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Chapter 1
Lola
“Thatwasaprettysong you sang, little songbird.”
I turned around, suppressing a sigh. I’d been touring for the last two months, and despite that, I’d never gotten used to the attention the men paid me after my shows. The man smiled, and my eyes flickered over his face. One of his teeth was missing, replaced by a gold one. His tie was loose at his throat, his skin aged and papery.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling politely. I didn’t want to be rude, but I sure wasn’t in the mood to be bothered. The show had gone great, and I was after nothing more than a quiet drink. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I said.
“Hey,” said the man, and then again, as I stepped away. “Hey,” he repeated, a little more frustrated this time. “Aren’t you gonna let me buy you a little drink,canary?” He laughed at his own joke.
“No thank you,” I said, putting on a smile. That was the way my mom always taught me to be, I guess. Put on a smile, even when the world was handing you nothing but heartache. And heartache was my best friend these days. My college boyfriend, Alan, had given me two options: pursue my professional career as a singer in Indonesia over the Winter, or stay cooped up in our cramped, cold apartment in Brooklyn. I was starting to wonder whether I’d made the right choice as the stranger’s hand brushed over my arm, and I smelled the stink of rum on his breath.
“What’s the matter?” he said. “You think you’re too good for me?”
“Actually,” I said, as politely and sweetly as I could, “I don’t think anything about you, sir. I’m just enjoying a drink before I go back to my hotel.Alone.”
The drunk growled, and then before I knew it, he’d stood up from his stool.
“You think being smart like that is a good idea?” he snapped.
And then, something happened which changed everything.
“Excuse me,” said a rough, dark voice. “The young lady and I were just looking for each other.”
We weren’t. As a matter of fact, I’d never even seen the tall man who’d just stepped between me and the drunk. His shoulders were broad, and his back was wide.
The man with the gold tooth scowled, and turned away.
“Are you all right?” said the stranger, and I looked up at him. He wore a red silk tie, elegantly knotted around his collar, and his stubble was carefully trimmed. His eyes were a piercing blue, and looked out at me from the center of a sharp, angular face with a strong jaw, and prominent cheekbones. The picture of strength, of handsomeness.
“I’m fine,” I said, a little breathless at the sight of his gorgeous face. “Thanks to you,” I added.
The stranger exhaled in relief, and I felt his touching concern for me. But his face grew dark. “What are you still doing here?” he snapped. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“Well," I said, laughing. "There's no need to be angry about it. Lola Ryder,” I said, extending my hand.
“Alex Lowe,” said the man in return. He gripped my tiny hand in his enormous paw, and I felt an electric thrill run down my arm. “And I know who you are. I came to hear you sing tonight.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Did you enjoy the performance?”
“I did,” said Alex. His voice was dark and deep. “You’re very talented, Miss Ryder. How long have you been singing?”
I was suspicious—I’d just had the attention of one unwanted male admirer, and I wasn’t sure I needed any more. But Alex seemed to be a good man, even if he was a little rude. And I sure liked the look of him.Here’s a fan I want to spend some time with!
“I’ve been singing for a year now,” I said. “But, all my life, I guess.” I’d always wanted to be a musician since I was a little girl.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he said.
“Well, no. I’m from New York,” I said.
“New York?” he said. “Well, that’s interesting. So am I.”
“What do you do there?”
“I run a few bars. Tell me, Lola. What’s a jazz singer from New York doing all the way out here in Bali?”
I smiled, bashfully. “I guess it’s the only gig I could find. I’ve only been singing professionally for a year or so.” I smiled.
