Strings of the Heart (Runaway Train #3)(18)
While it might have been her who was homesick, she had truly made my first day back home enjoyable. Since leaving home, my visits back to Savannah were purely out of obligation, not of desire. Being able to be with her in the next few weeks was certainly going to make my stay a lot easier, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be out of any obligation to Jake or to her. It was because I wanted to spend time with someone who was beautiful, intelligent, and fun to be with as Allison. She sure as hell wasn’t a chore, that’s for sure.
Once the driver finally let me out in front of the club, I barely had time to take in the outside of Saffie’s Tea Room. For Allison’s sake, I was glad to see it wasn’t in a seedier area of town. Jake would probably freak just a little bit less knowing that the club was in a good area. Of course, he wasn’t going to be thrilled that Allison had kept something from him and her parents. It was so unlike her. She had always been such a good girl. I guess she really was spreading her wings and testing out the rebellious waters.
After I hurried down the brick steps to the club’s entrance, I was surprised to see a shredded bouncer checking IDs next to a stylishly dressed woman taking payment for the cover charges. When I handed over my ID, the bouncer eyed me suspiciously. “Are you lost?” he asked.
“I’m here to see someone perform,” I replied.
With a grunt, he thrust my ID back at me. Although I could hear music coming from inside, I wasn’t sure it was still Allison. I hoped like hell I hadn’t missed her. When I handed my money to the woman, I asked, “Is Pink Magnolia still playing?”
She nodded. “They’re on for thirty more minutes.”
“Thank God.”
She laughed. “Honey, they aren’t that good.”
Ignoring her, I entered the dimly lit club. Twinkling lights crisscrossed across the ceiling and down the walls while candlelight flickered on the tables with purple, white, and black linen tablecloths. Past the tables, there was a wide dance floor in front of a stage. As my gaze flickered around the room, I heaved a relieved sigh at how the interior looked. In the end, Saffie’s reminded me a lot of some of the higher-end clubs in New York and even Atlanta.
Like being zapped with a Taser, my attention was drawn away from taking in the club’s scenery to the small stage. Allison sat at a baby grand piano, appearing totally poised and self-possessed. It was a quite a different demeanor from earlier, especially when she was falling over the banister. Her long brown hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, resting just above her waist. Her red dress reminded me of something out of a Roman or Greek history book, and she certainly looked every bit like a goddess perched on the piano bench. A single red orchid rested behind her ear, making her appear even more delicately feminine.
Something within me came alive at the sight of her bathed in the glowing stage lights. It was as if I was seeing her, truly seeing her, for the first time. She wasn’t an awkward teenage girl with braces and gangly legs anymore—she was a woman. If I was truly honest with myself, I would admit that she was a gorgeous and sexy woman. At that moment, I was really glad she was performing in a lesbian bar because I didn’t like the idea of any douchebags trying to hit on her.
As she turned to the crowd and smiled, she appeared such a paradox. While a beam of light gave her a glowing halo around her head, her red dress totally annihilated anything angelic about her. “For our next song, I’d like to play an old favorite of mine. It’s a cover of Joan Armatrading’s The Weakness in Me,” she said, the microphone causing her voice to echo throughout the cavernous room. As she and her bandmates started up the opening chords of the song, she once again peered into the audience. She appeared to be searching for someone—searching for me. When her eyes locked on mine, I nodded my head and smiled.
She briefly returned my smile. While holding my gaze, she began to sing. “I’m not the sort of person who falls in and quickly out of love. But to you I gave my affection right from the start.”
As her voice filled the air around me, I stood rooted in my spot, utterly transfixed by her performance. Women bumped into me as they jostled through the crowd to either slow dance or grab a table, but I barely noticed them. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off Allison. Her voice had a sensual, throaty quality to it. Allison hadn’t given herself enough credit. Her voice was not as strong as Abby’s, but she certainly had more talent than the woman at the door, and Allison herself had insinuated. It was easy to see that she had inherited some of Jake’s musical and singing talent. Sure, the band would never make it out of this basement club, but they had a rapt audience, which meant a lot in the long run.
Taking my phone out of my pants pocket, I started filming some of her performance. Deep down, I knew that Jake would want to see this. After he got over the initial shock of his underage sister singing in a nightclub, he would be proud of Allison’s accomplishments. It was easier to hold my hand steady than it was to contain my out-of-control feelings toward Allison. Brotherly affection was sure as hell not filling my mind at that moment.
When she finished playing the final chords of the song, a roar of applause erupted in the room. Allison smiled while breathlessly saying into the microphone, “Thank you. Thank you all so very much.”
As she swept off the piano bench, I got a swift kick in the pants at the sight of her wiry knee boots. They looked like something out of the movie Gladiator, and f**k me, they were sexy as hell. What the hell was I thinking? In no way, shape, or form was I ever to put the words “sexy as hell” and “Allison” in the same sentence. I’d known her since she was thirteen. She was like my own little sister. Bringing my hand to my face, I furiously scrubbed my eyes and forehead, as if I were able to scrub the X-rated images of Allison out of my mind.