Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
I an
A few weeks have passed, and I find myself heading to Mad Dogs Run once again.
“You’re becoming a regular, ain’t you, Ian? Is it the food or my winnin’ personality?” Sam’s smirk is laughable.
“I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a regular.” I chuckle.
“The hell you ain’t! You been here nearly every night for the last month.”
“Not true.”I roll my eyes.
Sam pops from the barstool and leans forward onto the counter, his bushy eyebrows forming a knot between them before hitching up. “You callin’ me a liar?”
“Never,” I assure him. “So, stop raggin’ on me. I’d think you’d appreciate paying customers.”
“I do, and you’re a regular good one.”
Disbelief shakes my head.“You don’t give up, do you, old man?”
“Never,”he assures with a triumphant smug.
The stage lights cast long shadows over Savannah’s high cheekbones and long, smooth hair. She packs up her equipment with her back to the tables, oblivious to the way my eyes follow her every move.
We bothwatchas she steps off the stage, crosses the room, and waves to Sam before exiting. He returns the gesture, then turns to me. “She still ain’t wantin’ no part of you.” He says under his breath.
“I don’t expect her to.”I shrug off the comment, unfazed. “She’s got a right to her opinion.”
“I don’t like it. She’s acting like a child,” he states, emphasizing the sentiment.
“Maybe, but it’s her prerogative. I’m not everybody’s cup of tea.”
“I don’t like it. You’re good people—both of you—but you’re both hardheaded too.” He straightens up.“Be back in a minute. I gotta take care of something.”
I’m grateful for the reprieve. I haven’t been coming to Mad Dogs as much as Sam implies but it’s more than I planned to be. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve developed a taste for seeing Savannah perform. I like her soothing sound, so much so that it’s grown like a cancer. The more I see her the more she’s in my head. I see her in my fantasies, and, like any man, I like the relief I feel after I imagine the things I’d do to her. When I was a teenager, I chalked up my insatiable sex drive to being a growing boy with active glands. Drinking, getting high, and screwing any girl who’d let me felt good. It felt even better when the band was on the road. I didn’t have to look for it. Somehow, memories of those days don’t compare to the unadulterated physical sensations that course through me when pleasuring myself to mental pictures of Savannah—and that’s a problem.
I shake my head. If Sam knew how much I’ve been thinking of his ‘niece’ he’d kick my ass. Maybe it’s wrong but I’m not hurting anyone, and I’m not ashamed. She’s a gorgeous woman. The woman barely tolerates me but my attraction to her is undeniable. So, I appease the urge, stroking the beast inside until I’m spent.
I take in the crowd, my gaze drifting from face to face. Although another performer is setting up, the place has thinned out now that Savannah has finished. The scent of alcohol lingers in the air, the heady aromas mixing with the familiarsmellof sweat that always comes to a crowded bar. She’s got some pipes and, the more I listen, the more I think Sam is right; her voice is perfection. She hits every single note with precision. Savannahcouldgeta music deal if she met the right people and though I do knowexactly who the right ones would be to talk to, I’m not sure they’d welcome my presence, much less my recommendation.
I’ve followed my bandmates, Charlie, and Tom. Both are still playing but with different groups. I haven’t spoken to them in years, but I would for her sake. They might have a better insight on who’s looking for what in the business and that knowledge might prove valuable to Savannah if she’s looking for a contract.
The creaky kitchen door springs open, revealing Sam pushing through with four buckets of ice; two in each hand.
“Need some help?”I rise from the barstool I just claimed and approach to assist. As I do I take a quick look around for the bar back. “Where’s Mac?”
“Mac done quit on me. He’s following true love and moving across the country with his girlfriend.”
My brows knit together. “You gonna hire someone new?”
“I guess. That’s the only thing I hate about owning my own place. It’s a pain in the ass sifting through bullshitters to find someone reliable but, I can’t do it all myself.” He glances over his shoulder. “As you can see, I’m the only one behind the bar tonight.”
He dumps the contents of the ice buckets into the stainless steel cooler. It’s always hotter in Mad Dogs than it should be, and sweat beads quickly sprout on the metal sides.
Sam brushes his hands together then swipes them down the side of his jeans. “Mine ain’t the only place where good help is a priority. Rock Hills is growin’ but it ain’t Nashville.”He pauses, cocks his head, and his eyes meet mine. A sly grin creeps into his lips. “Not yet anyway.” He juts his chin.“What about you? You wanna make some extra money till I find some muscle-bound kid for the job.”
“You can keep your money,” I scoff, “but I’ll help you out ‘till you find somebody. I owe you.”
He waves off my comment. “You don’t owe me shit. I’d be glad for the help, though, and you’ll take the money. If you don’t want it, give it away—or use it to hire somebody to help at your place. You did great on the inside but you’ve a shitload of work on the grounds.”
I look down at the cooler and the sinks. “I never worked in a bar. You’ll have to show me what to do.”
He grabs some glasses from one basin of water and dips them in another. “It ain’t rocket science but it’s hard work. A lotta lifting. It’s a good workout, though. Keeps my ass in shape.” He flexes both arms to show off his guns.
Amused, I roll my eyes. “I’ll take it. Hard work keeps me out of trouble.”
Sam acknowledges with a nod. “Start tomorrow?”
“Give me a time and I’ll be here.”
His lips curve into a smile.“Thanks, Ian. I appreciate it.”
As Sam goes into the back once more, I go back to my seat. Savannah’s noticed my frequent visits here and she’s been civil to me. I can’t help but wonder how she’s going to take me working here. Somehow, I’ve got to find a way to forge a truce. It’s possible, though it might be uncomfortable, but I think she and I can get along for Sam’s sake. We’ve moved from open hostility to polite tolerance. I get the feeling it isn’t the level of friendship Sam would like us to have, but I think we can make it work so it’s easier on us all.