Chapter 6
James
Playing the same venue three nights a week is surprisingly nice.
As much as the new, adventurous places we would visit and play were fun, I enjoy the familiarity and consistency of Booze & Brews.
Beck has made it an easy place to get used to, and it’s somehow never quite boring.
The bartenders remember our usuals, and I get to sleep in the same bed every night instead of some cheap, lumpy motel mattress.
We get to settle into routine and relax for once.
Except for tonight.
Tonight, there’s a cute blonde working the bar for the first time, and all I can think about is how she tastes like strawberries, and taunts me, and how no matter how much I crave her after one small taste, I can’t have her. Both of us know that.
But then why does she keep glancing over here? Is she watching me? Fuck, do I have pit stains already? It comes with the territory of being a drummer, but I’m suddenly self-conscious and have the urge to sniff myself.
Get a hold of yourself, man. It’s just a chick, and not what you’re looking for anyway. It’s not like you could bring her home to the parents…
My parents. The thought alone is enough to bring down my whole mood.
They have extremely specific… expectations…
of what my future family structure is going to look like, and a woman ten years my junior is for sure not a part of those plans.
Even if I want nothing to do with those plans, I’m not sure how to stray from them, given the circumstances.
It makes approaching the bar after our set that much harder.
Stella wanders over to my side of the bar, taking a few drink orders before she looks up and sees me.
She’s wearing the tightest jeans that hug her ass in a way that makes me jealous of denim for the first time in my life.
Her long blonde hair is swept up into a ponytail and she’s wearing a pale blue t-shirt with a deep v in the front showing off a generous amount of cleavage.
I have never been so happy that Booze & Brews doesn’t have a uniform.
I get caught in the gaze of her bright blue eyes, rimmed black with her lashes coated, and something shimmery swiped across her high cheekbones.
She looks ethereal, like a siren, ready to lead me to my doom.
Her face falls before she quickly recovers and plasters on the fakest smile I’ve ever seen on anyone.
“Well, hey there! What can I get for you, a 1919?” she asks cheerfully, naming a pale ale they have on tap and I’m surprised she remembers my drink order from the other night. Startled, I reply with a grunt and a grimace before she flits away to grab mine and a few others’ drinks.
While I’m waiting, a curtain of platinum blonde next to me catches my eye. I can already tell that I shouldn’t be looking as I turn to see who’s sidled up to me. Her dark, lined lashes flutter as she gives me a once over.
“Your set was awesome.” Her husky voice isn’t unpleasant, but it grates me the wrong way for some reason. “You look like you could hit it all night.” She licks her deep red lips as her flirtatious tone registers.
“Thanks,” I say gruffly, not sure I want to entertain any sort of company tonight. At least not in that shade of blonde.
“I mean, look at you,” she continues, caressing my arm where it rests on the bar top, “you definitely have some stamina, huh?” I would be a little shocked if I wasn’t used to such brazen come ons.
Not to sound full of myself, but I’m aware that I’m a good-looking guy.
I take care of myself and it shows. You get used to girls just walking up to you after years of being on the road.
People assume you’re always down for a one-night stand.
To her credit, a few years ago she would have been right.
“I’m not looking to show off tonight, babe,” I say, trying to sound neutral and not tell her to fuck off and let me drink in peace.
“Ooh, I like babe, but the name’s Lacy, if you’re curious.”
“He’s not,” a voice interrupts before I can say anything.
Stella smacks my beer down on the counter causing the foam to rise.
She’s giving us both a smile that’s all teeth.
“Anything I can get you?” That little spark of jealousy smothered, she puts on her best customer service face for Lacy, who I’m only noticing now doesn’t have a drink.
“No thanks, honey, I’m all set with this tall drink of water here,” she winks at Stella like they’re in on a joke together. Stella is not even partly in on the joke.
“Well, honey, if you’re not drinking, do you mind not crowding my bar?” Lacy sputters at the insult, but Stella doesn’t let her get a word in. “Thanks, babe.” She keeps her biting smile in place and spins on her heel, off to serve some paying patrons.
Lacy looks to me as though she thinks I’ll defend her, but I only smile into my glass. Realizing she’s getting nowhere with me, she spins on her little heels over to the other band members to try her luck there. I catch the smug grin on Stella’s face before she can hide it.
