Page 22 of Cash
At Eliza’s table, Hannah leaned in close, gesturing toward the stage with obvious suggestion in her body language.Eliza immediately shook her head, her posture stiffening as she clutched her beer bottle more tightly.Even from across the room, I could read panic flashing across her face at whatever Hannah had proposed.
Ada joined the conversation, sliding closer on the bench seat, her hand resting gently on Eliza’s arm as she spoke.The warmth and encouragement in Ada’s expression was clear even from my position at the bar.Eliza continued shaking her head, but with less conviction now as Hannah and Ada persisted.
“Come on, honey, when’s the last time you did something just for fun?”Ada’s voice carried to me during a brief lull in the music, her tone gentle but persuasive.
Eliza’s resistance visibly wavered under their combined encouragement.She took a long pull from her beer bottle, her eyes darting to the stage where a young woman was finishing a surprisingly good rendition of a Carrie Underwood song.When she looked back at Hannah and Ada, something had shifted in her expression, a small spark of the woman I’d glimpsed during Haven’s own karaoke night breaking through her carefully constructed walls.The excitement suddenly pumping through my veins had my palms sweating like they used to before a show.
Hannah said something to make Eliza laugh, a genuine sound carrying across the bar, drawing my attention like a physical touch.Her cheeks flushed pink, either from the beer or the company or both, and for a moment she looked younger, lighter, free from the constant worry usually shadowing her features.
With a final nod of apparent surrender, Eliza rose from the table, smoothing her hands nervously down her jeans before allowing Hannah to guide her toward the stage.As she approached the small platform, her eyes swept the room once more, landing squarely on me at the bar.Our gazes held for a long moment.
I couldn’t look away, couldn’t pretend I hadn’t been watching her all night.Whatever she saw in my face made her pause for just a heartbeat before she took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the microphone.
Eliza stood frozen before the microphone for a moment, her fingers wrapped so tightly around the stand her knuckles whitened.The opening notes of Joan Jett’sI Love Rock ‘n’ Rollblasted through the speakers, and I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.Not the song I expected from the quiet, reserved woman I thought I knew.Eliza closed her eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath that visibly expanded her chest.When she opened them again, something had shifted in her expression, a transformation so profound I found myself immediately straightening and leaning forward on my bar stool, completely enraptured.
Her first few notes came out tentatively, slightly off-key as she adjusted to the volume and tempo.The slight tremor in her voice revealed her nerves, her body still rigid with tension as she clutched the microphone stand like a lifeline, but a few bars later at the pre-chorus, she found her rhythm.Her shoulders relaxed, her hips began to sway subtly with the rhythm, and her voice found its strength, pushing through her nervousness with growing confidence.
By the first chorus, Eliza had shed her hesitation entirely.Her voice rang out clear and powerful, the rich sound filling every corner of the bar, cutting through the noise like a blade.This wasn’t karaoke anymore.This was a performance from someone who knew exactly what she was doing, who had stood before crowds and commanded their attention.
The technical part of my brain -- the part I’d had spent years honing in Nashville’s music scene before everything went to hell -- recognized genuine talent when I heard it.I’d attributed the previous karaoke night to me being infatuated with her, but hearing her a second time when I was fully prepared to critique her, proved my appreciation to be much, much more than being taken with the woman.Her pitch control was flawless, her tone warm and slightly raspy in all the right places.She knew when to pull back and when to push, creating dynamics most amateur singers never mastered.
The crowd felt it too.Conversations died as heads turned toward the stage.Bodies milling around the pool tables drifted closer, drawn by the unexpected quality of her voice.Someone whistled appreciatively.A few brothers raised their bottles in salute.When she reached the end of the chorus, even Mike paused, cloth suspended over a glass as he watched her with newfound respect.
Eliza grew more animated as she grew more comfortable with her surroundings.She pulled the microphone from its stand, moving across the small stage with growing confidence.Her free hand punctuated the lyrics with gestures she seemed to perform from muscle memory, as if her body remembered a version of herself she’d long buried beneath layers of worry and responsibility.Her eyes brightened with an inner fire I’d never seen before, her smile wider and more genuine than any I’d witnessed since we met.
The woman on stage bore little resemblance to the exhausted mother I’d comforted in a hospital parking garage.This Eliza radiated joy and energy, commanding the space around her with a presence expanding beyond her small frame.Her hair whipped around her face as she moved, catching the red lights transforming her into something wild and devastatingly beautiful.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away.My heart pounded against my ribs, my palms suddenly damp against my coffee mug.I’d spent years carefully maintaining emotional distance from every woman I met, knowing I had nothing to offer beyond sex.Yet watching Eliza transform on that stage stirred something in me I thought had died along with my career, something both exhilarating and terrifying.
“She’s something else, huh?”Knight appeared beside me again, his knowing grin making me want to punch him.“Who knew the girl hadthatin her?”
I grunted noncommittally, not trusting my voice.My fingers itched with the familiar urge to wrap around a microphone, to feel the weight of a guitar in my hands.Music had been my life once, my salvation and my downfall all at once.I’d sworn off performing after prison, the memory of what I’d lost too painful to revisit.
I felt a presence on my other side and turned to find Hannah standing there, arms crossed over her chest, watching me with a determined expression I’d learned to fear.Reflexively, I swallowed hard as she held my gaze.
“Well?”she said, raising an eyebrow.“What are you waiting for?”This was the president’s old lady throwing her weight around, leaving no room for argument.
“Not happening,” I replied, turning back to my cold coffee.“She’s doing fine on her own.”
Hannah snorted, an unladylike sound conveying exactly what she thought of my response.“She’s doing more than fine.But you two would be magic together and you know it.”
“Hannah,” I warned, not looking at her.“Leave it alone.”
Instead of responding, she grabbed my arm with surprising strength, her fingers digging into my bicep through my cut.“Johnny Kingston, you’ve been moping around, punishing yourself for something not entirely your fault since you got to Kiss of Death.It’s time you remembered who you were before Terre Haute.”
Before I could protest further, Hannah physically pulled me from my stool, leveraging her small frame with determination, leaving me little choice but to follow or create a scene.She propelled me through the crowd toward the stage, people stepping aside with knowing smirks as we passed.
“Hannah, Goddammit,” I growled, trying to extricate my arm from her grip without hurting her.“I don’t sing anymore.”
“Tonight you do,” she replied, her voice softening slightly as she looked up at me.“You both need this, Cash.Trust me.”
We reached the edge of the stage as someone startedOld Time Rock and Roll.The fuckers.Eliza launched herself into the song, taking off with the first verse like she’d been born to sing the song.Hannah gave me a firm push, sending me toward the steps, brooking no argument.Her expression dared me to walk away.
With a muttered curse, I climbed the steps to the stage, feeling everyone in the fucking bar staring straight at me.God, it was just like the first time I took the stage on my own.I was fucking terrified.Just maybe for different reasons this time.
Or maybe not.
Eliza spotted me approaching and faltered mid-lyric, her eyes widening in surprise.For a moment, I thought she might stop singing altogether, might reject my intrusion into her moment.Instead, her startled expression radiated pure joy as she extended her hand toward me, offering the shared microphone.
