh was exposed between black fishnet thigh-highs and mini-skirt. I was strangely dressed for a blues bar. Rob took his seat again, his eyes on Voss. His mouth worked, but nothing came out.
“I'm Sabrina.” I jerked my head toward Rob. “This is Rob Burnett. He's the lead singer of Scratch. And of course, we know who you are.”
“He doesn't know who Scratch is!” Rob nudged me hard under the table, reminding so much of Katie I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Sure I do.” Voss took out a cigarette and lit it. He ran a hand over his hair, a deep, slicked back black. “Couldn't turn on my damned radio without hearing 'Can't Break a Broken Heart' every half hour or so for about a month.”
I laughed. “You listen to popular radio?”
“What, you think I only listen to blues?” He blew smoke from the side of his lopsided smile. “Gotta check out the competition. ‘Bad Dog Blues' played on a ton of popular stations once upon a time. You were probably still in diapers then, honey.”
I stuck my tongue out. “I was in high school, thank you very much. I'm not as young as I look.”
Voss signaled the waitress before winking at me. “Music to my ears.”
I flushed and pretended to be interested in a bad painting of Sonny Boy Williams on the wall over Voss’ head.
“So, you can sing, pretty boy, but can you play?” Voss turned his eyes to Rob.
“I'm a crappy guitar player.” Rob fingered the napkin under his beer and flushed. “I play just enough to write songs. But I really admire what you do.”
Voss nodded. “Thanks.” He turned to pay the waitress for the beer and two shots she set on the table. He drank the shots fast, hissing after each one, and then twisted the cap off the beer.
“So, I'm curious.” Rob watched him down half the beer. “I've heard you've gone to open tuning—with a capo?”
Voss set his beer down and raised an eyebrow at me. “And the boy said he couldn't play!”
“I know a lot,” Rob replied, looking sheepish. “I just don't practice enough.”
“Nah.” Voss nodded toward the stage. “I tune her just like everybody else, son. But I've found the capo does some good work on the right fret.”
I looked at them both like they were speaking alien and then took a sip of my beer, turning to watch Uncle Jessie. People whistled and hollered for more so he started banging on the piano again. He looked like he was having a great time.
“Cool!” Rob's voice brought my attention back to the table. “That's like playing every song in ‘E'! No wonder your sliding licks work the way they do!”
Voss nodded, signaling the waitress again. “Trade secrets, musicians only.” Then he glanced at me and smiled that lopsided smile, amending himself. “Musicians and pretty ladies.”
Rob and Voss started talking guitars and slides and licks and I tuned them out again. I liked watching, Rob's eyes shining as he talked music with one of his idols, Voss smiling and looking at him like any elder would some young buck—tolerant, patient and a little amused. Voss finished off four more shots, following those with two more beers as they talked. I was still nursing my first, but Rob was on his third.
“So, pretty lady, do you sing?” Voss flicked open his lighter and lit another cigarette. It just added to the image of the raspy-voiced blues artist.
“No.” I blushed. “Only in the shower.”
Voss leaned back in his chair, tipping the legs up. “Now that I'd like to see.”
Rob, who had forgotten about me while they were lost in conversation, turned to put his arm over my shoulder. “Don't let her fool you. She's amazing.”
I gaped at him, pinching his leg under the table. “No, I'm not!”
“So, pop star, wanna come up and sing something with me?” Voss offered. He was still looking at me.
Rob's jaw dropped. “Me? Really?”
“Sure.” Voss stabbed his just-lit cigarette out. “I'm due up there in half an hour. I'll call you and the pretty lady up for a song.”
My heart beat in my throat so hard I couldn't even talk.
“Hell, yeah!” Rob accepted. “We'd love to!”
Voss got up, downing the rest of his beer and tossing some money on the table. “See you in a few.” He gave me another wink before wandering toward the bar.
“I can't believe you!” I hissed. “There is no way I'm going to get up there!”