I can’t lie, I’m a little proud. And a little turned on. I like Jealous Stella.
I stay seated at the bar, hunched over my solitary beer, as I watch Stella rake in tips with her friendly charm and, frankly, amazing rack.
I swear I’ve seen her stuff at least a hundred bucks into her bra, following Mel’s lead in brasserie-stashing.
With every new patron, she seems to become more and more bubbly, treating every person like an old friend.
It’s admirable to see her work, to see how well she does with people.
Stella’s eyes flick over to me periodically. It’s the only time her massive smile falters. A few more women approach me, some more bold than Lacy, and with every one that shows me attention, the tension in Stella’s shoulders grows exponentially.
When a slender, caramel-skinned woman with, I’ll admit, an amazing ass and fuck-me-eyes approaches me, I can see Stella almost shatter the glass that she’s wiping down.
She never loses that customer-service smile of hers, which now seems permanently slapped onto her face, but her eyes slowly grow more and more murderous.
I’m living for it.
Watching her petty jealousy ride her is more than flattering.
While we’ve had a fair amount of flirtation, there hasn’t been anything between us since that kiss.
My eyes dart over to the hallway, currently as dark as it was that night.
I can almost pinpoint exactly where I had her trapped beneath me, just far enough back that no one could see us unless they were looking closely.
When I look back up at the bar, I catch the exact moment that Stella’s eyes jump away from where they’re stuck on me.
She’s thinking about it, too. It’s a heady realization.
“Hey, man! Great set!” Nick strides up to me with a cute, wild-haired redhead on his arm. I notice he does that a lot, gravitates towards redheads.
Note to self, never let him around Nessa.
“Thanks,” I say gruffly.
“For real, you’re getting up there in years, but you can still keep a beat!!” I bristle as he throws me a wink to go with his backhanded comment. I had complained recently about my wrists getting sore to the group, and since then, I haven’t heard the end of the ‘old’ jokes.
There’s no set age for retirement with drummers.
The first signs that you’re getting there are your elbows and wrists, when your joints are swollen and aching by the end of every show.
Tendonitis, carpal tunnel, it’s all common for people who do this long term.
I’m lucky enough to not be suffering from hearing loss already.
I’ve been with the band eight years now, going on nine, and I had no plans to continue until I got the call from my dad. If we can book a tour, I might be able to get him and his crazy schemes off my back too…
“Fuck off, Nick.” I’m not in the mood for his shit tonight. Or most nights, now that I think of it.
“Nah, you love me too much. Besides, if it’s not age that’s bothering your wrist, what could it be?” He feigns being deep in thought. “Maybe you need more companionship tonight than good ol’ lefty, eh?” He cackles and I barely resist the urge to smack him upside the head.
“Seriously, Nick, beat it.”
“I’m kidding!” he laughs. “I know you’re right-handed.”
“Nick.” I put as much violence on the word as possible.
“Come on, man! You’re no fun anymore. What’s the use coming out with us if you don’t party? Jill says you used to be the biggest party animal of us all!”
Jill wouldn’t be wrong, but that version of me no longer exists.
“I don’t do that anymore, Nick.”
“Well, what can I do to get you to hang out with us?”
“Food.” I answer the second the question is out of his mouth. I’ve been dying for good food all night.
“Sounds great! When Mel comes by, I’ll order us something.
” I groan internally. I was hoping he would suggest leaving to find better food so I don’t stare a hole in the back of Stella’s head tonight.
I had promised the band that I would hang out for once.
I thought it would be a party at someone’s crash pad, or even another bar.
No such luck.
Before I can complain or suggest something else, Nick has already redirected his attention to the woman on his arm, and my focus is drawn right back to Stella.
I watch her make friends with some college girls and do a shot with one of the regulars, which makes me laugh when I see her put water in her glass instead of whatever they’re drinking.
Beck comes out occasionally to check on things, but other than that, it’s a normal, busy bar.
I’m pretty sure Nick has forgotten about food at this point, which makes sense since his mouth is currently full of that redhead’s tongue.
Still, I feel jilted. I stuck around to hang out with people, but Jill has made friends by the stage too, and Laur, the guitarist, has gone off to God knows where.