Her lips that close to my ear gave me a shiver of desire. “I think I can live with that. Who the hell is texting me?” I dug my phone out. “I’ve gotten like twelve texts in the last fifteen minutes. Ahh. It’s Whitney.”
Grace’s eyes widened and she actually came off her stool as if ready to dash out the door. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Calm down. She wanted to tell me she likes you.”
“Oh. Well. That’s sweet.” She tried to peek at my screen. “She must have said more than that if you were getting so many notifications.”
“Yes. She said you were even more beautiful in person—she’s seen the video, too—and she could tell you had triple the I.Q. of any of the other girls she’s seen me with. And you’re not slutty.” I continued to read. “Then she ends it by telling me to not mess this one up. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, sis.” I could feel the bartender looking at me. I leaned forward. “Is he watching me again?”
“Yep.” She giggled. “This is even better than I imagined it would be.”
The guy stepped over. “Or maybe that Jonas kid.”
“Nick Jonas?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Sort of.”
“I do get that one a lot.”
“Or even a young Elvis Presley.” He nodded and started to walk off then stopped. “And a little like that guy from Just Short of Chaos.”
I couldn’t help myself. “The lead singer?”
“No. The good looking kid. The guitarist. Rafe Something.”
“Raphael Santiago?” Grace prompted. Surprisingly composed. She squinted at me. “I can see that.”
He stroked his chin, walking slowly away. “No. That’s not it either. Hmm.”
Grace was cracking up.
“I don’t favor Rafe in the slightest. Well, maybe the dark hair, but that’s where it ends.”
She was fanning herself and catching her breath.
I took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get a table before he figures it out.”
She stopped laughing long enough to get out. “No. By the stage so I can have a front row seat.”
“Okay.” I pulled out her seat for her and leaned in to tell her, “But if I’m doing it, you’re doing it, too.”
She rolled her shoulder a little. “Okay. But we pick each other’s songs.”
“Ooh. I like that.” I took my chair. “But not country. I don’t know those songs.”
“No. I’ll pick something you’ll know.”
I rubbed my hands together. “This could be fun.” I wanted to pick something challenging, so I could really hear her voice.
An hour later, after we’d eaten, they called her to the microphone. People clapped for her right away. The lyrics were on the screen, so they must’ve like my song choice, “Rolling in the Deep,” by Adele. As expected, she belted it out like a pro. She even had stage presence, the little tart. And with the jeans and jacket on, she looked the part of an entertainer. She brought down the house. I rose to pull her chair out again and kissed her on the cheek. “Well done.”
She was beaming. “Thanks.”
Before I could even sit, they called my name, or rather, the name we gave them. “Zack? Do we have a Zack?”
I headed for the stage, staring at the screen to see what she chose. ‘Ahh-yeah.” I cast my eye on her. “I can do this one.”
She grinned. “Let’s see it, Zack.”
The lyrics for “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’” by Journey appeared on the screen, but I didn’t need them. I asked the DJ how far I could walk with the mic.
“Just stay in the room. And not too close to the speakers or you’ll get feedback.”
“Got it.”
The music started, and I was excited.
We need to do a cover of this.
With the first line about the girl making the singer weak, I began slow, deliberate steps down the short staircase in front of the elevated stage, focusing on Grace the whole time. When I reached Grace, I got on both knees and held her hand. The crowd ate it up, as I knew they would. I was high on the song. It was just so fun to sing. I stood. I think Grace thought she was off the hook, but I grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and pulled it next to her, spinning it around backwards so I could straddle it, singing with my elbows on the top, staring at her.
She was glancing at the others watching us. I knew she was both uncomfortable and loving it at the same time. Realizing my hat was a hindrance, I plucked it from my head, and plopped it onto Grace’s. She looked adorable.
