Kiss Me Goodnight (8 page)

She blushed and looked away. “Damn. You’re too good at that.”

I wasn’t good at anything; that had been a lucky strike. Still, I knew better than to let this opportunity pass. “Jane, spill. I told you my dark and dirty secret of the week.”

Luma chimed in. “C’mon, Janie. If you can’t tell your besties, who can you tell?”

“Well, I landed a primo internship for this fall.”

We squealed. Luma and I grabbed Jane’s hands. “That’s wonderful.” We both said lots of positive, exclamatory things, and Jane blushed harder.

“Thanks, guys. I feel sort of bad. I hadn’t meant to go for that spot. I didn’t think I could get it, and then the next thing I knew, they were calling me. I feel bad because Owen wanted it, and he didn’t get it.”

Owen was a friend of Jane’s. They’d been in the same study group for two years. Leave it to Jane to feel bad about something good.

Luma snorted. “Owen’s an ass. He uses you because you’re brilliant. You can’t feel bad for him. If he relied on you a little less, maybe he would’ve been actual competition.”

Needless to say, Luma didn’t have a high opinion of Owen. I saw him as one of those people who desperately wanted to be smarter than he was. He clung to his more intelligent friends, listened, parroted, and hoped for the best. At some point, he’d come to believe he was just as smart as everybody else. But he wasn’t, and time and circumstances eventually catch up with everybody.

That delusion had led Owen to belittle Jane on more than one occasion. We didn’t understand why she continued to help him study. At this news, I felt a sense of gloating vindication.

“Jane, you’re a brilliant lawyer. You deserve this. Don’t let Owen Glazer diminish your accomplishment.”

She studied her drink, probably replaying a confrontation in her head. A frown marred her forehead and chin. “He said I could only jiggle my boobs for so long before they start sagging to my knees, and then the firm would lose interest in me.”

I wanted to punch him.

Luma must have felt the same way. She narrowed her eyes to slits, and in the darkened room, she looked positively feral. “Call the son of a bitch. Invite him here. I’ll come on to him in the alley out back, get him naked. Lacey will steal his clothes, and then we’ll leave his ass twisting in the wind.”

The plan sounded like something I’d lie about. I hoped Luma was kidding.

Jane giggled, washing away her guilt and the tension. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too.” Luma and Jane shared a moment of drunken awareness, then they burst with the kind of pure laughter found only in those inebriated connections. As the sober party, I felt a little left out.

“Hey, you’re Lacey, right?”

I swung my attention around to see the drummer in Dylan’s band. Now that I was sitting on a high-legged chair, I stood/sat face to face with her. She had the same oval face as her brother, though her jaw wasn’t as square, and she also shared the dark hair and teal eyes.

I wasn’t used to knowing the family members of men I dated—not that Dylan and I were dating. We’d shared two conversations in two different ladies’ rooms. That wasn’t romantic, and I doubted it was even hygienic. I cleared my throat and answered the woman. “Yeah.”

She offered me her hand. “Daisy Day. Dylan didn’t introduce us earlier. He told me about how you met.”

I blushed. I’ve never wished so much to be drunk. Why had I thought it was a good idea to volunteer for DD duty? “It was an accident.” Points to me for not stammering. I wrung my hands together, and I knew I’d be fighting the urge to wash them very soon.

Daisy laughed. “Audra and Monty thought it was hilarious.”

Audra. His wife. She knew who I was. Of course she’d remember someone who spilled coffee all over her husband’s lap. All of a sudden, it hit me. I was here tonight to see a married man. After all the promises I’d made to myself—after all the affirmations about how I deserved somebody honest, somebody who loved me and only me—here I was, about to dive into the same tainted pool once more.

Shame flooded my body. I wanted to cry and wash my hands. Several lies came to mind. I have a brain tumor, and I’m dying. I’m a lesbian. Anything to get me out of this situation.

I shifted uncomfortably. “Oh. I—It was an accident. I’m glad his wife isn’t upset.”

Daisy’s brows lifted, hiding under her bangs. “Audra is
my
wife. Monty’s our son.”

I stared at her for a long time as her statements penetrated my thick skull. Then I thought about the second lie I’d considered, and a slow giggle trickled from me. It went on and on. Jane and Luma emerged from their love-fest to stare. Tears wet my eyelashes. Also in that manic episode was no small measure of relief. Dylan wasn’t married. He’d been out with his nephew and sister-in-law.

I wasn’t heading off the cliff into Bad Mistake Land. Things in my life were truly on the upswing. New job. Cute
single
guy with awesome taste in music. Night out with my best friends. My soul soared.

Chapter Five

“W
HAT’S
T
HE
N
AME
O
F
T
HE
B
AND
?” Jane leaned over to ask me.

“I have no idea.”

I introduced Daisy to Jane and Luma. My friends were impressed that I knew the drummer in the band, and they probably assumed I was there to support her. I didn’t ask or in any way try to correct assumptions they may or may not have made.

Dylan’s band opened with original music. He’d changed his clothes from earlier. They all had. Each member was now clad in a black cotton T-shirt and dark blue jeans. The three men looked scrumptious, and even behind the drum set, Daisy stood out in her V-necked baby tee.

Jane leaned closer. “If you don’t know the name of the band, how did you meet them?”

I hadn’t met them all. “I spilled coffee on the lead singer.”

She hit me. Hard.

I winced, flinching out of her reach and rubbing my arm. “Ow. Damn it, Jane. What was that for?”

“You spilled coffee on Mr. Too-Hot-for-Words, and you’re just now mentioning it? Luma and I will be torturing you for the details later. And introductions. I concede that you have dibs on the lead singer. We’ll work out who gets the keyboardist and who gets the bassist.”

