Page 12 of Tattoos and Heartbreak
Namely that I’d woken up this morning to fine Rivers Shine missing from the room, his clothes and shoes gone as well, and no note of explanation. I’d waited around for half an hour, then an hour, thinking that he might have just gone down for coffee or something, but at a certain point my pride had kicked in and started talking some sense into me. He hadn’t gone down for coffee. Or donuts. He hadn’t even gone outside to make a phone call without waking me up.
He’d walked out on me and left.
He wasn’t coming back.
I’d gotten out of bed and dressed so quickly at the thought that I got back out into the hallway before I was truly ready, and had paused for several moments there, trying to figure out a story for Anna.
Because she’d be furious if she found out that I’d slept with Rivers Shine.
But she’d be a volcano in human form if she found out that he’d then left me like I was just another of the infamous groupies he liked to sleep with in his spare time.
Music suddenly shot through the diner, taking my mind off of that thought, and I turned to the side of the restaurant where I’d seen a stage, confused. We were here for breakfast. It was only 9 in the morning. Surely it was too early for a live show, or even music this loud.
There was definitely someone on the stage, though, and he was grinning out at the people eating like this was all completely normal.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!” he called, like we weren’t all still half-asleep and possibly hung over. “I know it’s early and many of you haven’t had enough coffee yet, but here in Bardstown, when a tour comes through, we like to kick it off with a little performance of our own. What do you think of a little music to go with your breakfast?”
No one groaned. Not out loud. But a quick glance at everyone’s faces told me that if he was going to take a vote, they were going to tell him thanks but no thanks. No one wanted music with their breakfast. They wanted coffee and potatoes and bacon. Preferably from a waitress that didn’t ask them too many personal questions.
Somehow, though, the guy on the stage missed all that.
“Terrific!” he almost shouted. “This gets even better, too, because it’s not just a performance. It’s an open mic! We have a number of local musicians in town and we like to give them a chance to showcase their talents. So, what do we think? Do we have any musicians in the house? Anyone who’d like to come up and serenade us?”
What?This guy must actually be insane. Who in their right mind would get up there and perform in front of an audience that obviously didn’t want anything to do with the situation?
I glanced back at Anna, ready to share a laughing look with her, but saw her still glaring at me like she was sitting at the table thinking up all the different ways she could poke holes in my story about Rivers, and what she was going to say to me first when I got back to my chair.
Right.
Iwas the kind of person who would get up there and perform in front of an audience like this.
Just as long as it meant I didn’t have to face Anna yet.
I hustled up onto the stage and waved awkwardly to the guy, working to keep my eyes off Anna. “Hi,” I said breathlessly. “I’m a musician.”
The man widened his eyes at me. “Oh ho, we have a volunteer! Hello darling, what’s your name?”
“Lila Potter.”
“And you know how to sing?”
Better than that. I was part of a duo that had been performing for years. I wrote all my own stuff, and I could play guitar in my sleep. Since I didn’t think he really needed to know any of that, though, I just nodded.
The guy handed me a guitar, grinning so big I thought his cheeks must hurt, and yanked me in front of the microphone. “Terrific! Then the mic’s all yours.”
He disappeared from next to me and I found myself standing on a stage in a small town in Kentucky, staring out at an audience that definitely didn’t want to hear any music right now.
Terrific.
I scanned the place, looking for a friendly face... and saw a face that I’d last seen last night. Dark eyes, wide cheekbones, and lips that looked full enough to be perfect for kissing.
Lips thatwereperfect for kissing, I corrected myself. I’d spent plenty of time last night doing exactly that.
Rivers’ eyes met mine and immediately started burning. His gaze flicked down to my lips and then back up, getting even hotter, and I nearly gasped again. God, how did he even do that? My body was heating with every second that he kept his eyes on me and my voice was suddenly gone, disappeared like he’d somehow erased it.
Wait.
This was the guy that had slept with me and then left like it didn’t matter. Disappeared like I was someone he was ashamed to have met.
