Had To Make You Mine

by Kat Long

  “Here you go, Little Lady. Bouncer Billy has his coke and is grateful. Nice looking out. You starting a tab?”

  “Yes, please.” I passed him my card and looked around. The walls were decorated with old hubcaps and guitars. Tables surrounded the perimeter of the dance floor, making a nice sized space where several couples were already two-stepping to the live band that had just finished a Morgan Whalen song.

  “Hey Ace, you seen Jess?” A big guy holding a Gibson said, leaning over the bar and grabbing the soda gun. I tried to focus on the couples’ dancing, but with them talking right beside me, I couldn’t help but overhear.

  “No man. She’s still not here?”

  “No, she’s a no show. Without her, we are going to have to cut our set short,” the big guy said, taking a drink of his soda and shaking his head. He took off his hat and wiped a hand across his brow before looking at the stage.

  “Sucks, Spencer,” Ace replied, polishing the bar with a clean rag and eyeing the people sitting at the other end.

  “What does Jess do?” The words were out of my mouth before my brain caught up, and both men looked at me like I was crazy.

  “She sings and plays the guitar. Why? You going to be her replacement?” Spencer laughed, shaking his head and refilling his glass before turning towards the stage.

  “Sure,” I said with a shrug.

  “What?” They both replied.

  I finished my drink and turned on the stool to face Spencer, crossing my arms.

  “I can play the guitar and sing. What’s on your setlist?”

  Sucking on the straw with my brows raised, I waited for an answer as they looked at each other and then back to the stage.

  “We have Darius Rucker, Lady A, Eric Church, and more coming up. Here,” Spencer said, taking a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and handing it to me before reaching down for the soda gun again.

  “I’m familiar with everything on here,” I said, looking over the list. “What do you think, Spencer?”

  “You know what, sure, Little Lady, why the hell not. Let’s start with Hole in the Bottle and see how you jive with the rest of the guys.”

  “Deal. And I’ll use your Gibson for it,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

  “Betsy here?” he said, patting the guitar with clear affection. “No, ma’am you won’t, but there’s a Gretsch if you’re interested.”

  “Falcon?” I asked.

  “Rancher,” Spencer replied.

  “Done.”

  With a fresh drink from Ace, I followed Spencer to the bar to meet the guys in his band. Spencer was handsome with dirty blonde hair that touched his collar and curled on the bottom, dark eyes, and a body that made you do a double-take. His black T-shirt clung to his skin, showing his muscles underneath, and his tight jeans left little to the imagination. He had a huge belt buckle and hat to match.

  Normally, a man like that would get my lady parts in a tizzy, but feeling him pressed against me, introducing me to the band, so close I could smell his aftershave, wasn’t having any effect at all because it wasn’t the spicy sandalwood and leather smell of Max. I was going to stay like this, obsessing over every detail, until I told him I felt.

  I tried to focus on the brightly lit stage, with room for half a dozen people and every country music instrument you could ever want to play. After Spencer finished introductions, we warmed up while the jukebox cranked out a few early nineties songs for the crowd.

  The tables were overflowing, and the sounds of boots and heels scraping the dance floor filled the space. My mind emptied, bringing back the familiar rituals. My muscle memory took over as I played a riff and warmed up my vocal cords.

  “Not that I’m not grateful, Anna, but you can play guitar and sing lead vocals to all the songs in our set with no practice?” One guy asked. Jack, I think.

  “Jack, was it? Yeah, I can. As long as I’m familiar with the song, I don’t have an issue playing it.”

  “Damn, I’m looking forward to hearing you then,” he said.

  “Then let’s do it right!” I said, turning to face the crowd.

  It was surreal, not hearing the ritual from Alice’s Monsters echoed back to me, but weirdly, it was like closure.

  A loud voice cut through my thoughts, introducing my new temporary band, The Gravel Tracks. I stepped up to the mic, pulling a spare cowboy hat I found low and waving my hand in greeting.

