Mr. Robinson nodded. “You two get ready. We open the doors in an hour. I’ve got some paperwork to take care of. Ashley’s bartending tonight, so when she gets here, send her back to my office.” Mr. Robinson’s heavy footsteps padded across the club, around the stage, and through the doorway that led to his office.
The Cave had been completely remodeled. The small stage was now larger and able to fit a band of five comfortably. The jukebox was gone. The wooden top of the bar had been replaced with stainless steel, and the atmosphere was more music-oriented. On the walls hung pictures of bands that Mr. Robinson had signed to his former label, Eko Records. The one area that hadn’t changed was the balcony. That area still had plush seating and a great view of the stage.
Jake snatched a beer from the fridge. “You want a beer?”
I tapped on my head. “Why not? It might get my juices flowing.” Writer’s block sucked. I swore someone had fried my brain cells while I’d been sleeping. For so long, the words had flowed like a raging river. Then in the last three months, I’d felt as though my brain had shut down.
Jake twisted off the bottle cap. “Juices? Maybe Ms. Sharp can help unlock things for you.” He waggled his light-blond eyebrows, his green eyes swimming with mischief.
I hadn’t even thought about Ms. Sharp in the last three days. My mind had been consumed with images of Jessie and what it would be like to nibble on her lips, her voluptuous breasts, or any part of her body. “Hey, are you still coming to my parents’ house tomorrow for the cookout?”
He slid a bottle of beer down to me. “Do I get to meet that hot babe, Jessie, you were telling me about?”
I took a long pull of my beer. I’d spilled my guts to him about how the woman had my stomach in knots. “If she comes.”
Jake came around to hop onto the barstool next to me with his beer in hand. “Well, I hope she does show. You’ve been talking about her curvy body, and I would like to see if I agree.”
I rolled my eyes. “You realize I don’t need your approval.”
He placed blond strands of his hair behind his ear. “Maybe you don’t, but you might need a push.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He and I had met briefly that New Year’s Eve when Zeal played. At that time, I hadn’t gotten a chance to chat with Jake, but when he’d shown up at Rumors several months ago, he and I had just connected. We found we had similar interests. He’d almost gone to college to study engineering. His parents had allowed him to take time to decide what he wanted to do with his life. Most of all, Jake was a leader, which reminded me so much of Kade.
He played with the label on his beer bottle. “Dude, you have to spread your wings with the chicks. You can’t keep mourning a dead girl. Since I met you, you’ve talked about Mandy constantly.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened as I snarled. I’d shared with him what had happened to Mandy, but I hated his reference of “dead girl.” To me, that just sounded morbid, as if she’d never existed.
He held up his hands. “I only speak the truth.”
I had talked about Mandy, but only because it was the anniversary of her death. In spite of that, I had the urge to haul off and punch Jake, mainly because I was still stuck on a dead girl.
“Let’s head south next weekend,” Jake said. “The change of scenery will help us both.”
Maybe I needed to get out of town to awaken my muse. The beach sounded like a great place, and Jake and I could jam together like we’d been talking about. He was an awesome piano player and had a gravelly voice that reminded me of a cross between Chris Stapleton and John Legend. It was a weird combination since Chris was bluesy and John had a softer voice. Then it hit me. His voice with my songs might be a great marriage to catch the ear of a record producer. After all, Jake was trying to make it on his own without his Grammy-winning brother overshadowing him.
“To your dad’s place on the coast of South Carolina?”
He bobbed his head.
“We could jam together on a song,” I said.
“And hang out on the beach, scope out hot babes, and help my dad.”
I didn’t have anything going on the next weekend. With open-mic night only scheduled once per month, Mr. Robinson wouldn’t need me at The Cave. “Don’t you have to bartend?”
Jake was earning his keep in exchange for a room at Mr. Robinson’s house. “James is easy. But I’ll ask Ashley if she can pick up my shift next weekend.”
“Sure. I’m in.” I had no problem swinging a hammer.
He slapped me on the back. “Great.”
