A few minutes later, Fender is ready, appearing as the rock god we all know him to be. The music starts, and it’s a slow, familiar melody. His song choice is on point. He belts out the first verse of Aerosmith's “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing,” and the whole place stops. There aren’t a lot of musicians who can hold a candle to Steven Tyler’s voice, but Fender is definitely one of them.
Ky takes advantage of this opportunity, pulling Kira out to the middle of the floor, showing off the beauty in his arms. It’s like they’re the only two people in the whole place. The man is smitten for sure. We all watch, absorbed as they sway, staring into each other’s eyes as if there isn't a natural disaster catastrophic enough to tear them apart.
I steal a glance at Liv who’s also watching them with a wistful expression, and I suddenly have an idea. I don’t know how Fender will feel about it, but I’m not going to give him much of a choice.
By the end of the song, Fender has everyone in the bar, and even some people on the casino floor, clapping and cheering. Yup, that’s the effect Fender has. He’s a siren with a nut-sack.
I get his attention before he starts another song, because if I know him, an encore was already planned.
I whisper my request into his ear.
“Seriously, bro?” He makes a face.
“Yes, seriously. Can you sing it or not?” I gripe.
Fender’s offended. “Of course, I can sing it. I can sing the shit out of it. It’s just a strange request coming from you.”
“I know.” I cut my eyeline over to Liv.
“I think maybe I should sing Usher’s ‘U Got It Bad,’ instead, and dedicate it to you and Ky. You two motherfuckers are whipped.”
“Ugh.” I shove him away. “Just fucking sing it, and shut up.”
“Hmmm.” He scratches his stubbly chin. “That seems like an oxymoron.”
“You’re a fucking moron,” I hiss as I walk away.
Liv’s back is turned to me, which leaves the perfect opportunity to catch her off guard.
The microphone scratches as Fender brings it up to his mouth. “This next one is a special request. You got it bad, bro.”
I turn and scowl at him, knowing that little comment was meant just for me. I’m surrounded by wise guys.
The first few piano notes to my request play, and I'm immediately transported back ten years, to that night. To that last dance, when everything in my life was perfect for the first time. I don't even know if Liv remembers the song. If she doesn’t, I’m going to take this chance to remind her.
I clear my throat behind her, both Ky and Kira watching me like hawks. “They’re playing our song.” Liv spins on the bar stool, lips parted, eyes wide. Beautiful like always. “Dance?” I hold out my hand. She’s frozen in place, stunned by my invitation. “It’s only a three-minute song, so you need to decide fast,” I attempt to keep the mood light.
Liv decidedly puts her hand in mine, and we walk out to an empty space on the floor.
I don’t waste one second wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close. I don’t care who sees or who’s watching. Right now, all that matters is Liv and me.
“Do you remember?” I ask as we sway to Fender’s rendition of “When You’re Gone” By Avril Lavigne.
“How could I forget?” She rests her head on my shoulder. There’s not as much hostility as I was expecting. “How much did you pay him to sing this?” There’s actually amusement weaved through her question.
“Nothing. He owes a few favors.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. Fender has been up and down and in and out in all sorts of bad ways, and we’ve all been there to pick him up and dust him off on multiple occasions, Ky and me especially.
“He’s really talented.” She muses.
“You don’t even know the half of it.”
We continue to dance, me soaking up every second Liv is in my arms. It feels so fucking right, the word wrong has been completely erased from my vocabulary. “I’ve been thinking about you,” I confess.
“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” she admits softly, almost sadly.
“Not in a good way, I take it.”
“In all sorts of ways. Good, bad, indifferent.” That answer is as muddled as it is clear.
