He said that, and still, I didn’t care. But, Aiden insisted I change into something more swag and less hick.
His words, not mine.
What the hell does swag mean?
So, I had stomped back into my room, dug through the clothes in my closet and found something that somewhat resembled swag.
Now, here I am. Sitting on my bed, feeling like an ass just thinking about that stupid word. I’m still confused on the meaning.
Finding the only pair of skinny skinny jeans my last girlfriend bought me; I opt for a pair of Converse and look in the mirror.
Fucking. Idiot.
I shake my head at my reflection and head downstairs.
When I return to the living room both Aiden and Doug, tonight’s ringleader, are sitting at the table eating sandwiches. They look up at me and say nothing.
I guess that means I pass then.
“I made you one, too. It’s in the fridge,” Aiden says through a full mouth, reminding me of the little thirteen-year-old who used to make dinner every night because I didn’t have time.
He’s a good kid.
“Thanks, brother.” I reach in the fridge to pick up my two-pound sandwich. Nice.
Making myself comfortable at the table, I ask, “So, where exactly are we going?”
Doug looks up from demolishing his dinner. “It’s a piano bar. I don’t know. My buddy from school is working the opening and can get us in for free. If it’s lame, we can bail.” He shrugs, wiping his mouth.
When we pull up to the bar, my teeth clench. It’s a fucking honkey tonk. A mother-fucking honky tonk. I’m going to kill Aiden.
I shoot him a death glare and he just laughs, totally unaffected by my menacing stare.
Little fucker.
Parking my old Ford pickup in the back, I put it in park and look around. There isn’t a skinny jean in sight.
I can’t believe I let him talk me into dressing like this. I can’t go in there.
Aiden sees me steaming and chuckles. “Dude, chill out. I brought you clothes. I just wanted to see you sweat.”
I cut him a look that hopefully reads like I’ll reach across the truck and choke him. Seriously? What a punk ass.
He throws me a duffle bag filled with my wranglers and boots.
Ducking behind my truck I quickly strip off my dumbass jeans and chuck them in the trash bin. I don’t need another reason to wear them again. Tugging my boots on my feet, I shake my anger off and head to the front entrance.
Aiden and Doug are standing off to the side waiting for me.
“Aren’t we going to stand in line?” I ask. There is a line of people wrapped around the building and, from the looks on their faces, they seem pretty pissed we are even standing to the side, contemplating going in front of them.
Doug shakes his head and begins to walk toward the door, ignoring the murderous stares from the group of people next to us. “Nah, they’ll let us in.”
Taking his word for it, I turn for the door, avoiding murmurs of the pissed off line behind me.
There’s a mammoth of a man standing in front of the door checking ID’s. I shot a look of question to Aiden but he just shrugs and follows Doug’s lead, heading straight to the door.
No fear.
“Hey man, Tanner said to come see you,” Doug says to Mammoth Man.
“Name?” Mammoth asks.
“Doug Larson.”
The behemoth grunts and speaks low into his earpiece. Nodding his head, he ushers us in, much to the dismay of the next people in line.
When I step inside the bar, I’m assaulted by the smell of beer and fried food. It’s a no-joke honky tonk. People are two stepping on the dance floor while a house band plays
“The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”
Piano bar, my ass.
We decide to find a table along the dance floor and a waitress with a short denim skirt, cutoff shirt and boots saunters up to us. With an overly bleached blonde hairstyle, her hair looks like it could break off her poor head at any moment. Not sexy.
Aiden turns his head to me and winks.
I give him a quizzical look and mouth, “What?”
She is not my type. She’s not even in the same category as my type.
He sneers, looking pleased with himself. “Possibility number one.”
Yeah, maybe for him. I’ll pass.
“What can I get you boys?” Slutty, dead hair bar waitress asks the table, but eyes only me. Fantastic.
Aiden pipes up. “Corona,” he yells.
“Make that two,” Doug chimes in.
