She snorts, elbowing me lightly in my ribs before nuzzling back against me. “Keep reading.”
So I do.
26
Adair
Present Day
“No live music tonight.” Jack flashes an apologetic smile. The man oozes charm, but it does nothing to soften the blow.
“This is the Barrelhouse!” I smack the counter. Maybe I’m beginning to feel those shots a bit. “Unacceptable. Actually, I might be able to something about that.”
“Oh really?” Jack and Sterling share a look. They think I’m drunk. They’re right, but that doesn’t mean I’m blowing smoke. “What?”
“A girl has to have her secrets.” Pulling out my phone, I send a text.
“Are you going to sing for us, Lucky?” Sterling asks.
I hate the way my old pet name sounds rolling off his tongue, smooth and silky as the bourbon Jack keeps pouring me—with just as much fire hiding under the first taste. I hate that after all these years he can slip back into the way it was between us. I hate that I know it’s all just pretend.
I hate that I like the way it makes me feel anyway.
We’ve nearly finished a bottle when the Calvary arrives. Or maybe I’ve nearly finished a bottle because Jack is showing no signs of being drunk. In fact, he’s as sharp as ever, which means he’s the first to spot my friends walking through the door.
“Is that…?” Shock registers on his face when he sees who’s entered his bar.
I wave to Poppy and Kai as they scan the crowd. The truth is that I didn’t just text them to hook Jack up with a performance for the evening. I needed backup. If a girl is stuck drinking whiskey with her ex-boyfriend, who quite possibly is a sociopath, then she doesn’t have a lot of other options than to call in her friends. Kai keeps his head bowed, his cowboy hat tipped down to avoid recognition, but he’s unmistakable. He sticks out from the crowd for all the reasons he once thought he’d never fit in. His tight jeans and vintage flannel shirt might look old-school country, but he wears the look like a rock star. As it turned out, I’d been right all those years ago. He was exactly what country music needed exactly when they needed it.
Poppy’s always known how to dress the part. Tonight, she’s found a cotton summer dress printed with little yellow flowers. Its ruffled skirt ends mid-thigh and showcases her long legs. I used to be jealous of her dancer’s body. Her height. The way she seemed to flow across a room. It’s strange, but when my girlish body gave over to a slightly more plump version of myself, I’d gotten more comfortable in my skin. Not that I wouldn’t kill to move as gracefully as she does
“You look gorgeous,” I say as she forcibly hugs me. I don’t fight it. Sometimes in friendship, you have to compromise. Poppy is a hugger. I am not. She puts up with my cranky ass, so I let her. This is how being best friends works for us.
“I’m not going to hug you,” Kai says with a laugh, spotting my slightly rigid form. “But only if you give me a drink.”
“I thought superstars didn’t ask for booze,” I tease him.
“They don’t,” Jack interjects, sticking out his hand. “Jack Archer. I’m a big fan.”
“You like country music?” Kai asks. It’s a test. We all know it.
“Not particularly.” Jack passes it. “I’m more of a blues man. But you’re not really country—not modern country, at least. I love what you’re doing for the scene. It was getting a bit stale. It needed you.”
“You’re going to make me blush,” Kai says.
“Let’s dance before I have to give you back to L.A.” Poppy grabs his hand and drags him to the dance floor. Considering the lack of live music, there’s only a few others on it. Occasionally, someone catches a glimpse of Kai and does a double take.
“I’m going to chat with my boys,” Jack says. “I want to make certain they keep an eye on him.”
“He’s used to it,” I say.
“I’d rather play it safe. He’s here for a good time not to be harassed.” Jack leaves us at the bar to talk to his security team. Now I’m stuck alone with Sterling caught up in memories of the past. That coupled with the amount of whiskey I’ve drank can only spell trouble.
“I think Kai has gone the farthest of all of us,” Sterling says.
I might have agreed before I saw Sterling’s condo. I’ve watched Kai rocket to the top of the music industry since he left Valmont early our sophomore year. He’s doing well for himself, but it’s nowhere near the level Sterling’s achieved. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t hooked him up with a producer at a MacLaine-held record label,” I confess to Sterling. “It couldn’t have happened to a better guy, but it hasn’t been easy. He’s had his fair share of people that just want to use him to make a buck or get ahead.”
“That’s what happens when you’re successful,” he says.
“He got burned by a few fans. A lot of people look at them as a way to break in to the business. I’m not sure if I should have invited him to a blues bar. I don’t want him to feel pressured to sing.”
“Jack won’t do that,” Sterling assures me. “He’ll be the first person to hand Kai a guitar if he asks for one, but he doesn’t use people. He’s not even going to tell you he’s starting his own record company. I guarantee it.”
“What?” I look around the crowded bar. “How does he have the time?”
Sterling nods like he wonders the same thing. “He’s passionate about the industry. He wants to see artists treated with respect. The label is never going to be a huge source of income.”
“It doesn’t seem like he needs a huge source of income,” I point out shrewdly. Jack can’t be much older than us, but he owns one of
