15. Quinn
quinn
. . .
I don’t know what makes me more nervous, the fact that Liam is going to perform with me tonight or that Nola keeps walking into the green room, asking if we need anything. It would be one thing if she wasn’t making eye contact with me each and every time she asks, but she is, and with a killer smile that sends shock waves through me.
Nola returns with the setlist, pinning it to the board. Again, I hang back, waiting for the eager newbies to clear the way. Bringing Liam in for the night is tricky. He likes his anonymity, which is why he rarely performs in places like the Bean Song unless he’s in Beaumont. However, after our impromptu jam and writing session, he asked me about open mic and I extended an invite to him. Never in a million years did I expect him to take me up on it.
I’m pacing the back hallway, which all but guarantees me a chance to spot Nola when she comes into the kitchen for something. When I see her, I stop and stare, taking in her long blonde hair, which is in a high ponytail. I find myself itching to touch it, to run my fingers through it. Pushing my hands deep into my pockets, I continue to look at her while she’s putting an order in. I don’t know if she can sense me ogling her or not, but she hasn’t turned around yet to call me out on it. Nola crosses one ankle over the other, accentuating her sun-kissed legs. Thinking back to her first day here, she was paler than most women and it’s easy to see that she’s been taking advantage of the summer sun.
Noah once asked me if I were an ass man, and I couldn’t answer him because I had never given women’s features much thought. I’ve also never paid much attention to the women I’ve been with. It’s not that I’m insensitive, but hook-ups are just a chance to relieve some stress and not meant to extend to the point where you start noticing small things about the opposite sex. Like how Nola wears this beat up pair of old Chuck Taylor shoes or that she has a scar running down the front of her leg. It’s faint, but I’ve noticed. Or how when she smiles, her eyes freaking light up like it’s Christmas. They’re also green or hazel, not that I’m sure there’s a difference. What I do know is that when I looked into them the other day, I felt like I could see into her soul, that her eyes held a story waiting for someone to listen.
I want to listen.
“Quinn.”
Liam’s sharp voice startles me. I jump, yelp and spin quickly, crashing into Zeke. Zeke mumbles that he’s sorry while Liam laughs and shakes his head. It’s then that he looks toward me and nods.
“Is that her?”
“What?” I ask, pretending as if nothing is amiss. Out of all the kids, I’m the loner. The one who hides in the shadows and tags along because my sisters make me. I’m not outgoing like Elle, determined like Peyton or a freak of athletic nature like Noah.
Liam tilts his head toward Nola. I turn slowly and sure enough, she’s watching our exchange. To make matters worse or at least send my already shattered nerves out of whack, she gives me a small finger wave before leaving the kitchen.
A strong hand lands on my shoulder. I don’t have to turn to see who it is, already knowing it’s Liam. “She’s pretty.”
“She’s beautiful,” I retort. “I mean?—”
“You mean she’s beautiful,” he says, repeating my words. “Nothing wrong with finding someone to share your time with. I’m assuming she’s the subject of the song you showed me the other night.”
I nod. “Yeah, but I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“What to do. Most of the time girls just approach me, but she’s different.”
“Because you actually like her?”
This time I do look at him, instead of the door where I’ve been waiting for Nola to come back through. “Yeah, I do, and it’s odd. Different. And I shouldn’t be talking to you about this, especially here.”
Liam seems to understand what I’m saying and turns toward the green room, except he heads to the back door and holds it open for me, leaving me no choice but to follow him out. Once it’s closed, he sets his hands on my shoulders.
“You’re like a son to me and I sense that you need some advice.”
I nod and break eye contact. This is uncharted territory for me, chasing a girl. If I’m going to do it, I want to do it right.
“What seems to be the issue? From the way you were both looking at each other, I could tell there’s something there.”
“I don’t know, maybe. I came here after that crap with the band and my dad, and she was working,” I pause and shrug. “Like I said, she’s different. She’s not throwing herself at me, begging for autographs, or asking about you, dad, JD, or the band. It’s nice. Refreshing, really. It’s almost like she has no idea who I am.”
“Maybe she doesn’t. Not everyone you encounter is going to be a 4225 West fan. Josie has assured me of this many times.”
I laugh because he’s right. There’s been a time or two when we’ve been on vacation and no one has recognized my dad. It’s odd, but it does happen.
“My advice speak to her, away from work. Or, you could always call your aunt Josie and ask for her advice.”
“No way,” I tell him. “She’ll call my mom, who will call my sisters, and they’ll all be in here checking out Nola. I’d rather not put her or me through the scrutiny.”
Liam and I both chuckle. “Is it safe to say, you’ll never bring anyone home to your mom?”
“Pretty much, unless she’s someone spectacular.”
The back door opens and someone spectacular peeks around the edge of the door. How can I even think that of her when I don’t know her? None of these feelings and thoughts I have are making any sense.
“Quinn,” she says my name softly and with a smile. “It’s time for you to go on.”
“Thank you, Nola.” Nola is such a unique name. A different name. It has to be short for something else. She holds my gaze for a few more seconds before heading back in.