She hasn’t acknowledged them, she’s just eye fucking me, and it’s doing absolutely nothing for my nether regions.
Nope. Nada. No thanks. Next please.
Still, I’m here to have a good time, and I don’t want to be rude. She may not be my type, but there’s no reason to make her feel bad.
Just look into her eyes and give her the easiest smile you can muster.
“Whiskey, thanks.”
She licks her lips, writes our order down and heads to the bar, swaying her hips a little too much for my liking.
“Holy shit, dude. Did you see her? She’s sexy as hell,” Doug shouts over the music.
I shrug. To each his own, I guess. I nod to appease him, but refuse to engage. I’m not here for a hook up.
Can’t say the same for Aiden and Doug, though. They go into a full-blown conversation on the size of her tits.
I look down at the table in disgust.
When the waitress brings our drinks, I shoot back my whiskey and look around. It doesn’t take long for the bar to fill up, and soon I catch myself bobbing my head and tapping my foot to the country music filling the air.
The band is good. They’re only playing covers, and I don’t mind. I’m a country boy at heart.
Two more shots of my favorite whiskey and a couple of beers later, I’ve got a good buzz going on.
Shit, water it is.
I need to drive home tonight and I don’t need to go to jail for drunk driving. I’d rather get us a cab home, even though I’m sure we could walk back to the house. We’re only a few miles away. My brain flip-flops again—with my luck, we’d get ticketed for public intoxication.
That’d really help my career.
I try to tune the boys out the more I get lost in my worry, but it’s proving to be difficult because they’ve made it their mission to take inventory of the amount of ass at the bar. Blonde, brunette, short skirts. The list goes on and on.
Oh, Jesus, maybe I need to head home.
Patrons of the bar pack the dance floor, and some are forced to dance between the tables. A younger couple jumps up to the cue of the music, and starts dancing the Cotton Eye Joe between the crowds, adding to the laid-back setup. I clap along with the rest of the section around me.
Booze or talent, I’m not sure, but they’re pretty good. And when the song ends, the couple bows and we all applaud.
Between claps, I catch a glimpse at my watch. Eleven. Shit, I need to get home. I have to get up early in the morning to meet with a potential client.
Preparing myself to tell the guys to take a cab if they want to stay longer, a woman brushes past me.
I don’t think she means to, but her hand lingers on my shoulder as she passes, stopping me dead in my tracks. Her clean floral scent lingers in my nose, and my head whips around to see her.
She’s gorgeous. Long, red hair, curves in all the right places and legs that go on for days. I’m not able to see her face, but I know it’s beautiful like the rest of her.
She’s wearing an ornate-looking dress, I don’t know what girls call them, but it has flowers on it. My eyes follow the dress down to her mid-thigh and continue on to find she’s wearing the sexiest cowboy boots I’ve ever seen.
They’d look real good wrapped around my waist.
Holy shit. Where the hell did that come from? I don’t have time for that. I shake my head to get rid of the sudden sexual thoughts
flooding my brain when I hear the lead singer of the band speak into the microphone.
“Good evening, everyone! How y’all doin’ tonight?” He shouts through the speakers.
The crowd roars and he smiles.
“Good! Listen, I hear we have a special lady here tonight. How about we give her some love so maybe she’ll come up here and sing us a song?” He laughs, searching for the woman. “What do you say?”
Looking around the bar with everyone else, I wonder whom he’s talking about.
“Ann Daniels, get your pretty little ass up here!” The guy commands, getting the crowd to clap along with him.
The dance floor parts and she steps onto the stage. Yes, I said she.
The gorgeous red head. This night just turned around.
She laughs and shakes her head when the lead singer wraps his burly arms around her and spins her around in a circle. Once he sets her down, she swats his chest and turns around toward the microphone.
I’ll admit it. I don’t know the woman, but seeing him put his hands on her makes me jealous.
The spotlight descends on her, and she glows like it was made just for her.
