This is what I’ve been missing.This is who I am.
I turn to Frisco and Quarter. “You ready?”
They both give me a nod, and with a glance at the drummer, we get ready to rock.
16
Ripley
Boone Thrasher’swords ricochet in my chest like some kind of fundamental truth as Hope pushes two drinks toward me.
“They’re both doubles. I’m gonna be working my tits off until we close, so if you need something, come on back behind the bar and help yourself.”
The guitars wail and Boone Thrasher’s low, husky growl fills the bar as he begins to sing. If I’d been wearing panties, they would have been a lost cause within moments, but at least I’d keep them on. I see at least a dozen women yanking thongs down their legs from beneath their skirts to throw them at the stage.Ewwww.
Within minutes, it’s like a tornado blew through Victoria’s Secret and dropped its load right in front of Boone Thrasher. A normal occurrence for him, I assume.
How is it possible his voice can be that intoxicatingly sexy? And why did it sound like he was talking directly to me when he said all that stuff a few moments ago?
If I turn back around, will I think he’s singing to me too?
Riiiiight, Rip.A shaft of disappointment stabs into me, but I bury it.It’s not like I want him to sing to me.I have my rule for a reason.
Besides, Boone Thrasher has trouble stamped so plainly on his every feature, a woman would have to be blind not to see it.
I am not blind, I assure myself as I toss back another drink.
Besides, this is what celebrities do. They walk into a bar like they own the place and take it over. No asking permission, and no asking forgiveness. Although, from how fast the booze is flowing with Hope and her bartenders hustling to keep up with people tossing money at them, there’s no need to ask for either. Boone Thrasher is probably welcome here anytime he gets the wild idea in his head to step through the door.
The alcohol hits me harder with the double shot, and a plan starts taking shape in my buzzed brain. There’s this woman who contacts all the bars and clubs in town and gives them a number to text when there’s a celebrity or professional athlete sighting. Then she sends out an alert to thousands of people who subscribe to her service, and the place is mobbed. The tipster gets a hefty fee for it if the sighting turns out to be real, or so I’ve been told.
I’ve got her number, but I’ve never used it. It’s not like the Fishbowl is a hotbed of celebrity sightings, but even the handful of times Zane Frisco came to the bar, I never considered it, although I could definitely use the money. Even broke, it seems I’ve got standards, or maybe because that’s just not the kind of person I am. I have to wonder if Brandy knows about it, because she probably would have been the first to call something like that in.Anything for a dollar. Maybe it’s fate that she’s never shown up for work on a day that Frisco has been in.
Even if some other big shot came into the Fishbowl, I don’t think I could do it. Scratch that, IknowI couldn’t. It gives me an icky feeling just thinking about it. Besides, the Fishbowl is a black mark on tourist maps.
Murder sceneof country music legend Gil Green and his mistress, Rhonda Fischer. Cold case still unsolved.
My life would have been totallydifferent if Gil Green had never set foot in our bar. Sadness for what might have been is drowned out by irrational anger directed at stars who wear entitlement like a second skin and take whatever they want, not caring about the broken families they leave in their wake.
I reach for my drink and tip it back. I’m getting shit-faced tonight.
17
Boone
With every songthe crowd sings along with me, I shed another layer of my memories of Amber and any plans I might have had for our future. I throw myself into the music, and by the time I’m almost finished with the set, I feel like the man I was before I met her. Before I let myself get sucked into her lies and bullshit.
Frisco was right. This is exactly what I needed tonight. Not just for the gossip rags to pick up and circulate, but forme.
“How about one more song?”
Everyone in the bar hollers, and I nod at Frisco and Quarter. They both know what I’m thinking.
“When I wrote this song, I thought I was writing it about a woman I’d already met, but we all know how that turned out. Now I realize I wrote this song about the woman I’ll eventually find who’ll ride shotgun with me for life.”
The chorus ofMe!andI want to ride with you!grows louder and louder until I strum my guitar and we blow the roof off the bar with my latest single.
* * *