I got to my feet, took her hand, and led her to the bar. People were on their feet cheering. They always went in for theatrics, and I was the guy to give it to them. During a break in the singing, I asked a guy at the corner of the bar if we could take his seat for a moment. He was more than happy to give it to us. I patted it for Grace. I realized my timing would be wrong for what I was planning if I didn’t hustle. I sang, still gazing at her, but taking giant, hopping steps backward. A chair was in the way, but instead of seeing it as an obstacle, I saw it as an opportunity. I whirled, climbed the chair, and put my foot on the top, tipping it and riding it to the ground. The guys and I had spent hours perfecting that one day when we were bored waiting for our time on stage. I’d only hoped the chair was sturdy enough, or my grand feat would wind up making me seem like an idiot. But I did it as quickly as I could to limit the stress on the chair’s joints, and it worked beautifully.
The place went wild, but I needed to keep moving. Luckily, the pub had big, heavy, scarred tables, because I used another chair as a step stool to an empty table shoved into a corner near the dance floor.
I did a number of moves I learned from studying Elvis clips, combining rubber legs, with a hip slide, then right into the classic windmill where I swept my arm in huge circles, and coordinated it with twisting my knee in. Synchronizing my movements to the length of the song without practice turned out to be difficult, and I realized the song was much shorter than I’d anticipated, so I couldn’t waste a second. I jumped from the table and basically ran to the end of the bar opposite Grace. I hopped, again using an empty stool tucked in to the bar rail to make getting on top easier. I eyed customers lining my path and they all caught on pretty quickly, scrambling to move their drinks and paraphernalia out of my way. The bartender was into it, too, and removed one of those tray things that held garnishes and some other stuff. Ha. The timing was perfect.
My path was clear, the piano built to a crescendo, before the verse where the cheating girl gets her comeuppance, and I began my version of a fifties style stroll along the length of the bar, turning sideways to Grace and doing a lazy spin step to face the other direction, stepped, rocking my hips into another spin, all while animatedly smiling at her. Her eyes shown with delight and her smile threatened to burst her cheeks. I made it to her, then spun and ran back to where I started. About two-thirds of the way there I hit a wet spot and skid, but somehow managed to stay on top.
Big finish time. I ran toward her and dropped to my knees for the last fourth of my track, sliding to her. I was a beat or two off at the end, but nothing that wouldn’t be overlooked considering what I accomplished up to that point. I jumped down next to Grace, took her hand, holding it high and brought her back to her seat before returning to the stage. People were cheering and patting me on the back and shouting out compliments. I laughed. I was so lucky to even come close to pulling that off without trying it all first, but, I didn’t get to the top by playing it safe. I even surprised myself at times.
I returned the mic to the DJ and he slapped my back. “That was awesome, man!”
“Thanks.” I worked myself into a good sweat and I was still breathing pretty hard.
As I headed to Grace in a more normal fashion, the DJ yelled into the mic. “So who wants to follow that?” He waited for a response. “No one? Really?” He laughed. “I think I’ll take a break.” He was about to turn the system down, but added. “Now that’s something I won’t soon forget.”
/> As I waded through people to Grace I heard a female voice say, “That’s Zane Sanders!”
Someone responded. “No it’s not. Why would Zane Sanders be in Jefferson City?”
One reason, and one reason only. The woman I was with tonight.
More voices chimed in. “I don’t know, man. It really looks like him. And who else could dance like that?”
I had known losing the hat would come with a price. I bent in to Grace when I reached her. “Hey. I think I was spotted. Mind if we get out of here?” I dropped a couple of hundreds on the table and put my arm around Grace, ready to protect her if the crowd should push in. We were able to swim barely ahead of the wave of recognition. By the time we got to the door, Grace clearly was hearing the uproar, too.
“I’m telling you, that’s him.”
I was relieved when no one followed us out. I guess they were satisfied with their impromptu show and/or not willing to abandon their drinks.
“That was fun.”
Grace gushed. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Me either.” I exhaled. “Do you think it was too much?” I teased.
