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We sat there for the next few hours, taking turns singing each song. The way he looked at me when I sang made me feel incredible. He smiled as I hit the final note, his eyes studying me intently.
“I guess that’s enough for today. I can’t keep you here all night.”
Oh God, yes you can.
Blushing, I stood up, smoothing out my sweater. “Thanks for this. I feel a lot more confident about everything now,” I admitted.
“You have nothing to worry about. Your voice is amazing. It’s impossible not to listen when you sing.”
My heart swelled. He loved my voice. I felt giddy as he walked me out to my car. He smirked at me as I fumbled with my keys. Damn my shaking hands.
“Next rehearsal is Tuesday. I’ll see you then, Micah.”
The previous few hours played over and over in my mind all the way home.
I’d just spent half my afternoon singing with Saxon Waite. This was like a dream. Anxiety filled my stomach. My natural instinct was to be wary of positive things happening to me, because all too often, the good things in my life fell apart.
This time will be different. It has to be.
I’d worked so hard for this. I refused to let anything stand in my way.
Chapter Seven
Micah
I woke early Monday morning, and the first thing I did was call the diner and resign. Marlon was annoyed at my lack of notice, but with the band going on tour there wasn’t much I could do about it.
Hanging up, I called Dee to arrange to meet her for coffee. We still hadn’t caught up since she’d deserted me at the bar on Friday night. Not that I was still annoyed…well, not much, anyway.
We had a regular spot where we liked to meet at least every couple of weeks. It was inside one of the fancier hotels in Hollywood. When you spent all day working at a diner, it was nice to experience something with a little more class. The Sheridan fit that bill perfectly.
I pushed my way through the revolving door that led into the lobby of the hotel. No matter how many times I came here, the place took my breath away. With its high ceilings, chandeliers, and rare artwork hanging on the walls, it was everything I wasn’t: classy, elegant, and decadent. Still, no matter how out of place I felt, it was nice to dream every now and then.
Dee was sitting in our usual spot by the window. She waved when she saw me.
“Hey,” she grinned, combing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’ve ordered already.”
I nodded. We always got the same: a high tea, complete with tiny cakes and sandwiches, all placed delicately on a tall serving platter. It was very un-American, which was what we loved about it.
I sat down, smoothing out my cream-colored sweater, and reached for my glass of water.
“So, what happened to you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“I’m sorry, M. There was this guy and we got talking…” She smiled and I rolled my eyes. “He was really nice, and we ended up back at his place. I’ll pay you back the cab fare,” she added, reaching for her purse.
“Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled, blushing.
“Why not…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me, Micah?”
“I don’t even know where to start. I got the job.” I put up my hand to hush her celebrations. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”
“It gets better than that?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I gig
gled. “It does when your new manager is Saxon Waite.”
“No way. You’re kidding. You’re joking, aren’t you? Is this some kind of weird payback for leaving you stranded? Am I being Punk'd?” she accused glancing around for signs of a camera crew and Ashton. We were in LA after all.
