by Bryony Kayn
NEON NIGHTS
Against the Odds, Book 1
By Bryony Kayn
A Rendezvous Press Production
Rendezvous Press is an imprint of Crossroad Press
Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press
Digital Edition Copyright © 2018 Bryony Kayn
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Meet the Author
Bryony Kayn was born and raised in Utah. She has worked in a rose greenhouse, a bank, and a seasonal haunted house. With a life-long love of music, she also spent some time working with local bands. An avowed bookworm and writer, she started writing vignettes and short fantasies for herself and friends. Eventually, those stories grew of their own volition.
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Dedication
This book is for my mother, Vonda.
She taught me to love reading, regardless of the genre. We spent hours reading together, or talking about the books and characters that touched us so deeply they might have been real people in our lives. She was my first, most loyal, and steadfast fan. I am glad that she got to read a very early (and very rough) version of this book, that she saw what I was trying to accomplish and rooted for the characters she loved. I wish she were still here to see this book polished and finally published, sent out into the world for others to read and hopefully lose themselves in.
I also want to take a moment to thank the Coffee Crowd™—you know who you are. You spent so many nights, so many endless hours sitting at various coffee houses, passing around the early version of this book in a three-ring binder and taking turns reading it aloud to the whole group. I have wonderful memories of your different voices reading the words I’d written, of your reactions to what these characters did to and for each other. You’re all a part of this book now, a part of this story. In my heart, we’ll all meet down at the Neon for a celebratory drink and one last dance before the lights go down.
~Bryony Kayn
NEON NIGHTS
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 1
Across a cracked and dusty asphalt lot, the building stood quiet and apparently empty. Jake stopped on the sidewalk, standing hipshot while she debated. A light breeze pushed paper wrappers and the shreds of a plastic bag along the gutter. It also tangled her long hair in blond strands across her face, which she tucked back behind one ear.
Cars passed on the street at her back, sunlight flashing off chrome and glass. She glanced behind her, noting a couple of pawn shops, a tattoo parlor, and a magazine store across the street. They had all changed since the last time she’d been here.
Stalling, Jake pulled a pack of cigarettes from the case clipped to her jeans. She took one out, cupping a hand around the lighter as she lit it. She slipped the pack back into its case and blew out a stream of smoke. Still she waited, loitering on the sidewalk while she argued with herself.
Maybe everything else had changed, but the sign before the building still read The Neon Club. Jake would bet that Sly, the man who had owned the club since it opened, was probably inside at that moment, getting ready for the coming night’s business. She didn’t have a watch and couldn’t see a clock, but was pretty sure it was still hours before opening time.
Jake smoked half the cigarette and then laughed. She was being an idiot. Why come all this way just to stop now? She took a final drag and dropped the cigarette on the pavement, grinding out the cherry under her shoe. Pushing aside any further doubt, she stepped off the sidewalk and crossed the empty lot.
The main door was locked when she tried it; no surprise there. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if anyone was paying any attention to her. Then she followed the side of the building toward the back where the service entrance had been. That hadn’t changed either, and tucked back in the corner of the lot was a solitary car. The vehicle wasn’t familiar, but Jake could guess who owned it. After taking a moment to straighten her shirt and smooth her hair, she opened the back door.
Cautiously, Jake stepped inside, finding herself in a cool, dark hallway. The rather narrow hall ran both directions along the back wall, one way heading to the manager’s office and the store room, the other leading to the bathrooms, kitchen, and then a ninety degree turn into the main room of the club. She let the door fall shut, easing it quietly back into the jam so no one would hear.
She knew she should go back to Sly’s office, where Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine” blared loudly from the radio speakers through his half-closed door, but sudden desire took hold of her, and she turned toward the club proper. A few steps took her past the bathrooms and the blind corner, and then she walked into the club.
A smile touched her face, memories whirling through her mind as she looked around the room. Things had changed here as well. The bar had been moved, as had the stage. There were new tables and chairs, and the booths along the back wall had been reupholstered in a dark vinyl that would look rich under the right lighting. Yet it all seemed so familiar to her she might have been experiencing déjà vu.
“Can I help you?” a sharp voice asked, and she turned to face the man who stood in the entrance to the hall. “We’re not open for business until five.”
