He grunts again.
“You’re right. Soft rock is too cliché.” I pretend like I’m thinking really hard. “I got it! Jazz. Definitely jazz. And I bet you listen to funk when no one else is around.”
There’s a slight wrinkling at the corners of his eyes, letting me know he’s paying attention to everything I say and he’s finding it amusing.
I place my hand on my chest and gasp as he takes a sip of his drink. “Why, Benny! We just met! You can’t ask me something so personal as to what type of music gets me hot and bothered!”
He chokes and spits the whiskey back into his glass.
I giggle at the mess I created, swipe a coin from the cup Griffin told me about, and make my way to the jukebox across the bar. Trace Adkins drifts from the speakers, and I wrinkle my nose. I’m in the mood for a faster beat.
The coin goes in through the slot, and I pick a song I vaguely recognize. Trace Adkins is replaced by Luke Bryan, and I feel the beat resonate in my chest. For the first time in a long time, I let the music flow through my limbs and dance my way back to the bar. I sway and move my arms as I move behind the bar and explore, taking note of where everything is.
The song ends, and another takes its place. Still fast paced so I’m able to continue. Eventually, I forget what I’m doing, and I let the song take me away.
Georgia Kelly used to make me practice my routines until I’d collapse from fatigue. She herself was a ballerina, but her dream never took off. So, obviously, that meant I had to fulfill it for her. Then along came Anthony, and I was yet again forced to dance. He’d snap his fingers, and I would have to dance until he said stop. Being tired wasn’t an option. I was their puppet.
But the day I was rescued, I promised myself that I would cut the strings and do what I want when I want. And right now, I’m choosing this.
Feeling eyes on me, I pause mid-spin and snap my attention to Benny. His mouth is hanging open with his glass half lifted and his gaze trained on me. It’s not a predatory gaze. I know what that looks like.
“You got talent, kid.”
A blush takes over my cheeks, and I suddenly feel exposed. “Thanks.”
Benny gives me an honest-to-God smile and goes back to watching the TV.
It’s different when I’m complimented as I’m forced to dance on a pole. These movements came from my soul.
And it felt…freeing.
Out of the corner of my eye, a dark figure shifts in the hallway, but when my head snaps in that direction, there’s no one there.
I need to get a grip. Seeing things that aren’t actually there is not a good sign.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RAVEN
It’s nine p.m., and The Wandering Raven is in full swing. The pool tables and dart boards have a queue, and every table is full. The bar has a solid wall of bodies surrounding it, waiting to place drink orders, and Benny has yet to give up his seat. Griffin is filling the role of waiter, running food orders all over the room.
The jukebox is getting a good amount of use, and some customers have created a dance floor while they two-step to artists like Garth Brooks and Brad Paisley. Most of the men are wearing their nice flannel, cowboy hats, and boots, while some of the women wear a more feminine version of the same attire.
There are a few women with jean shorts, cowgirl boots, and cute tops that Griffin seems to be purposely paying little attention to. Their hair and makeup are flawless, and they keep shooting come-hither glances in Griffin’s direction.
The Wandering Raven is clearly the place to be on a Friday night.
I don’t know how Griffin and Knox did this before by themselves. It’s a madhouse in here. Kat had mentioned the people in town treating Griffin and Knox differently, but from what I can see, they’re more than accepted.
“Two Bud Lights, please,” a kind middle-aged woman orders.
“Coming right up!” As I fill two glasses with beer, I spot a couple walking down the back hall. “Here you go,” I say with a smile as I hand the drinks over.
My eyes go back to the hallway. Throughout the evening, I’ve seen people wander back there, but not a single one has returned. Sometimes Griffin walks out the front door, but I have no idea what he’d be doing out there in the parking lot.
Should I be worried? Kat said this place was run-down. She didn’t mention sketchy shit going on in a backroom. Although I haven’t the slightest clue as to where they’re going. I’ve been down that hall. There’s a men’s restroom, a women’s restroom, and an office. I want to take another look, but I can’t while the bar is in full swing.
“Excuse me?”