“Oh, no,” she said with an exaggerated head shake. She laughed and slid her hand behind my back, squeezing herself to my side.
“I thought about doing a back flip off the bar for a dismount, but the music had ended and it might be considered a little hot doggy.”
“A touch,” she said, holding up her thumb and pointer finger inches apart. When we were in the car and heading to her place, I took her hand. “I’d still like to have a drink or two with you before returning to the Capitol Plaza, but if you’re too tired, I understand. I know you have to work in the morning.”
She smiled at me. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t sleep now.” She glanced at the console clock. “Besides, it’s still early. I’ll get Jamie in bed and we can drink on the fire escape. I’d hate to waste this beautiful night.’
“I’m kind of gross. How about this, I’ll take Whitney to the hotel, and take a quick shower while you get Jamie tucked into bed. Then I’ll come back and we can enjoy the night a little longer.”
“Sounds perfect.” She was pretty much glowing. Totally worth the risk of breaking my neck and making a fool out of myself. At the next light, she stretched over the console to kiss me.
I’d say this date is going pretty well.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grace
We were laughing all the way up the stairs to my apartment, still high from our karaoke fun. It was like a crazy scene from a movie acted out in front of me. I still couldn’t believe he danced over a chair, on a table, and along the bar. And how he danced? Mind blowing. The way he moved his hips, his pelvis, the sexy expressions on his face…. Now I understood why women screamed for Elvis, because inside every fiber of my being was screaming out yes to Zane for every second of that song.
Yes, I love you. Not the imagined you I thought I knew coming into that concert. Zane Sanders, aka, Zane Salvetti. Born in the Midwest. Platinum record producing singer at the age of nineteen. Sexy frontman for Just Short of Chaos. Then I knew the Wikipedia version of Zane.
Now I knew the whole package. And for me, Zane was perfect in every way. His body, gorgeous hair and strong jaw were definitely arresting. But what made him perfect was the fact that, along with being a sex god, he also bordered on nerd. Along with being accomplished, he was still a child in many ways. Along with the smooth confidence he showed on stage was someone riddled with doubt, someone for whom making it through the day could be a struggle. It was these things that made him breathtakingly, beautifully flawed and human.
I spent enough time with him now to know he was like me, life-challenged. For someone who felt as deeply as he did, an average day could wipe him out. A story of someone dying alone, the beauty of a sunset—no, anyone could be moved by the glory of the sun setting, for Zane and I, and many others like us, the beauty of a leaf could make us cry. Hyper-aware of both the joys and the sorrows of the world, knowing we were different, but struggling to be at peace with those differences, that’s what made us who we were. Did some venomous words spew out of his mouth at times? Yes. Did they hurt? Deeply. But he was a man of passion, not logic, thank God. Someone who made big mistakes, but made up for them in a big way.
It wasn’t that I was thinking these things when we climbed the stairs, but I was feeling them. Later, in the dark, before I drifted off to sleep, that was when I would puzzle out the way he made me love him. But during, and right after, all I could feel was the sheer joy of the moment.
“And when he said you looked like Rafe.”
“I know. Rafe is much taller, and broader in the shoulders than I am. And he’s got that beard…our faces aren’t even shaped alike….”
“It was great to be the person sort of on the outside of that conversation. To take in his perplexed expression as he sorted through images in his mind to find the one matching yours, and the shock on your face when he hit Just Short of Chaos but thought you reminded him of Rafe…it was almost too good to be true. I wish we had someone filming this entire evening because I never want to forget an instant.”
He grabbed me by my hips on the doorstep. “Well I’m ready to create a few more memories for you.” He kissed my neck and had me wrapped around his finger. When his mouth met mine it was all pleasure, reaction, and instinct.
Then Whitney opened the door on us. “Oh. Uhh. Sorry. I heard your voices and thought I’d save you the trouble of getting your key out.”
“Oh, well, you did.” I didn’t even really feel embarrassed. I was too full of jubilance, too full of him for anything else.