“Oh, come on, don't be a killjoy.” Rob poked my ribs. “I'll sing—you just stand there and be the pretty lady.”
I gave him a sour look, my lips pursed, my eyes narrowed. “Very funny, Mr. Burnett.”
“How about another beer? Or a shot?” Rob signaled to the waitress. “That will loosen you up!”
I frowned. “I'm a lightweight and you know it.”
“Yep.” He ordered two shots. When she set them down, the blonde leaned down and whispered something into Rob's ear again.
“Sure, where?” he asked. I watched as she lifted her shirt free from her skirt, exposing her smooth belly, a little hoop in her navel. She handed him a Sharpie, and I watched, my arms folded across my chest, as she turned around and pulled her skirt down her hip, revealing a small tattoo of “Hello Kitty.”
“Right over the pussy.” She lifted her shirt out of the way, revealing a smooth expanse of skin. Rob signed his name there, right over “Hello Kitty's” head. The girl turned and kissed him. She aimed for his mouth but he turned his head and she got more cheek than she wanted.
I grabbed for the shot she set in front of me, frowning at the dark amber-colored liquid. I downed it, choking and coughing as it burned its way through my chest, my eyes watering. I smacked the table a few times, as if the motion would move the fire through me a little faster.
Rob lifted the colorless shot at me. “This one was yours. Peach schnapps. You just drank the whiskey.”
I grabbed it from him, swallowing. It burned less this time, the taste a little sweeter. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, feeling my eyes watering again, tears slipping down my temples. I opened my eyes, looking for my beer.
Rob half-grinned, staring at me open-mouthed. “Well, that should loosen you up!”
He wasn't kidding. I didn't drink often, and when I did, it was more along the lines of wine coolers and mixed drinks. I'd never done a shot in my life. I felt fuzzy almost immediately. It brought a dull buzzing sensation, like a livewire loose in my head. It'll fade, I reasoned with myself. Just a matter of time, right?
“So, what do you wanna sing?” Rob pulled my chair toward him so he could talk into my ear. On stage, Uncle Jessie continued banging on the piano and playing his harp. The notes seemed less sharp, softer around the edges, since the two shots.
“Janis,” I said immediately. There was only one song I thought I could sing well. “The one we sang in the car...do you think the band knows it?”
“Probably.” Rob's hand moved to my shoulder, his thumb caressing the skin of my neck. I leaned into him with a small sigh. He whispered into my ear, “I am so glad we came here.”
I met his eyes and even in my sudden alcohol fog, I saw the dazzled look there. The star was star struck. “Me, too.” I stood and the room tilted. I put my hand on Rob's shoulder to steady myself as things righted themselves. “Be right back!”
I grabbed my purse and threaded my way through tables and into the ladies room. While I was in the stall, I heard the blonde waitress come into the bathroom, giggling with another girl and talking about never washing her ass again. I waited until they left before I ventured out to wash my hands.
I stood at the mirror, wishing now I hadn't dressed this way. The fishnets and boots seemed too slutty, the black mini-skirt too short, the black button-down blouse tucked into it much too tight and low-cut. Katie had approved it before we left but, of course, she approved it for a rock star fan, n
ot for standing on stage singing with a rock star. That hadn't exactly been in the plan.
I smoothed my hair again, urging it to curl under at the ends. I touched up my make-up, my hands trembling. For the first time since we'd left the arena, I wondered what Katie and Tyler were doing, and I wondered, too, for the first time, what I was doing. Yes, I was star struck over Rob Burnett, and yes, I found myself very attracted to him, and yes, I had no doubt I would end up at his hotel tonight if that's what I wanted. At least, I was pretty sure...
So what was I going to do, give up this opportunity? I decided I looked too pale and pinched my cheeks to add a little more color. Should I just drive him to his hotel and call it a night? I knew I wasn't much more to him than the blonde whose ass he had autographed with a marker. I just happened, by chance and circumstance, to be one tiny step above that.