“Hey, Sly,” she said, taking a couple of steps toward him. The club might have changed, but he hadn’t. He stood average height, neither thin nor stocky. His dark brown hair was touched with silver at the temples, and his mustache still bracketed the sides of his mouth almost to the jaw line. “It’s been a long time.”
He was silent for a long moment, brows drawn together as he gazed at her. “Jake?” he finally asked.
“I haven’t changed so much, have I?” she asked, holding her arms out and turning around so he could get a good look at her. When she faced him
again, he shook his head, a wry smile on his lips.
“You are the last person I ever thought to see standing there,” he said, coming forward to give her a hug. She returned the gesture with genuine warmth. “What are you doing here? Where have you been? It’s been, what—three years?”
She pulled back, looking up into his eyes, and nodded. “Yeah, about that. Time flies, huh?”
He looked her up and down again and shook his head. “You look great.”
She laughed. “You look pretty good yourself.” She let him lead her over to the bar. “The Neon looks great. I like what you did with the booths.”
“You want something to drink?” he asked, stepping behind the bar.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any coffee, would you?”
He nodded, grabbing two cups off the rack, and filled them with coffee from the pot concealed beneath the bar. “Still like it black?”
She nodded, accepting the cup. “Business still good?”
“Better than ever,” he replied, taking a sip from his own cup before setting it on the bar.
“Good.” She rested her arms on the bar as she leaned forward to gaze at him steadily. “I was wondering if you had any openings.”
If he was surprised, Sly didn’t show it. “I can always use a good barmaid, especially one who looks like you. You looking for a job?”
She nodded again, never dropping her gaze from his.
“You just show up out of the blue and expect me to give you a job?”
She smiled, but didn’t elaborate.
He sighed. “Okay, you’ve got a job. Happy?”
“Very. When can I start?”
He shrugged. “Tonight, if you want. I lost a server last weekend and haven’t had a chance to replace her yet.”
“Great!”
“So, are you going to tell me?”
She shrugged, pulling her long hair over one shoulder and smoothing it through her fingers, using it as an excuse to look away. “No place I intend to go back to. I’ve been pining for home for three years. Now that I’m here, I don’t want to think about where I’ve been.”
Sly let it drop. He might be curious, but he wasn’t pushy. “You got a place to crash?”
“Yeah, I’m staying at a shit-bag motel down the street, at least until I can find something better.” She pulled out her smokes, leaning forward when Sly produced a lighter. “Hope that doesn’t take too long.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, dropping the lighter on the bar after lighting her cigarette. “Maybe I know someone who can find you an apartment.”
“That’d be great,” she said, smiling for him again. “I’ve missed you, Sly.”
He chuckled softly, picking up his coffee cup. “I’ve missed you, too, Jake.”
Swan paused beside the stage, making no effort to take his gaze off the new waitress behind the bar. She was drying glasses from the dishwasher and setting them on the racks along the wall behind the bar where they’d be ready for the bartenders. Her pale hair hung straight nearly to her waist, and she laughed as she talked animatedly to Don, tonight’s head bartender.
“Where did she come from?” Swan asked of no one in particular, and the man beside him shrugged.
“I heard she worked here before,” Kade said, uninterested. He was working on his bass guitar, checking the strings to be sure they were still in good shape.
Swan glanced over his shoulder. The other two members of the band Rebel were busy talking to another waitress. “I’ll be back,” he said shortly, and left Kade to his ministrations.
The blonde looked up as Swan approached the bar. She smiled, nodding at him, and turned to place the glass in her hand on its rack. When she turned back, he was waiting for her. “Can I get you something?” she asked, reaching for the next glass to dry.
“I’m just curious,” he said, taking a seat on a barstool and meeting her gaze directly. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”
Her smile widened, and she looked down at the glass in her hands. “Probably because I just started today.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, enjoying watching her. She was very pretty.
“Jake.” She set the next glass on the rack behind her. “And yours?”
“Swan.” He reached across the bar to take her hand. “I think we need to get to know one another better.”
Don snorted, turning away from them. Jake just shot the bartender a look, and then looked back to Swan. “Maybe we will.” She pulled free with a smile for him and picked up the next clean glass. “I’m a little busy right now, though.”
Swan shrugged, getting up off the barstool. “That’s cool. I’ll be here all night.”
“I’ll see you around, then.”