An hour and a half later, I was sitting at a high-top table near the entrance, taking down names of those interested in performing for open-mic night. Mr. Robinson wanted names, phone numbers, the song each person would perform, and whether or not they needed a guitarist or someone to play an instrument while they sang.
I had racked up a list of eighteen people so far, when a familiar face walked up to the table, swinging her wide hips and wearing a skimpy top that screamed at men to look at her large breasts. For a moment, I couldn’t look at Roxanne’s face. I was a pig and a moron and certainly not the gentleman my father raised.
She waved her hand in front of me, laughing. “My eyes are up here.”
I mentally slapped myself, my gaze traveling up to her brown eyes. “I’m sorry. Are you singing tonight?” It was best to keep the conversation moving in a different direction.
“I’m not. Jessie is.”
I reared back. “Jessie can sing?” I searched for the beautiful girl who had my insides on fire. “Where is she?”
“Paying the taxi driver. Why are you surprised? Nurses have talent other than taking care of patients.” Her tone was light, but I detected a hint of hurt in her voice.
“Don’t take my surprise as anything but awe. Your friend is beautiful.” I couldn’t find anything else other than that to say, and I didn’t lie about things.
Roxanne beamed. “I agree, and she deserves to show everyone here tonight how great a singer she is.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “She’s that good?” Man, my jeans were growing tighter by the minute, just imagining Jessie singing. “Well, I can’t wait to hear her. Does she play an instrument? And what song will she sing?” No sooner had I asked the questions, than Jessie strode up to Roxanne with flushed cheeks, a brilliant smile that would have knocked me to my knees if I’d been standing, and an outfit that screamed at every guy in the club to look at her long legs.
My stomach went haywire, fluttering and twirling. When Jessie tucked a long strand of her hair behind her ear, the act alone was so darn sexy that my jeans tightened faster than a sponge filling up with water.
Roxanne was speaking, but I wasn’t listening. All I could do was plan how I was going to rip off Jessie’s miniskirt. Better yet, I didn’t need to rip off anything. I just had to lift up her skirt, slow and easy. But then I couldn’t suck on her round, perfect breasts that were pushing out against the tight fabric of her blouse. Holy hell. Get your mind out of the gutter. I mentally banged my head against the wall until someone slapped me on the back.
“Is there a problem here?” Jake asked.
Roxanne sucked in a sharp breath as lines dented her smooth forehead. The woman was pretty, with her short hair pulled back by a headband.
“Jake Trent,” Roxanne singsonged.
“She’s had a crush on you forever,” Jessie added as her chocolate eyes flashed to Jake.
Roxanne playfully swatted at Jessie. “Hush.”
Laughter rumbled out of Jake’s chest. “So, are you both singing tonight?”
“No. Just Jessie.” Roxanne flipped a thumb at her friend.
“Is this the girl you were telling me about?” Jake asked me with wide eyes, salivating.
Roxanne tittered or snorted, and maybe Jessie did as well. I couldn’t tell since I was piercing Jake with my gaze so hard it hurt. Nevertheless, heat barreled upward and gripped my cheeks like a vise.
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Jessie nibbled on her bottom lip. “Rox, I’m not sure I want to sing anymore.”
At that, I addressed the girl who was doing things to my body. “Don’t be afraid.”
She considered me for a second as she lifted her chin. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were a little glossy. “I’m not scared. It’s just I’ve never sung in front of a crowd. I only sing when I’m working on engines or in the confines of my house.”
Her words didn’t match the fright in her eyes.
“You work on engines?” Jake asked. “Like cars?”
Jessie poked out her pretty breasts. “Motorcycles. Although I have tinkered with car engines.”
“Is this the line to sign up?” a guy asked from somewhere behind Roxanne and Jessie.
Jessie began to shove Roxanne out of the way.
“She plays the piano,” Roxanne said as both of them got lost in the throng of people milling around.
I jotted down Jessie’s name but didn’t get a chance to ask what song she was singing. Not a big deal. When we called her name, she could tell us then.
“For fuck’s sake, dude,” Jake crooned. “If you don’t ask Jessie out, I will.”
