“Hey! Keep your voices down, we don’t want people to know that! I’ve spent a lot of time and money making people believe these guys are nothing but a bunch of manwhores.” Hailey calls out as she comes up to the bar. As well as being our manager’s daughter she’s recently taken on the job as our PR rep, showing that after being around the industry her whole life, she’s picked up a thing or two. She’s smiling, which means something about us must be in the headlines.
“God, why are you smiling so big? What royal has Jez been photographed playing spin the bottle with now?” I ask her while signaling to the bartender to bring over another glass.
“Ha! Yeah… that was a good week,” she sighs, as if reliving it. “No, it seems that one of the local university co-eds got wind of your ‘secret’ concert here tonight, and, well…” she looks around the bar as it sizing it up. “Let’s just hope there isn’t a fire.”
“Fire in their pants maybe,” I growl and wink at Hailey suggestively, who giggles, then wanders off back through the growing crowd to the stage.
“I can get Hank to run down to the pharmacy and get them a medicated cream for those in-the-pants fires, you know,” Cadence teases me, putting me in my place. “Okay, seriously, I’m going away for a while now, I don’t want to worry about you, Mazzy.”
“Your Australian tendency to shorten names is not your best feature.”
“Aw, come on. I want to see you try to hook up with someone!”
“I don’t ‘hook up.'”
“Fine, just talk then. Just a quick ‘hello’; if she rejects you, you can make her regret it when she sees you performing. And if she says yes, then she’s going to want you even MORE after you play. Trust me.”
She looks up at me with wide, bright eyes and I find it hilarious that she’s so invested in this. In the months I’ve known her, I already love her like a sister and it’s hard to say no.
“Argh, okay, fine. Later. After the show.”
“No, now. Didn’t you hear me?”
“Ugh, nah, isn’t it better after she’s seen me perform? I’m like “rock band hottie” then.”
“Yeah, but that’s no fun. You guys do that every night. Come on.”
“Ugh. Fine. Who then?”
She hops down from the stool and comes up close, her mouth by my ear. “In the corner, sitting by herself. Sexy blonde with the curls and the lips to die for.”
I wait a moment before taking a quick glance. “I thought Hailey was the lesbian, not you.”
“Shush.”
“She looks so… unapproachable.” I squint, trying to make out her features. She’s looking at her phone, arms loosely crossed, her legs, in boots, crossed at the ankle.
“She looks bored. Go cheer her up.” Cadence pokes me in the back.
“She’s probably waiting for someone,” I say, even as I get up, strangely drawn to the woman.
“Then go keep her company until then.” Her eyebrows wiggle with excitement and I can’t help but get caught up in it.
“Oh, fuck’s sake. You owe me.”
“Um. You sold an extra fifty thousand albums because of me, according to Dennis.”
“Ok, fine. I owe you one less.” I take a big swig of my beer, choking as I swallow too fast. I wipe my chin with the sleeve of my leather jacket and push my way through the tables. A few steps before I reach her, I see she’s still staring at her phone. I turn and make a face at Cadence, who just gestures me forward. I can just make out that Sebastian and Brad are coming up behind her. Great, just in time to watch me make a fool of myself. It’s been a long, long time since I had to approach a woman.
The table next to hers is empty and I consider sitting down.
I feel more awkward than I ever have in life, not helped by the fact that I can hear Seb heckling me in the background.
“Ahem.” I clear my throat, but it’s hardly loud enough over the din of the music and chatter in the bar. She doesn’t respond, so I’m not sure she heard me. I take a step closer and put my hand on the back of the empty chair in front of her and try again, louder. “Ahem.”
“Yeah, take the chair, I don’t need it,” she says, not even bothering to look up.
Kinda rude, I think to myself, which somehow relaxes me. Like I’ve got nothing to lose.
“Ahem,” I say again, “I was just going to see if I could buy you a drink, you look kinda lonely.”
“Excuse me? Just because a girl is sitting alone, she must be lonely? In that case, leave the chair.” I move my hand off the chair in surprise. “Now I have the chair for company. Satisfied?” She looks up, just as she says the last words, and stares at me, unblinking.
And for a moment I falter. Her eyes, like giant marble orbs, are a crystalline jade green with a rim of hot chocolate brown. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like they can see through skin and bones and facades. I try to look away but I can’t. I’m mesmerized by them. It’s too bad her mouth needs a good length of duct tape over it, though.
I take a breath to compose myself, telling myself to avoid looking her directly in the eyes, and decide that there’s no reason I should let her get the better of me. “Ahhh, I see.” I say, nodding to myself, tapping my chin, deep in thought.
There’s a tiniest narrowing of her left eye, but it’s enough to show me, she’s struggling to stop herself from asking me what I mean. She loses the struggle, as I keep nodding to myself, purposely trying to annoy her.
“See what, exactly?” she says, her voice hard, restrained, trying to sound like she couldn’t care less about my answer.
“I see now, why you’re sitting in this bar… completely alone. Save for the piece of wooden furniture, of course.”
She tilts her chin and there’s slight twitch of her eyebrow, but her stare is unrelenting. “It beats random strangers coming up and clearing their throat at me. Anyway, I happen to think the chair has been quite the scintillating conversationalist.”
“I sincerely doubt the feeling’s mutual.” I say, patting the back of the chair, giving her my brightest smile.
She catches her chin, just before it falls and clenches her jaw and purses her lips instead. I can see the fight building in her eyes just like I can feel it growing in me. What is it about her that’s making me so confrontational? I don’t have much time to contemplate it before she responds.
“Oh really? You think you understand how wood thinks?”
“Parts of me are very familiar with the properties of wood, yes,” I say suggestively, giving her a deliberate wink that I know she will find infuriating.
Instead, she nods slowly, before responding. “I’m sorry, you must have misunderstood. When I said ‘wood,’ I didn’t mean a splinter,” she says and lowers her eyes to stare pointedly at my groin.