Sweet Forty-Two(5)

“Come. Tonight. I’ll try to get some other people in here. You can pull something off, can’t you? It’s going to be packed in here tonight and they need music. Please?” She batted her short, dark eyelashes and he caved.

CJ nodded in my direction. “Regan plays the fiddle. Not just plays ... owns. I bet we could get Bo and Ember to come along too. They play guitar, sing…”

Georgia smiled brightly and looked right at me. “Oh, so those gorgeous eyes of yours can read more than just my breasts?”

CJ spit some of his beer back into his glass. “Burn, dude.”

“I ... uh...” I looked down immediately, vowing to never look back up.

Georgia leaned in so close I could feel her breath on my neck. “It’s okay,” was all she said before she turned away and took care of some patrons at the other end of the bar.

“Let’s get out of here before you embarrass yourself some more.” CJ slapped my back and hopped off his stool.

“I don’t even think that’s possible,” I grumbled as I followed him toward the exit.

CJ shouted across the bar as we reached the door. “See you tonight, G. Is nine o’clock okay?”

“You got it, Ceej. Nice meeting you, Regan.” Her voice brightened at the end of her sentence as if she were mocking me.

Kill me now.

“Bye.” I waved without turning around.

There was no way I’d be playing at E’s now.





Georgia

“You sure that tall drink of water is coming back tonight, G?” Lissa snatched my vampire-red lipstick from my fingers, as we got ready for the night’s shift.

It didn’t look right on her, but it made her feel right. In the end, that’s everything.

I snatched the lipstick back. It looked and felt right. Tonight would be a gold mine. I felt it.

“Did you say tall drink of water?” I chuckled without smiling, my mouth formed in an O as I finished my second coat of a sure thing. “Yeah, he’ll be back. CJ’s never turned down a gig as long as I’ve known him.”

“No, I mean that guy he was with.”

I grinned, recalling those hazel eyes on me. “That’s his cousin, Regan. I don’t know anything about him.”

Lissa finished spiking her jet-black pixie cut and closed the cap of her hair wax. “What about CJ? Is he fair game?” She pulled down the neckline of her spaghetti-strap tank top.

“Knock your socks off, Liss.” CJ was a sure thing. He’d always been.

Not with me, though. With us it was ... different. He was safe, and so was I. I gazed in the mirror, remembering our joint conquests in high school. Teaming up to find the hottest people in the bar my dad owned became a game. A game we both got damn good at in no time.

Lissa whistled to get my attention. “What’s that look? You want CJ? You can have him. That Regan guy looks like he’d be a good time.”

“Have them both, for all I care. I’ve got tips to make and I’m not counting on my old high school friend.” After applying eggplant-colored eyeliner on my top and bottom lids, I hiked the hem of my dress as far up as it would go and still be considered a dress. The unwritten rule with nighttime attire was to take more risks than daytime.

So were we.

“Jesus, Georgia,” Lissa laughed as she headed for the bathroom door, “anyone listening in on this conversation might think we were getting ready for a night of street walking, not bartending.”

“Some nights there’s no difference, really.” I arched an eyebrow and she smiled in response as we headed back behind the busy bar.

Even with my heels, I was still a couple of inches shorter than Lissa. She was waif-ish, with a dash of untreated Anorexia. Our differences in appearance worked to our advantage. It was easy to spot within a few seconds which patrons were eyeing whom, and we used that, to the delight of our wallets.

I’d been counting on Celtic Cross to draw a huge crowd, which would translate into great tips. Their last minute cancellation had me panicking until CJ walked in this afternoon. It was almost like it was a few years ago; the last time we saw each other in person. Almost.

I hadn’t done a very good job of keeping in touch over the last few years, but he’d done his part and kept quiet about my reasons for leaving Massachusetts.

“I love when you wear your hair down, you should do it more often.” Lissa was counting her drawer and I was counting mine.

“I guess.” My reverse bob was an easy choice for looking good tied up or left down. Mostly, I favored it up in a bandana. I looked to the clock and to the crowd. CJ better show.

Lissa pulled out the cutting board and a bin of limes. I grabbed a small knife and stood next to her, carving out perfect wedges the customers would barely notice. She elbowed me playfully. “When are you going to stop slumming it with us and finally open that bakery?”

I let my head hang as I sighed. “I’m not opening—”

Lissa cut me off as she rolled her eyes. “I don’t want your excuses, sister.”

“My hours are too irregular to successfully operate it. I’m here till three, at least, then I’m tired, Liss. I just want to go to bed.” I tied my apron around my waist and smoothed out the front as my lie prepared to wrinkle up the truth.