Still, a voice in my head kept telling me this was all going too fast, I shouldn't be doing this, Sabrina Taylor wasn't this kind of girl, and on top of all that, the voice kept insistently repeating, he's married, you know. Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I headed for the door, wondering if one more shot might shut that voice up for good.
When I returned to the table, Voss was on stage, Uncle Jessie with him this time, along with the band. I considered begging off, even telling Rob I was going to leave and ask him to call a cab. But when he smiled and offered me a chair, that thought immediately left my head. I knew I was going to get on stage with Rob Burnett and Jimmy Voss and sing something, in spite of the butterflies in my stomach.
Thank God for liquid courage. I had the waitress bring me another beer. Rob raised an eyebrow and winked as I drank half of it in a few gulps and then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. When Jimmy ended the song, he looked right at us. Right at me. And he grinned. I turned to Rob, about to say something, but I couldn't seem to form any words.
“Got a little treat for you, folks!” Voss nodded toward Rob. “We got a regular ole rock star in the audience tonight! Everybody—Rob Burnett from Scratch!" The blonde waitress squealed and a few others whistled and applauded, encouraging the crowd to acknowledge him. Rob looked embarrassed as he half-rose and sort of waved.
“Bring the pretty lady on up here.” Jimmy winked at me. “Let's do a little Janis tonight.”
Rob grabbed my arm as he stood. I couldn't do anything but follow. He steadied me as we climbed the steps to the stage, and I was glad, because I was shaky. Jimmy leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Don't be nervous, darlin'...just imagine all those folks in their underwear...I know that's how I'm imaginin’ you...”
I flushed but managed to smile at him, still feeling weak-kneed. I hadn't even looked out toward the audience yet. Just the thought of all those people staring at us made me dizzy. Voss cued the band and they started to play. I recognized the music right away. I'd sung karaoke to this a million times. Just like karaoke, no big deal. I didn't believe it for a minute.
“You okay?” Rob whispered, leading me toward a mic. I nodded, not trusting my voice. I hoped I was going to have one when I was supposed to sing. The song had no intro to speak of—it wasn't a guitar song, it was a vocal song. It didn't show Jimmy's skill at all, and I knew he was playing it because it was what I said I could sing.
The question is...can I?
When Rob started to sing, I cleared my throat and leaned in with him, but my voice shook. I'd made the mistake of looking out into the audience. I didn't want to know how many people were out there, but it felt like a million.
Rob grabbed my chin and turned my face to him, singing and looking into my eyes. God, his eyes were so blue! Rob nodded, encouraging me. I felt pulled into the moment, just like I had in the car, leaning in to share the mic with him. I forgot everything but the song and his eyes, feeling something pass between us as our voices melded, something warm flowing through me, the sound of us together moving in waves.
We made it through the second verse, and I felt something loosening in my chest. I let my voice open a bit, going with the surge and swell of the music. We got to the part of the song Janis started really letting go on, and I wondered how this was going to work. I glanced behind me at Uncle Jessie pounding on the piano and smiled.
Then I closed my eyes and sailed through the whole part before I realized Rob was letting me sing it by myself. When I opened my eyes, he smiled at me, but he'd backed off from the microphone.
My eyes must have shown my panic, because he took my hand and popped the mic off the stand, handing it to me. I shook my head, and someone up front in the audience yelled, “Yeah, let her sing it!”
“Bring it home, little darlin'.” Voss grinned.
I frowned but closed my eyes and sang my heart out. I was doing it—I was singing—in front of a live audience, with Uncle Jessie playing on piano behind me, Jimmy Voss on guitar, and Rob Burnett standing aside and watching me with something akin to awe in his eyes.
I wondered when someone was going to pinch me and wake me up. I closed my eyes again and sang. I just let the music move me. I felt it pounding through my body, the vibration of it on the stage itself tenfold compared to standing down there on the floor. When the song finished, I wasn't prepared for the applause. It shocked me and I flushed, fumbling to put the microphone into the stand. Rob helped me, then took my hand and had me bow with him.
