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I jumped at the question and glanced Asher’s way where he was kneeling next to an amp and plugging in guitar cords. When my gaze connected with his curious green one, a tickle in my stomach made all my girly parts tweak to life. “Um...yeah.”
Wow, look at me, with my awesome extensive vocabulary around the pretty boy. If I didn’t check myself soon, I’d be drooling on him next.
He grinned, and sure enough, I had to swallow some drool. “But you’d rather go by Sticks?”
I shrugged. “Whatever.” Telling myself to say more words, I lamely added, “Either works.”
His chuckle made my hormones whimper. I tried to ignore him and prepare my area, but everything already appeared to be pretty much in order. All I had to do was lower my stool and hi-hat, move the pedals a tad bit closer, re-adjust the snare-drum and shift the toms an inch. So I found myself hovering around Asher, asking him if he needed me to do anything else, while around us, down on the ground floor, other bar workers milled about, preparing the club for opening.
“Umm...” He bit his bottom lip as he glanced around the stage. “Actually, I think we’re good to go. I’m usually the only one who comes in to prepare so I get here pretty early, but if you want to make a habit of it, I can show you the storage closet where we keep everything and how the sound system works.”
I tried not to watch how his lip popped free of his teeth, but it was so freaking sexy, I had to clear my throat before saying, “Sure. That’d be cool.”
I had to move closer to him to better see all the features he pointed out, and man, the guy even smelled amazing. Not fair.
Inhaling deeply, I went lightheaded from the amount of times I breathed him in. Then he sneezed, and por Dios, even that was adorably sexy.
When Asher paused in his demonstration and I said, “This is a pretty sweet setup,” my voice went higher than usual, making it sound extra feminine.
I usually had a slightly hoarse, raspier sound to my vocal chords and people over the phone had often confused me for a guy. But right then, I didn’t sound like one at all. Snapping a worried glanced to my right, I was relieved when Asher didn’t seem to notice.
He grinned proudly and said, “Thanks.”
I was too busy stewing over my worries; it took me a moment to realize what he was saying. Finally, I shook my head. “Wait. You just said thanks as if you set this up?”
When he nodded, still grinning out his pride, I returned my attention to the panel of knobs and buttons with new awe. “Impressive. And here, I thought it belonged to the club.”
“Oh, it does.” I glanced at him, frowning my confusion, so he explained. “When Pick—the club’s owner—hired me on, he let me have free reign to install any kind of stage and sound system I wanted. So...I did.”
I shook my head, even more lost. “You...work here
?” Did that mean I worked here too? Shit, was I going to have to turn in legal forms, like social security numbers and such?
It was one thing to fib for one night to get to play drums, but lying to the government—yeesh. What had I gotten myself into?
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a long story. I came in one day, trying to beg a night for us to play, but he only needed a bartender. So...we made a deal. I work bar on the nights we don’t play, and he pretty much let me build up anything to do with music in this place that I wanted. He gives me two hundred for Fridays, which...I split up between us four members and pay you guys out with cash.” He paused to send me an apologetic wince. “Sorry, fifty bucks isn’t much, but...”
“Hey, it’s more than I ever got for playing before,” I said, relieved I was getting cash and thrilled I was getting any money.
Asher laughed. “Yeah, that was kind of my mindset when we began too.” Clapping me on the back of my shoulder and scaring the crap out of me when he slightly jostled my foam chest out of place, he grinned big. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine, Sticks.”
I momentarily forgot that I needed to readjust my fake chest back into place. But really, when Asher Hart smiled at me with such approval, life was freaking perfect.
This was going to be a night I’d never forget.
“Good evening, Ellamore. Welcome to Forbidden!”
Asher’s greeting into the microphone had a ton of screaming fans—mostly women—rushing the stage, arms waving wildly. I grinned from my safe little stool behind the drum set as Asher had to skip another two steps in reverse to keep grabby girl hands from reaching him.
His nervous laugh echoed through the speaker system right before he said, “It’s nice to see all you ladies too, but let’s get to some music, shall we?”
The women began to chant something that sounded like “If I Knew,” which wasn’t the title of any song Non-Castrato played. I frowned in confusion, wondering what the heck they were talking about.
Asher glanced back at us, mouthing “‘Counting Stars,’” and then he went and lifted his eyebrows my way, giving me a thumbs-up sign.
I wasn’t nervous, didn’t usually have a problem in front of crowds. And with my mask on, there wasn’t even a twitch of performance anxiety. I guess my subconscious knew that if I flubbed anything up, it’d be fine because no one knew it was really me. But the second Asher sent me that little thumbs-up of approval and support, silently letting me know I’d do fine, a little hitch in my heartbeat sent everything inside me haywire.
So I blamed him completely when I dropped a freaking drumstick.
