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“Wow.” She wipes the fry grease from her hands onto a paper napkin, then takes a sip of her water. “That’s awful.”
“I’m not an asshole because of that. I’m not dishonest about my intentions.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I may be going through a rough patch when it comes to love. I may be a little off, and angry right now, but Iwantcompanionship someday. I want love. You’re just choosing to be alone. For what, forforever?”
I open my mouth to speak. To say what, I don’t know. Thankfully, I’m cut off by a garish looking woman wearing a hot pink jumpsuit and a giant red nest of hair sitting on top of her head.
“Hello, hello, hello, Little Billies…”
“Aye, Barb! Oy, oy, oy!” the bar sing-songs its response.
Somebody shoot me.
“Who’s up for some singing tonight?” She croaks into the microphone, the three packs of cigarettes she smokes a day clear in her baritone. The bar crowd yells, bubbling with excitement.
This is my worst nightmare.
“Who’s brave enough to be our first rockstar?”
Just when I’m about to suggest to Winter that we walk down the road to one of the more elegant establishments so we can speak in a quieter setting, Winter raises her hand.
“Me…” she calls out, her voice quiet and shaky. She clears her throat, gathering courage. “I’ll sing.”
“What are you doing?” I say, my eyes widening.
“I’m going to sing. You coming?”
A laugh immediately escapes me. “Not a chance, Little Billie. This is all you.”
Winter laughs, then swallows down the rest of her whiskey before sliding out of the booth and walking her sexy ass onto the stage. Every single eye in the bar is soaking up her presence. But her eyes are on me, searching my face.
Am I horrified for her? Embarrassed? Do I approve?She appears to be wondering.
I wink, telling her I’m only a few feet away, comforting my new roommate as if she needs it.
And when didthathappen? When did she start giving a shit what I think? And when did I start giving a shit if she’s comforted or not?
“Alright, honey. What do you plan on singing for us tonight?”
“Um…” Winter giggles, her hair falling into her eyes. She bites her bottom lip, nervously, and fuck if my hardening cock isn’t threatening to flip this table. “‘Elastic Heart’ by Sia,” she says.
The crowd yells and growls for her. The group of neck-tattooed hipsters at the corner of the bar adjust their matching fake black rimmed glasses and tap each other’s Pabst Blue Ribbon tallboys together.
Winter’s golden-brown eyes sparkle and scan the room. Then settle back on me.
“Here’s to getting through rough patches alive.” She lifts the microphone in my direction, and the crowd cheers as the music fills the room with its upbeat melody.
Let’s be clear, I’m expecting Winter to suck. I’m expecting this little firecracker to take the stage like the fearless, big mouthed, ball-buster she is and own the stage while looking sexy as hell and sucking horribly. Which would add to her charm, sure, but it wouldn’t particularly peg this moment in time as epic.
Let’s be clear about something else, I’m not used to being wrong. I’m typically not. I’ve received a top-notch education, and a lot of it. I’ve had tutors teaching me college courses since I was fourteen and a life that’s provided me with the means to travel, explore, and experience differing cultures. It’s not often I have to swallow down the bitter pill of inferiority.
But when Winter opens her mouth to sing the first verse, the pill—as big as the state of Texas—gets lodged in my throat so forcefully, it chokes me. First I stare, fixated, in awe, not sure what I’m actually seeing, or hearing, andfeeling.
Then the second verse leaves her lips, and I scan the crowd. There’s no doubt they’re all thinking the same thing I am:Where the hell did you come from, you goddess?
Winter sways her hips to each word. She leans back and elongates her beautiful neck to sing the runs, her voice angelic and hauntingly raspy equally.
She’s fuckingperfect.
