Strong: A Stage Dive Novella (Stage Dive #4.5)(4)

He shrugged modestly. “You can hear talent. I can read a room. Ninety percent of this job is situational awareness and threat assessment. He’s got them eating out of the palm of his hand. Makes life easy for me.”

That made sense. “But what if Ben and Dave get recognized?”

“A couple of people have spotted them already, but they’ve been content to leave them be. It helps that the kid on stage is keeping the crowd occupied. But if the atmosphere changes, I’ll get them out the back and Ziggy will have the car waiting.”

“Is that what the phone is for?” I asked, nodding at the cell in his hand.

“We’re keeping in contact.”

“You’re all prepared.”

“That’s what I’m paid for.”

“And here I was thinking you were just hired muscle to make them look important.”

“You think Dave needs me to look important?” Ouch. I take a shot at Sam’s work, he twists my words around to target my old injury. Sometimes I wonder how much he sees the world as a perpetual sparring session. Always reading the situation, finding vulnerabilities, turning defense into attack. And always in control.

His gaze slipped to the side. “Bartender’s waiting to take your order.”

“Hmm? Oh.” I turned, getting my thoughts in order. “Vodka and soda.”

Sam clicked his tongue. “Manners.”

“Please,” I simpered. The woman behind the bar just raised a brow, hands already busy making up my order.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to people, Martha.”

“Why risk it?” I handed the woman a ten-dollar bill, the cost of the drink and a healthy tip, thank you very much. Proof I could be nice in the ways that mattered. But Sam had already wandered back to his post by the end of the bar, within closer range of the guys.

Time to go back to the table. Kill me now.

I pasted a smile on my face and pushed my way back through the crowd. If any bastard spilled booze on my boots I’d maim them. It wasn’t like I had the money to replace them these days.

Lizzy still sat in Ben’s lap, leaving my chair next to David free. Yippee. As soon as I sat down, his jaw firmed in a certain way. Fuck. He was going to try to make conversation. I really wished he wouldn’t. “So, Martha, how long are you in town for?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” I took a healthy gulp of vodka. Magical potato juice was definitely required.

“She’s going to help look after Gib while Lizzy starts back at school,” provided Ben. “We hadn’t found a nanny we were happy with yet, so…”

“I’m delighted to be filling in.”

David’s forehead filled with worry lines. “You’re going to look after a two-year-old? You?”

“She’s going to be great!” Lizzy couldn’t have smiled any brighter or less convincingly if she tried. “Excellent bonding time between aunty and nephew.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Anyway, how hard can it be?”

“What do you know about children?” asked David. “I mean, you couldn’t even keep a mouse alive.”

“That wasn’t my fault.” This was the problem with associating with people who’d known you during your childhood. “It got sick.”

“You killed a mouse?” Lizzy’s expression morphed to something much less confident.

Ben scratched at his beard. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Only reason you remembered to feed it and give it water was because I reminded you every day,” said David, who really needed to fuck off right about now. Not helpful at all. Not that I expected him to be.

“I would have remembered eventually.” A headache was coming on, I could feel it. “I was sixteen. Everyone’s useless when they’re sixteen.”

“So what was your excuse for the following decade then?” Ben snickered at his own genius.

In true sisterly fashion, I thumped him in the arm. Mostly it just hurt my hand, the muscly bastard. Family and exes sucked. Maybe I should just go back to New York. Out of nowhere, a shiver worked its way down my spine. Nope. New York wasn’t an option.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” said my brother, patting me on the head. Like it hadn’t taken me quality time to get the slicked-back ponytail just right. The idiot. “Sorry, Martha. I have confidence you won’t let my child die like you did the poor innocent mouse. May it rest in peace.”

Meanwhile, open alarm filled the child’s mother’s eyes at the jokes.

“Nothing will happen to Gibby, I promise,” I said, grabbing her hand. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Sure. Of course.” And that did not sound convincing. Her giving my brother a worried glance didn’t boost my confidence either. Perhaps this was a bad idea. I was a hell of a long way from Mary Poppins. Even if I did happen to love the kid in question.

“Sweetheart, it’ll be fine.” Ben kissed her on the cheek, tightening his hold. “Seriously, relax. We’re just giving Martha shit. But she’s a mature responsible adult and I’ll be right there in the house if there’s a problem. Sam will be there too. There’ll be plenty of people around to help out if need be.”

“Okay.” This time her smile didn’t seem quite so panicked at least. I wished it hadn’t taken the mention of Sam to ease her mind about my inability to look after her child. But such was life.