Chapter 8
The Fourth Friday
Icouldn’t help but remember the police lights from the week before when I approached the entrance to The Muse. Music was already playing from inside, and the musician’s voice was raspy and deep, curling around me. It reminded me of the times I’d listen to my foster mom’s Janis Joplin record while she curled up with her husband on the couch and talked about music.
Sean’s eyes remained on me as I worked my way up to the door. “Hey, honey,” he greeted. “It’s good to see you.”
“Are you okay?” I asked. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been sitting in the back seat of a second cop car.
“Of course. Don’t you worry about me.” He patted my shoulder, his large tattooed hand so warm, even through my shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Hitting the asshole was on me, not you.” He waved toward the open door. “Your spot is open.”
“Really?” It had taken me longer to leave the house than usual. Neil had left a couple of hours earlier for his date. Finally giving up on choosing an outfit, I’d left in my baggy shirt and comfy jeans. I’d been worried about parking, and a part of me had already planned on using that as an excuse to head back home, but a couple of spots had still been open in the back. “I would have thought the bar would be full by now.” I peeked around the door. A leather jacket had been spread over my usual barstool.
“Jack saved it for you,” Sean said.
I nodded, moving inside. Not wanting to sit on the jacket, I lifted it and placed it over my legs as I settled into my spot. Both of the seats nearest to me were occupied, but the patrons’ attention remained on the people beside them.
I watched Jack as he mixed a drink. He wasn’t a super tall man, likely a few inches under six feet, but his hands looked strong and sure. Musician’s hands.
My eyes moved to the stage. Tonight’s performer wasn’t a full band but instead one woman with a guitar. She had a uniquely beautiful voice as she sang about not wanting to go home.
Now that I was here, I felt the same. Neil would return with yet another number added to his body count, and I hadn’t even been able to set up a date this week.
Jack’s hand settled over mine where it rested on the bar, drawing my gaze to him. “Hey, Hailey. Glad you’re here.” Helifted his hand from mine, leaving tingles behind. “I can store the jacket behind the bar.”
My other hand clutched at it. “Oh, um…” I kind of liked the weight of it over my legs.
He smiled. “You can keep it for a while if you want. What can I get you? Want me to try something new?”
I’d really liked the purple drink from last week, but it felt wrong to order it, and I wasn’t in a very festive mood. “Just a ginger ale tonight?” My stomach twisted to protest its emptiness. “And a menu?”
He grabbed a menu, which was just a one-sided laminated rectangle, and handed it over. “I’ll grab your soda.”
Food wasn’t a priority for The Muse based on what was on offer.
Jack set down the sparkling golden drink. He hesitated, studying me. “Know what you want?”
I handed back the menu. “Chicken tenders and fries with honey mustard.”
He nodded, tucking the menu away but not moving down the bar despite someone gesturing toward him. “Be right there,” he called, his eyes on me. He leaned forward a little. “Meeting anyone tonight?” he asked.
“I’m just here for the music. And some food.” I tried to smile, but from the way he frowned, I didn’t quite pull it off. “You don’t need to worry about me tonight.”
“That’s not—”
“Hey, Jack.” Wendy nudged his shoulder. “We’re out of limes.”
Jack nodded. “I’ll take care of it. The guy in red is waiting to order.”
“Got it.” She slapped him on the back and moved toward the man who had gestured.
I turned my gaze back to the musician so Jack could focus on his work. The ginger ale helped to ease the ache in my stomach as I sipped it. The woman sang a few more songs before my food was placed in front of me.
I handed Wendy my card so she could start a tab.
