When the song ended, applause and whistles exploded.
A guy with silver-streaked hair pushed to the stage edge, shouting over the railing. "Hey, sweetheart! You just stopped my heart! Sing the next one for me, yeah? I'll buy you a drink—the most expensive!"
His buddies laughed.
I caught my breath, fingers raking through damp hair, and smiled at him. "If you're still here tomorrow, maybe I'll take that drink."
Back in the dressing room, Gina burst in like a cannonball and threw her arms around me. "Oh my God! Natalie, you were stunning! I guarantee at least a dozen guys out there are scheming to get your number!"
I laughed, pulling free. "You're exaggerating."
"Not even a little." A male voice, amused, cut in.
Landon leaned against the doorframe, holding an envelope and two glasses of whiskey.
He handed me one, green eyes full of undisguised appreciation, gaze sliding from my damp neck to the dress straps before returning to my face. "Seriously, Natalie, you owned that room tonight. My bar hasn't been this alive in ages."
"Thanks. Your bar has good energy." I took the glass but didn't drink.
Despite the adrenaline, I hadn't forgotten about the little one in my belly.
"Good energy needs a good soul." Landon stepped closer, close enough I could smell his faint cologne. He handed me the envelope. "Tonight's pay, like we agreed."
I opened it. Three hundred-dollar bills. Three hundred dollars. Probably less than a custom button on Richard's suit. But right now, in my hands, they felt heavy. This was the first money I'd earned for myself since leaving Richard.
"Wow," I heard myself whisper. "This feels good."
"This is just the beginning." Landon leaned against the vanity, relaxed but commanding. "Seriously, ever thought about signing with someone? Your voice, your stage presence... I know people at record labels. I could make introductions. You deserve a bigger stage, Natalie. You could be famous."
People told me that before I married Richard.
"Thanks, Landon." I put the cash in my purse. "But I'm not thinking about that yet. Right now, I just want to survive."
Landon raised an eyebrow. He sipped his drink and smiled. "Fair enough. Actually works out for me. With you here, my revenue might double." His smile deepened. "Of course, I'd rather you just keep singing happily, wherever that is."
"Hey, you two, done chatting?" Gina downed her drink, cheeks flushed. "Natalie's exhausted. Landon, be a gentleman and drive her to Winslow Apartments? She's your star tonight."
Winslow Apartments was where Landon housed Mustang employees. While I worked there, I could stay.
Late-night Los Angeles glowed orange-red, streetlights scorching sections of asphalt into halos, making the whole city look like it had just finished a party.
I sat in the passenger seat, window cracked, night air rushing in, dispersing the lingering stage heat.
Landon and I chatted casually. He was good at conversation—funny, knew when to stop, but would subtly steer things back to me. I recognized this as a test between man and woman.
"So, Natalie," he turned the wheel at a corner, profile sharp in the dashboard glow, "are you single?"
"Newly single."
"Does the recovery period require company? I mean," his fingers tapped the steering wheel, glancing at me, "I'd happily apply for the position."
His other hand rested casually on the gear shift, inches from my knee. I could smell his cologne mixed with whiskey and faint tobacco.
I played dumb. "What's the job description?"
"On-call boyfriend. I guarantee, whether in bed or out, I'm top-tier."
God, he was direct.
