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Laki: The Della I know glistens. She most certainly does not sweat.
Looking down at her phone, she chuckled. And really, he was right to distract her because Bex was on that stage, and he was going to sing, so she could imagine the worst, or she could trust that this unbelievably talented man would win over the crowd.
Bex started strumming. “Evening.” Only a few stopped talking to pay attention to him. “How’s everyone enjoying paradise?”
The scattered applause and single call of “Woo hoo” was disheartening. Most of the patrons continued drinking and chatting.
As much as she wanted to stand up and tell everyone to pay attention to this brilliant man, she kept her butt firmly in the chair. She didn’t even clap or whistle.
He needed to get the response from the crowd. Not his lover.
“All righty, so here goes.” He glanced up, eyes hidden by the bill of his cap.
But nothing could hide that shy, sweet grin.
Please be good to him.
I beg you all…listen.
You’ll be blown away.
And then he shot her a look. I’m doing this for you.
She gave him a big smile. I’m so damn proud of you I can’t even stand it.
And even if you bomb, I’m still going to peel your clothes off with my teeth.
He chuckled.
He could read her so well.
And then…he started strumming.
He got about halfway through his first song when the boisterous man cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Kick it up a notch, why don’t ya?”
Consummate professional that he was, Bex played right through it. As soon as he finished, he went right into the next tune, not giving the man the slightest opportunity to disrupt his set.
But the group continued to slam back shots and talk over the music.
Someone from another table said, “Hey. Come on. Quiet down.”
The man pushed his chair back and stood up. “Enough with the sad folk song shit. We’re here to party.”
“Go back to your cruise ship, asshole,” someone in the corner called.
Bex continued to play, not giving the man any attention. She was so damn proud of him. So happy to see him immersed in his songs. And, frankly, other than that one table, everyone else was mesmerized in his gorgeous melodies and riveted by his performance. Even the servers stopped what they were doing to listen.
And then he finished.
He set down his guitar and looked up.
Everyone stared. Not a single sound in the room.
Bex forced a smile. “Thanks for putting up with me tonight.” Tipping his hat back, he scanned the room, features tense with anxiety.
And not a single person clapped.
The room was dead silent.
