"Big!" Alisha snapped. "Why on earth would you do that?"
"'Cause the money was good and I thought I'd get you to agree," he answered honestly.
"You're unbelievable," she told him, throwing up her hands in exasperation.
"Will you please do this?" She'd crossed her arms again and leveled him with a heated look. "For me?" he added cheekily.
Alisha scoffed and shook her head at him like he'd really lost his fucking mind.
"Then will you do it for James?" Her eyes softened. Bingo.
She paused, considering the sweet guy who was the boyfriend of her best friend. He'd probably not gone along with this asinine plan. James would have done the decent thing and actually asked first. But no, not Big. Big was an asshole. A very charming and sexy asshole, but still…
"What's the gig and when is it?" she asked hesitantly. He smirked, and she held up a hand to stop him. "I didn't say yes—I'm merely gathering information."
"It's a high school reunion. Class of '89, baby!" he said comically. "And it's next Saturday."
"Big, I have two shows on Saturday!" she huffed.
He ran a hand over his hair. "You could still do one of them," he said sheepishly.
"Goddammit, Big!" She started pacing around the tiny entryway as her mind whirled over this mess he'd pulled her into. Actually, it was still his mess. She hadn't agreed to anything. Her name wasn't signed anywhere. Though she did have days off that she could utilize if she wanted. Her understudy was champing at the bit to get a chance to perform even once. But it was a Saturday night show. Damn him.
"Come on, Alisha—you don't want to disappoint the class of '89 do you? All of those people in their late 30s wanting to get drunk and relive their glory days. It should be kind of awesome and sad and hilarious all rolled into one."
Perhaps she should insist he only use her nicknames from now on because the sound of her first name coming from his mouth had her doing stupid things like opening up her own mouth and saying, (albeit through clenched teeth) "Fine."
Big's smile was slow and wicked.
"Just so you know I'm only doing this for James," she insistently told him. "I'm sure he had nothing to do with this and I don't think my friend's boyfriend should be punished because you're a presumptuous asshat."
He shrugged and chuckled. "I'll take it, Shorty." He extended his hand. "Shake on it?"
She stared at his hand and then lifted shrewd eyes. "I want a cut of the money."
"Alright, 's fair." He smirked and grabbed for her hand, shaking it. (And sue him if he held on longer than was polite.)
"Okay," she said, jerking her hand free. "You got what you came for—you can go now!"
"Oh, Larrington," he grinned impishly, "I—" He was cut off by her putting a hand over his mouth.
"Don't press your luck, pal," Alisha warned, reaching past him to open the door. He remained rooted to the floor and she nodded towards the hallway.
Big laughed dryly and turned to leave. "We're having practice on Wednesday. I'll text you the address." He opened his ratty backpack and pulled out a stack of music and handed it to her. "Some songs in our set list and some I thought might be a good fit for you. I'm open to suggestions though."
Alisha snatched the stack from his hand. "Thanks," she clipped, shoving him out into the hallway. Did I really just agree to do this?
"One more thing," he smirked, reaching into his bag again, producing a pink tambourine. "For you," he said, shaking it playfully.
She stared at the instrument in his hand, completely flummoxed. "You got me a tambourine?" she asked softly, the corners of her lips turning upward. Taking it from him, she looked questioningly into his eyes. (They were light brown and mischievous today. Whatever, she noticed things.)
Big shot her a grin, happy that he'd rendered her speechless. (And the soft, pretty smile was kinda rad, too.) "I remembered our contract," he murmured. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and saw Derek approaching. Oh yeah…him. He fought the urge to frown. "Guess I'll see ya Wednesday, Larrington." He gave the fuckwad a withering look and tromped down the stairs.
Derek watched Big go down the stairs and then smiled at the expression on Alisha's face. "I know that look, Lisha," he teased, strolling through the door, closing it behind him.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, gazing down at her new tambourine, smiling as it jingled. She set it down on the table next to the sandwich she'd forgotten about.
"You like him. And it's worse than I initially thought when I walked up." He headed for the kitchen to put the beer down on the counter.
Alisha frowned at his retreating form and followed him. "I do not like that cretin!" she denied vehemently.
Derek chuckled as he popped the tops off two beers, handed her one. "Do you hear yourself, Gorgeous?"
"He's an asshole!" she cried, lifting the bottle to her lips.
"Maybe, maybe not," Derek shrugged, trying to sympathize with his friend's plight. He found it amusing instead.
"I wish you and I liked each other as more than friends," she pouted. "We get along so well, and we used to have really amazing sex."
He grinned down at her. "All true, Alisha, but things have changed. Though I'm not opposed to giving the sex another try," he said, wagging his eyebrows.
She set her bottle down on the counter. "Kiss me—let's see if it's different."
He shook his head and laughed, knowing it wouldn't be. "Alright, I'll play." Setting his beer down next to hers, he stepped closer and cupped her face with his wide hands. Dropping his head, he covered her lips with his.
Alisha leaned in to the kiss, his lips warm and soft against hers. She thought that maybe…
Derek pulled away first and smiled down at her. "Sorry, Alisha. I felt nothin'."
She sighed