“Hey guys, I guess I’m singing tonight.” She waves shyly toward the crowd. “I hope you’re okay with a little Taylor Swift. Is that alright?”
She beams when the crowd yells and claps, then turns toward the guy sitting at the piano and says something into his ear. He smiles and moves, making his way to the drums. Ann takes his place on the piano bench, and adjusts the microphone to sit in front of her mouth. She takes a deep breath, centering herself, and grins into the mic.
Signaling the drummer, he gives her a wink and the drums pound to life in an evocative melody. Without a second thought, I sit down in my seat never taking my eyes off of her. All thoughts of heading home, forgotten. Gone. My mind was made up the second I knew it was her performing.
I couldn’t leave, even if I wanted to.
Her hands dance across the piano, playing every note perfectly. I only play the guitar, but I’ve heard the song she’s singing before and it’s spot on.
The emotion she puts into the lyrics makes me think maybe she’s singing the song for a specific reason. It becomes plain as day the moment she hits the chorus. She’s lost someone important in her life. She may not know it, but she’s putting all of her feelings on that stage for everyone to see.
Her passion makes me ache in ways I didn’t even know I could ache. It’s mind blowing how one simple song can bring out so many feelings. She’s a storyteller. She understands every line she sings as if she’s been through hell and back.
It’s instantaneous, I can’t explain it, but I feel like I have to know her. In my bones, I know I came to this bar to see her play, to be in her hypnotic presence.
She pounds on the keys as if they’re her lifelines. Her voice is absolutely the most magnificent sound I’ve heard in my entire life. I want to close my eyes to soak in every note, but I’m afraid if I blink, even once, I’ll miss something.
Her head goes down as she sings the final note and the lights fade to black.
The crowd screams in praise and I stand clapping.
She is phenomenal—just wow.
The stage lights come back and the crowd roars again. She laughs through a grateful expression, thanks the crowd, curtseys and steps off stage.
People swarm her, smacking her on the back and shaking her hand. She smiles and thanks them, seeming a little embarrassed.
My inner voice tells me to go up and talk to her—to quit being a pansy and go say something, but I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t normally seek women out like some douche bag. Plus, it’d seem less genuine because she just performed.
There, guess I talked myself out of that one.
Getting up, I slip money onto the table and look at Aiden and Doug. “You guys gonna be alright? I have to head home.” They nod their heads, and I look to Aiden, demanding his attention. “Here’s money for the cab. Don’t under any circumstances walk home. You hear me? I don’t want to bail you two out of jail tonight.”
Aiden picks at the crumbs on the table. “Yes, Dad.” I flinch. Dad was never a good guy.
“Alright, be safe. I’ll see you at home.” They wave and I head for my truck.
As I walk through the bar to leave, I dig to find my phone in my pocket. With my head down, perusing the countless emails that beckon me in the real world, I don’t see the person I nearly plow over.
“Oh, my God. Shit, I’m sorry—fuck. Are you alright?” I question, grabbing her arm to keep her from biting the big one and face planting.
The most stunning eyes find mine when I pull her up.
It’s her. Ann.
What are the damn odds?
She wobbles a bit and I bring my arms around her waist to keep her upright. She blushes and puts her hands on my chest to steady herself. Warmth spreads through me in their wake.
Biting her lip, she laughs, looking nervous. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
I peer down at her and smile. “Darlin’, you didn’t do anything wrong. I ran into you. You okay now?”
Awkwardly, she pats my chest a few times, showing a little bit of her goofy side. “Yes, thank you.”
She’s still patting my chest, and I clear my throat. A bright crimson color spreads across her cheeks and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, taking a step back.
The wind picks up a bit, causing that piece of hair to move into her face. I resist the urge to take it in my fingers to feel the softness.
She giggles and looks up at me. “Well, thank you for…catching me.”
I tip my invisible hat. “Anytime, ma’am. You have a good night.”
