by Hadley Quinn
“You’re going to kill him,” her soft voice said from behind me, just before I disappeared into the hallway for Blake’s office.
I turned around and leaned an arm up against the doorframe. I was still a bit pissed off, but there was something about the way she looked at me that slapped the arrogance right out of me. There was more to this story that I needed to hear.
I exhaled a breath of air. “What do you mean?”
She stepped through the short swinging door through the bar and stopped three feet in front of me. “He was already losing this place before it even got started,” she said. “Having you here would give him a chance to keep it. If you back out now, he’s done in less than a month, I guarantee it.”
I looked at her skeptically and then gestured to the front of the building. “Cutting back hours won’t help?”
She automatically followed my motion and paused before facing me again. With a frown. And when her mouth frowned, so did her eyes. It was a wicked thing to do to me.
Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair. I didn’t know what to say or what she expected of me, but I hated shit like this. I needed to get my life together, not do what everyone else wanted me to do. I wasn’t a circus monkey.
“Look, uh, Ree?” I asked. “Is that your name?”
She arched an eyebrow at me, which made me think I’d gotten it wrong, but she then slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“I just can’t, okay?” I told her. “Last weekend was a nightmare for me. A complete, fucking nightmare. I can’t do it again. I’m sorry. Blake is amazing, and I feel terrible, but it’s just not going to work for me.”
“You did an amazing job.” She spoke firmly, emphasizing every word, almost like she was mad at me again. She didn’t look mad—she still looked a bit wounded—but her intensity startled me somewhat.
I folded my arms against my chest and leaned my back against the corner of the doorway. “What’s your deal?” I asked.
There was something wrong with this chick. There had to be. Why else would she be so hot-and-cold with me, sometimes giving me an amazing smile and a warm personality, and then other times looking like I’d just abused a helpless animal?
“My deal?” she repeated carefully.
Well, it appeared as if I’d offended her. Again. But how was that my problem? I hated being a dick, but someone I barely knew was not going to be making the decisions in my life.
I hadn’t answered what I thought was a rhetorical question from her, so I was still waiting for her to answer mine.
Finally she mirrored my position—arms crossed over her chest—and gave me a smug smile. “I’ll give you a free pass this time since I don’t think you’re ready to hear ‘my deal,’” she told me. “I don’t think you’re really this big of an asshole, but if you are, I’d rather you not play here anyway. We don’t need your name.”
Feeling the insults she’d intended to wound me with, I replied, “Oh, but I thought you did?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but instead of continuing with our now immature battle of wits, she spun away from me and returned to the bar.
7
I silently told myself that I’d won that round with Ree, but immediately felt like a prick for thinking that way. She was a feisty little thing, and while she had her back to me, I remained standing where I was to wait for her next move.
Okay, I was just watching her work since she was obviously done with me. And I also felt guilty, even though I didn’t feel like I’d done anything wrong. But I really needed to talk to Blake and get this over with. I made my way down the hall and knocked on his office door, and when I heard the go-ahead to come in, turned the knob and entered.
His smile was huge once he saw me. “Jude! Well what a surprise.”
He stood from his desk as he hastily closed up the books he’d been looking over, but I—being the observant person that I was—noticed his body language at the same time. He didn’t want me to see what he’d been looking over, and it wasn’t just a basic “putting away my work” kind of thing. He’d shut that shit up pretty quickly.
He shoved his books into a desk drawer. “I thought maybe Ben came in early,” Blake said, motioning for me to have a seat.
We both sat at the same time.
“Sorry I didn’t call first.”
He waved it off. “You’re welcome anytime. Uh, what’s up? Is everything okay?”
I didn’t know where to start. I kept thinking about Ree and how emotional she’d been with me. Maybe she was worried about her own job, too. I didn’t know her story, and possibly that was my problem. That wasn’t like me. I tried to go out of my way to understand people, but maybe things really did make sense to me and I was too concerned with myself to catch on. Ree was worried about Blake losing the business; she was obviously passionate about this place because she cared about her own employment.
I’d somehow looked over other peoples’ struggles because I was too focused on my own and it made me feel like shit.
I leaned forward onto my knees in thought. Some guidance was what I needed, so I was automatically drawn to the photo on Blake’s desk—the one of him with my father. “Can you tell me about this picture?” I asked.
I continued to study it while Blake shared the very first time he’d met Joseph Collins. It was eight years ago in Los Angeles, the day after my dad had won two Grammys. Blake had taken his sister out for lunch when my father walked into the same restaurant and sat down by himself.
That made me smile. My dad had always been such a loner, and even until the day he died, he never cared if he was by himself. His work was monumental, but for anyone to recognize him in public was rare.
“So you introduced yourself?” I asked.
Blake seemed in awe, like he was taking himself back to that moment again. “I really wasn’t going to—I didn’t want to bother him—but my sister convinced me that I would hate myself if I didn’t. She was actually the one that approached him after he’d paid his check and was about to leave. He ended up joining us at our table, bought dessert for us, and then coffee… Such an amazing man. We talked for almost two hours. And he talked about you,” he motioned to me with a smile. “He was so proud of you and how successful you were at just twenty-two years old. He liked talking about you the most,” Blake nodded purposefully.
