The a cappella group wound down. Beatrice Westmore, the manager of the place and the woman who’d helped give Fading Daze their first real platform, stepped up to the microphone. “How about another round of applause for the boys of Pipe Dreams?”
Trey groaned at the awful name, but dutifully clapped for the departing quintet.
“Okay, folks,” Beatrice continued once the scattered applause ended. Open mike could be a tough crowd. One of the tech crew moved behind her, setting up a Yamaha keyboard. “We have someone new to Off Beat tonight. He’s got a little something different, and I think you’re going to like it. How about a warm Beat welcome for Dominic B?”
The gentle applause rose in tempo as a lean, copper-skinned figure walked onstage with a violin case in one hand. Trey paid attention, his breath catching at the sight of the Latin god standing behind the Yamaha. Dark eyes, black hair tousled up with product, a hint of scruff on his chin. Fit body poured into tight black jeans and a skintight white sleeveless tee that showed hints of tattoos on that coppery skin. Somewhere in Trey’s age bracket, for sure, and goddamn but he was pretty.
“Careful, Coop, you’re drooling,” Sasha said as she reached near him for a lime wedge.
He snapped his mouth shut but couldn’t stop staring, totally uncaring of the comment because Sasha wasn’t a gossip.
Dominic didn’t go up to the mike. He produced a shiny violin from the case. Trey wasn’t familiar with violin makers but it looked expensive. And the Yamaha did not belong to the bar. Dominic fiddled with the strings, then set the violin to rest on his shoulder. He touched a button on the Yamaha, and an onboard rock beat began to play.
He took a step to the side, into a more open area of the stage, touched bow to strings, and began to play. The bow danced over the strings, creating a beautiful melody that Trey had trouble placing at first. Then it hit him. Dominic was re-creating “Single Ladies” in a unique way that had musical notes dancing in front of Trey’s eyes, mapping the arrangement Dominic had chosen to stand out from the basic percussion beat from the keyboard.
Dominic seduced his audience with a violin, of all fucking instruments. Trey knew his way around a piano and various kinds of guitars, no problem. He had little use for other strings, including something as tiny as a violin. He associated them with classical music or bluegrass. Not songs like “Single Ladies,” which was melting into something else. . . .
Trey closed his eyes and allowed the music to flow through him.
“Shake It Off.”
He snapped his eyes open, hand jerking hard enough to slosh his drink. Taylor’s lyrics popped into his head along with the melody Dominic expertly created with an instrument that Trey was slowly starting to adore. Whoever Dominic B was, and wherever he was from, the boy possessed an incredible gift. He played that violin like they were one being, urging out chords that made Trey want to weep for their perfection.
Why the hell was a guy this good playing open-mike nights in southern Maryland?
Trey was transfixed, not only by the amazing music but by the performer himself. He played with eyes closed, both hands a blur as they expertly created the music. The violin sang the lyrics to the audience. Dominic smiled throughout, so into the music that the crowd might as well not be there.
Taylor merged into “Just the Way You Are” so perfectly that Trey didn’t notice until he was humming along with Bruno’s lyrics. A table of girls nearby actually started singing out loud, and Trey nearly told them to shut up. Dominic didn’t need any backup.
Dominic finished the song with a flourish, then turned off the Yamaha. Trey leapt to his feet, applauding so hard his palms ached. The noise was thunderous, everyone standing. The bashful smile Dominic gave the audience made Trey’s heart flip.
Beatrice appeared onstage next to him, clapping, cheeks stained red. Trey knew that look—the look that said “We’ve got something special here.” She’d had that look the first time Fading Daze played for her.
“Now that was something special, wasn’t it?” she said into the mike. “Dominic B, ladies and gentlemen.”
More applause was joined by various shouts of “Encore!” “Play more!” “Don’t stop!”
“I think they like you, honey,” Beatrice said.
Dominic leaned forward, his expression so adorkably awkward. “I, ah, only practiced those three with that baseline. I haven’t done this in a long time.” His voice was smooth and deep, rolling over Trey like a gentle tide.
Her face went hawkish. “What if I found you an accompanist? Care to do a little freestyling?”
He glanced out into the audience, but likely couldn’t see many faces thanks to the lights. “Um, maybe.”
She shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned the crowd. “Earlier I spied with my little eyes a house favorite in the audience. Coop? Get your perky little ass up onstage.”
On the rare occasions when Beatrice called for one of her regular musicians to come up and help someone out, and when it was Trey he usually grumbled his way to the stage. Tonight he bolted, stomach twisting into nervous knots.
“There he is,” she said. “Mr. Trey Cooper.”
Trey strolled to the center of the ten-foot stage, waving at the audience. Someone even shouted out, “Go Coop!”
“Coop here is an excellent pianist,” Beatrice said. “And we all know Dominic is wicked with that violin. I think they’ll make some beautiful music, don’t you all?”
Cheers erupted. Trey soaked them in, taking the energy they gave him and amping himself up for an impromptu performance. He shook Dominic’s offered hand. The first brushof skin on skin was electric, buzzing up his arm like static. Dominic’s eyebrows arched. He met Trey’s eyes, and oh yeah, this was going to be fun.
Beatrice exited stage left.
