Then he slides his wallet back into his pocket.
“Just don’t stick me in a box with the Shakespeare one. I’m alive and not nearly as tragic.”
There’s a cadence to his voice.
A rhythm of his mouth.
I can’t stop staring.
“And Romeo meets… ?” He draws it out with a grin, head tipped slightly.
“Allison.”
“Allison,” he says, and I melt. “Not gonna lie—watching you take down every guy out there? Little terrifying. I damn near backed out, but something told me to try. You come here with anybody?”
That’s when I realize we’ve got an audience.
Romeo and I both glance at the booth.
Mikey and Nico are watching us,
both wearing a shit-eating grin.
Jay’s tapping his foot, head bobbing,
not a goddamn clue what’s happening.
And Andrew's face is split down the middle?—
half of him wants to rip the world apart,
the other half just wants me to look at him one more time.
“Nope. Just me.” I flick my chin toward the guys. “But they’re hittin’ the stage soon, so I’m playing good-friend for the next twenty-five minutes.”
I glance back at Romeo.
“Find me once they go on?”
“C’mon now, darlin’.
“You already know the answer.”
He glances past me, lifts two fingers with a nudge of his chin to the guys.
“Knock ‘em dead, fellas.”
Mikey lifts two fingers?—
“Appreciate that, man. Real stand-up thing to say—" He pats Andrew's chest, eyes flicking to him. “What a gentleman move, huh?”
Romeo falls back a step,
flashing a vintage grin,
then walks off with one hand in his pocket.
His gait’s got crooner written all over it,
