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“Ask her who you are,” David whispered.
“So masculine, so Alpha,” Jay taunted while he choked. “Strong for a guy who beats it for a living.”
“You don’t shut up, do you?” grumbled David.
Cara whisked past them. The car was locked so climbing back inside wasn’t an option. She did not want to be in center of a brawl, so she rushed to the building and knocked on the door.
David released Jay, leaving him to recover. He caught up with her and gently took her arm.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to Tommy and Marissa.”
Cara felt oddly protected as they entered the venue which was cloaked in darkness. Even with the glow of running lights she could barely see her feet. In contrast, the light was so bright on the stage, it was as if it was gilded by the glow of heaven.
There were a number of musicians tuning their instruments and setting up, including Tommy and Marissa. Cara was proud to call them friends. She had often thought of them as a kind of wannabes, but she’d been wrong. They were the real deal.
David’s strong hands guided her through the crowd. She didn’t look down to actually see them, but she imagined his strong hands on her waist.
“This way, sunshine,” he said.
She didn’t know if he was a singer as well, but his voice was as smooth as honey. Having a hot musician call you sunshine was dangerous stuff. People on stage were not people. They were characters, dressing to the songs they played. Acting the parts that the crowd expected. Like anything else, music was a facade. A mask the musicians hid behind. She had to watch herself or she could be pulled into the fantasy.
David steered her over to a section of empty seats. Jay trailed behind.
“On stage now, Jay,” ordered David.
He leaned over her as she took her seat, his handsome face looming in front of hers.
“Do not let Jay alone with you,” he ordered. “He’s not the guy for you.”
“Got it,” she said but wondered how he knew.
Her eyes followed David as he hurried to the stage. All the musicians were in some sort of costume except David. Tommy and Marissa had spiked hair, Jay looked like a bird, but David walked on the set in beat-up jeans and a black T-shirt. Long hair. Whiskers. Put him in armor and he could have been a knight at Arthur’s round table.
This was a performance for musicians by musicians. Even still, when David was finally on stage, a hum of adoration filled the air. He was the guy. He sat behind his drums elevated so he was in full view of the audience. He was the centerpiece of the performance and the director. He clicked his drumsticks to cue everyone up, and counted them in. when he finished, the music started.
The motley collection of musicians of all different bands unified under one song. It was powerful. This wasn’t really her thing, but she liked the music a lot. With every performer up there trying to make a statement of uniqueness, Cara fixated on David. She couldn’t help but be impressed. He drummed for every song. His powerful arms wailing. His silky hair shaking around his shoulders as he hit the skins. He was hot.
Even Jay, who she thought was a total jerk, transformed as the front man for most of the songs. She had to give him credit. He knew how to put on a show. His get up off stage looked ridiculous, but under the stage lights it worked.
Tommy and Marissa stood next to each other. Marissa played bass and Tommy played rhythm guitar. He was talented enough to play lead, but he was more of a background guy. Cara had never seen them in action. She only heard stories laced with name-dropping about famous clubs and people.
After a couple long, furious ballads, they took a break. They packed the bar for cold drinks, mopping the sweat from their brows.
Tommy and Marissa made their way to Cara. She ordered her usual club soda with a lime juice top.
“Oh, and can I have a lemon twist?” she asked.
“Hitting the hard stuff,” came a sexy voice behind her.
She turned around even though she knew who it was. She was faced to face with David.
He winked.
Her heart beat like one of his drums. She drew in a breath as arousal surged through her. She tried not to be obvious, but she thought she might have actually whimpered or maybe sighed. She couldn’t be sure of much; her sense of reality was warped. All she heard was her heartbeat in her ears and the soft velvet tone of his voice.
“Make mine the same, Mickey,” he called to the bartender. “Double.”
The bartender laughed. He set down a giant plastic mug so the Mickey could fill it.