Jamie sat on the couch with a book open in his lap. Whitney returned to sit beside him as she talked. “Well, you guys are home early. What? Did you get thrown out?”
We stared at each other and tried to suppress our laughter.
Whitney stretched an arm over Jamie’s shoulders and moved the book so it was between them, looking from one of us to the other quizzically. “What? You end up dancing on the tables again?”
I turned on him playfully. “You did this before?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“No. I swear. I never danced on a table before tonight.”
Whitney sat forward and slowly laid the book on the coffee table in front of her without looking. “Wait. You really did dance on the tables?”
“A table,” he corrected.
I set my purse down and started to shrug out of my jacket, and Zane helped me get it off. “On the table, on the bar….”
“No way. No way!”
I peered at Zane. “Oh-h-h, yes.”
“There’s probably a YouTube video of it.”
I grinned. “Oh, God, I hope so.”
She grabbed her phone and searched. Jamie silently took everything in. “Did you guys do some shots first, or what?”
I put a hand over my stomach. “Oh, no. I had enough of those yesterday to last me for quite a while.”
Zane put an arm over my shoulder. “It was karaoke night.”
She glanced up, her smile spreading. “You karaoked?” She scrolled furiously. “Man. This is great.” She gasped. “Here it is!”
I came around and bounced down beside her. “Let me see.” She shared her screen and Jamie leaned forward, interested.
Whitney put a hand over her mouth, drawing in a sharp breath. “No way.” Under her breath she added, “No bleepin’ way.”
“Hey, Syrup.”
I didn’t visually see it because my focus was glued to the screen, but I knew Zane fist-bumped Jamie.
“Zaner,” Jamie responded, sounding happier than I heard him in a long time.
Whitney looked up. “When did you learn that chair thing?”
Zane shrugged. “We were goofing around backstage one time.”
“Here comes the big finish,” I warned her. We hunched closer.
When it was finished she dropped her phone in her lap, cov
ered her face with her hands, and threw herself back on the couch. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Zane chuckled. “To be honest, I can’t believe I did it either.”
I beamed at him with pride, and a little lust when he turned his smoldery gaze back to me. “He was phenomenal.”
“And Grace was, too. She sang ‘Rolling In The Deep.’”
I waved it off. “Oh, please. That was easily forgettable. Not like this.” I motioned to her phone. “Let’s watch it again.”
She enthusiastically grabbed her phone. “Why don’t you do this kind of stuff when I’m with you?”
He straightened. “Because I’m setting a good example.”
She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“I want an ice cream sandwich,” Jamie interjected.
“I’ll get it pal. Those women are crazy.”
Jamie hopped to his feet to trail Zane.
“Umm…he’s already had two.” She winced at me apologetically.
Zane spun and raised his brows. “Two?”
She rolled a shoulder. “They’re small.”
Zane looked to me. I sighed. “Why not?”
“Yes.” Zane high-fived Jamie then they turned to go in the kitchen.
“You know, you sound good here, even without professional equipment. You guys should cover this.”
“Funny you should say that,” he yelled from the kitchen. “I wrote a note to myself to talk to the boys about it.”
Whitney laughed, putting her hand over her mouth again. “You almost bit it.”
“Yeah,” Zane said from the kitchen. “The bar was wet. Hmm…these are small.” A few seconds later he called. “Can I have one?”
“Sure.” Whitney and I were shoulder to shoulder. “This is where people started recognizing him.” It was interesting to see their reaction, because at the time I only had eyes for Zane. “How many are left?” I called out to him.
“Oh…there’s still a half a box of them.”
“Could you bring me one? Do you want one?” I asked Whitney.
“Sure.”
“Bring two, please.”
When he came out, licking his lips and handing us our sandwiches, Whitney asked, “What got into you?”
ROCKED BY GRACE (LOVE AND CHAOS SERIES Book 1) Page 11