  “Hello, Nashville! I’m Anna, and I’m happy to be filling in tonight. Let’s start this set out with a song about not missing a man but needing a refill!”

  With cheers and whoops from the crowd, I sang, tapping my foot in time with the beat and leaning into the mic, breathing in the familiar smells of beer and sawdust. The lights were bright, but I could see people dancing, drinking, and clapping along. It was invigorating, infectious, and made me want more. But as I was singing, a creeping thought made its way to my brain, like spilling a drink down the stairs.

  I wanted to share this with Max.

  I wanted to come home to him, have him hold me at night, and have coffee with him the next morning.

  As the last notes finished, Spencer sauntered up and taped the setlist to a speaker at my feet. Leaning close, he bent down and talked to the audience, draping an arm around me.

  “So, what’s the verdict on this little lady? Should we keep her around for the night?”

  Resonating cheers filled the space, and I raised my hand in thanks as Spencer winked and moved to my right. We began another song, and with a fresh drink beside me, I focused on the music, strumming the chords and letting the sound melt over me, letting go of the past and ready to embrace the future.

  - 18 -

  SENSUAL DESIRE

  Max

  Annaleigh was on my mind and in my space all week long, running the day-to-day details with perfection and ease. Her laptop was open on the conference table, covered with blue sticky notes, and Jake was talking with Katie on the phone in his room. I thought about the week and reached down to adjust the laces on my Balmain black and white sneakers. I took point for each focus group and presentation, and the response was better than expected.

  Running my fingers through my hair and tugging on the short strands, I tried to stop thinking about her words on the plane. She hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d been sleeping fine but leaning heavily on the bourbon, trying to forget how my arms felt around her.

  Stretching my legs underneath the table, I kicked the side, rattling Annaleigh’s laptop. I steadied it, noticing a sticky note that said: Benjamin 7 pm Saturday.

  My hackles rose as I adjusted my glasses and read it again. My palms got sweaty, and I could feel my temper rising. What the hell was happening Saturday? Was this the real reason she didn’t want more with me? Was she already involved with that dick-weasel?

  I was mulling the words over when Jake opened the door and walked out looking like he belonged in a bad western movie. Right down to his scowl, bolo-tie, cowboy boots, and huge belt-buckle. He was walking bowlegged, like the boots were too tight and the jeans were too stiff. I pressed my hand over my mouth to stop him from hearing me laugh. But I couldn’t help it.

  “Not a word,” he said, adjusting himself and picking up a hat from the sofa.

  “I’m glad Katie doesn’t want any more kids because these damn jeans are cutting off the circulation in my balls.”

  “Man, if we weren’t in Nashville, you’d get your ass kicked!”

  His scowl got impossibly harder, so I snapped a picture for posterity, making him laugh along with me.

  “Ah! Now we have evidence I wore this monstrosity. Let’s get out of here before I change my mind,” he said, patting his pockets for his wallet and phone.

  “Where are we heading?” I asked, standing up and doing the same.

  I tucked my handkerchief in my pocket a
nd put the sticky note back, resisting the urge to crumble it up and throw the laptop across the room. I had no right to be pissed, but I was. I wanted to demand to know what the note meant, then kiss her so hard my name would be the only thing on her lips.

  “Annaleigh sent a list of the best bars to visit. I think she said she was going to a place called Hank’s. Let’s start there.”

  “Sounds good. If I have to look at you in that get-up all night, I’ll need a beer,” I said, shaking out my hands and cracking my neck.

  “At least you’re not wearing this. And I thought you’d want to be wherever she was.”

  “What?” I said, putting my wallet in my pocket and not listening to his words, too caught in that damn note.

  “Are we really going to play this, Max?”

  He pinned me with a stone-cold look, daring me to disagree. It was times like these that reminded me why he was the Bank President. Jake had an innate ability to read the situation and adapt accordingly.

