Cardinal (10 page)

“For what?  Impressing us with your hidden
talent?  I swear we all stopped to listen to you. Well, most of us.”

I frown. That’s both embarrassing and weird.

She misunderstands my reaction as offense
toward the people who didn’t drop everything for the Jen show. “Heidi was the
only one who wasn’t impressed,” she explains.

“Heidi?  What’s she doing here?”

“Dean’s playing. He’s a former member of Sacred
Sin. You do the math.”

“Ah.” Cue groupies.

Some girls step up to the bar and order. As I
make their drinks, I think. Apparently everyone at Torque is aware of Latson’s
past. After I start a tab for the girls, I ask Gwen, “Am I the only one who
didn’t know about Latson and the band?”

“You didn’t know?” She looks shocked. “He only
hires people he trusts. I’m surprised you got in.”

“Well, I am Pete’s sister.”

She smiles. “Pete’s a good guy.”

As the night wears on, Dean blows me away with
his set. He’s an incredible guitarist, and it’s a miracle he complimented me. The
crowd is full of energy for him, even though it’s not as packed as when Riptide
was here. Everyone who came tonight easily fits between the bar and the stage,
including Heidi and her entourage. She has five girls with her who are acting
like they’re here to see Elvis. I mean, I get it – Dean’s wicked talented – but,
they’re dressed to the slutty nines, and they’ve even designated one of the
waitstaff as their personal server for the night. Poor Kenzie.

“That’s it!”  She slams her tray down on the
bar top. “If that red-haired bitch looks down her nose at me one more time I’m
going to punch her!  Or pour a drink over her head. She’s asked me a thousand
times where Latson is.
I don’t know where he is.
What does she want from
me?!”  Kenzie lets out a frustrated breath and blows her bangs out of her eyes.
“I need another Sex on the Beach.”

I start making the drink. “I’m sorry. The night
is almost over.”

“Thank God. She’d better tip well or I
will
find Latson to straighten her ass out. She’s got me running around here like
her BFF’s are royalty.”

The crowd bursts into applause as Dean finishes
a song. I look past Kenzie to see him nod thanks and grab a water bottle off
the stage. He takes a big swig. I’m not sure if he’s done playing or if he has
a finale planned.

“Thank you so much, guys,” Dean says into the
mic. “You don’t know how much your support means. This is a new road, but one I
hope you’ll travel with me. Branching out on your own is a scary thing when
you’re used to having friends behind you.”

People whistle and clap.

“Speaking of,” he looks around, “tonight was
made possible by someone you might know. He’s here somewhere …”

The crowd goes nuts, especially Heidi and her friends.
Latson appears from the side of the stage and walks toward Dean. He squints
into the spotlight and holds up one hand in a wave. They share a manly
one-armed hug before stepping apart and exchanging some words. I notice Latson
has changed his shirt. He’s back to the plain white tee. I have to admit it
suits him. His tattoos stand out against the color, and he looks every part the
rocker with his dark denim.

“What do you think?” Dean leans toward the mic.
“Can we convince him to join me for a reunion?  One night only?” He laughs.

People start to chant Latson’s name. It doesn’t
take much convincing though, as he willingly grabs the Fender. The crowd goes
ape-shit crazy.

“No way.” Gwen grabs my arm. “He never plays.” She
meets my eyes. “Never.”

Anticipation runs through me as Dean moves to
the side and swings the acoustic he was playing in front of him. As he messes
with the tuners, Latson steps up to the mic and grabs it with both hands. He
says four words that put everyone on their feet:  “This one’s called “Easy”.”

Holy hell. His voice. Amplified it’s…it’s…  I
look away from the stage.

I’m in so much trouble.

Dean starts to play, and Latson joins him. The
crowd continues to cheer. The song stays instrumental for a few moments before
I hear:

“It’s supposed to get better, not worse

It’s supposed to hurt less, not more

But I can’t stop loving you

There’s nothing I can do

Nothing about us is easy.”

The song is a ballad, but it has a hard edge to
it. A vague memory hits me full force. Yep. Summer of 2005. I walked in on my
brother, Adam, making out with his girlfriend to this same song. Shirts were
off, hands were places. No wonder I repressed it. Now, hearing the song live, Latson’s
voice is trying to make new memories for me.

“What do you think?”

I hear Pete over the music and the crowd. I
find him, Felix, and Carter standing near Kenzie. As I glance around, all the
employees I can see have stopped to enjoy the show. Gwen sings along, Kenzie sways,
and Felix is playing air guitar. It makes me smile.

“I think it’s great!” I shout to Pete.

He gives me a thumbs up, and I let myself be a
fan.

