Sweet Forty-Two(7)

“I’ll tell you if you tell me where the f*ck your accent went.” He scrunched up his forehead as he nodded his chin in my direction.

“I didn’t—” As my face heated, CJ smiled.

“I’m just giving you shit, kid. I teased Regan about losing his, too, when he went away to that preppy f*ckin’ high school with all of those band geeks.”

Despite being the same age as me, CJ sometimes called me kid. He didn’t seem to have rhyme or reason to when he did it, but hearing it was like going home. To the good stuff.

Grateful that I wouldn’t have to enter into a discussion of the parts of me I’d given up during my move to San Diego, I breathed a sigh of relief. “I miss hearing it sometimes, though, so don’t go losing yours, too.”

CJ waved his hand. “Don’t worry about Regan. He’s just bent out of shape because he can’t find a place to live and is itchin’ like hell to get out of Bo and Ember’s palace of love.” CJ thrust his hips a few times for effect.

“Nice, Ceej. Just get the hell up there and keep people happy ... and drinking.”

A few minutes later, I headed toward the stage to announce the group. “Hey, guys. You’ve got about three minutes. When I announce you ... what do I call you?”

“The Fucking Lunatics!” CJ sounded serious as he fist-pumped the air.

“Okaaay ... any other suggestions?” I scanned the group. Thankfully, Regan let out a laugh.

“Just say we’re a sub-set of the San Diego Six. We’re recording with them this winter. Well, minus CJ.” Regan nodded to Bo and Ember.

Then, it clicked. I darted my eyes to Ember. “That’s where I’ve seen your picture. You’re Raven and Ashby’s daughter, right?”

Ember nodded and smiled. I don’t think she’d stopped smiling since she walked in the bar, actually. “I am. You listen?”

I’d been a fan of the Six since I moved to San Diego a few years ago, but demanded of myself that I keep that fangirl shit under wraps.

“I do. They’re good. Good for you guys for getting to record with them.”

Regan smiled as I talked with Ember. The way one eye squinted a little more than the other when he smiled made me uncomfortable, as if he was studying me under an invisible microscope. I was determined to keep him at arm’s length since he couldn’t keep his eyes off of me. He seemed nice and I wanted to leave him that way. So, just before I turned on the mic, I leaned in and perched my lips about half an inch from his ear.

“The Six is good, Regan. Real good. Can you keep up with them?” I challenged.

He shrugged, an unreadable look taking over his face. “They seem to think so.”

I hadn’t heard a single note come from his fiddle, despite his earlier insistence that he get to the stage. For all I knew, he could be a complete fraud dressed up in David Garrett clothing.

“Well,” I whispered with a smile on my lips, “prove it.”

“Prove it?” He tilted his head almost incredulously, a cocky grin forming at the corner of his mouth.

“You heard me. Make a believer out of me with that thing.” I touched the edge of his fiddle, and he pulled it back slightly. My eyes shot to his and I found him looking at his instrument possessively.

Ok, then.

With a quick lick of my lips, I looked at the microphone. “E’s is happy to present ... Last Call.”

I headed back to the bar without looking back, but heard CJ’s excited “Fuck yeah! Last Call!” as I situated myself for the night.

Lissa shouldered up next to me as I went back to my end of the bar. “What was that?” she shouted in my ear as the musicians did one final round of tuning.

“What was what?”

“That look you gave Regan. Your go look. I thought you weren’t into him.” Lissa stepped back and looked down her long eyelashes at me.

Before she could respond, CJ struck the snare drum, as Bo started a familiar tune on an electric guitar. “Smooth Criminal”.

“What the...” I looked past Lissa just as Regan raised his bow and struck it across the strings.

Holy shit...





Regan

She didn’t look back when she returned to her station at the bar. I don’t know how I missed it earlier in the day, but she had a third tattoo on the back of her neck. It looked like a rocking horse of some sort. I’d already spent far too much time staring at Georgia’s body for one day, so I looked away. Though, the way she attempted to pass off that scant piece of fabric for a dress, it didn’t seem that she wanted me to look away.

Or anyone else for that matter.

I didn’t know what Georgia’s game was, but when she challenged me about my ability with the violin, it lit something inside me. I don’t even know why I cared what she thought. I’d met her only hours earlier and had made kind of an ass out of myself.

Still, when she asked me to make a believer out of her, I asked Ember to sit the first song out while Bo played the electric guitar, and we started “Smooth Criminal”. It’s my go-to “wow” piece for people who have an attitude about classical instruments.

Then, her jaw dropped.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Just as I pulled the corners of my lips up into an I told you so grin, Georgia’s seemed to curl into a sneer and she abruptly turned around and got to work behind the bar. Mission accomplished. I’d regained my social footing from my breast-staring fumble earlier and was on even keel with her again.