Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(23)

“Not unless I want to get fired,” she snorted. “Though, I tell you, there’s an archery instructor I would do at the crook of a finger. OhmyGawwwd the arms . . .!”

“Ooh, sounds intriguing! What about the rest? Are we talking Legolas or Hawkeye?”

She smiled, laying her chin in her hand. “The ass is completely Hawkeye, but he’s definitely closer to the Legolas end of the spectrum when it comes to pretty faces.”

“And just where does our pretty archer live?”

“Big Rapids.” She smiled slowly. “He goes to Ferris, so . . . not impossibly far. We’ve talked a few times. There’s a chance I may give him a call, drive up on one of our weekends off, if you won’t be too disappointed in me neglecting you for a day . . . or more, if things go well.”

“Pfft!” I flapped a hand at her, waving her off. “I’ll be just fine.”

I fell silent, playing softly as Mo finished her coffee. There. I was pretty sure I had “Congratulations” down. Just to test it, I sang softly under my breath. As I was finishing, a woman walked toward the piano, pulling a bill from her wallet and looking around. It took me a moment to realize she was searching for a tip jar.

I quickly waved her off. “Oh, no, no ma’am. I’m just borrowing the piano for practice. Thanks, though.”

When I looked back at Mo, her eyes were alight.

“That’s it!”

“What?” I missed a chord and backtracked, beginning the measure over again. Some of Casey Stratton’s piano lines were incredibly difficult to emulate by ear, and he didn’t publish his sheet music. I was having to make do with trying to recreate the brilliance of my singing/songwriting idol by guesswork.

“They might not need baristas here, but why don’t you talk to the manager about playing on the afternoons or evenings when they don’t have live music booked?”

“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes and closed the piano cover abruptly, suddenly feeling too self-conscious to continue. “I’m not good enough for that.”

“That woman obviously thought so.”

“She was being polite.”

Mo scowled at me and stalked away to take her cup to the bus bins. I shrugged and gathered up my backpack, futilely checking my cell phone for messages from prospective employers. When Mo returned, though, she had geeky Aubrey the shift manager with her.

“Hey.” He smiled warmly. “You know, your friend has a good idea, here. There’s no reason why you couldn’t play a little louder, make your selections into more of a formal set. I don’t know if I can get the owners to sign off on hiring you, but I think it’d be okay to set out a tip jar.”

“Oh, well—” I stammered to a halt, giving Mo an irritated look. “I’m really not that good, I just wanted to practice.”

“You’re fine. And you can still call it practice, if you want. You’ll just be, well, practicing louder.”

“He can sing, too, you know,” Mo prompted.

“Mo—” My voice dropped in warning.

“It’s cool, whatever you’re comfortable with. Here—” He thrust his cell phone at me. “Put your number in and I’ll let you know what the owners say.”

Five minutes later, Mo was dragging my bewildered ass out of the coffeehouse, looking very smug.

“Did he just scam your digits?” she asked slyly. “I think he just scammed your digits.”

“No,” I said quickly, firmly. I would definitely have picked up on that. Aubrey was nice, but he wasn’t giving off that vibe at all. He might become a friend at some point, though. “You got your signals crossed there, girlfriend. And quit matchmaking. Remember how well that turned out last semester?”

I gave her a repressive look and she had the courtesy to look abashed as we headed down the street. I fell quiet, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions the incident in the coffeehouse had left me with. I mean, on one hand it was hugely flattering for someone to be willing to pay me for just tinkling around on the piano, especially after so many years of being told I wasn’t good enough. On the other hand, I needed to maintain a realistic assessment of my abilities and the prospects they provided me with. No pie-in-the-sky dreams of stardom, of being “discovered” and signing a record deal in the coffeehouse of some quaint, two-stoplight beach town.

Twenty-one is a bit young to be talking about accepting limitations. The sky should be the limit for you right now, angel.

I hushed Jace’s voice in my head. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know anything about me. He didn’t know how much rejection I’d already faced and why it hurt less to accept reality rather than put myself out there.

Back to the coffeehouse gig. On the other other hand, Mo had a point. It was an awfully tidy solution to my money problems, at least until something more stable came along. But on the other other other hand, tips probably weren’t going to be nearly enough, and yeah, some money was better than no money, but the same logic that applied to fast food applied here. How was I going to search for a job if I spent enough time doing this to make any money?

And I was way the f*ck out of hands.

“You okay, Topher?” Mo asked when the silence stretched on too long.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”