When the song ends I clap with everyone else. Performing
the song that started their career was the perfect end to Dean’s show. The
people can’t get enough. I put my thumb and forefinger in my mouth and whistle.
The sound is loud and sharp, and it carries through the bar.

As the noise dies down, I start to clean up. We’ll
be closing any minute. I move along the bar, grabbing empty glasses with my
fingertips. With four in each hand I carry them over to the dump sink and start
tossing out the used ice and drink stirs.

“Okay, okay. One more.” Latson’s voice echoes.

I hear shrill shrieks and assume they’re from
Heidi and her crew.

“This one …” He pauses. “I didn’t write this
one.”

I dump the last glass and stand up straight,
curious. Latson pulls his guitar strap over his head and sets the instrument on
its stand. He returns to the mic, then holds up a hand to block the spotlight
shining on the stage. He squints as his eyes roam the room, until they find me.

“Today … today I was told I know nothing about
romance.”

I freeze. I hear more shrieks for the word
romance and a few boos for the awful person who told him that.

“I know, right?” He shifts his gaze downstage
to the dissenters. “She’s crazy,” he mouths and makes a swirling motion with
his finger. People cheer and his eyes land back on me. “So, this song is for
that person. She knows who she is.”

Oh no.

Latson takes the microphone off the stand and says
a few private words to Dean. Dean nods and smiles, then starts to play. He strums
and plucks the strings of his guitar in a familiar, upbeat tempo, and all the
blood drains from my face.

I know this song. By heart. I know the chords. I
know the transitions. I know when it was written and what album it’s on. When
Latson opens his mouth and sings the first line, I mouth it with him.

It’s “Little Bird” by Ed Sheeran.

I’m rooted in place, my pulse keeping time with
the music. As Latson sings he works the stage, his eyes occasionally jumping to
where I stand. It’s obvious he didn’t just learn this song for my benefit. He anticipates
each line and clips his words in all the right places. Ed is a pansy my ass!  What
a liar.

I decide to focus on that, his lie, to get
through this without literally swooning. It’s tough when he’s singing about
mouths reading truths, missing you, and lips tasting like strawberries. As long
as he stays on the opposite side of the room, I should be fine.

He hops off the stage.

Fuck.

He tries to make his journey casual, by
stopping every now and again to sing a few notes. As he gets closer to me I
can’t decide if I want to throw myself at him or hide. He focuses on my face,
and it’s obvious who he’s singing to now. My eyes dart to Pete. His smile is
rapidly fading.

I don’t know what to do. The song is coming to
an end and all attention is on us as Latson takes his final steps. He stops
directly in front of me, and I think I might overheat. His chocolate brown eyes
bore into mine as he sings the last line of the song. I can’t breathe.

The crowd erupts in applause. They start to
converge on Latson. He continues to stare at me as random hands pat him on the
back for a job well done. Ignoring them, he lowers the mic and leans over the bar
top.

“How’s that for romance, Little Bird?”

“I knew it was you,” Gwen whispers. She’s found
me standing in the corner, in the farthest spot behind the bar.

“No shit, Sherlock,” I respond over the rim of
my cup. “Everyone knows it was me.”

For this evening’s round-up drink, I’ve opted
for something with a little kick. The first time I worked here, I chose water
for Torque’s closing time tradition. The second time, I never made it that far.
The third time  ... well, I need something to calm my frazzled nerves. Or my raging
hormones. I’m not sure which is higher.

“I meant I knew
before
he sang.” She
rolls her eyes. “You’re the only one who would tell Latson he isn’t romantic.” She
turns and glances around the bar. “What an insane night.”

I follow her gaze. No one wanted the impromptu
Sacred Sin semi-reunion to end, and my brother and Carter, amongst others, had
a hard time getting people to leave. Now, an hour after closing, most of the
staff has finally taken a seat. They’ve given up trying to throw Heidi and her
friends out. They’re busy at the opposite end of the bar, fawning over Latson
and Dean while obnoxiously giggling.

Ugh. The giggling.

I take another drink.

“He doesn’t look interested, you know,” Gwen
says.

I avert my eyes. “What?”

“Latson. He looks like he’d rather descend to
the seventh circle of hell than put up with them.”

I look at him again. He’s talking to Dean, despite
Heidi trying to weasel her way between his legs. He’s sitting on a stool, and
she keeps touching his knee. I mentally smile when he grabs her hand and shoves
it away.

“You should go save him,” Gwen suggests. “Put
her in her place and claim your man.”

I make a face. “He’s not my man.”

“Please.” Gwen gives me a blank look. “Denial
looks awful on you.”

Pete approaches the bar. “Are you ready to go?”

I nod.

“What are you drinking?” He reaches out, snags
my cup, and smells it. “Whiskey?”

“And Coke.” I grab the cup back. “Is there a
problem with that?”