Talk of my father made me miss him so damn much right then. I really wished he could be here with me. I needed his guidance, his wisdom and life experience. I just needed for him to tell me everything was going to be okay.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” I nodded thoughtfully. “I miss him every day.”
Blake’s compassion was apparent, and as I set the photo back on his desk, he turned it toward himself to study it for a moment. “You have his smile, you know. And his eyes. Those speak a million words to the people you interact with.”
I considered that for a moment. My dad had always been a good man, and he was especially kindhearted to everyone he met. He had a benevolent soul, and I’d been told it was a strength of mine, too.
Which was why I knew I couldn’t walk away from Blake entirely. The man had a lot of faith in me, and if he was comparing me to my father—even by a tad bit—then I had a lot to live up to.
“I came to discuss something with you,” I began. I was going to be completely open with the man. It felt like the right thing to do, even though I was tired of feeling so exposed to people. “I, uh, I had a hard time on stage last weekend,” I admitted. “I was expecting it to be difficult, but I really didn’t think I would completely lose it up there.”
Blake was shaking his head, and at first I thought he was really upset with me. The look in his eyes…he was afraid of losing his business, and I felt horrible about that. But I wasn’t expecting what he said next.
With a sigh he replied, “I honestly didn’t notice anything at all, but my daughter was extremely concerned. She knew. She understood what you were going through. You hide it really well, and I’m not
doubting her intuition, but I was a bit skeptical and thought she was overreacting. I thought everything was just fine, so I feel terrible, but she was right?”
I examined his face for a second, searching for some kind of clarification. “What are you talking about? Your daughter? Why was she concerned?”
First off, I didn’t know Blake had a daughter, and second, how could I fool everyone else and not her?
“She had to leave the floor after your show, and came in here to talk. Ree? She’s one of the bartenders here…”
His voice trailed off but I didn’t know if he said anything further. Ree was his daughter? They looked nothing alike. Hell, she didn’t even look like Ben, either. Ree was obviously mixed with another race. I was thoroughly confused at this point, but after I quickly accepted the fact that she was related to Blake, my thoughts were mulling over her reaction to my performance.
“What am I missing?” I finally asked.
I waited for Blake to answer me, but he was hesitant. Eventually he exhaled a breath of air but shook his head. “It’s not for me to share—her personal life, that is—but I will tell you that she’s a big admirer of yours. Not your band,” he quickly clarified, “but you.”
I must have sat there for half a minute contemplating this new piece of information. I got all kinds of mixed signals from that girl, but even my so-called intuition hadn’t figured out why.
“I understand that it’s not something you’re able to continue with,” Blake told me. “If you ever change your mind, you’re welcome any time, but please, just take care of yourself. Okay?”
This man truly humbled me. If what his daughter had said was true—and it was evident he hadn’t wanted me to see him fretting over the books—his concern for my wellbeing instead of his own was truly remarkable. I honestly didn’t know if I could do another show like the other one, but I didn’t think I was ready to give it up entirely.
I was pretty sure we could come to a compromise.
After I ran through a new idea with Blake, he seemed pretty receptive. Without asking personal questions about his finances, I jotted down some raw projections on a piece of paper to gauge his reaction.
I was confident my proposal would be successful financially, and Blake seemed completely on board but wanted to run it by Ben first. From what he wasn’t saying, I could decipher that accountant Harry no longer worked for them—more evidence that the business was struggling if they could no longer hire someone for the books.
We shook on it before I left the office, and as soon as I was halfway down the hall, I remembered that I’d have to face Ree before I left. I wasn’t so sure how I should feel about that, especially learning that she was Blake’s daughter, but I knew I had to apologize for my earlier asshole behavior.
She wasn’t behind the bar, but on the stage cleaning the floors. I observed for a minute, feeling a little awkward for being a creeper while she ran a wet mop over the painted wood. When she turned around and saw me standing there, she paused with a cagey look on her face.
“Just wanted to apologize before I left,” I told her. “I’m sorry for being a dick. It’s been a rough week for me, but that’s no excuse. Just wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”
She stuck the mop into the bucket and leaned a forearm against the piano, but didn’t respond.
I shrugged. “We good? I don’t want any hard feelings with my fellow employees here,” I joked with a smile.
I thought she would laugh too, but her face turned skeptical instead. “You’re sticking around?”
“Yeah, in some capacity. Apparently I’m useful somehow.”
She only stared at me, and then scoffed. “He told you about me?” She looked slightly devastated and I had no idea why.
“Told me what? That you’re his daughter? Yeah, I mean I’m a bit slow on picking that up for some reason, but it makes sense now.”
She squeezed the mop and dropped it onto the floor again. After several seconds of silence, she finally responded. “Him and Ben look alike and I’m the odd woman out?” she seemed to joke dryly.
