Strings of the Heart (8 page)

“I’m here to see someone perform,” I replied.

With a grunt, he thrust my ID back at me. Although I could hear music coming from inside, I wasn’t sure it was still Allison. I hoped like hell I hadn’t missed her. When I handed my money to the woman, I asked, “Is Pink Magnolia still playing?”

She nodded. “They’re on for thirty more minutes.”

“Thank God.”

She laughed. “Honey, they aren’t that good.”

Ignoring her, I entered the dimly lit club. Twinkling lights crisscrossed across the ceiling and down the walls while candlelight flickered on the tables with purple, white, and black linen tablecloths. Past the tables, there was a wide dance floor in front of a stage. As my gaze flickered around the room, I heaved a relieved sigh at how the interior looked. In the end, Saffie’s reminded me a lot of some of the higher-end clubs in New York and even Atlanta.

Like being zapped with a Taser, my attention was drawn away from taking in the club’s scenery to the small stage. Allison sat at a baby grand piano, appearing totally poised and self-possessed. It was a quite a different demeanor from earlier, especially when she was falling over the banister. Her long brown hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, resting just above her waist. Her red dress reminded me of something out of a Roman or Greek history book, and she certainly looked every bit like a goddess perched on the piano bench. A single red orchid rested behind her ear, making her appear even more delicately feminine.

Something within me came alive at the sight of her bathed in the glowing stage lights. It was as if I was seeing her, truly seeing
her
, for the first time. She wasn’t an awkward teenage girl with braces and gangly legs anymore—she was a woman. If I was truly honest with myself, I would admit that she was a gorgeous and sexy woman. At that moment, I was really glad she was performing in a lesbian bar because I didn’t like the idea of any douchebags trying to hit on her.

As she turned to the crowd and smiled, she appeared such a paradox. While a beam of light gave her a glowing halo around her head, her red dress totally annihilated anything angelic about her. “For our next song, I’d like to play an old favorite of mine. It’s a cover of Joan Armatrading’s
The Weakness in Me
,” she said, the microphone causing her voice to echo throughout the cavernous room. As she and her bandmates started up the opening chords of the song, she once again peered into the audience. She appeared to be searching for someone—searching for
me
. When her eyes locked on mine, I nodded my head and smiled.

She briefly returned my smile. While holding my gaze, she began to sing. “I’m not the sort of person who falls in and quickly out of love. But to you I gave my affection right from the start.”

As her voice filled the air around me, I stood rooted in my spot, utterly transfixed by her performance. Women bumped into me as they jostled through the crowd to either slow dance or grab a table, but I barely noticed them. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off Allison. Her voice had a sensual, throaty quality to it. Allison hadn’t given herself enough credit. Her voice was not as strong as Abby’s, but she certainly had more talent than the woman at the door, and Allison herself had insinuated. It was easy to see that she had inherited some of Jake’s musical and singing talent. Sure, the band would never make it out of this basement club, but they had a rapt audience, which meant a lot in the long run.

Taking my phone out of my pants pocket, I started filming some of her performance. Deep down, I knew that Jake would want to see this. After he got over the initial shock of his underage sister singing in a nightclub, he would be proud of Allison’s accomplishments. It was easier to hold my hand steady than it was to contain my out-of-control feelings toward Allison. Brotherly affection was sure as hell not filling my mind at that moment.

When she finished playing the final chords of the song, a roar of applause erupted in the room. Allison smiled while breathlessly saying into the microphone, “Thank you. Thank you all so very much.”

As she swept off the piano bench, I got a swift kick in the pants at the sight of her wiry knee boots. They looked like something out of the movie
Gladiator
, and fuck me, they were sexy as hell. What the hell was I thinking? In no way, shape, or form was I ever to put the words “sexy as hell” and “Allison” in the same sentence. I’d known her since she was thirteen. She was like my own little sister. Bringing my hand to my face, I furiously scrubbed my eyes and forehead, as if I were able to scrub the X-rated images of Allison out of my mind.