She waves and turns on her heel to leave, and damn if I don’t want to let her go just yet. I look down at my watch. Eleven-thirty. Crap.
“Hey, Ann,” I call out, despite the fact that I should have been home at least twenty minutes ago.
If you’re going to do something, do it all the way, right?
She turns to face me with a big, maybe, hopeful smile on her face. “Yeah?”
“You were absolutely stunning in there.” I point my thumb toward the building. “Really, your voice is amazing.”
She looks down at her boots and kicks the dirt.
There’s those boots again. Dammit.
“Thank you. I could have killed Rylie for making me do that.”
You wouldn’t tell from her performance. She’s a natural.
“You should thank him. You have a magnificent voice,” I praise, taking a step toward her.
Blush appears on her face once again. “You’re too kind, but that’s very sweet of you to say.” She pauses and her eyes sparkle in the moonlight. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Taking my hand out of my pocket, I wipe the moisture on my jeans and stick it out to shake hers. “Duane. It was nice to meet you, Ann.”
She takes my hand in hers and it fits perfectly—like a puzzle piece.
“It was my pleasure, Duane.”
I smile and nod my head. “Night.”
She waves and walks toward the entrance.
Looking back one more time, I’m not ashamed to admit I openly gawk at her the entire way.
With a knowing smile, she waves once more and goes inside, leaving me alone in the parking lot.
With a bit of a spring in my step, I head toward my truck, whistling like a moron.
The night turned out to be much better than I anticipated.
As I get closer, there’s a man slumped over by the driver’s side of my truck, alone.
Drunken asshole, get off my truck.
“Uhh, sir? Are you alright?” My words are as calm as my approach. He wobbles from side to side, so I crouch next to him to look at his face.
Yep, he’s drunk. As a damn skunk.
Great.
“Sir, can I call you a cab?” I ask, not letting my voice sound too annoyed. Maybe the memory of Ann is keepin
g my temper mild. Either way, I’m desperately trying to keep my cool. I don’t have the time for this.
The man waves me off. “Go on, son. Leave me here.”
I shake my head no. I can’t leave him out here, I may be late, and tired, but I can’t bring myself to be an asshole. It’s obvious the man is in need of help. “No, sir. Let me help you. Do you know where you live?”
“Yes, dammit, I know where I live. I may be drunker than a whore at a strip club, but I ain’t stupid.”
His reaction makes me laugh. Dad was a nasty drunk—mean and violent. Seeing a man have a sense of humor, makes the situation slightly comical.
“Alright, sir. Let me take you home.”
He grumbles something I don’t understand, but agrees. Throwing his heavy arm over my shoulder, I pick him up and put him in the truck as gracefully as I can, which isn’t very graceful. The man has to weigh at least two hundred pounds.
We pull out of the lot and head down the only main road out of the bar.
With his head in his hands, I go as slow as possible. I’m worried to hit any bumps, making his obvious pounding headache that much worse.
The night has cooled, so I roll the windows down. The vodka smell is overbearing, and I’m having a hard time not hurling my dinner out of the window.
“Turn here, son.” He instructs me.
We’re far outside the city now, and the trailer park I’ve turned into is run down. It’s definitely seen better days.
“This is it,” he states when we pull up to a rundown mobile home. Putting my truck in park, I turn toward him.
“Do you need help inside?” I offer.
He lifts his head from his hands, where it’s been supported during our entire trip, and shakes it sloppily. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.” He stops, sliding his eyes in my direction. “You’re a good man.”
It’s been a long time since anyone has said anything like that to me. My self-worth was measured by my mean, bastard of a father, and he never said anything encouraging. Quite the opposite actually.
Putting my hand on his frail shoulder, I stammer. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t let anyone tell you different. Not many would help an old man like me. You’ve got a good heart. Have a good night, now.” Seeming more sober, he steps out of my truck and closes the door.
Unable to Resist Page 3