He scowls. “You’re not supposed to have
either.”

“I can eventually.”

“Eventually is not a week after surgery.”

I quickly down the rest of my drink. “Pffft. Surgery
was eight days ago.” Not only will the alcohol relax my mind, it will soothe
the tiny twinges of pain I’m starting to feel. Maybe working a full shift
tonight wasn’t the best idea.

Pete shakes his head. “I swear …”  He starts to
walk away. “I’m going to get the car.”

“’Kay.” I toss my cup in the trash. Grabbing my
bag, I duck under the bar and notice my shoe is untied. I fix it, then stand. “See
you tomorrow, Gwen.”

She grins. “’Night.”

Is something funny?

I turn around and run smack into Latson’s chest.
He catches me by my arm and his woodsy scent invades my senses. “Are you
leaving?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

What kind of ride?

Sweet Jesus. Did I just think that?  “No,” I
say. “Pete’s getting the car.”

He steps closer. “I think we should talk.”

I think so, too. However, in my periphery, I
catch a glimpse of Heidi staring at us. “I think you’re busy. You shouldn’t
leave your adoring fans.”

He nudges my arm, pulling me closer still. “Forget
them.”

That would be easy to do, but whatever is going
on here is already conspicuous enough. “You know I can’t leave with you. Pete will
bust a nut. We can talk tomorrow.”

Latson looks uncertain, like I’m trying to
brush him off. I’m not. I’m trying to avoid questioning stares and a lecture
from my brother.

“I promise,” I say. “Cross my heart and hope to
die, stick a needle in my eye.”

Latson wasn’t expecting my rhyme and tries not
to smile. “What are you?  Seven?”

I shrug and he sighs. “I’ll walk you out.”

He lets go of my arm and sets his palm against
my lower back, guiding me toward the door. I didn’t expect his touch and his
hand burns a hole through my shirt. I know he’s held me in his arms before, but
this feels different. This feels intimate and possessive, and I’m not the only
one who notices.

“Bye Little J,” Carter says as we pass him. He
takes one look at Latson’s hand and does a double take. “Or is it Little Bird
now?”

Ah, Christ. “It’s Jen,” I say and keep walking.

Latson holds the door for me as we step outside.
When we get to the curb and separate, he pulls his cell out of his pocket and
looks at the screen. “It’s after four a.m.,” he says.

I nod.

“Four hours ago, today became tomorrow.”

I’m confused. “What?”

Pete’s car rounds the corner and Latson doesn’t
explain. As my brother pulls to the curb, he steps forward and reaches for the
door. He starts to pull the handle, then stops. “Don’t fall asleep when you get
home.”

My forehead creases. “I think I’ll do what I
want.”

He opens the door an inch. “Today is tomorrow. You
said we could talk.” He meets my eyes with a sincere expression. “Don’t fall
asleep when you get home.”

Now I get it … and there goes my pulse. I have no
idea what he’s planning, but damn it if I don’t want to find out.

He opens the car door, and I get inside. Pete
pulls away as soon as the door shuts behind me. We make it one block before he asks,
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

My head falls back against the head rest. “I
wish I knew.”

As Pete drives, I stare out the window and
wonder what
is
happening. Latson has hit on me since the day I met him,
but it’s always been fun and something I could handle. Tonight went to a whole
new level. He used music to get to me and it worked. Am I ready to have his
babies?  No. But the idea of playing house is starting to grow on me.

“He’s not good for you.”

I look at Pete. “You keep saying that. I
thought he was your friend.”

“He is,” he gives me a warning look, “which
means I know a lot about him. Just like I know Carter and Felix. Guys talk. Trust
me. He’s not for you.”

“You need to elaborate.” I cross my arms. “What
are you saying?  He’s abusive?  He’s into drugs?  He has a foot fetish?  What?”

“No.” Pete shakes his head. “Relationships
aren’t for him. I know you, and you’re not into casual. He doesn’t do long-term
commitment.”

“Long-term?  Like weeks or like marriage?”

“Marriage.”

I snort. “You’re one to talk. Have you looked
in the mirror lately?  If marriage were the basis for a relationship, Jules
should have left you years ago.”

“What makes you think we’re not married?”

“Um, because you’re not.” I look at him like
he’s lost it. “I don’t remember a wedding.”

Pete sighs as he turns the wheel. “That’s because
you weren’t there.”

I blink. “I’m sorry?”

He gives me a resigned look.

“You’re married?!”

“Since March.”

“How ...” My face falls. “Why didn’t you include
us?  Mom and dad are going to be so hurt.”
I’m
hurt.

“We had a scare,” Pete says. “Jules found a lump.
Cancer runs in her family.”

My stomach knots. Jules looks so healthy. “Is
she okay?”

