“What is Sydney going to do?” Tobias asks Callie.
“It’s nothing.” I shoo away the conversation like it’s a pesky fly. “It’s dumb, really.”
Callie gives me a stern stare. “It’s not dumb. You should be proud.”
My face flames red, and I wish Callie would stop talking. Seriously. What if this makes its way back to my father?
Tobias leans in, clearly interested in something I don’t want him to know. “Tell me, Callie.”
She can’t escape his charm. His charisma. “She’s singing tonight.”
I cover my face when his stunned eyes shoot to me.
“This I have to see.”
Chapter 4
Tobias
* * *
Baby girl has secrets. Twenty dollars says her father doesn’t know she’s loving up on a microphone when she’s not on the clock. If she’s got pipes, I fully intend to support her musical endeavor. That’s what a partner does in a healthy relationship. Things might get awkward if she sounds like a shrill cat, but I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. We can get a vocal coach if we have to… work some wizardry in the studio. Hell, I’ll wear earmuffs if needed.
Hopefully, it won’t come to that.
I’m no stranger to an open mic night. In fact, I can safely say I live at them. It’s the best place to spot talent, and as the best talent scout in the country—it’s what US Weekly dubbed me—I hang out at them all the time.
It’s sort of my office.
“I won’t be singing tonight.” Sydney glares at her friend Callie.
I interrupt before Callie can respond and lightly touch Sydney’s arm. “Please don’t let me be the reason you’re not going to sing tonight.”
She looks nervous, worrying her plump bottom lip with white teeth. I have all kinds of questions about Sydney’s singing, but don’t want to ask right now. Because I want this brunette enchantress to answer them while she’s naked. Riding my face.
I’ve never been this crazy about a girl.
My motto has always been “Do ‘em and move on.” I’ve never pursued a woman. But there’s something about Sydney. She may be my potential boss’ daughter, but this magnetic pull is too strong to ignore.
Sydney walks away from us after telling us she’s going to sign in. She walks over to a small booth with a pink-haired girl taking names, and right after, she’s ushered backstage.
The lights go down, and Callie wiggles in her seat next to me.
“Just you wait,” she says, leaning over, beaming with pride.
I find it endearing that Sydney has someone she can call her best friend.
With me, I never had that person I could trust. I felt like the connections I made in LA were all fake. Everything about them.
Fake. Fake. Fake.
I guess it’s not entirely true. I have one friend, but other than that no one I can truly count on.
A blond-haired kid, not even eighteen, walks on stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder. He wraps his hand around the microphone and adjusts it to his tall height. “I guess I’m starting things off today.”
He sits on the bar stool behind him and strums his guitar. I listen as he performs an off-pitch melody, and already I go into work mode, wondering if this boy has what it takes to be a star. Would he appeal to the masses? Does he have the total package?
Nope. The song is decent, but he possesses nothing special.
Several more singers take the stage, and sad to say, none of them are headed for superstardom.
After a bearded guy wails a pop song, Sydney walks onto the stage, looking like an angel in her white sundress and matching boots. All that’s missing is the halo above her glossy hair.
My breath hitches in my throat.
Why the fuck am I so nervous for her?
The spotlight loves her, but my gut feels like someone punched it. She sits with a straight spine on the stool, bringing the microphone to her lips as the music plays.
The entire bar is silent as she sings the first line, sweeping the air from my lungs.
Her voice is mesmerizing and not a note off pitch. The song is one I’ve never heard, and I lean over to Callie, asking if it’s an original.
Callie nods, and my eyes snap back to the girl on stage, who has the enraptured crowd in the palm of her hand. My mind reels with pleasure from the falsetto she hits. Why has she never pursued a career in singing?
She works for Reilly Records and could easily get signed.
Sydney belts out the chorus about a love gone wrong, and it makes me wonder if she’s ever been in love. Has she had her heart broken?
I should pummel the asshole who could hurt her in such a way.
When the song ends, sadness permeates my system that I can’t keep listening to her voice. Every part of me wants to rush the stage and hold her, caress her soft skin, and kiss her tender lips.