Swan waited for a moment as she turned away again to place the next dried glass on the rack, admiring her slender figure and skintight jeans. He caught the bartender watching, but just shrugged with an unapologetic smile before heading back toward the stage. Behind him, Don broke into laughter, and he glanced back once to see Jake flip the other man with her bar towel.
“I didn’t say anything!” Don protested loudly, holding up his hands to block the towel.
“You didn’t have to,” Jake replied, but she caught Swan watching them. She shook her head once, still smiling, and flipped one hand toward him as though shooing him away, then went back to work.
Swan returned to the stage, making plans for how to ask her out.
“I’m taking my break,” Dana said, setting a tray on the end of the bar. “Got my smokes, Don?” she asked, waiting while the bartender tossed a pack of cigarettes to her.
“’K,” Jake replied. “See you in a few.” She turned back to the tables, scanning to see if anyone looked like they wanted to order. That was when she saw a familiar tall blond man, half a head taller than anyone else in the room. He had stopped at a table over by the left side of the stage and was talking to some people there. The band, Rebel, was halfway through their second set, and pounding music kept making Jake want to dance.
With a slight smile, Jake started around the room, intending to come up behind the man whom she had once considered her closest friend. It took her a couple of minutes to make her way through the crowd, but she reached him just as he started to step away from the table. Going up on her toes, she reached to grab a lock of his blond hair and tugged.
He turned, an irritated expression on his handsome face, and then his eyes widened. “Jake?” He leaned down and picked her up as easily as a child, holding her against him like a fragile treasure. “Where have you been?”
She laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him quickly. “I’ve missed you so much!”
He gazed at her, his slightly tilted green eyes scanning her face as though he would memorize every feature. “How long have you been back?’
“Just got back. I started work here tonight.”
“So you’re working at the Neon again,” he mused, still holding her with her feet dangling a foot above the floor.
“Yeah,” she agreed, loving the feel of his strong arms around her. Angel D’Arris had become her best friend almost seven years before, and he had been the one person she’d always been able to count on during her tumultuous relationship with Angel’s oldest friend, Steve Ensign. “You better set me down, babe. I’m still on the clock.”
He appeared to think about it for a moment, then returned her to her feet. “When do you get a break?”
“About a half an hour,” she replied, smiling up at him openly. “You want something to drink?”
“Yeah. Jack and Coke will work for now,” he said, nodding at a booth near the stage. “I’m joining Quinn and Nikky.”
If anything, that only pleased her more. “Great—I’ll be there in a second with your drink.”
He leaned down, kissing her again swiftly before she could walk away. As she threaded her way through the crowd, awareness of Angel’s gaze tingled along her skin. By the time she reached the bar
, he’d gone to his booth.
When she returned to the table with Angel’s drink, Nikky got up and hugged her tightly.
“Hey, Nik,” she said against his ear. “How’ve you been, babe?”
“Better now,” he replied, looking her up and down. “You are enough to make me give up all other women.”
She laughed, knowing better. Nikky Roberts was a millionaire who’d inherited a fortune from his father and more than tripled it in the years since then. He also happened to be very attractive, with a sensual, generous nature that lent itself to attracting women whether or not they knew about his money. He had propositioned Jake many times in the years they’d known each other, but never took offense when she turned him down. “I doubt that,” she replied, turning to meet Quinn’s blue–eyed gaze.
He had slid out of the booth while she hugged Nikky, and now he took his turn. “It’s good to see you, Jake,” he said, holding her close for a moment. His long brown hair, blue eyes, and chiseled features made him just as attractive as Nikky, but in a different way. Where blond, flamboyant Nikky was always the center of attention, Quinn tended to hang back and watch from the edge of things. He was also a very wealthy man, though not in the same league as Nikky. He owned a small but lucrative studio and employed some of the best technicians and studio musicians in L.A.
“You, too,” she agreed, kissing his cheek affectionately. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
“A shot and a beer,” Nikky replied, sliding back into the booth.
“Highball,” Quinn said, squeezing her once more before letting her go. “We need to get together and catch up.”
“Maybe later,” Jake said, touching Angel’s hand. “When it’s not so slammed.”
“We’ll hold you to it,” Quinn said, waiting until she was out of earshot before glancing at Angel. “She say anything about where she’s been?”