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Carys:Good night, Cooper.
* * *
The Rathskeller is packed when I walk through the door Friday night, but it’s easy to find the guys at the bar. Even Rook is here tonight. And he’s not big on... well, he’s not big on people in general. When I join Rook, Axel, Trick, and Linc, Axe eyes me like a bug he’d like to squash.
“No flowers for our girl?”
“She’s not your girl.” I slide in next to him and flag Brenda down for a beer. “And it’s not a dance recital. You don’t bring flowers.”
“What the hell do you know about dance recitals, Sinclair?” Rook eyes me skeptically.
“More than you. My twin has been dancing since she could walk. And my sister-in-law owns a ballet studio. I know more than any man should ever have to about dance recitals. Just trust me.”
Rook shivers. “Yeah... not something I had to worry about growing up.” He’s one of six brothers who, according to him, have been trained to be military men since they were little. Guess dance wasn’t exactly part of his life.
Emerson struts toward us, her eyes locked on Linc, and you’d think, based on how she practically runs to him, it had been more than a few hours since they were together. But before I have time to give that too much thought, the band takes the stage, and I zero in on their lead singer.
She looks... holy shit. I have no words.
Carys is wearing another miniskirt, like last week, but that’s where the similarities end. Instead of leather, today’s skirt is denim. She switched last week’s knee-high boots out for a pair of pink Doc Martens, and stretching tight across her chest is a cropped, pink Philadelphia King’s t-shirt with a sparkly gold logo in the middle. Her shiny hair hangs in curls down around her shoulders, and it shimmers under the lights as she takes the front of the stage.
The guy she doesn’t live with starts off with a familiar guitar solo, and Carys sways back and forth to the music before she takes the mic in her hands and opens her mouth. The first few words of “Sweet Child O’ Mine” float throughout the bar, and the crowd goes wild just before Jack and Theo join in. A roar flows through the crowd, and her responding smile warms somewhere deep in my soul.
She dances around the stage as she sings, moving from each guitarist to the drummer and back. Then, she’s holding the microphone out to the crowd for them to sing along with the chorus. “She’s fantastic,” I say to no one and everyone, completely in awe.
“So, you manning up and taking baby momma home with you, or am I?” I know Axel’s kidding, but I throw my elbow back into his gut anyway and enjoy when he doubles over, coughing.
“Ooh. Guess it ain’t you, Axe,” Trick laughs.
“Lay off the baby momma shit, and I’ll let you walk out of here tonight. Call her that again, and we’re gonna have a problem, brother.” I cut my eyes to him, and the fucker’s eyes are watering as he decides which he wants to do more—breathe or laugh.
Once he catches his breath, he stands tall and looks around at the guys. “Pay up, assholes. I was right. It took a week.” He opens his palm and shoves it in the guys’ grumbling faces as each one pulls a twenty out and slaps it down. “Told ya.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Emerson asks as Linc moves her from his lap to grab his wallet from his back pocket.
Axel drops the money down on the bar and wiggles his eyebrows at Brenda. “Brenda... love of my life. Drinks are on me for the team tonight.” He stretches over the bar like he’s going to kiss her until she smacks him with her towel.
“Drinks are on Axel, boys. What are ya having?” She lines up a row of shot glasses, knowing us all too well.
“Well, since you asshats are betting on me, I think this calls for some Don Julio.”
Once the tequila is poured, we raise our glasses.
“To claiming the girl,” Rook offers. “It’s about motherfucking time.”
“To claiming the girl,” the guys repeat.
“Woo! I’ll drink to that.” Emerson throws her shot back, then grimaces from the burn before her eyes grow wide as they catch on something across the bar. “Oh my God. Dad?” She jerks away from Linc and runs over to Stone Madden and his entourage, who just walked through the doors of the Rat. He’s wearing a hat pulled low over his eyes. Guess it’s his attempt to go unnoticed. Shame it’s not working. Everyone in the back half of the bar noticed him as soon as he walked through the door.
Rook stands from his stool and stares hard at Linc. “Her dad is Stone Madden? What part of low profile do you not understand?”
Linc watches his girl. “Relax, man. My profileislow. Em isn’t the famous one.” His argument doesn’t satisfy Rook, but the team’s number two doesn’t push it for now because Emerson walks over with her dad, followed by the lead singer of Black Stone, Eddie Black.
Ho-ly. Shit. They’re rock royalty.
Stone’s girl from the other day is attached to his arm, and Emerson has hers linked through Eddie’s as she makes the introductions.
But before she can finish, Eddie whistles. “Wow, look at Jacky boy up there. He remind you of us at that age, Stone?” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and watches the stage with an eagle eye. “Who’s the singer?”
