Stage fright? It didn’t seem right. Michael said the band played regularly.
Her heart lurched as he walked toward her. He didn’t notice her until he was upon her.
“Em. Hey.”
“Hi.”
The twitch of his lips passed for a grin, but barely. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” It had taken her an hour to choose the outfit, skinny jeans and a black sleeveless top. She’d been obsessed with finding an ensemble that seemed fun without screaming, ‘Michael Zorn, I want you inside me.’
He passed a hand over his brow.
“Michael, are you feeling okay? You look like you just became close, personal friends with a vampire.”
“Cute. I’m fine, just tired.”
Only then did Emily notice the bottle of headache pills in his fist. “Headache?”
“Maybe a little.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m glad you’re here. Where’s the poet?”
Emily brought Michael over to Chris and the others. Before two minutes had passed, one of the guys mentioned baseball. Emily happily took a back seat as the four men launched into a discussion of how the Toronto Blue Jays would win the next World Series as long as they didn’t trade the current lineup of pitchers. Being an ardent fan, she would have chimed in with her opinion, but she couldn’t remove her gaze from Michael’s face.
Although he appeared to be listening to the conversation, his eyes glazed at times. Eli asked him a question at one point but he didn’t acknowledge it. He was in his own world, one filled with quiet torment. She wished she could join him there, to take some of his burden.
Nick elbowed Michael. “Hey, it’s time.”
As Eli and Nick bounded toward the stage, Emily pulled on Michael’s sleeve. “Are you sure you feel well enough to perform?”
“Sure, thank you. I’m right as rain. I hope you enjoy the show.” He joined his brothers onstage and picked up a guitar.
The announcer stood in front of them, clutching a microphone stand. “Welcome to the Bamboo Gigolo. I see a few familiar faces in this crowd and I think I owe most of you money. Luckily, tonight’s band doesn’t have my financial worries.”
Eli spoke into his microphone. “You owe me a twenty too, Jack.”
There were some laughs in the audience. The brothers were obviously comfortable on stage and knew many of the people gathered there. As the announcer delayed the set by chatting up a redhead in the front row, Nick pointed to a man in the audience and mouthed something about “beer later.”
Michael, on the other hand, stood still and stared at the floor. He clutched his microphone stand and seemed to be concentrating on his breathing. Even Emily could see his chest rising and falling with exaggerated breaths. After a couple of minutes, he raised his head and met her gaze.
When he looked at her, smiling past his hidden pain, Emily knew she was in danger of falling for him. She might already have fallen.
The announcer’s voice reverberated through the speakers. “Put your hands together for the Zorn Brothers Band!” He began a hearty round of applause. As the audience settled down, Michael gave his brothers a nod as a cue.
Emily held her breath, excited to hear his voice raised in song. It was hard enough fighting the allure of a buff man who could build a house, but she had a soft spot for men who could sing as well.
They opened with Bad Company’s “Feel Like Makin’ Love.” The audience cheered and she had to smile as well. She’d figured Michael and his brothers were classic rock lovers, but she’d expected them to sound amateur. After all, they weren’t professional musicians, by their own admission. They still managed to blow her away.
Michael’s voice was deep and warm with a touch of gravel, just the sort of voice she could listen to for hours. When Eli sang with him, completely in sync with his older brother, the harmonies gave her tingles. As he sang and played guitar, he seemed to reenergize, and Emily suspected his love of music kept him going. Equally talented, his brothers kept perfect time. Nick provided a strong percussion line and Eli plucked out a backdrop for Michael’s melodies on his bass. It was as if the men had been playing together all their lives. Perhaps they had been.
By the time they got to the end of the song, she wished it wasn’t over. It didn’t hurt that every time Michael sang about making love, he looked at her. The attention wasn’t overt, a quick glance here and there, but it still made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
The crowd showed its appreciation with wild clapping and several hoots. When Michael pushed his guitar off to the side of his body and grabbed the microphone stand, the audience grew quiet. He paused until the sound died down, took a couple of breaths and launched into the opening to “Hey Jude” by The Beatles.
The audience went nuts. Emily and Chris traded looks, amazed at the reaction. She couldn’t blame them. Michael’s heartfelt rendition would have made Paul McCartney tear his hair out in jealousy. With his brothers playing quietly behind him, his voice seemed even more powerful.
For the first time in her life, she wished she smoked cigarettes, just so she could hold up a lit lighter.
When they got to the chorus, Emily realized why the audience reacted with such enthusiasm. The Zorn brothers encouraged the bar patrons to sing along with them. Emily joined in as well. By the time they sang “Na na na na,” the volume had grown to such a level, she thought the roof might pop off.