At that moment, a sultry beat came from the stage, and I instantly recognized the song as
Am I the Only One
. Allison stood in front of the tall microphone stand. “Please baby can’t you see my mind’s a burning hell? I got razors a rippin’ and tearin’ and strippin’ my heart apart as well.”

While I was able to hear more of Allison’s vocal range on the song, I could have given a fuck less about her singing. Instead, my mind had drifted back into X-rated territory with the way Allison was rocking the microphone stand. As she slid her fingers and hands provocatively up and down the silver metal while swiveling her hips to the beat, I found myself thinking about those very same fingers pumping up and down on my dick. When she straddled the stand and her thighs replaced her hands in the rubbing, sweat broke out along my forehead. All it took was the straddling and hair tossing to have a partial erection slamming at the front of my pants.

I couldn’t help glancing down at my traitorous dick. No, no, no, this couldn’t possibly be happening. It was one thing to think she was sexy, but now I was leering at her like a horny bastard desperate for a fuckfest. If Jake caught one glance at my thoughts, he would have ripped my head from my shoulders, and considering how horrible I felt for fantasizing on Allison, I would have let him.

“Damn, she’s hot. What I wouldn’t give to be between those thighs,” someone said next to me.

“I know. I bet she tastes just as sweet as she looks,” another replied.

My gaze snapped from Allison to two chicks standing beside me. One caught my eye and waggled her brows suggestively. “Easy man, I know she’s batting for your team. Doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize, right?”

Although my dick thought it was quite arousing having a woman hot for Allison, my mind thankfully overrode it. I’d gone down the threesome path once or twice, but I couldn’t even imagine doing that with Allison. Not to mention, I had a feeling this chick would not be interested in me partaking with her.

Allison finished up the song to wild applause and ear-splitting whistles. Desperately in need of a drink, I hauled ass over to the bar. “Crown Royal, please,” I called over the chatter to a bartender with multicolored hair.

As she sat an empty glass in front of me, she raised her pierced brows. “You must be from out of town.”

With a laugh, I eased onto one of the stools. “I seem to be getting that a lot tonight.”

She took the bottle of Crown from under the bar and filled my glass with the amber colored liquor. “We have mostly a local crowd, but occasionally we have a tourist stumble in by mistake.”

After sucking down a burning gulp, I said, “Actually, I’m here for Allison Slater.”

The bartender grinned. “Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that you’re hooking up with the only straight girl in the place.”

Furiously, I shook my head. “Whoa, hold up. We’re not hooking up. She’s my best friend’s little sister—she’s like
my
little sister.”

“Oh, is that really all she is?” The bartender winked at me. “No offense, sweetie, but you sure as hell weren’t looking at her like a little sister.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well, maybe in Alabama,” she teased.

“Whatever,” I grumbled into my Crown.

After downing one glass, I asked for another. I took my fresh drink over to an empty table. Thankfully, the alcohol helped cool my libido and any more salacious thoughts about Allison. After a few more cover songs, Allison performed some of the original songs of Pink Magnolia, which from a musician’s standpoint weren’t that strong. I was thankful that this wasn’t Allison’s dream, and she had other talents to see her through. It was just before eleven when they wrapped up the set.

“Thank you all so, so much for your support. Have a great night!” Allison cried into the microphone. Craning my neck, I watched as she headed offstage. While she received kisses on the cheeks and hugs from some of the patrons, Allison kept her gaze on mine as she bobbed through the crowd toward me.

Breathless, she finally plopped down in the chair across from me. “So what did you think?” she asked, her dark eyes still dancing from the adrenaline high pumping in her veins.

I smiled. “You were amazing.”

Her brows shot up. “Really?”

“Come on, stop fishing for compliments.” When her brows creased slightly, I reached over to take her hand. “You’re good, Allison. I wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t true.”

A pink flush tinged her cheeks. “Thank you. Maybe I should invite Jake to the show.”

“Oh, I’m sure he would get a
real
kick out of your pole dancing on the microphone stand.” I couldn’t help laughing when she squealed and then covered her face with her hands.

“I would die…just die for Jake to see me like that,” came her muffled reply.

“You looked good up there.”

