Page 34 of Taking a King

Ronan laughs under his breath making her shoot a glare at him. “Not a word out of you, mister.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Van joins us for a few minutes when he takes a break from running the bar, but he’s quiet and clearly distracted. It’s a busy Friday night, after all. And this is one of the most popular restaurants in town. The rest of us eat, drink and share stories while we wait for 9pm to roll around. The bar area starts to fill up while the dining room seems to have less plates of food and more drinks on the tables. Eventually, Van takes the stage.

“Alright everyone, listen up,” he says, trying to get the crowd’s attention. It sort of works. About half the people in the place stop their conversations to look over toward the stage. Van goes on.

“As some of you know, we like to do live music here on the weekends. Tonight, you’re in luck because my baby sister is going to come up here and dazzle you.” He gestures toward our table. “Claire, get up here.”

Claire turns to me. “That’s my cue,” she says, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. She winks as she stands. “Wish me luck.”

I smile, knowing she doesn’t need luck.

Claire takes the stage to scattered applause. Most of the crowd isn’t paying much attention to the stage yet. They’re all either lost in conversation or their drinks. I look around the room and wonder how every eye isn’t already on her. Surely, they can see what I see, right? The lights shine on her fiery hair and the dress she’s wearing clings just enough to set my imagination alive. I don’t know how everyone isn’t staring at her the way I am. The crowd quiets a bit once she begins to speak, but I’m not focused on them anymore.

“How’s everyone tonight?”

A low chorus of cheers goes up. It’s early enough that most of the crowd is still sober.

Claire smiles and keeps talking as she adjusts her guitar strap on her shoulder. “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Claire King and once or twice a week I con my brothers into letting me sing at their restaurant for tips.”

More cheers go up. These are mostly from the restaurant staff and King family members. I join in, adding my voice to the chorus of cheering.

Claire’s smile widens. “I love to take requests,” she says. “So, if you have one, write it down and drop it in the basket there.” She nods toward a basket down near her feet. “If it’s attached to something green, it usually gets priority.” She shrugs. “A girl’s gotta eat.”

“You eat here for free!” Someone shouts from the crowd.

“Yeah, but I always tip my server!” Claire responds with a good-natured laugh that makes the crowd chuckle.

She looks down at the guitar and strums a chord before addressing the crowd once more. “Alright guys don’t be shy. If you know the words, sing along.” Then she begins to play.

The song is one I know, even if I don’t know enough of the words to sing along. It doesn’t matter though, because half the bar seems to know the words and joins in with Claire, at least for the chorus. It’s one of Ed Sheeran’s hits from several years ago. It’s fast-paced and upbeat and the perfect song to start with. By the time the song nears its end, several people have made their way up to the stage to toss money and little slips of paper into the basket.

If I found it hard to keep my eyes off Claire at dinner, it’s virtually impossible when she’s singing. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. Claire on the stage is mesmerizing. It’s clear she was born to perform, no matter what she says. I forget all about the crowded restaurant, the rowdy college kids at the bar, the fact that most of her family is here and likely watching me. I forget everything but Claire. She commands the audience to give her attention, without seeming to try. She addresses the crowd after finishing her first song, smiling and even seeming to flirt a bit as she works the audience.

The next song is a request. Claire unfolds the slip of paper and reads it. I can tell she’s holding back a smile. She tilts her head in a little nod. “Okay, why not? This next one is to Sarah, and I’ve been instructed to read the entire note out loud.”

I hear a loud cheer go up from another part of the restaurant followed by female laughter.

Claire goes on, smiling now. “It says, ‘Brandon can go to hell.’”

An even louder cheer erupts from that same area of the restaurant, and I hear a female voice shout, “Fuck Brandon!”

Hannah and Quinn share a laugh and Ronan raises his beer to his lips.

“Glad I’m not Brandon,” Finn mutters. Hannah kisses his cheek and smiles.

“Sorry Brandon,” Claire says, “But we ladies have to stick together.”

She begins to play, and I recognize the song almost immediately. Pink singing about not being all dressed up just to be ogled by men at a bar. Whoever Brandon is, I’m guessing he’s going home alone to spend time with his hand tonight. A laugh escapes me, and I go back to watching Claire sing. Every woman in the place is singing along. I have to admit, it’s always been a catchy tune. My eyes trail over Claire’s bare legs in that dress. All I can think is that I’m glad this song isn’t directed at me.

Claire keeps going, singing song after song, playing the crowd perfectly. Sometimes she uses her guitar. Other times, she sits at the piano. She has them eating out of her hand. People are dropping little slips of paper into the basket as well as just tossing bills in. She’s totally in her element on-stage. It’s so clear she was born to sing and perform. Even the loud frat boys seem to calm down a bit when she sings a stripped-down version ofEverybody Wants to Rule the World.It makes me wonder why she never pursued music as a career. I remember my conversation with Van from a few days before. She loves it here. She loves this town and playing at Mack’s on the weekend. She doesn’t want fame or wealth. She’s happy playing for tips and teaching Liam to play piano. I envy her certainty in her place here. It’s something I’ve never felt in my own life and career. Hell, I still don’t know if I want to be a Marine and I’ve been doing it for nearly a decade.

By the time the night ends, Claire is flushed from the lights and the excitement. She’s also racked up a decent amount of money in tips. She bids the customers goodnight to good-natured boos. Though some of those might also be due to her announcement for last call.

Wyatt comes over from the bar with a tall glass of ice water and a short glass of whisky. He sets both down on the table seconds before Claire makes her way over from the stage. I open my mouth to tell her how amazing she was, but she holds up a hand to stall me. I watch her pick up the water and down the entire glass in one go before lowering it to the table and sinking into the empty chair. She lets out a happy sigh and turns to me.

“Okay, go,” she says.

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