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CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Della couldn’t stand it another second. She shot out of her chair, unable to let him face such utter rejection.
But before she could lift her hands, applause cracked the silence.
It kept going as slowly, one by one, the audience got to its feet and gave him a thunderous response. People shouted out, some whistled.
At the table next to her, she heard, “Holy shit, who is this guy?”
“I recorded it. It’s going viral, for sure.”
“What’s his name? He’s going to be huge.”
Bex lowered his head, and she couldn’t miss the exhale of relief. He stood up. “Thanks.” Lifting his guitar, he shook it and then exited the stage.
Della was on the move, making her way across the room, but before she could reach him, she heard the obnoxious man bellow, “Finally. Let’s get some real music in here. No more of that sappy shit.”
The moment Bex stepped off the last stair, she was in his arms. “You were amazing. You blew them away.” The applause hadn’t died down. “They love you, Bex. They love you.”
“Hey.” A man in a white linen short-sleeved shirt and pressed jeans approached them. “Great show.”
“Thank you.” Bex shook his hand.
“I’m Mike Tupper, talent agent. You’ve got some pipes.”
She reached for Bex’s hand and gave it a squeeze, barely able to hold back her laughter. But when she felt the tremble in his body, all her good humor subsided.
Maybe it was the adrenaline rush of performing. She hoped the drunk man hadn’t shaken him.
“Do you have representation?” Mike asked.
“I’m not really there yet.” Bex gave him a nod to end the conversation.
But Mike reached for him. “Well, hang on. You’re not as far off as you think. You’ve got something. We can work on your stage presence, get you some voice lessons.”
What the hell’s he talking about?Bex’s performance was flawless.
The man pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed Bex a card. “I’d like to work with you, get you the resources you need.” He gestured behind him. “I’m based in London, but I’ve got acts all over the world.”
“Tonight was just about having fun with my girlfriend, but thank you.”
Tipping his head to the stage, Mike indulged him with a patronizing smile. “You going to give them one more song?”
Feet stomped, and the audience chanted, “Encore, encore, encore.” And over it all, the obnoxious man shouted, “Ah, hell no. Let him go back to the commune and make daisy chains.”
“I know you’re just acoustic tonight, but do you have any livelier songs?” Mike asked. “Something to get the crowd pumped?”
“Nope. That’s it.” Bex let go of her hand. “We’re heading out.” He lifted the card. “But thanks.” He wasn’t taking payment, and he’d only brought a guitar, so they had no reason to hang around.
They slipped out the back door, breathing in the cool evening air, and headed for the main boulevard.
“Oh, my God, you were amazing. Did you hear their response?”
“I did.” He was focused on texting the driver.
“Forget the drunk guy. He’s an asshole. And the talent agent…I’m sure that’s his opening line with everyone.”
Bex looked up from texting. “Della, I’ve been doing this for years. None of it’s new.”
