Getting Wet - It's Raining Men

It wouldn't be the end of the world if I skipped performing for one night. I put my guitar down, walked back to the bar.

"What are you doing, kid," Pops asked, his brow furrowed. "You always start the show,"

"Bout time for a change, don't you think?"

"What the heck are you talking about, son?"

"You see that woman over there?" I said to my dad, pointing to the raven-haired beauty.

My dad turned his head and whistled. "She's a looker. I didn't know you were into redheads, though."

"Not that one, her friend. She's striking me right here." I thumped my chest right over my heart.

My dad chuckled, "I know that face; that was how I felt when I met your momma. I saw her and knew. Sometimes love hits like a lightning bolt, out of nowhere with an intensity that knocks you off your feet." Pop squinted his eyes and watched the table where the two women were sitting. He took in the droves of men circling them, each one ready to try their luck and see if they could invite one of the women to dance or buy them a drink. "You better get your ass over there before one of those fuckers steals your woman."

"It's my bar. No one is stealing shit," I said before pouring two drinks and walking over.

Chapter 3

Ally

Katy leaned over and whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible. Quietness was a feat for her because my best friend was the loudest person I knew. She was self-conscious about her loud voice, but it was what I loved the most about her. Loud and brassy, Katy wasn't scared of being herself, of shining, of entirely not caring what anyone thought of her. I guess being as beautiful as she was, her loudmouth didn't hinder her. She had long red hair and bright green eyes; basically, Dolly had written "Jolene" about girls who looked like Katy.

"Pick," she said.

"They aren't puppies in a litter. I really don't think it works like that."

Kat cracked a smile, "You're kidding me? You've never heard the expression that men are dogs? Well, they start out as puppies. Pick one!"

I started laughing and shook my head at her. "I think I'll just watch you enjoy yourself."

I'd noticed the man who'd taken to the stage and then seemed too emotionally wrought to finish his song. Even though he couldn't perform, I'd liked the way he carried himself, how he looked at the guitar as he strummed. I knew music and musicians in my bones. I knew charisma, magnetism, talent—all of the qualities that it took to get to the top. But what I saw in him just from five minutes of watching was the deep connection he felt with his instrument, how he caressed the strings, how those words he'd written really meant something to him.

"Can I offer you, ladies, a drink on the house?" a deep voice said from behind my shoulder. I looked up and saw the tall man with broad shoulders and sandy hair up close for the first time. His scent was intoxicating, like fresh squeezed lime and polished wood, and a smile with enough electricity in it to light up a whole New York City block. He really had that unnamable it factor. But it looked like maybe music was just a hobby because it appeared this man owned the bar.

"Sure," I stuttered, not really knowing what to say. I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen someone so handsome before, and I was around beautiful celebrities all the time. Still, this guy had the je ne sais quoi. He was rugged and smooth all at once—a man's man, but simultaneously a pretty boy.

"She can talk, I swear," Katy snorted. She beamed at him and took the drink. Without hesitation, she pulled out a chair for him to sit next to us. "I'm Katy, and this here is Ally. Usually, she's the smart one, but I think you charmed her into silence with that song intro."

"Nice to meet you," he said to Katy without once taking his eyes off me. "Sorry about the stage fright. It happens to the best of us," he declared.

"Pffft," Katy waved away his concern. "On stage isn't where I care about an inability to perform, you know what I mean." She waged her eyebrows again as she sipped the booze through a straw, and my face colored at her boldness.

I put my hand over my face in embarrassment. But the broken song guy kept on looking at me. His stare was so intense that I was pretty sure he was going to light me on fire with it. "I brought over the house specialty, which is Sex on the beach, but I can make something else if you'd like," he told us. He pushed the Collins glass with an umbrella in it in front of me.