Page 34 of Drive
After their kickass recording session, Jacques had asked the girls if they wanted to join him for the last hour of the night’s set. They’d accepted as he knew they would. Jacques had asked them to come for the end for two reasons. He wanted time to warm up the crowd and remind them of what they liked before offering them somethingnew.
And he wasn’t dumb. He knew Heroine had limited live experience. A crowd — any crowd — could make a young band nervy. And while the four of them seemed to have a good thing going, they were untested live. If the set was a little rough around the edges or if Kate, Kara, and Des got spooked and had trouble pulling it together, he wanted it to be after the patrons at Artmosphere had plenty of time to finish a third or fourth drink. A later crowd was a more forgivingcrowd.
So when he introduced his second song, he led with ateaser.
“How’s everybody doing tonight?” He let his low baritone bass roll over the room. Cheers and applause made up his answer. “Everybody got a full glass?” More cheers and whoops accompanied the lifting of many a cup. Jacques used the opportunity to lift his plastic water bottle in a toasting gesture before taking asip.
“It’s a beautiful night. It’s a beautiful life,” he teased, letting the seduction of his voice flirt with each ear. His listeners answered back with their own joy. “I got some songs I know youlike—”
Cheers interruptedhim.
“—and I got some songs I know you’regonna like.”Again, cheers followed hiswords.
“—and if you stick around…” He let silence slip in as he raised a brow and made eyes at the room. “…I’ve got a surprise foryou.”
Whoops and hollers reached a fever pitch. “Epoch!” he heard shouted a few times from different corners of the bar. Jacques shook his head, putting on bedroom eyes and giving a lowchuckle.
“It’s way better than Epoch,” he murmured, and the crowd went nuts. “But first, how about a little of The 1975first?”
He broke into an acoustic rendition of “Chocolate” to the screams of about thirty female voices. On the second refrain of“No, we’re never gonna quit it, now we’re never gonna quit it, no,”Jacques spottedher.
For a split second, the sight of her made him lose the words. She wore a pale blue sweater that left her shoulders bare. Both shoulders. An expanse of porcelain skin he knew he’d have to taste before the night wasover.
This need announced itself in his brain, and, thank God, his fingers kept playing, and the lyrics came back to him a second later. Rainey stood leaning against the pillar that was up front and to his right, and when he was sure he had his rhythm, he smiled ather.
The smile she gave him in return he felt in his chest. A slow sweep of warmth that filled him and wentdeep.
He finished the song, and she didn’t move, just kept her eyes trained on him. Jacques realized then she was alone. It shouldn’t have surprised him, and, in truth, it didn’t. Rainey had a nature that projected an air of solitude, but most girls went to bars with a group of theirfriends.
It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d be alone, and the knowledge worried him. Would she have good time? Would the countless single guys in Artmosphere leave her alone? Would she besafe?
These questions had their say in the back of his mind as he played the last chords of “Chocolate,” and the crowd cheered. Jacques murmured his thanks, but he kept his eyes on Rainey. And without taking them from her, he mentally edited his set list and rolled into “Here and Now,” a song he’d written for Epoch, but one he’d played on his acoustic at least a thousandtimes.
He held her gaze, and she didn’t once look away as he repeated therefrain.
I’mhappy that you’rehere.
I’m happy that you’re doingokay.
I’m happy we ain’t lost thenow.
There’s no place I’d ratherstay.
Then right here next toyou.
‘Cause the way you look atme
Is nothing short ofbeauty.
Nothing short ofbeauty.
Even in thedimness of the bar and the colored stage lights, he could tell she was blushing. And even though there were probably a hundred-other people in the room, for the three minutes of “Here and Now,” it was just the two of them, and a song he’d written two years before suddenly held new meaning forhim.
He played until the top of the hour. The crowd had grown, and he could see that Sam and Mags behind the bar were jumping, slinging drinks and making change like the world would stop if they missed abeat.
“Let’s take a break, fill up our cups, and tip the bartenders,” he called before setting down his guitar and hopping off thestage.
Jacques wanted to walk straight to her, but even though she wasn’t far from the stage, his path wasn’t clear. People — some he knew and some strangers — stepped in front of him to shake his hand, slap him on the back, and congratulate him on a greatset.
