“Aw, shit. That’s Mona King.” Martin scrubbed a hand over his face, then leaned closer to Natalie and kissed her neck. “You didn’t tell me you knew her.”
It didn’t go unnoticed that Natalie had zero reaction to Martin’s lips on her skin.
“When you mentioned you liked her music, I thought it’d be more fun to surprise you.” A proud smile cracked her face.
When Martin stole a proper kiss, I turned away, a knot forming in my gut. I slid my fingers through Victoria’s under the table. She trembled, and I pulled her hand to my thigh.
“You okay?” I asked, leaning close so no one else could hear.
“Never better,” she forced through clenched teeth, meeting my eyes for a brief second before focusing again on my best friend and his new girlfriend, the woman I was getting damn tired of trying not to think about.
“Another round?” our waitress asked, her red hair pulled back, not a strand out of place, her makeup flawless, her dress straight out of an episode of Boardwalk Empire.
I gestured yes. I’d need at least six to survive the evening unscathed.
Conversation was polite. Martin did most of the talking. We avoided the subject of Victoria and Natalie’s past, and I raved about Victoria’s new ventures, hoping to show Natalie that my fiancée was no longer the same woman from high school.
At one point, Natalie looked at her phone, her face going ashen before she dropped the device into her handbag. I shot Martin a glance. He hadn’t seemed to notice and rambled on about his last adventure in Vegas.
Natalie was fully engaged while Victoria seemed distant. She didn’t lose her cool often, but when she did, she could go days without talking. That undercurrent of rage vibrated the air between us. I could do nothing to soothe her while we were in public, but I’d do everything in my power to ease her tension when we got home.
The lights dimmed, thank fuck. The piano went silent.
Natalie bounced in her seat, then clapped her hands. “She’s about to start.” She stood and turned her chair around to face the stage. Following her lead, I turned, too. Natalie’s knee touched mine again, but she shifted and crossed her legs, breaking our sinful connection.
Double dates were bullshit.
Martin and Victoria were now at my back, but I looked over my shoulder to make sure Vic was okay. She smiled her killer smile and let me know not to worry and enjoy the show.
The whole crowd silenced as if holding a collective breath. Natalie brought her steepled hands to her lips.
A single blue spotlight hit the stage, and there she stood, Mona King, graceful and glorious at the mic.
Without moving her head, her eyes darted left, then right, a smirk. A deep breath. Then she belted the first line of, “I Put A Spell On You.”
In the background, the piano came into play, enhancing the emotion, but not a single soul in that bar could tear their gaze from the queen on the stage, commanding and regal. Her voice weaved through skin and bone, then pierced the heart and caressed the soul.
Nina Simone, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday. Some I recognized. Most I didn’t.
But under Mona King’s spell, I fell in love. With life, with music, with crowded bars. I heard a sniff and tore my gaze from the stage. Tears rolled down Natalie’s cheeks, but she smiled, silently singing along, every bit in love with the performance as I was.
A hand came over my shoulder, then soft breaths in my ear. “I’m heading to the ladies’ room. Be right back.” Victoria kissed my cheek.
“I’ll go with you.” I pushed to stand but she held me down.
“It’s okay. Stay. Enjoy the music. I’ll be two secs.” She kissed me again.
When Mona started her rendition of “Someone To Watch Over Me,” fingers dug into my thigh.
“My favorite song,” Natalie said to the stage.
She looked down and jerked the offending hand away. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She flashed an impish grin.
I mourned the loss of her fingers, the warmth, the physical connection. I blamed that bullshit on the music.
Because I was not a cheater.
The song ended, leaving my emotions drained, but my soul sated.
Then Mona spoke into the mic, her voice sultry still. “Before I take a break, I have a special song for two lovebirds out there. Nat and Cole, this one’s for you.” She shot a wink our direction, though I was sure she couldn’t see us.
“Oh, no.” Natalie groaned. “She thinks were together.” She laughed and shrugged, then settled back into her seat.
Mona crooned a familiar tune. “L-O-V-E” by Nat King Cole. I smiled, a flood of memories washing over me. My grandfather singing to my grandmother, swinging her around the room. Then I laughed, finally understanding. Natalie King. Cole Adams.
Mona sang. Natalie sang along. I was no longer mesmerized by the artist on stage but the woman sitting next to me. I fell in love. Again. With the song. With life. With crowded bars. With a woman I hardly knew.
My insides shifted. My gut twisted.
I reached behind and grabbed Victoria’s drink, downing her half-empty glass in one shot.
Where the hell was my fiancée? And where was Martin? I stole his whiskey and downed that, too.
Natalie was clueless to my agitation. Good.
I stared long and hard at my best friend’s girlfriend. Tried my damnedest to rile all the hatred and disgust I could muster.
Only, I couldn’t find one thing I didn’t like about the temptress, aside from the fact she was bewitching.
Mona finished. Promised she would return shortly.
The lights came on. Natalie wiped more tears. “God, she gets me every time.” She gave me a playful nudge with her elbow.
Temptress.
I excused myself to the restroom. I stopped at the bar. Ordered a shot. Then made my way to the men’s room.
Martin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe
