Gone was the soothing keys of Bach. In its place was a Top Twenties chart-topper. The crowd exploded.
Zhi wasn't ready for it. He was bounced around and bumped into and jostled in different directions until he didn't know which way was right or left or up or down. Parker was nowhere to be seen.
He reached out his hand to steady himself and gain his bearings. His hand rested on something that kicked at his fingers. He looked down to see that he was at the massive speakers.
He jerked his head up and took a step back. His back met with a sharp edge. His feet came out from under him. The last thing he heard was the sound of the needle scratching the record of the awful pop song and then blessed silence.
But the silence only lasted a split second as he crashed down and onto the floor.
He put out his hand and tumbled. His fingers wrapped around another pulsing surface. But it was warm and soft and curvy. It was a woman.
Zhi found himself wrapped around a woman with the deepest blue eyes and golden strands of hair. Her lush lips were turned down in a frown. Zhi had the irrational urge to taste that frown. Something in his mind swore that it would be sweet.
The woman’s eyes widened as though she saw the trajectory of his thoughts. Her gaze slipped to his lips as well. He would never know if she would give him the go-ahead or shove him off her. The sound of booing jerked their attention back to the crowd of dancers who were all staring down at them.
Chapter Eight
Spin had just begun her crescendo when the music died, and everything around her came crashing down. She was running over her set time of two hours, but she hadn’t felt the slightest bit of fatigue because the crowd was so into it and so responsive.
It was always hard coming into a new club or a new clique, but Spin was a pretty good read of people. The average person could lie with words and tell her they liked a certain type of music. Or that she’d done a good job even when she knew a mix wasn’t exactly on the beat. The movement of a crowd of bodies always told the truth.
The small crowd of less than one hundred of Parker’s employees and friends had held up the walls when Spin had first dropped the needle. They cast doubtful glances at the disco anthem she began with. But like the song promised, she soon turned the beat around and the party upside down. When the percussive beat and syncopated rhythms chimed in, the crowd slowly migrated away from the walls and onto the dance floor. The migration continued, and their bodies began to really move as she sped forward in time to the music they knew and loved.
She kept reading them, working them into a frenzy. She dropped an oldie but goodie that was remixed and mashed up with a little acid house beat and the crowd went wild. They were in the palm of her hands.
Until it all
came crashing down. Not only had the music stopped, but her body was also tumbling down to the hard ground. She closed her eyes waiting for impact. It never came.
Spin found herself wrapped in warmth and a spicy, expensive hint of musk and … was that Pine Sol? She was brought back to walking in the woods of Ontario where a deep breath smelled of Christmas and warm fires.
Spin had never had a Christmas tree. She and her mother never stayed in a place long enough to decorate one. But they did spend a lot of time out of doors walking in forests.
The memories assailed her as she was curled inside the man’s arms. For the first time in her life, she wanted to stay put and snuggle under a blanket with someone. She wanted to chop down a tree and decorate it with tinsel. She'd been so set to run just a moment ago, but now for the first time in a long time, she wanted to hold still in the silence.
The deafening silence of the party where she was being paid to perform. Spin opened her eyes to find the man staring down at her in concern. His catlike eyes were owl wide as they gazed down at her. Spin found herself lost in their dark depths.
A sparkle of light emanated from around his irises, and she felt warmed through. His gaze dipped to her lips, and she inhaled. Was he about to kiss her? Was she going to let him? Clearly, she was considering it as he was still on top of her, staring down at her, and she hadn’t shoved him off.
It was the sound of boos from the crowd that finally brought them both back to their senses.
"I'm so sorry,” he said. His voice was honey rich but darker. More like sandalwood which would make sense with the earthy scent coming off his body. "Are you hurt?"
Spin knew she should answer, but she was far too busy picking the tone of his voice apart. She wondered if she could sample its timbre, reproduce it digitally, and play it on a loop. The frequency of it would suit a jazz tempo or a techno beat.
"Are you conscious? Can you open your eyes?" The voice was decidedly European with a bit of a Spanish lilt. But the face peering down at her was decidedly Asian.
Spin felt a calloused finger run along her temple. She frowned at the texture. It didn't match the smooth, cultured voice. She wasn't complaining. The combo of refinement and roughness felt perfect.
His skin was more honey golden than sandalwood umber. His long nose was proud, and his chin was strong. Spin watched in fascination, her mind recording every note as his lips moved, making more words. He spoke in English. Then switched to French. And finally, he repeated the words in Spanish.
All the while she watched him as though under a trance. She wanted to take the different languages and layer them into the song as well.
He looked up and away from her, concern on his brow. "I think we need a medic."
That's snapped her out of her stupor. She avoided doctors like they were the plague. They asked way too many questions and had access to way too many personal files.
“I’m fine," she managed.