Page 8 of Melody

Thathe wasn’t used to. Ever since the band had started playing in public, he’d had girls’ eyes on him, assuring him that he was good looking enough. But he’d been with Hayley and so it wasn’t until recently that he’d been open to other women’s advances. Lately, he’d taken a few up on it—but he wasn’t ready for a relationship. It was something he’d done poorly—and, with the help of his therapist, he hoped to be a better partner for someone in the future.

But, here and now, he was getting the first fast and hard rebuff he could remember. There was no real recovery to focus on; instead, he had to at least give her an order so he could have her attention for a little longer. The problem was that he hadn’t had anything specific in mind—just a beer. And he also knew, after spending so damn much time with Wolf, his fellow guitarist and sometimes-bartender at The Apothecary, that draft beer was usually less expensive.

That gave him a chance for a few more seconds with this woman. “What do you have on tap?”

If the question frustrated her, she wasn’t showing it. “Coors, Coors Light, Blue Moon, Bud, Bud Light, Pabst Blue Ribbon, um…a Sierra Nevada IPA, Miller, and Guinness. If you’re looking for something else, we probably have it in a bottle or can.”

As much as he wanted to, he wasn’t going to ask how much it cost. He was making better money now that he had a leadership position at Burger King and someday this band would be making money they could keep, rather than putting it back into marketing and stuff. With this lovely young woman, he wasn’t going to worry about the money.

But hedidwant more of her time.

“Which would you recommend?”

Nowshe appeared frustrated. That left brow of hers curled down again in the cutest way. “I don’t know. I don’t like beer.”

“Which one sells better?”

“I don’t know. Bud Light, I guess.”

“Sold.”

Her expression softened as she nodded and moved down the bar for a moment. The taps were located near the middle of that space and she quickly slid a mug underneath a tap and pulled the handle. Tilting the mug, she let the amber liquid pour slowly against the side, keeping the foam to a minimum. Although she was doing an expert job from what Kyle could see, she was a lot slower than the other female bartender next to her, the one who’d initially tried to take Kyle’s order. That woman started filling a mug after Kyle’s bartender and finished before.

Maybe his bartender was new at this.

If so, she was going to get better fast. With a crowd like this, Kyle figured it was either sink or swim.

When she set it in front of him, she asked, “Anything else?”

“I’m still waiting for your number.” He wasn’t sure where this surge of confidence was coming from—but he knew it had to do with all the women who’d shown interest over the past few months. And, after giving up heroin, he’d filled out again so he looked way healthier than he had.

For a second, she looked like she was going to smile—but it quickly disappeared. “If I had a dollar for every guy who asked—”

Throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, he asked, “Will that cover it?”

“For my number or the beer?”

Maybe she was flirting. Kyle couldn’t quite tell—but he was going to keep talking based on that theory. “Both.”

“You don’t have enough for that.” Snatching up the bill, she punched a couple of numbers on the handheld device in front of her and then opened a drawer.

After a few seconds, she put several bills on the counter. Kyle removed the ones and left the ten-dollar bill. “That’s for you.” He knew it was an overgenerous tip, but for some reason he wanted to impress her. “How much for the number?”

Her face softened but she still refused to smile. “Why don’t you come back later when it’s not so crowded and I don’t have to shout at you? Then maybe we can negotiate.”

Holy fuck. Had it really worked?

Kyle couldn’t help but grin. “You got a deal.”

CHAPTER 4

Whew. Although Scarlett had been working weekends since starting at Tequilaville, the place was busier than ever. Al had warned her that summers were packed, but he’d failed to mention that when they had two bands playing instead of one, it would get crazier. Even karaoke drew in a huge crowd, but tonight had been off the charts.

At least Al had helped at the bar when they had no chance of catching up—and fortunately she’d gotten quicker at much of her job—pouring beer and shots, making routine drinks like a Rum and Coke or a margarita. It didn’t hurt that she’d picked up an old bartender’s guide at the used bookstore down the street and she’d studied it like crazy. Although it didn’t have newer drinks, it had directions for hundreds of other popular, well-known mixed drinks. But with such a large crowd, she’d had many first-time concoctions to create, many of which she knew she’d forget by the time the next request rolled around. Fortunately, there was a cheat sheet that even Denise, the woman she worked with the most, had to use from time to time.

Denise had figured out pretty quickly that Scarlett had exaggerated her experience on her application—even though she hadn’t seen the actual document, Al had mentioned her“credentials” upon their official introduction. And when Denise said something to her about it, Scarlett admitted as much—and was ready to beg for mercy, but there had been no need. Denise had said Scarlett had the right attitude and seemed to catch on fast enough, so the secret was safe with her.

For that, Denise had Scarlett’s respect and admiration.

---