I lightly laughed. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Ree swiped the mop back and forth a few times. “Biologically, Blake is my uncle. He adopted me when I was four years old.”
She didn’t expound more than that, so I just nodded, glad for at least that bit of information.
I was about to turn for the exit when Ree left the mop and leaned against the piano again. “Hey, piano man, can you answer a question for me?”
Curious, I shrugged. “Sure.”
She tapped the hood of the baby grand. “Straight up, yes or no, will you be coming back?”
As she waited for my answer, I took a moment to consider my options. I could briefly tell her what her father and I decided since he’d probably tell her anyway, or I could be coy with my answer just to see how she would react.
I was feeling a bit ornery, I guess, so I answered, “That depends.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she took the bait. “On what?”
“On how often you’re gonna bust my balls.”
She didn’t laugh, as I expected, but her mouth shifted into a “thinking” pose and she pressed a finger against her lips. “I’ll consider backing off,” she finally nodded, pointing at me with the same finger. “But as long as you’re in the wrong, I’ll call you out on it.”
I honestly didn’t anticipate any other answer and I laughed as I headed for the door. “That’s what I thought.”
8
You can’t possibly be serious,” Wes rolled his eyes at me from the open doorway. “You think that’s discreet? Think again, pal.”
He didn’t like my John Lennon look I’d used last Halloween, even though he knew I was just messing around, so I tossed the glasses on the bed.
“You might as well go for it with Elton John,” Wes shrugged.
“Rocket Man?”
He thought for a moment. “Nah, Mardi Gras Elton.”
I smiled at the thought as I removed my fedora, too. It had become sort of my signature appearance whenever I performed a show, therefore it was useless for going out in public. If I wanted to go “incognito,” I just went with nothing on my head or a baseball hat.
“You ready, man?” Wes asked, shoving his wallet into his back pocket.
I agreed with a nod and followed him down the hall. Luke and Hayes were meeting us downtown for beers and baseball at Shots, a sports joint that Luke’s brother owned. It was our usual spot for guys’ night out, and I especially liked it because we could get the back corner of the restaurant all to ourselves.
T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of black Chucks. It was also one of my signature outfits, but since a shit ton of other dudes wore the same thing, I didn’t feel it was too telltale. Funny how adding my hat would have had people recognizing me at some point, but I was able to go the whole evening without a single interruption.
As we turned the corner to find the car, Hayes paused in front of a window lit with neon signs and mythical décor.
The look on his face made me shake my head. “Nah, man. No thanks.”
“Oh come on, guys. I’ve heard about this place. Let’s do it. What’s there to lose?” Hayes stared at all three of us, each in turn.
“Your fuckin’ money,” Luke answered.
It was late, almost midnight, but I glanced through the window of the shop that claimed a real live psychic could tell my fortune guaranteed. I’d never take stock in someone’s “prediction” of my future or their ability to communicate with the dead, but sometimes I felt like I had my own connection to the other side because of my father and couldn’t entirely disregard the possibility.
“Ah, see, Jude is thinking it over,” Hayes smiled. “Come on, man. Just for fun.”
He entered the store, so the rest of us unwillingly followed.
It was fairly dark inside but the ambiance was mellow and somewhat calm. Just like the movies, the woman came through beaded curtains when she heard us
enter. But she didn’t look like an old gypsy as I was expecting. She couldn’t have been older than mid-thirties, but she was also very pretty with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes. She did have on a lot of makeup, but the jeans and tank top kind of surprised me.
“Hello,” she greeted us. “How may I help you?”
We all waited for Hayes to speak since it was his dumb ass that wanted to come in.
He cleared his throat and rubbed the black scruff on his face. “So, uh, what do you do here?”
She smiled politely and said, “Well first off, I’m Gretta.” She held out her hand until he shook it.
“Hayes,” he replied.
“Nice to meet you. And I’ll read your fortune if you’d like,” she added.
Hayes glanced around the room. Even I didn’t know what he was looking for, but he finally asked, “Where’s the, uh, ball thingy?”
She paused for a moment, and then smiled. Luke and I were both trying not to laugh at his interest in a damn crystal ball.
“I don’t use one of those,” she told him. “What I do read is your aura, and your palm.”
“A palm reader, huh?” Luke scoffed toward the rest of us.
“Yes, a palm reader,” Gretta answered, watching him carefully.
I couldn’t help but notice her subtleties while she engaged in conversation with us. She’d glanced at the shoes we were wearing, and our left hands. Obviously she was assessing us the best she could based on our physical presentation.
She even caught me studying her but didn’t seem fazed. She was leading Hayes over to a table and had him sit down, and as she did so, she was still making eye contact with me. I guess I was the lurker in the back of the group, but damn, she kind of gave me the willies.
I barely even paid attention to what she said as she held Hayes’s hand and spoke to him about his life. It all seemed pretty generic—basic optimism, I guess; positive encouragement you could get from a fortune cookie—but my buddy seemed impressed that she knew of his “recent troubles” and informed him that he would see some positive changes come from it.
