Beauty from Pain (2 page)

I remind myself I’m not in Sydney where I have
an endless variety of sophisticated women from which to choose. My
choices are more limited in the small town of Wagga Wagga, but that
doesn’t mean I have to settle for the first attractive woman I
see.

“
I’ll have a Shiraz.”

I’m prepared for a more prolonged relationship
this time—three whole months instead of the usual three or four
weeks. I’m looking forward to keeping this one around a little
longer, and that’s all the more reason to be certain I make a wise
choice.

I begin my search of the club with the first
table toward the front of the room. A brunette beauty sits with a
group of women. I watch her for a while, but decide she’s too
friendly with the woman sitting next to her. Lesbians aren’t in my
repertoire.

I spend the next hour scanning the
club and come up empty-handed. I’m discouraged. No one stands out
as
the one
and
this club is by far my best bet for meeting single women in this
town. Maybe I should consider coming back another time when it’s
not open mic night. Tonight, the place is crawling with
boozed
college
students.

Tonight’s search has been a failure, but at
least the karaoke was entertaining.

I’m finishing off the last of my wine before I
leave when an announcer from the club takes the stage and asks for
the next singer to step forward. A small group of people across the
room nominates one of its own. My view of the poor bastard is
blocked by the crowd of intoxicated kids standing between us, but
I’m certain this is going to be another delightful train
wreck.

The club erupts into cheer and
chants. “Do. It. Do. It. Do. It.” A young woman walks onto the
stage and stands with her back to the crowd as she takes a guitar
from its stand. She lifts its strap over her head and then tosses
her long brown hair over one shoulder. When she’s finished settling
the guitar into place, she
circles
around
and sits on the stool in the middle
of the stage.

She’s beautiful. And somehow overlooked during
my search.

She’s wearing a short ivory dress and a denim
jacket with brown cowgirl boots. She bares her thighs as she lifts
her feet to rest on the bottom rail, but she’s careful to push her
dress between her legs so she doesn’t provide a peep show to the
crowd.

She strums the borrowed guitar a few times and
then leans into the microphone. “Is everyone having a good time
tonight?”

She’s American. I think. Her accent sounds
different—not like what I’ve heard in the past.

The crowd erupts into a drunken cheer and I
hear a man’s voice yell over the crowd, “It’s better now, sweet
thing!”

She smiles and adjusts the mic. “I’m not from
around here. It’s my first night in Australia.”

“
Leave
with me and I’ll make you feel right at
home
!” a man shouts from
the back of the room.

She ignores the fat, ugly bastard yelling at
her. “I don’t know what kind of music Australians like, but this
has been one of my favorites for as long as I can remember.” She
strums a few more chords. “This is ‘Crash Into Me’ by the Dave
Matthews Band.”

She sings it slower than the original, putting
her own twist on it. Her voice is raspy and sexy, her eyes closed.
She oozes eroticism. She tilts her head and opens her eyes when she
begins to sing the chorus. I swear it feels like she’s looking
right in my direction, singing to me. “Oh, and you come craasshh …
into me. And I come into … you … And I come into you … in a boy’s
dream … in a boy’s dream.”

The stage lights shine in her face and common
sense tells me she can’t see me sitting in the dark corner at the
back of the club, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping.

She finishes the chorus and shuts
her eyes again. Her long legs bounce against the rail of the stool
to keep rhythm and I fall victim to her siren’s song. She has
bewitched me. And I want her.
She’s the
one.

She opens her eyes and looks in my direction
again. “Oh, and you come craasshh … into me, yeah … baby … And I
come into … you … Oh, hike up your skirt a little more … and show
the world to me … Hike up your skirt a little more … and show your
world to me … In a boy’s dream … in a boy’s dream.”

The waitress returns to my table, but I don’t
glance in her direction when she speaks. I can’t take my eyes from
the beautiful brunette on stage for even a second. “Can I bring you
another Shiraz?”

My plans have changed. “Yes,
please.”

The American girl finishes her song and the
crowd is all cheers and whistles. She smiles as she pulls the
guitar strap over her head and then leans forward to the mic.
“Thank you.”

I watch her leave the stage and return to a
table where she is sitting with a blond woman and two blokes. Damn!
A boyfriend, perhaps?

My waitress returns with my wine and places it
on the table in front of me. “Excuse me, do you know the girl who
just performed?”

“
No. She said it was her first
night in Australia.”

I take my wallet from my interior jacket
pocket and remove a hundred-dollar bill. I slide it in her
direction across the table. “What about the people she’s sitting
with?”

She sees the money on the table and picks it
up to deposit in the pocket of her black apron before turning to
see who my songstress is sitting with. “The blond guy is Ben
Donavon and his friend is Zac Kingston. They’re regulars in here,
two or three times a week.”

Why is this American here with
those blokes?
“She sounds American. Do you
know why she would be with them?”

“
Ben is a Yank. His family owns a
vineyard in California and he’s here to study wine at the uni. I
think she’d have to be someone he knows from home.”

I hold up a second hundred-dollar bill between
my fingers. “See this? It’s yours if you can find out what she’s
doing here and how long she’ll be in Wagga Wagga. And find out if
she’s dating either one of the blokes.”

She smiles and I see she’s interested in
playing my little game. “I’ll be back to collect that in a
minute.”

I sit back and enjoy my Shiraz while the
waitress does my detective work. A visiting American couldn’t be
more perfect for my next companion. Once our relationship is over,
she would be on an entirely different continent, which ensures we
won’t have any accidental future run-ins.

