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Jude’s skin reddens and he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m free tonight.”
The last word lifts up in an almost question, and I try not to smile.
“Actually, I’m playing at a club tonight. If you want to come.”
Izzy stops what she’s doing, ultimately holding up the line, but they can wait. “Oh, what kind of club?”
“Jazz.”
She gasps and then holds up her hands in excitement. “I love jazz. Text him the address and time. We will be there.”
Jude’s mouth opens and closes. “Yeah, okay. Text me the info.”
People start grumbling behind us, so I move out of the way, feeling my heart thundering in my chest as I grab my sandwich and leave.
He’s gonna come watch me play.
Fuck. I can’t believe I invited him to the show. That’s not something I ever thought I’d do. This was just supposed to be a fuck and run.Goddamnit, I think as I sit in my truck and place my head on the steering wheel. I shouldn’t have done that. What if it jogs his memory?
The thought makes my stomach turn.
No, it won’t. It can’t. He hasn’t recognized me yet. He probably won’t ever remember, and he doesn’t ever need to know.
I start my car and drive toward home just as my phone pings.
I glance down at it and feel my lips turn up at the corners.
Ah, my delivery just arrived.
Perfect timing.
CHAPTER 8
JUDE
“What do you think?” I ask Ollie, who is bouncing on his toes near the doorway to my room.
“You look super hot,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows. He’s wearing a full suit and a top hat. He looks like a Victorian supermodel. I glance at my tight jeans, button-up shirt, and casual blazer and suddenly feel underdressed.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Alec will totally dig it.”
I clear my throat, running a hand across my beating heart. “I don’t care what he thinks. I just want to make sure they let me inside.”
“Yeah, okay,” Ollie says with a roll of his eyes and then bounds toward me and hangs off my shoulders. “Can we go, please? I want to make sure we aren’t stuck in the queue outside.”
I nod and then follow him out to the car. I invited Lucas to come with us, but he declined, stating he had other plans. Not sure what those plans are and not sure I care.
No, right now all I can think about is how my heart is thundering in my chest the closer and closer we get to the club. Ollie is chattering non-stop about global warming and, as usual, I bob my head as I semi-listen to him. His words become a low buzzing as soon as we find parking and make our way to the club. I can hear that the band has already started to play. It doesn’t sound like what I expected a jazz club to sound like. It’s more pop than anything.
They check our IDs at the door and we walk into the small venue. It’s dimly lit with a long bar on the right where a man wearing a vest and tie is pouring drinks. The walls are covered in posters and a large stage sits at the front of the room where the band is.
“I think I overdressed,” Ollie says, pulling his hat off and running a hand through his hair. “This is more pop than jazz. But I’m digging it.”
I nod as I glance around the room. People are listening to the band, drinks in their hands as I skim by them, and my gaze immediately falls on Alec on stage, wearing a partially unbuttoned shirt and tight black jeans, a saxophone at his lips. My entire body lights up at the sight.
His eyes are closed and his body is slowly rocking with the beat.