Peeking at me through her fingers, she asked, “Really?”

“Very kick-ass and very sexy,” I admitted.

When she removed her hands, she stared at me. “You really thought I was sexy?” she asked incredulously.

For reasons I didn’t understand, Allison genuinely cared about my opinion. “Of course I did. I would’ve been blind not to appreciate your microphone groping skills.” While I was being honest, she didn’t need to know everything, such as how she’d managed to get me hard. “You know, I wasn’t the only one either. Two chicks beside me had a lot to say about you.”

“They did?”

I nodded and leaned in closer to her. Lowering my voice as best I could over the booming house music, I said, “One was speculating on how good you would taste.” Allison once again squealed and covered her face. Her innocent response caused me to laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with having admirers.”

Pulling her hands away, she fanned her face. “I guess not, but I think it’s time to change the subject.”

“If you insist.”

Tilting her head, she asked, “So do you think Pink Magnolia could be opening for Jacob’s Ladder and Runaway Train soon?”

I laughed. “Not exactly.”

She giggled. “I didn’t think so. But in a way, I’m glad. It’s fun just doing it during the week, letting off some steam through the music. As far as ever really performing—” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s just not for me.”

“You are meant for bigger and better things in the world of fashion.”

“I sure hope so.”

An attractive girl with cropped black hair sat a fruity looking drink with an umbrella down in front of Allison. “Drink up, Sonny. You sure as hell earned it tonight. That Etheridge cover was out of this fucking world.”

“Thanks, Cassie.” Allison grinned as she picked up the drink. “I am feeling a little parched after all that singing.”

Glancing between the two of them, I teasingly said, “Wait a minute, she’s not twenty-one yet.”

Cassie’s dark eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer to me. “Yeah, well, you know what, pretty boy? I don’t give a fuck how old she is.”

I felt like I had to stand my ground with this chick who looked like she wanted to kick my ass at daring to question her. “The owner might. I’d hate to see you lose your liquor license.”

Both Cassie and Allison burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” I demanded.

“I am the owner,” Cassie replied.

Nodding, Allison said, “Rhys, this is my roommate I was telling you about, Cassie Broughton.”

My brows shot up in surprise. After all, Cassie didn’t look like she was much older than Allison, and here she owned a club. I threw out my hand. “Rhys McGowan. Nice meeting you.”

Pumping my hand, Cassie gave me a genuine smile. “Nice to see you again.”

“Again?” I questioned.

She nodded. “You probably don’t remember me, but our parents are friends. I think we were forced to attend some dinner parties together when we were teenagers. Knowing my mother, she probably tried desperately to get you to date me.” With a dramatic flair of her hand, she said, “It’s so unsettling to have your only daughter be a lesbian. One simply cannot spend every waking moment planning the society wedding of the year. Why you’d have to go up north with all those—” She lowered her voice. “undesirable liberal Yankees just to have a legal wedding.” Placing the back of her hand on her forehead, she gasped. “Heaven forbid.”

Suddenly, it hit me. I had met her before at party or two, and she’d been funny as hell. The much needed comic relief in the situation we found ourselves in. “Cassandra, right?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed out a contentious breath. “Only society assholes call me that.”

I laughed. “Trust me, I have no love for our parents’ world.”

Cassie grinned. “I knew I was going to like you. Allison talks about you all the time.” She winked at me. “Nothing but good.”

With a strangled cry, Allison hurriedly corrected her. “
The band
. I talk about Jake and you guys.” She once again grabbed her fruity concoction and took two long pulls of it through the small straw.

An awkward silence fell over the table. Clearing her throat, Cassie leaned in on her elbows on the table. “So what do you think of my club?”

“It’s great,” I replied, enthusiastically. “How is it you came to own it?”

“My inheritance from my grandmother. It’s her house where Allison and I live.” A wistful smile graced Cassie’s face. “She was kind of a society rebel herself. You know the type—she drank and smoked when it wasn’t ladylike and cursed like a sailor. I like to think she would have approved of me buying an establishment that served hard drinks to people looking to engage in indecent acts.”