So I keep smiling and playing.
I never really got how our parents ended up together. Dad is way older than Mom and used to be fat, before he started tweaking, with a round face, long nose, watery gray eyes, and male-pattern balding that started in his twenties, based on the pictures I’ve seen. After I saw that Barbie Rapunzel movie when I was four, I was totally convinced that Mom was really Rapunzel and had gotten lost from her kingdom. The gene pool was kind to Destiny and me and we’ve got Mom’s coloring and kickass body—the only thing either of us really has going for us.
So I put it on display for the hot bartender.
I spread my legs as I readjust on the stool between songs, and a shudder ripples through me when Bran’s simmering gaze follows the rise of my skirt hem.
There’s been a few times in the past I’ve had to use my body to get what I needed. A little flirting and flaunting goes a long way. But no one’s ever made me hope it would come to that before. Let’s just say, if I have to flirt my way into this gig, it won’t break my heart.
I debate whether to do some of my original music, but my best friend Shiloh and I found out in the BART and bus stations we used to play, before Destiny dragged me out here to the sticks, that people tip better when they know the songs. I sum up my audience and pick songs from their teen years—early 2000s for this group. Remind them of their glory days and tips double.
So I launch into some Mariah.
I’m not a great singer, but I can hold my own. We used to make bank in San Francisco because of Shiloh. We called ourselves LohLah and had dreams of making it big someday. She’s one of those rare people that you just know is going to be a star. Her voice is so hot it could melt steel and so pure it could shatter glass. But lots of people have great voices. Lo has more—looks, attitude, and a magnetic presence that demands your attention.
She tried to talk me into going with her when she auditioned for The Voice this summer, but I don’t have what she does. From the start, I knew she was going to make it. She was chosen for the blind auditions in L.A., and one line into her song, all four coaches’ chairs turned. She chose Adam as her coach. I watched her cut like butter through the battle rounds, and her last iTunes release rocketed up to number two, behind Taylor Swift’s new single. She made it into the top twenty last week and the judges are using words like “totally original” and “the real deal” to describe her.
But Lo was more than just my bankroll. She was the only thing that kept my head from imploding when everything went down with my parents. She was my rock.
God, I miss her.
Five hours later, as the bar starts clearing out, I’ve emptied the tip jar into my guitar case three times and it’s overflowing again. When he’s not pouring beer or mixing drinks, Bran’s gaze has been searing me alive from the far corner of the bar. He stands there with his arms crossed over his massive chest, biceps straining the sleeves of his T-shirt, reminding me of a panther crouched in the grass, ready to spring.
“You did okay,” he says, nodding to my tip jar.
“Looks that way.” I gather the bills and loose change from my case and stack it all on the bar. There has to be at least a hundred dollars.
He pushes away from the counter and stalks over to me. “I can’t pay you, so you’ll probably only want to come in Friday and Saturday nights when we’re full.”
The heat of his scrutiny causes a trickle of sweat to roll between my breasts and tighten my nipples. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I say, tucking my guitar safely away in its cradle, trying to decide if I want him to notice or not.
“Seven to closing?”
I shrug, knowing I can’t stay until closing, but also wanting to get here after Destiny leaves at six. “Something like that.”
“You’re good,” he says, pulling a pair of tens from his tip jar and shoving them into mine.
I grab the jar and add the cash to the stack. “I know.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see him smirk. “And modest.”
I glower at him. “Explain to me how modesty is going to the pay bills.”
He holds a hand up and his smile changes from a smirk to something more suggestive. “Point taken.”
I really want to follow the suggestion in that smile to see where it leads, but it’s nearly midnight and Destiny’s going to start flipping out if I’m not home soon. My midnight curfew is my own fault, so I really can’t give Destiny too much shit. She got a lot dumped on her when our parents blew up the kitchen, burnt our house to the ground, and ended up in jail for cooking meth. Overnight, she went from avoiding home altogether to essentially becoming a parent.