Voss came and whispered in my ear, “Let's do another one, pretty lady.”
I shook my head, waving him off, although part of me wanted to. Part of me wanted to stay there on stage all night. You could get addicted that kind of high, I thought.
“Let's thank them, folks,” Voss said into the mic as Rob and I walked down the steps and off the stage. “Rob Burnett and Miss Sabrina.” The crowd whooped and cheered. I knew my face must be red because it felt like it was on fire.
“They liked you.” Rob's breath tickled my ear.
“It's probably just the fishnets,” I joked, tugging at my thigh highs.
“I know I like them.” He grinned and ran his hand over my leg. His touch was like white lightning and I closed my eyes for a moment. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt weightless. I didn't know if it was the alcohol, or my brief stint as a singer, or the closeness of Rob's body to mine—maybe a combination of all three.
Voss went into another song while people came to us, saying things, but half the time I couldn't hear them, or really remember what they said. I think the shots and the beer were catching up to me. I felt high, and I probably was—an altogether unfamiliar feeling.
“Sabrina, let's go.” Rob slipped his hand around my shoulder.
I looked at him, surprised. “Don't you want to hang around after the show? Talk to Jimmy or Uncle Jessie for a while?”
“No.” He shook his head, glancing at the stage before turning his eyes to mine. “Let's get outta here.”
I stood and the world tilted again, forcing me to grab at the table to keep myself from toppling over. Rob held my arm as I plucked my jacket and purse from the chair and we made our way through the crowd toward the door.
“It's freezing,” I murmured as we walked together in the cold. I realized I was still holding my jacket over my arm but Rob put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, a familiar gesture that made me immediately warm, at least on the inside.
Shivering, I fumbled through my jacket pockets, looking for my keys. I'd made two attempts to get the key to connect with the door lock when Rob took me by the shoulders and steered me around to the passenger side.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he unlocked my door.
Rob pressed me into the car with his hip. “I think you've had a little too much to drink.”
He got into the driver's side as I pulled my jacket over me, cold but not thinking clearly enough to actually put it on. He started the car, turning the radio down. Janis was still singing. I'd never hear her sing again without remembering, I realized, and it made me smile.
“How come you didn't want to stay?” I asked.<
br />
He put the car in reverse. “I didn't like the way he looked at you.”
“Who?”
Rob pulled from the parking lot onto the road, heading toward the expressway. “Voss.”
I blinked at him in the dimness, the streetlights flashing by giving me a strange, broken view of his expression. He looked somewhere between angry and embarrassed.
“Do you know where you're going?”
“Nope.” He glanced in the rear view mirror and changed lanes. “Where do you live?"'
I swallowed. “Don't you want to go to the hotel?”
He shook his head. “I should get you home. I'll call a cab to take me back.”
I nodded, feeling tears sting my eyes. I didn't know what I expected. My chest felt tight and I turned my face toward the window.
“Take the expressway. North.” I leaned my forehead against the glass. We drove in silence and I edged down in the seat, looking out the window at the embankment wall passing by.
“Sabrina?” His voice was soft.
I didn't look at him. “Hmm?”
“Are you and Katie roommates?”
I turned to face him, but his eyes were on the road. “No. I've got a little house in Ferndale. Katie lives twenty miles from me. Which is why we were late, tonight, actually...” My voice trailed off as I remembered climbing all those steps, pounding on the door.
I saw the flash of his smile. “Good.”
“Can I ask you something?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
I wanted to ask him what he was doing, what we were doing, what I was doing, where it was all going to go, but I didn't know how.
Instead, I asked, “Where's your wife?”
His eyes flashed over me for a moment and he made a noise in his throat, something between a snort and a laugh. “That's a damned good question.”
I didn't reply and just looked out the window.
He cleared his throat. “She left me just before the tour started.”
I stared at him, my mouth dry. “Oh.” It was all I could think to say.
“Life on the road sucks.” He sighed, adding, “Life sucks.”