My stay in Wagga Wagga is becoming more
promising.

I finish my glass of Shiraz as my waitress
returns. “Her name is …”

I cut her off before she can finish her
sentence. “No, I don’t want to know her name.”

I can see this stumps her, but money is money.
“Ben’s sister is her best friend and they’ve come to spend the
summer with him. She met Ben and Zac for the first time
today.”

Good. That means she isn’t dating either of
them.

If the guys are students in the wine science
program at the university, I’m guessing they will be at the vintage
dinner at the school on Friday night. They’ll be anxious to
showcase their wines. I wonder if she’ll be there as a
guest.

I pull another bill from my wallet and hold it
up for Blondie to see. “This is yours if you can find out what
their plans are for the vintage dinner at the university on Friday
night. I want to know if the brunette will be there.”

She smiles again. “I could play this game all
night.”

Ten minutes later, she returns with another
Shiraz and an update. “The guys will be presenting their wines at
the dinner, and both girls will be guests.”

I slide the well-earned bill across the table.
“Perfect. Thank you.”

“
It’s been my pleasure. Would you
like me to keep the Shiraz coming?”

“
Yes.”

I spend the next hour stealing glances at the
beautiful American through the crowd of people between us as they
shift. I’m disappointed when the foursome gets up to leave, but I
see the perfect opportunity for a convenient face-to-face encounter
when she moves toward the restrooms.

I migrate in that direction and wait for her
to emerge for our chance meeting in the hallway. When the door to
the ladies’ room opens, I walk toward her, but she’s looking down
into her purse. She attempts to dodge right, so I move with her.
“Pardon me.”

Her accent is so unusual. And
endearing.

She steps to her left and I move with her like
a mirror image. “So sorry, Miss.”

Look up at me.

“
Wanna dance?” she laughs as she
lifts her eyes from her purse.

“
I’d love to.” Her smile spreads
with my reply. We lock eyes and I try to identify the color of
hers, but I can’t. It’s too dark in the narrow hallway.

I was right. She is the one.

She seems embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Asking
someone to dance is an expression we use where I’m from. You know?
Like when two people try to get around one another as we just
did.”

“
I’m familiar with the expression,
but one can always hope.” I step around her toward the door to the
men’s room. “I think I would have enjoyed a dance with
you.”

3

Laurelyn Prescott

How do you decide what to wear to a vintage
dinner at an Australian university when you aren’t really sure what
a vintage dinner is?

I stand at the sink brushing my teeth while
Addison showers. Man, this sharing a bathroom with two other people
is no joke, especially when one of them is as high maintenance as
Addison.

I rinse and wipe my mouth. “You never told me
what this thing is that we’re going to tonight.”

“
It’s a vintage
dinner.”
Awesome. That tells me everything
I need to know.

I grab my makeup bag and begin applying my
foundation. The lighting in our bedroom is terrible and the
bathroom isn’t much better, but who am I to complain when I’m
staying here as a nonpaying guest. Besides, Addison complains
enough for both of us. “Can you give me a little more to go on?
Like, what’s going to be happening and what I need to
wear?”

“
It can’t be too formal if it’s
hosted by a university, so I think a sundress should be fine. What
about that black strapless with the wide white band around the
waist? It’s a chameleon and will fit in if this shindig is on the
dressier side. Didn’t you bring it?”

I remember hanging it in the closet when we
unpacked. “I did.”

“
Ben says the event begins
outdoors with hors d’oeuvres where we’ll try the first round of new
vintages. When we finish that, we’ll go inside for dinner and have
more wine. There’ll probably be a band, so expect some
dancing.”

Eating, drinking, and dancing. Slow dancing.
It sounds fun and innocent enough, except I suspect Ben considers
me more than a simple guest.

After I finish my hair and makeup, I slip into
the black strapless. When Addison comes into our bedroom, she has
me make a complete spin and gives me a whistle. “Looking good in
the neighborhood.”

“
Thanks.”

She’s wearing an ivory halter dress I don’t
recognize. The ivory against her blond hair and olive skin is
gorgeous. “I don’t think I’ve seen this before.”

“
It’s new. I bought it before we
left. Think Zac will like it?”

“
I think Zac would like you in
anything. Or nothing at all.”

She laughs but knows it’s true. He wants her
bad. “I think he likes me.”

“
Being reserved doesn’t suit you,
Addie. Of course he likes you. I don’t know how you could question
it. He’s been here constantly since we arrived.”

“
I know, but he hasn’t said
anything or made a move.”

“
It’s only been three days. Not
every guy tries to get you in the sack thirty seconds after you
meet.”

“
I know. I guess I’m
second-guessing myself because he hasn’t tried.”

“
Watch his reaction when we walk
out. You’ll know where his head’s at.”

The eyes tell it all when Zac sees
Addison. He is hot for her. Unfortunately, Ben’s reaction to me is
very similar. What the hell am I thinking? It’s a huge mistake for
me to attend this event as Ben’s guest wearing
this
dress, but it’s too late
now.

Luck is with me the first half of the night as
I’m able to avoid Ben. He’s busy presenting his vintages, but like
always, my luck runs out. We finish dinner and he takes my hand to
pull me from my chair. “Come dance with me.”

I smile and follow him onto the dance floor,
mostly because I don’t have a reasonable excuse not to. One dance.
I can do that.

I glance over at Addison dancing with Zac.
She’s giddier than a pig in shit and I’m happy for her. Her
relationship luck hasn’t been much better than mine. “She seems to
be having a good time.”