Connected (Connections, #1)(71)

I’m finally able to sip the drink that Bell handed me earlier when she walks over and sits next to me. Handing me a blue iced drink, she says, “Bottoms up.” Then clinks her glass to mine. It’s an interesting mix of blueberry and cranberry; I kind of like it. “And this would be?” I ask after drinking a healthy sized gulp.

“No idea. I just told Tate I love cranberries and blueberries, and this is what he made for us.”

“Tate?”

“The bartender, and my very good friend,” she winks, glancing over to the hulk-sized man behind the bar who is staring back at us.

Not sure how to respond to her, I point to my drink and give Tate a thumbs up. He smiles at me then turns to Bell mouthing, “You like?”

“Excuse me,” she says as she gets up from the table. “I just want to thank him properly. I’ll be back in a few for some girl talk.”

I glance up at the stage and see River watching over me. Since I’m in a thumbs up giving mood, I shoot him one as well as he adjusts the microphone stand and puts his guitar over his shoulder.

Shaking his head at me, he just grins before he turns for what looks like a pow-wow with the band and Xander.

Glancing toward the bar, I see Bell leaning over it, flirting with Tate. I wonder if he’s her boyfriend or just her bar boyfriend, but I can’t tell. Then I see her pluck her drink down on the bar and stamp her foot before traipsing into the room marked “Poolroom,” Tate following quickly behind. After witnessing their little exchange, I’m guessing boyfriend.

Looking back to the stage, River starts to sing a song I know well. It is the song he told me he wrote about me. His eyes find mine as he sings the lyrics to Once in a Lifetime, and when he hits the chorus he closes them.

Having finished my blueberry concoction, I go back to the Cranberry Crown. I am listening intently to River’s singing. I love the sound of his rough but smooth voice. Closing my own eyes, I take in his whole sound. The clanking of a bottle being set on the table makes me open them, and I feel slightly dizzy for a second. I know I need to slow down, I am a lightweight to begin with, and having eaten an early dinner, I don’t have much food in my stomach now to absorb the potency of Tate’s drinks.

The song ends, and River lifts his shirt to wipe some sweat off his face. Lifting his shirt exposes a healthy amount of his firm stomach, and I’m not the only one who notices them. Girls throughout the bar are yelling and screaming, and I’m torn between doing the same or just running up there and pulling him down off the stage. I choose the former. He looks over at me as he lets his shirt fall and winks. I stop yelling when Xander takes a seat next to me. He sets a bottle of Black Label Patron on the table and adds two shot glasses with chasers.

Observing him more closely I notice his eyes are a lighter shade of green than River’s, but he has the same strong jawline and full lips. His hair is shorter and much neater, compliments of hair product I’m sure. He’s just a little bit shorter and a little broader than River.

He smiles at me, but his smile doesn’t touch his cold green eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I’m not sure why he doesn’t seem to like me but I smile cordially anyway. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

Pouring two shots, he slides one over, but not all the way. He looks at the stage, at his brother, and at the other band members. I get the feeling he’s avoiding looking at me, but manages to say, “You’re the reason River didn’t answer his phone all weekend.”

The music stops and the three bandmates step to the side to discuss something. River is pointing to the chords of his acoustic guitar, and Nix is pointing to the strings on his electric guitar. Garrett is both nodding and shaking his head.

“They’ll be awhile,” Xander says, leaning back in his chair.

He pushes the shot directly in front of me, and I look over at him about to say no thank you when a wicked grin appears on his face. “Drink with me, Muse?”

I look up at River, but he’s still talking to Nix. Without saying another word, Xander licks his index finger and rubs it in the salt. He motions for me to do the same. So, deciding a drink can only help calm the uneasiness I feel in his presence, I dip my finger in the Patron, wet my wrist, and coat it in salt. Licking the salt, I quickly down the tequila and grab a lime wedge. He does the same.

When we’re done he pours 2 more shots, this time putting the glass in front of me at its first touch to the table. “Another?”

“What are we drinking too?”

“Life!”

“Okay, life, I’ll drink to that.” Then, as I setup another shot and he does the same I ask, “What’s with the name Muse?”

He doesn’t answer as he tips his head back and drinks his Black Label without even a here’s to.

I do the same, but when I set my glass down I ask another question. “Have I done something to offend you in life?” I ask, stressing the word life.

Guitar chords are being played, but the band has their backs to us, seemingly still in a dispute. After pouring yet a third round, he leans even further back on his barstool. “Where should I start,” he says, twirling his glass on the table, some of the liquid spilling out.

“Let’s see . . . First, I’m a little pissed at my brother right now. He had a radio interview on Sunday morning here in LA that he blew off.”