Dylan played lead guitar, and I was impressed at his skill. He was effectively doing two complicated things at once, and I had to wonder how that ability translated into other areas of life.

The band played another original song before launching into their version of “Endlessly, She Said.” Dylan dedicated it to me, or actually to “the lovely woman with the iced latte,” as he didn’t use my name. I’m not sure how I feel about that gesture. I mean, I’m pretty certain the song is about the death of hope. It speaks to my soul, but it whispers dreary sentiments. This did not bode well for my prospects of exchanging my battery-powered lover for a manual one.

Meanwhile, Dylan’s voice and expression seemed to mesmerize everyone in the room. I don’t think anyone had expected to be swept away, but that’s what he did to them. For me, those are the sweetest of experiences: the unexpectedly good ones. I went willingly, even when I realized he was singing a punked-out version of “You Give Love a Bad Name.” It was almost enough to make me want to listen to Bon Jovi.

Almost.

Jane and Luma enjoyed the show tremendously. By the time Dylan introduced their last tune, my friends had sobered up.

“I’d like to thank all of you for coming out tonight. We are Kiss Me Goodnight, and this is our final song.”

It started slow, with the melody kicking in after the drum established the beat. It had a catchy chorus:

I’ll lock all the doors
And turn out the lights;
Curl up in my arms, darling,
And kiss me goodnight.

There was more, of course. The song told the story of lovers comfortable in the knowledge that they’d always be together. He sang it sweetly, so even though I didn’t catch all the lyrics, the song still managed to penetrate my emotions.

When the band had abandoned the stage and the DJ took over the sound system again, Jane turned to me, her eyes narrowed.

“Spill it, sister. I can’t believe you’re holding out on us.”

Luma lifted an inquiring brow, and they took turns with the interrogation.

“What’s his name?”

“Dylan.”

“You met when?”

“Last Friday.”

“First date?”

“No.”

“He ask you out?”

“No. He asked me to come see his band.” I looked around. A lot of pretty girls were here. I wondered how many he had invited. Jane opened her mouth to ask the next question, but I held up my hand. “It’s not a big deal. I spilled coffee on him. He asked me to come see his band play. I’m here. End of story.”

They gave me the look that said they knew I wasn’t telling them everything. But they also knew, from experience, that if they kept asking questions, I’d be in the bathroom until the soap dispensers ran dry.

I didn’t know if Dylan would try to find me, but I wanted him to know I’d been here and I enjoyed the show. They didn’t have roadies, so the band members were disassembling their own equipment. I approached the stage, but half the single women in the place had the same idea, so I stood off to the side.

Dylan worked steadily. Every time he or another band member came near the front of the stage, some groupie—I couldn’t believe they already had groupies—said something to snag his attention.

When the girl next to me yelled a suggestive compliment at Dylan, he had the grace to blush as he looked over. But when he did, he spotted me and seemed to forget the woman who’d spoken. The shy smile on his face grew larger and warmer. “Lacey. Daisy told me you were here. I was hoping you’d stick around.”

The girl gave me a dirty look, which I ignored. Jane and Luma had my back, and they’re experts. They have older sisters. As an only child and someone who spent my childhood focused on my OCD, I was out of my depth when it came to petty dealings with women.

“Do you need help?” I asked Dylan.

He quirked a brow. “Sure. How are you at holding open doors?”

“I have a degree in that shoved in a drawer somewhere.”

Jane pinched me, a warning. My statement was a joke, but I have a history of taking things to extremes.

I didn’t react to the zap of pain, but I did sweep my hand up and point over my shoulder. “These are my friends, Jane and Luma. They’re also great with doors.”

Dylan helped us all onto the stage, which isn’t as easy as it looks. But he’s strong, and we all made it up there without losing our dignity.

The band worked quickly and efficiently to load the equipment into their van, which was parked in a short alley behind the bar. Dylan introduced us to the keyboardist, Levi, and the bassist, Gavin. This time they shook my hand instead of glaring.

Gavin even apologized. “Sorry if we came off as overly hostile earlier.”

“That’s all right. I know I overstepped my bounds. It won’t happen again.”

“You meant well. And you were right.” He grinned, his brown eyes lit with warmth.

One thing I’ll say about the band: they’re hot. Every single one of them is physically attractive—tall, built, and handsome. Daisy is shorter than the guys, but still tall for a woman. And she’s pretty. They looked and sounded great.

I introduced Jane and Luma to Dylan’s band. Thank goodness neither of them looked at the men like they were a buffet. I liked Dylan, and now that I knew he was single, I was actually experiencing hope.

Gavin looked at Dylan and clapped Levi on the back. “We should clear out.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Heads swung and everybody looked at me. It was a little disorienting. I won’t be going on a stage anytime soon. I swallowed. “I mean, this was your first performance. There have to be a hundred women and more than a few men hanging out in there who enjoyed your show and wouldn’t mind meeting you. Mingling will help build your fan base.”

I needed to shut up before somebody asked me if I was a publicist. Knowing me, I would probably answer in the affirmative. I have a major in finance with a minor in business administration. Nothing there speaks to this situation.

“Sorry. Just throwing out ideas.”

Jane and Luma chuckled nervously. Jane moved closer, probably ready to drag me away if I kept going.

Levi nodded thoughtfully. “Good ideas, though. They make sense. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re heading back inside.”

Daisy linked her arms through Jane’s and Luma’s, and the three of them went first. Levi and Gavin followed.

Dylan held the door for me, which led to a hallway behind the stage. He grabbed my hand, holding me back when I would have followed everyone else through the door into the main room.

I cocked my head and gazed up at him.