  I didn’t know what to say. I was the one who stupidly asked her to date, asked her to compromise her position with the bank. But I sure as fuck was reconsidering things if she was too.

  “Jake,” I said.

  “Let me stop you right there, Max. I’m talking to you now as a friend, not your boss. I’ve seen the way you look at her, and it’s obvious she reciprocates. But since she is your employee, and it’s an inappropriate gray area with human resources, you better be sure if you are going to pursue her, and the way you’re staring at me says you will. Just know, you better always have her best interest at heart. Because if things go south, I’ve known her a lot longer than I’ve know you.”

  With that, he slapped my shoulder, hard, and strode to the door, not giving me a chance to respond.

  But I should. I put myself between him and the door. His eyes widened, and he stood back, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

  “As my friend,” I swallowed. “And boss. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her. But Jake, man-to-man, I’m trying my damndest to fight this, but I don’t think I can. And if she’s in, I sure as hell am too.”

  Jake didn’t respond, just nodded his head and turned to open the door, hitting me in the face with his ten-gallon hat. The elevator ride was silent, but by the time we reached Broadway Street, he was back to the easy-going guy I met one night at a dive bar in Chicago.

  Hank’s was nuts to butts with a phenomenal band playing, and a sassy, hot lead singer strutting around the stage with a cowboy hat pulled low and skin-tight jeans. Jake and I took the crowd’s distraction with the band to slide into the last empty high-top table closest to the stage. My head was on a swivel, looking for a flash of blonde hair.

  “Max. Max,” Jake repeated until I looked up and ordered a draft from the server that walked over.

  “You found her yet?” he asked with a smirk, as if he had already spotted her and was waiting for me to catch up.

  Still looking, an achingly familiar, smooth as silk voice floated through the air, like a warm blanket. It sounded like home. The voice was amplified, and I turned towards the stage just as Annaleigh lifted her hat and whooped with the crowd’s cheers.

  Holy fuck! I was mesmerized as she traded one guitar for another and sauntered to the microphone closest to our table, leading the band in another song. It wasn’t anything I recognized, but my foot still tapped along with hers.

  Annaleigh’s face was flushed under the lights, sweat glistening on her neck and arms. Her lips were red, and she was nibbling on them as she played, leaning in to harmonize with the chorus about wagon wheels. I waited, staring at her, hoping she’d see me. Every time she looked our way, her eyes seemed to pass right over, then focus back on her guitar.

  “Goddamnit,” I growled, taking a long pull of the beer the server dropped off. Even in his ball-gripping jeans, Jake had a gigantic smile plastered on his face and shook his head before looking back at the stage.

  “You knew about this?”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, crunching on the ice of his gin and tonic.

  I followed his eyes back to Annaleigh, taking in every feature, every detail. She looked so happy, so in her element. I tapped the side of my glass as she sang about keeping it together when you’re falling apart and wondered what happened that would make her not want to be as happy as she looked right now?

  “Why did she stop, Jake?”

  “She almost lost someone she loves,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table like he was strumming a guitar.

  “She’s told me a little. Was it her fault?”

  “No, but that doesn’t matter. She blames herself, always has. Lately, though Max, she’s gotten better. More open, more trusting. Katie and I both have noticed a difference.”

  “What about Benjamin?” I asked, going back to that fucking blue sticky-note.

  Jake’s voice was muted in the background as Annaleigh started a duet about not going downtown anymore, standing awfully close to the cowboy singing with her. The cowboy’s hand reached out and brushed her arm. Too intimate. My eyes narrowed, and I glared at him, but he only pressed himself closer.

  “What about him?” Jake said, holding up his empty glass to signal for another one. I did the same and tore my eyes away from the stage to ask Jake the question that had been on my mind since I overheard Raymond and Benjamin at his office.

  “Did they ever date? Her and Benjamin?”

  “Date? Are you crazy? No, Max, I can confidently say they never dated. She’s way too fucking smart for that. Why?”