I gripped the pen so fucking tight, my fingers were about to snap. I nodded at the impatient dude in line with a guitar on his back. Instead of spewing his name, he threw down a business card.
“Cat McCoy.” I read the card again then raked my gaze over the hefty guy who looked as though he could play running back for the NFL. I logged his name on the roster then handed his card back to him.
“Keep it. I’m sure James Robinson will need all my information after I perform tonight.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?” I asked with a sneer.
Most people who signed up for open-mic night came in with a deer-in-the-headlights look or had shaky voices when trying to tell me their names. This dude, who had to have been my age of twenty-one or maybe a year or two older, seemed to have his shit together—chest out, chin up, with a confident aura about him.
Cat McCoy didn’t respond as he melded into the crowd.
Jake and I both watched him.
“You think the dude can sing?” Jake asked.
“I could give a fuck if he can.”
“Whoa. What’s with the mood?” Jake asked. “It’s Jessie, isn’t it?”
I growled under my breath. I’d been happy to see her until she mentioned motorcycles.
“Dude, she’s a nurse and works on engines,” Jake said. “Man, my dick is hard thinking about her and engines.”
Mine wasn’t anymore. She’d reminded me why she wasn’t the girl for me. I supposed that was par for the course. First, I’d received rejection letters. Then something as sweet and fine as Jessie had brightened my night only to stomp on it. Then again, she could stomp on me all she wanted as long as she wore those red high heels, which showed off her long legs that disappeared up under her black miniskirt.
I hopped off the stool. “We should get things rocking and rolling.” We had a long list of performers, and I had to clear them with Mr. Robinson.
As I pushed through the crowd, an uneasy feeling settled in my gut. Fucking great. Anytime I had one of those weird feelings, something bad always happened.
Chapter Six
Jessie
I bent over the bar to tell the pretty bartender my drink of choice. Even though the music playing from the speakers on the stage wasn’t that loud, the bartender, Ashley, couldn’t hear me over the two rowdy dudes sitting in the seats next to Roxanne and me.
“Two glasses of house red wine,” I said.
Ashley nodded and set out to pour two glasses of wine.
Roxanne nudged me then tipped her head at the businessman who was sitting on her right. “He just got divorced. Poor thing.”
Then the divorcee launched into a toast with his buddy as they raised their beer glasses. “Here’s to women, creature divine. Bleeds every month, and bears every nine. The only creature between Heaven and Hell that can get goodies from a nut without cracking a shell.”
Roxanne and I giggled. Then she said to the divorcee, who was clean-shaven and not bad looking, “Good one, dude.”
He smiled briefly then began chatting with his friend, clearly not interested in Roxanne or anyone except the baldheaded dude with him.
Ashley brought us our drinks.
I slid my glass closer to me. “You should try to hook up with Jake tonight.”
She snorted. “While he’s off-the-charts good-looking, you know I like my men huskier and with more meat on them.”
The last guy she’d dated was linebacker material, and Jake was on the lankier side.
We banged our glasses together lightly but with no formal toast except the boring “cheers.”
“You’re going to sing, right?” Roxanne asked.
I took a long sip of wine. “The crowd scares the bejesus out of me, although if I keep drinking, I might not be that nervous.” The wine I had at the house was helping to keep my nerves at bay.
At that moment, the owner, Mr. Robinson, who was handsome for an older man, stood at the microphone. From where Roxanne and I were sitting, we had a clear view of the club. The customers who were lounging on plush furniture on the balcony had a great view of the stage. Waitresses zipped around, taking orders from the balcony patrons and customers on the main floor, where people filled just about every table.
“I already added your name to the list. You’re getting up on that stage.” Roxanne’s smile warned me not to defy her, or else she would haul me up there.
I swallowed more wine. I had no doubt she would. It might not be so bad since the wine had relaxed me. Maybe I wouldn’t be so scared once I started singing.
Roxanne leaned in to me. “Kody is on the other side of the stage with Jake.”
I hadn’t been looking for the blue-eyed god, who I wouldn’t have minded bringing back to my house for one night. I squirmed where I sat. Liquor always enhanced my libido. I shouldn’t have been drinking anymore. I felt lightheaded as it was. Good thing Roxanne and I had taken a cab. Nevertheless, it was time to enjoy myself.
