Page 58 of Meet Me in Montreal

Virgil said, “You made it. Guys, this is Ling Wu, my um… Ling this is Santino D’Alessio Donahue and Vanessa Donahue. Vanessa.” He paused, running his eyes over her appreciatively. “Wow. You look beautiful tonight.” When Santino frowned at him, he only laughed. “Look at this guy. He’s feral for his woman. Anyway, Ling, Santino’s family makes that pinot noir you love so much.”

Ling had been staring at Bobby, her red lips parted. Then she smiled, extended her hand and shook both of theirs. “Good to meet you. I’d consider a trip to Italy just to get more.” Her voice was soft and pleasant with a trace of a French accent.

“Thank you. My brother, Nico, has started offering tours of the vineyard. Tell him I sent you and you’ll get a private one,” Santino offered.

“That would be amazing,” Ling responded. “Maybe Virgil and I will take you up on that.”

Vanessa had to withhold a grin when Virgil’s eyebrow quirked at that plan. He didn’t confirm it, his gaze moving on to Bobby and Zoe. “And you must be Robert and Zoe Watson. Great to meet you. I’m Virgil Li.”

“Hi,” Zoe purred, swiveling a little with a practiced shy gaze. Her face fell when Virgil didn’t compliment her, and Vanessa had to hide a mean grin.

“Nice to meet you. I hear we have you to thank for these new tickets,” Bobby said, shaking Virgil’s hand with a strained smile.

“The more the merrier. It’s gonna be a great night. I freaking love Panthro. If he were the only artist playing the festival, it would still be worth it,” Virgil replied with enthusiasm.

“I could not agree more,” Bobby responded. His eyes shifted to Ling, then back to Virgil.

“In the meantime, your brother-in-law told me you’re one of the top pediatric heart surgeons in the States. That’s soimpressive. My mom would kill to have you as a son, but I had to do this janky hotel thing.”

While Ling and Zoe laughed loudly at his little hotel conglomerate billionaire humor, Bobby cast a surprised glance at Santino, who rolled his eyes but then grinned. He remained silent as he let Virgil take the floor as their host. That was Santino; he’d talk shit about someone to their face if he didn’t like them but would speak highly of those he did admire behind their back.

“I’m actually a neonatologist. I work on newborns with heart conditions.”

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t know there was a difference,” Virgil said after a pause. Still smiling, he gestured at Ling. “You and Ling might have a lot in common. She works for a company that produces fake hearts.”

“Artificial hearts,” Ling corrected with a gentle touch on his arm.

“Anyway, drinks, drinks, drinks,” Virgil exclaimed, signaling the waitstaff to come over and start taking orders. “You know what? I’m gonna bust in your box with you guys, if that’s alright. I was supposed to sit with these stiffs from Vancouver to talk business, but I have a feeling seeing the show with you will be a whole lot more fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Santino responded, but mercifully restrained himself from following it up with a whoop.

By the time Panthro came on stage, they’d all consumed a few shots and were well on their way to lit. The T-shaped stage was outfitted with the usual turntables, computers, and amps, but there was also a full drum kit in the back, stands with guitars propped on them, and of course, Panthro’s eight-stringed bass guitar, a rarity to play even for the most technically proficient musicians.

Behind the stage was a huge mechanical black panther face whose mouth could open and close. Its eyes glowed neon red. It would have been ominous under other circumstances, but everyone who was a fan knew Panthro took his name from a character in an old ‘80s cartoon.

The excitement in the downtown venue was bubbling below and around them in the other tiers. Smoke funnels drifted upward into the air, infusing it with the dank scent of herbs blending with sweeter oils.

“We’re gonna get fucked up just breathing in here,” Santino said in her ear, and she laughed, nodding.

Then Panthro, with his short tawny dreads, George Clinton-esque funkadelic sunglasses and a loose-fitting fringed shirt, walked onto the stage and picked up the bass as the crowd went wild, clapping and whistling at him. He spoke to the audience briefly, then commenced the set. The only other people on stage were techs or other musicians, no gyrating dancers, no one doing flips. It was purely about the music, the artistry, the sheer talent the man exuded as he sang and played his own eclectic blend of progressive jazz, hip hop, R&B, and funk.

Vanessa was enthralled waiting for the notes to every song and then clapping and singing along to her favorites with Virgil, who was standing to their left with Ling. Bobby and Zoe were to their right.

She turned to Bobby to see if he was enjoying himself. When it was just the two of them planning the trip, she’d been excited to have him come along, honestly. His job was extremely stressful, and his home life was busy. He deserved this downtime to enjoy himself.

But Bobby wasn’t looking quite so pleased to see Santino pressed up behind her with his arms around her waist. He gave her a sharp look, which she ignored. At some point, he crossed over to Virgil and Ling. She couldn’t completely hear what theywere discussing. Zoe did not look happy about that, and neither did Ling. Zoe then tried to glom onto Vanessa and make some remark about being tired and wishing the show would end already but Santino turned her slightly so they were facing away.

Grateful for the blocking maneuver, Vanessa kept her hands on the big arms around her waist, letting Santino know she didn’t want him to let go. She also kept her back and her ass firmly nestled against his chest and his hips as they swayed and danced to the music together. He leaned over her shoulder and kissed that spot andmmm, between that, the music and the fiery trail the alcohol was leaving in her bloodstream, she could have ripped his clothes off right then and there.

When the show was over, he only let go long enough to clap. They all did, except for Zoe, whose face made it clear she hadn’t enjoyed herself.

“What did you think?” Virgil asked them. “Wasn’t that incredible?”

“Yeah, that was dope,” Santino said sincerely. “I can see why you all are so hyped about his shows.”

“I wish it had gone a little longer. I’m greedy, I guess,” Vanessa exclaimed with a laugh.

“Oh, me too,” Virgil agreed.

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