  “I saw something on her computer about Benjamin and seven o’clock Saturday. It made me curious,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and looking away.

  “I’m sure you’re mistaken Max, Annaleigh would never go near someone like him.”

  Jake didn’t elaborate, only sang off-key as they finished the song and stopped for a minute. The too-close cowboy was speaking to the crowd, but I only had eyes for Annaleigh. She slid up to the bar, and another cowboy leaned down and touched her arm while she ordered.

  Jake stood and let out a sharp whistle, causing half the place to stare. Hat tilted, she turned and waved, heading over, forgetting her drink at the bar.

  “What a surprise! I thought the wine tasting was all afternoon,” she said, leaning down to give us both a half hug. She smelled like whiskey and sweat. It made me want to grip her by the back of her neck and pull her down to my lips.

  Standing, I motioned for her to sit, but she waved me off, staying in between us with her hands on her hips.

  “Thanks, Max, but we have two more songs.”

  “The tasting got out early, so we thought we would start with one of your recommendations,” Jake said, looking for our server.

  “I’m glad you did. Nice outfit, Jake. Authentic. Now the real question is, who is drunk enough to line dance with me when the set is done?”

  “Not there yet, Little Lady.”

  “Little Lady, Jake?” she said, giving him a playful shove in the shoulder.

  “Gotta get in with the times.” He shrugged his shoulders, finally getting a server’s attention and ordering a soda.

  I watched their carefree exchange, jealous of the relationship they’d built over the years. Nursing the last of my beer, I reached out and touched her leg, pulling her attention away with a smile. But a bartender came up to the table between us and gave her a sly grin.

  “Hey Anna, here’s your drink. You guys doing alright?” The bartender said, setting her drink down on the table.

  “Thanks, Ace. These two need shots, and please send Bill another coke,” she said, pointing to us.

  “You got it, doll.” With a wink, the bartender walked away.

  “How did you wind up on stage?” Jake asked.

  “I was at the bar talking to Ace and overheard the lead singer say one person coul
dn’t make it, so they would have to cut the set short. I volunteered. How’s it sound?” she said, tapping her fingers against her thigh.

  “It sounds like you were made for the stage, Annaleigh. I’m glad we’re here,” I said, taking her hand and squeezing it.

  She squeezed my hand back, “Aw, I’m glad y’all are here as well.”

  Ace walked back up with a tray, “Shots all around. And Bill says thanks. Your tabs on Spencer tonight, as thanks for filling in.”

  With a two-fingered salute, he walked away, leaving Annaleigh to pass out the shots.

  “Who’s Bill?” I said, looking at the shot.

  “The bouncer.”

  “You bought the bouncer a drink?”

  “I bought the bouncer a soda. Well, technically, Spencer did.”

  “Oh,” I said. Why was she buying drinks for other guys?

  “Max. I’m a girl, at a bar, in a strange city, by myself. Common sense says get to know the bartender and the bouncer, just in case. Sending Bill a drink means he’s more likely to remember my face, and Ace will remember the generosity,” she said with a shrug, pushing one glass towards Jake.

  “That’s really smart.”

  “Um, thanks, Max. Always a ton of surprise. Now drink up, two more songs, and I’m dancing with one of you.”

  She downed the shot, pointing to ours, and chased it with one last sip of her drink before going back to the stage. Taking a hand from the too-close cowboy, he whispered something in her ear, and she laughed, taking off her hat to reveal two sexy as hell braids trailing down her back. This time, instead of moving to the mic or picking up a guitar, she sat at the piano and adjusted the seat.

  “Oh, come on! She plays piano too?” I said, slamming the shot back too fast. Damn, it burned. “She’s too goddamn perfect.”

  Dragging my hand over my face, I scrubbed my five o’clock shadow and watched the stage. She was in her own world, where the music made her smile harder than anything I’d ever seen. The too-close cowboy was singing about being in love with loving someone. The tune was catchy, and I couldn’t help but tap along again.