The first singer up for open mic was a Cat McCoy. The men next to us cracked up when Mr. Robinson called his name.
That was a weird name, but it fit as a name to remember if he was trying to make it in the music business. The big, beefy guy got up on stage, ball cap on his head, goatee cut close to his pointy chin, with his guitar in hand. He strummed two chords then launched into the Bob Seger song, “Turn the Page.”
I was in awe as I listened to his deep, gravelly voice belt out the tune to perfection. Midway through the song, I got up. “I have to use the restroom. Be right back.”
I wound around tables, careful not to walk in front of the stage to block anyone’s view. When I reached the doorway leading to the restroom, I locked eyes with Kody. Jeepers. Even in the dimly lit club, his eyes were like high beams shining down a dark road. I shivered then smiled coyly before barricading myself in a bathroom stall. The small space spun too much for my liking. Yeah, I had to sip wine and not gulp it down like a wino. Tomorrow was going to hurt. I had no doubt that my head wouldn’t recover for a couple of days.
After I did my business, washed my hands, took in some very deeps breaths, and washed my mouth out with some cold water, I headed out to Roxanne. I’d just reached the doorway into the main club, when Cat finished his song. Then I heard my name drop from Kody’s lips. He was standing to my left, reading from a notebook. Mr. Robinson nodded at him before Kody got up on stage.
Oh no. Please don’t call my name.
Kody strode up, his jeans riding low on his hips and his white T-shirt stretched across his muscled torso. His right bicep flexed when he grabbed the microphone. “Next up is Jessie Ryan.” He turned his head toward me.
Roxanne whistled. I only knew it was her because she screamed my name after she belted out one of her tomboy whistles.
I shook my head at Kody. He waved me up. I s
hook my head again. Jake was over at the piano, adjusting the mic, while Mr. Robinson closed the distance between us.
“Jessie?”
I craned my neck up. “Yes, sir.” Those two words came out garbled, while my heart raced for the exit and beyond.
“It’s a small crowd. Just take your time.” Mr. Robinson’s voice was soothing.
My face scrunched. Small crowd, my ass. There had to be at least two hundred and fifty people in the club. Then again, a big-time record producer like Mr. Robinson was used to large venues of thousands when he booked his clients.
I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t think my voice would please the crowd.”
He set soft green eyes on me. “I understand you play the piano. Just play like you’re playing in an empty room.”
The drone of voices hummed around us.
“Why are you encouraging me?” I flicked my gaze to Kody, who was waiting patiently at the mic with a guitar lying on the stool beside him. His gaze was pleading with me.
I was about to ask if Kody was playing with me, when Roxanne ran up. “Jessie. Please give it a shot. I want everyone to hear your pretty voice.” She pouted.
I didn’t like disappointing her. Besides, the liquor had taken away some of the nerves.
“Do ‘Building a Mystery’ by Sarah McLachlan,” Roxanne said.
“Great choice,” Mr. Robinson added. Then he held out his elbow as though he was ready to walk me down the aisle.
My fingers went around his big arm.
Kody gave me a huge grin. Jake raised a thumb in the air.
The crowd applauded. One man shouted, “I bet you’re great.”
“Sexy too,” another guy piped up.
The last statement made me blush, and the encouragement, not only from the crowd but also from Mr. Robinson, warmed my heart. I took a seat at the piano and froze.
Jake ran over to Kody and whispered in his ear. The expression that swept over Kody’s face gave me more reason to get off the stage. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked at what Jake had said or confused or hurt, although my vision was rather blurry. I shook my hands, closed my eyes, and thought of the song. If I was going to do this, I had to sing and play with all I had. The last thing I wanted to do was look like a fool. I also wanted to show Kody I could sing, because the way he had his arms crossed over his chest said he didn’t believe I could. Or maybe I was seeing things. Oh, hell. I wasn’t making any sense.
The Maxwell Series Boxed Set - Books 4-6 Page 34