Page 14 of Movers and Shakers

Not the pop star.

But all I could see was a bartender with seriously incredible dance moves. As cool as it was, it wasn’t what I came here for.

I tried to stop myself from frowning. Where was he?

“Sorry to slow things down,” I heard over the speaker. My heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the stage. I found Barry, but he looked different today. His hair was down, falling over one of his shoulders. There was volume to his hair, somethingI could never manage with mine considering it was constantly shoved under a wig.

He leaned against a stool, eyes on his guitar. His movements were fluid. Barry looked relaxed as if all of the attention on him didn’t bother him.How?The first time I was on a massive stage, I nearly passed out.

“I had a band coming to play tonight, but the singer lost her voice. They were going to do a pop mix for you all, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me and my guitar.”

“Go Barry!” the dancing bartender called.

“Now, this is a song you’ll know,” he said, “but I wanted to put a new spin on it. A friend of mine gave me this idea. I haven’t spoken to her in a while, but I hope somehow she hears this.”

He smiled as if he were remembering someone he was very fond of. Whoever she was—she was lucky.

But then Barry played a chord. I recognized it as one of my own.

No. He can’t be.

He got close to the mic, singing one of my biggest hits, but slower and in that lower register I’d played for him when I’d been here.

My knees went weak. He played the song like he’d done it a million times over. His voice, low and rough, said my lyrics with ease. It rocked me to my core.

He said he’d listened toevery wordof music. Now, I believed him.

As it came to an end, the crowd cheered for him, and I wondered how the hell he’d been here and not on massive stages in front of thousands of people.

“Oh, what’s that look on your face?” Dad asked.

I jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

“Sorry. I walked up while the performance was on. You didn’t come and dance, so I wanted to check on you, and here you are, staring at the lumberjack onstage.”

“Do you think he looks like a lumberjack?” I asked, eyes still on Barry.

“I think you were looking at him like you used to look atsomeoneelse.”

“I’m . . . He’s just cute.”

“I’d say he’s hot. For your age group, of course.”

“I can’t say that. I’m not single.”

“I know, but I haven’t seen you look at him the way you just looked at that man on the stage in a long time. Want to tell me why?”

I didn’t know why he cared. He didn’t have to.

Thankfully, before I could answer, the music started again, drowning out any possible words. Barry got off the stage and was instantly pulled into conversation by one of the women who’d been fanning herself during the performance. I don’t know why my chest sank. I wasn’t single anyway.

Dad was still looking at me expectantly, so I gestured for him to follow me and led him to the lobby.

“Things with the boyfriend and I aren’t great,” I said.

“And?”

“And I . . . I don’t know. People want me with him. You know how it is.”

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