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“You called your bar Apple Sours.” She was smiling now. Not the wide, flash-all-your-teeth kind, but it was another genuine one.
“I think we’ve just established that.”
“I-I just thought to fill in for a few songs, as your man was sick.”
“And because you love playing honky-tonk?”
“There is that, too. I guess I should leave now?”
She was beautiful under the soft lighting. Her face still looked tired, and her eyes smudged, but her lips were glossy, and her hair was still in a messy thing on her head. She wore a long-sleeved, loose peach shift-type dress. It hit midthigh, and on her feet were tan wedges. Her scent was subtle and now familiar, and damned if he didn’t feel a flare of intense pleasure at knowing she was here in his bar. His Bailey, as he’d once thought of her. His friend, he reminded himself. He eyed the delicate heart-shaped locket around her neck and wondered who’d given it to her.
“Why would you leave?”
“B-because of.... Just because….” Her words fell away.
“I have no idea what that meant.”
“Me either.” She looked confused. “I heard your pianist was sick, like I said, and found myself seated here the next minute.”
She was flustered now, her eyes going to him, then away again.
“Maggs told me, and we were once friends, Bailey, so I’m sure I don’t have a problem with a world-famous concert pianist playing in my bar, if you don’t have a problem with it.”
She didn’t smile; in fact, she frowned.
“However, I’m not sure I can afford you,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“I don’t expect you to p-pay me more than any of your other staff.”
“That’s a relief, because I don’t think I could afford your appearance fee.”
“I’m enjoying this more.”
The minute she said the words, Joe knew she wished she’d kept them in her head.
“I mean... I-I like playing honky-tonk, b-but don’t often get a chance to.”
Her words were flat and cold. Once, with him, she’d been full of emotion. Full of fun and sunlight. She’d filled the dark places inside him for a few hours every week for two years.
“Do you want work, Bailey?”
She didn’t meet his eye as she nodded. “Sure, I get bored easily, so work would be good.”
She was lying, he knew that, just not why.
“Okay, I can slot you in. How about for now you play two nights a week while you’re here?”
“I can do that, thank you.”
“Bailey, are you in some kind of trouble?”
Her eyes flared briefly with panic. “No, why would you think that? My life is great... wonderful. I’m taking a holiday, and I-I want to practice while I’m h-here.”
Joe didn’t buy it.
“You said you haven’t played a concert for a year; what have you been doing?”
She shrugged. “This and that.”