Liam nudges me toward the door. “Wow, you’ve got it bad. How long have you known her?”
“Like ten seconds. We haven’t exactly had a conversation.”
“Well, shit,” he says as we head back inside.
By the time we make it to the stage, Liam has changed his appearance as much as he can with one of his trucker caps. There’s a few in the crowd who already figured out he’s here and call out his name. He doesn’t acknowledge them though as he sits down on the stool in front of the microphone. I handed singing duties over to him for this evening. He’s a much better singer and while we wanted to perform the song we were working on the other night, it’s not ready. Thing is, I had already invited him to play and couldn’t exactly rescind the invitation.
“You’re so hot,” a voice yells from the back of the café. Both of us look at the same time, wondering who yelled it. I’m not surprised to find my aunt Josie standing in the back, waving like a crazy fan.
“And you’re sexy,” Liam says into the microphone. “Can I get your number?”
“Sure it’s?—”
Someone gasps loudly and yells that he’s married. At least three of us chuckle.
“Don’t worry, she’s my wife,” he says to the audience. “And with her here, I think my nephew and I will change up what we play for you.” Liam looks over his shoulder at me. “Five songs?”
I nod, and he leans over to tell me what we’re going to play. They’re all songs I’m familiar with, thankfully. The first one requires drums, so I take my place behind the house set and pick up the wooden sticks. It would be perfect if JD were here right now to start us off with the piano, but Liam compensates by strumming his guitar.
“ Nothing good ever happens after midnight ,” he bellows into the microphone. “Wake-Up” is the first song 4225 West ever sang in concert. It was also their first single. Liam wrote it about my aunt. In fact, most of the band’s songs were written about the women in their lives.
By the time the first verse concludes, I start banging away on the drums. As soon as I look up, Nola is standing there, swaying back and forth. She’s not watching Liam, but me. She’s completely focused on what I’m doing. And that’s where I keep my eyes through this set, on hers.
I don’t know what’s going on, but I like it and I think I’m ready to explore this connection between us.
We get a standing ovation. Liam’s name is chanted, and I’m fine with that. Every now and again, people need a treat and I was able to do that for them. Backstage, Josie meets us. She hugs me first and then falls into her husband’s arms. Their level of PDA should be outlawed. Right along with my parents.
As I make my way through the crowd, people pat me on the back, ask questions about Liam, which I ignore, and tell me how hot and sexy I am. All compliments that I’ll take with me but tend not to respond to. I learned that lesson from the guys.
Each night that I perform, Zeke holds a table for me. Tonight though, it’s occupied. Dana Cantu, the lead singer for my sister’s band, is sitting here. She looks at me expectantly, leaving me no choice but to sit down.
“Great performance. I didn’t know you could play the drums.”
Nola appears and sets a beer down for me. This time though, her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. I suppose to an outsider, it looks like I’m on a date or had one planned. And while Dana is smoking hot with her tight little body, and I’d probably sleep with her if given the chance, but Nola? She’s the one who’s caught my attention and I want to know her outside of these four walls.
“Drums, piano, bongos. I learned them all.”
“A man of many talents.”
I nod, pick up my beer and take a drink while scanning the room for Nola. It’s about impossible to find her with the number of people here. “I’ve never seen you here before. What brings you to the Bean Song?”
“I’m here to beg, Quinn.” She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “I need you.”
“But you don’t. You’re a brilliant lyricist and have what looks like a solid group behind you. I’d only be in the way.”
Dana shakes her head. “You’d be Sambora to my Bon Jovi.”
“He married an unstable woman and left the band,” I point out.
“Semantics. If we make it twenty plus years, I won’t care at that point.”
“But you care now?” I ask.
She nods. “I do. You’re the reason I went to Elle in the first place. I’ve seen you play. Hell, I just watched you play with Liam Page like it was no big deal.”
“It really isn’t.” Especially when you’ve known him all your life.
“See that’s my point. You’re the laid-back-don’t-give-a-shit guy I need. I need someone to keep me in check.”
“I’m not a babysitter,” I tell her.
“No, you’re a stellar musician who I’m begging to join my band. I want to co-write with you, sing back up to you and you to me. I want to jam out in my garage and watch you shred a Les Paul.”
I sigh and run my hand over my beanie. “You seem to know a lot about me.”
“I did my research. Please.” She squeezes my hand, which I hadn’t realized she’s still holding, until now. “I need you.”
Just as she says that, Nola walks by. This time, there isn’t a smile. She doesn’t show me her pretty eyes, and I don’t like it. I pull my hand away from Dana’s and set it in my lap.
“I’ll think about it.” I get up, leaving her at the table and seek out Nola. I find her at a table, taking an order and wait.
When she approaches me, I step in front of her and lean toward her ear. “What time do you get off?”
“Two,” she whisper-yells.
I don’t say anything else as I walk away. It’s the only thing I can do. Being that close to her and feeling her body press against mine, even slightly, caused a stirring below the belt. I could be that guy, the one who asks her to come out back, but I’m not, and never will be.