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“Oh, a foreigner,” DJ Twist said glibly.
“Go kill ‘em, Lexie!” someone screamed. It was Blair somewhere by the far end of the room, judging by the way she was hollering, trying to be heard above the din.
“Good luck, sweetheart,” DJ Twist winked before removing himself from the stage. Lexie just barely stopped herself from clutching at his coat in terror. She felt all the blood pooling in her legs.
The familiar opening chord of the Britney Spears song started to play. Lexie felt faint. “Oh baby, baby,” she croaked, her frightened gaze glued to the monitor. The audience had gone strangely quiet. She cleared her throat. “Oh baby, baby,” she sang again, trying to look for Blair’s friendly face in the crowd, but it was too dark to make out the back end of the bar. Her eyes moved over the tables in front of the platform. Most of them appeared drunk, thank Zeus. Some were grinning at Lexie. A few were busy talking amongst themselves.
Where was Blair? Her eyes continued to pan the room while mouthing off the lyrics robotically, cringing. Her bravado had suddenly deserted her. Oh, please let this just all be a dream. She closed her eyes for an instant then opened them again. Nope, no dream. Just a foolish, embarrassing mistake.
Her eyes skittered to a stop at the right most side of the bar. In a corner stood the handsome, sexy stranger. He was clutching a beer bottle. Lexie, despite her performance anxiety or probably because of it, latched on to the fascinating detail of the cleft in his chin to keep her anchored and prevent herself from being carried away on a wave of massive embarrassment. As if sensing her stage fright, he smiled again and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
And at that instant, the alcohol must have kicked in because Lexie couldn’t explain why at that moment, her fears just melted away.
“Work it!” shrieked the still-missing but very supportive Blair.
She managed a smile. If she couldn’t sing, she would do the one other thing she knew she could do well. She glanced at the handsome stranger, grateful for his show of support, and then she worked it.
* * *
Nic had never in his entire life heard anyone singing as horribly out of tune as his lady in the red wig was now doing. He felt her pain. Clearly, she was not self-deluded, reading the embarrassment in her stiff posture, the reluctance in the way she opened her mouth to sing. Was it a dare? Because it appeared the last place she wanted to be was on that stage.
She was looking for someone amongst the crowd. Nic had thought she had gone in alone. A boyfriend perhaps, he thought, surprised at his jealousy. But then he heard a woman’s voice yelling from the crowd; “Go kill ‘em, Lexie.” The accent was American.
He saw Red or rather Lexie trying to place where the voice was coming from. Her eyes met his in her search. He smiled and flashed her the thumbs−up sign. Good luck, rojita, he thought because whatever it was she was trying to do, she obviously had to work up some courage to see it through. Nic didn’t know how he knew without having exchanged a single word with her. Just like with the horses, he knew.
“Work it, Lexie,” the same woman hollered.
He saw her force a smile and then suddenly he sensed a change in her demeanor. She was still singing, about somebody hitting her one more time. Ridiculous song, Nic scoffed mentally, but then his thought processes screeched to a grinding halt when she started moving. Her hips started swaying sinuously, undulating sexily in perfect synchrony to the beat of the music. One hand was running in sultry slowness across the top of her breasts. Nic’s mouth probably dropped open. Bloody hell. He was getting uncomfortably turned on by her dancing. And so was probably half of the audience.
Glancing at them, Nic saw the hungry, leering looks of some of the men.
“Take it off,” one of them shouted lewdly. He scanned the audience, trying to locate the dickwad. Nic was about to stalk off and pound some sense into the man when he realized the song was coming to an end.
As the final notes played, he saw Lexie with her back to the crowd. She tossed her fake hair over her shoulder, smacked her bottom, and unbelievably, with a side twist of her head, pouted at the audience. The room erupted into cheers. She bowed gracefully, one leg behind the other.
