Page 38 of Behind the Bars

I gave her a halfway smile as she fixed my tie. “Thanks,sister.”

“Anytime,brother.”

I waited on the front porch for Jasmine to pull up. She’d told me earlier that week that her dad-who-wasn’t-really-her-dad, Ray, was going to be dropping us off and picking us up. That added a whole new level of nerves to the idea of my firstdate.

As the car pulled up and parked, I walked down the steps toward the sidewalk. A man climbed out of the driver’s seat and approachedme.

Jasmine hurried out of the car, shouting, “Be nice,Ray!”

“I’m always nice,” he replied, his voice stone cold. As he walked up to me, my shoulders slumped and my nerves built up more and more. Ray took off his sunglasses, and I lost mymind.

“Holy crap, you’re Ray Gable!” I shouted, my mindexploding.

Ray’s harsh stare softened. “You knowme?”

“You know him?” Jasmineechoed.

“Know you? You’re only the amazing guitarist and lead vocalist for Peter’s Peak. Not to be dramatic, but I’m your b-b-biggest fan. Can I just say onething?”

“Sure.” Ray smirked, appearing somewhat excited to berecognized.

“Please don’t gomainstream.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well…” I cleared my throat, the knot in my stomach tightening. “When indie artists go mainstream, the world of music loses true talent because the music industry turns you into money-hungry demons that lose all sense of self and start sounding more like bubble gum and less like music. It has happened to a lot of the greatest artists out there, and I would hate for it to happen to you because your music is raw and real, too great to sacrifice for money—not that I’m saying I don’t want you to succeed and make money, because I mean, I’m sure that’s the goal, and more people should know Peter’s Peak exists, but, it’s just that I would hate for you to lose what youhave.”

After I finished speaking, I let out a deepsigh.

“Whoa,” Jasmine murmured, stunned. “You just went into full fanboy mode, and you didn’t even stutteronce.”

“Snow White”—Ray tilted his head toward her—“why didn’t you tell me your friend had the best taste inmusic?”

“Oh God,” Jasmine moaned, slapping her hand against herface.

“Come on, Elliott. Let’s get a move on,” Ray said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Your cologne smellsgreat.”

I could’ve died a happy man right then andthere.

The whole ride over to Bourbon Street, Ray and I talked about all things music. He gave me songs to listen to, and I gave him some of my favorites to check out. Jasmine sat in the back of the car, and she was lucky enough to take part in the forming of a truebromance.

“You’ll have to wear bowties, dude. Your tie is great, but chicks dig bowties,” Ray told me, and I took his notes to heart. As he pulled up to the French Quarter, Jasmine was quick to jump out of the car. I thanked Ray for the ride, and my hand went to open the door, but when I pulled, it wouldn’tbudge.

“Sorry buddy, you’re locked in,” Ray said, sliding his sunglasses backon.

“Oh?” I went to unlock it, and he was quick to lock it back. “Um…” I swallowed hard and turned to look at him. The cool musician was gone, replaced by the overprotective dad-who-wasn’t-really-her-dad.

“She’s a great girl,” he toldme.

“Yes,sir.”

“She’s the most important thing in my life. If you hurt her, I will find you, take your saxophone, and shove it down your throat. Do you understandme?”

“Yes, sir?” I said with a shakyvoice.

“Is that aquestion?”

“No! It’s the answer, Ray. Jeez, back off. He answers things with question marks, it’s no big deal. Now let him out,” Jasmineshouted.

---