He nods. “The tests turned out fine, but it was
a huge reality check. We decided there was no point in waiting, so we went to
the courthouse. I mean, why plan a party for a year when the important part of
the day is the actual marriage?”

I’m stunned. I lean over and try to see his
left hand under the passing street lights. “Where’s your ring?” Come to think
of it, I haven’t seen one on Jules, either. I know I would have noticed a diamond.

“We don’t have rings,” Pete confesses. “Jules didn’t
want to discuss her health when asked why we did what we did. We’ve decided to
keep it between us for a while. Things happened fast. No one knows we’re
married.”

I frown. “That is unacceptable, Peter. Jules
deserves a gorgeous ring, even if she’s not wearing it.” My eyes get wide. “And
you need to get down on one knee and propose like a gentleman!”  I shove his
arm. “You were raised better than that, jerk face.”

“I know.” He looks sheepish. “That’s the favor
I was going to ask you when I called a few weeks ago. Remember?  I dropped the
subject when I found out your life was falling apart. I was going to ask you to
help me pick out a ring.”

I smile. “Well, nothing is stopping us now. Let’s
do it soon. I want my sister-in-law to be legit.”

“She is legit. I have the license to prove it.”

“You know what I mean.”

We turn into the parking garage, then get out
of the car and make our way upstairs. Outside the apartment door, I grab Pete’s
arm and pull him into a lopsided hug. “I’m really happy for you. I love Jules. Mom
and Dad do, too. I’m glad she’s okay.”

He hugs me back. “Me, too.”

“Her proposal needs to be epic.”

“I have some ideas.” Pete steps back and puts
the key in the lock. “But I might need some help there as well.”

“Count me in.” I grin.

He starts to open the door, then stops. “You
deserve epic things, too, you know. That’s what I meant about Latson. If you
decide to get involved with him, I worry that won’t happen for you.”

I sigh. I’ve learned all things epic don’t
revolve around men. “If I were to get involved with him I would have no
expectations.” If my last two relationships taught me anything, it’s not to
bank on a future.

Pete looks like he disagrees, but lets it go. We
head inside and say goodnight. When I get to my room, I shut the door and drop
my bag on the floor. My brother is married.
Married.
It explains so
much, like his mature behavior and concern about me. Especially when I was sick.
I’m sure my health only reminded him of his wife’s issues.

His wife. Gah!  I love it. I can’t wait until
they decide to share the news.

Kicking off my shoes, I start to get ready for bed.
I pull the rubber band out of my hair, shake my head, and hear three taps in
the process. Glancing around the room, I wait and hear it again. It’s coming
from the window. I walk over and tentatively lift the edge of the blinds. Someone
is standing on the fire escape. All I can see is a shoe and a knee, and I
remember what Latson said. It has to be him. How did he get home so fast?

Opening the blinds, I crack the window. He
crouches down with a mischievous smirk. “Come out here with me.”

“Did you grow wings and fly?” I look over his
shoulder. “Didn’t I just leave you on a sidewalk?”

“I left right after you,” he says. “Dorothy is
fast.”

I remember the name of his car.

“C’mon,” he says and holds out his hand.

There’s nothing to stop me. There are no prying
eyes here, and I do want to talk to him. Pushing the window open, I set my
hands on the sill and hop up. I get one knee on the ledge then reach out, so
Latson can help me crawl through. He ends up holding both my hands as he pulls
me to stand in front of him.

“I haven’t snuck out a window since high
school,” I say.

“It’s good to know you have a wild side.”

“So wild,” I joke and remove my fingers from
his. I slide them into my back pockets.

He walks over to the edge of the fire escape,
and I follow. He sits down, hanging his legs over the side. I sit beside him
and do the same. The rough metal of the platform digs into my legs through my
jeans, but I don’t mind. Once my eyes catch the view of the sleeping city, I’m
kind of swept away. The twinkling lights and the muted sounds hint at the
energy it holds during the day. It’s a different world up here in the dark.

“Where are your shoes?”

I stop my swinging legs and look at my socks. “I
was getting ready for bed.”

“I told you not to fall asleep.”

My eyes swing from my feet to his face. “You’re
not the boss of me.”

A slow smile takes over his features.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Cue the dimple. “Well, you do work for me, so ...
I
am
the boss of you.”

He thinks he’s clever. “Very funny. That title
only applies inside the walls of Torque. Outside, I’m just Jen and you’re just ...”
I look him over. “You.”
A very handsome, talented you wearing the Take Me
Home t-shirt again,
my mind adds.

“I’m glad you said that.” Latson moves over and
ends up an inch closer to me. He produces his phone. “Can I get your number now?”

“Sure.” I recite my cell. He enters it, then
says, “I’ll text you so you have mine.”