Page 53 of The Unseelie Wish
“Fine. But you didn’t keep to the spirit of the agreement.”
Chuckling, she glanced up at him. “And since when do fae care about the spirit of a contract? You’re all about technicalities and loopholes.”
“I care when it suits me to care. And right now, it suits me.” Smiling playfully at her, he nudged her in the ribs. “Go on, songbird. I want to finally hear you sing. We won’t have another chance.”
That was a fair point. And it sent her mood smashing through the floor into the basement. But she picked it up, dusted it off, and put it back on the first floor. Tonight wasn’t about their impending doom. Tonight was about having fun.
Tonight was about them.
Whatever they were.
She still wasn’t sure. And honestly, she probably didn’t have the time to figure it out. With a shrug, she scooted away from Izael and off the upholstered bench of the booth. “Fine, fine. I’ll sing. I’m not sure they’ll be too thrilled about a rando coming up and asking to take the mic.”
“I already paid them off. They’re expecting you.” There was that shit-eating grin again.
“Of course, you did. Why am I surprised?” Picking up a piece of popcorn from the bowl the waitress had brought them, she tossed it at him.
Deflecting it easily, he laughed. “No clue. It’s more fun if you are, though.”
She supposed that was also fair. “All right, then. Well. Here’s hoping the crowd doesn’t boo me off the stage.”
“I am positive they won’t.” He stretched out his arms on either side of him, draping them over the back of the booth, making himself comfortable. He looked straight out of a twisted nightmare of a mobster movie. A sexy, twisted, nightmare mobster movie. With monsters. That ate people.
And had two?—
Anyway. She turned her back on him and walked to the stage. It was funny—she had gone into performing for a living. That was what she had told herself she wanted to do for the rest of her life. But her nerves were on high alert. It was probably because she really had no business being here. This wasn’t her stage, her gig, her band. She was an interloper.
There was no turning back now.
That about sums things up, doesn’t it? That really was the whole-ass vibe of the past few weeks of her life. No turning back. She’d started this, and now she had to see it through.
Shit.
Just…shit.
She only had herself to blame for getting herself into this mess. Well, half of it was her fault, anyway. The other half she’d put squarely on the snake. Walking up to the stage, she smiled at the drummer as they finished their song. “My boyfriend thinks this was a cute idea, sorry.”
The drummer laughed. “Don’t sweat it. He paid us more than we make in a month.”
“Well, then, I won’t feel too bad about it if I suck.” She climbed onto the stage, smiling and greeting the other musicians in turn. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to bomb. But anything was possible.
The lead singer handed off the mic. Taking a breath, she let it out, and turned to the rest of the band. “How about No Good Man in B??” It was a slower piece, and that was what she was in the mood for. And besides, it was just snarky enough to make the whole situation a bit more amusing.
“You got it, boss,” the man playing the stand-up bass replied. She thought he might have said his name was Ryan, but she was shit with names on a good day, and she probably had less than twenty-four hours to live.
Her mind was elsewhere.
They started up, and she rested her hands on the mic stand. Shutting her eyes, she let herself feel the music. Let herself hear the world around her.
All the music of the world around her seemed to merge into the song the band was playing. Every note was perfect—every note was in tune. It felt like she was placing her hands on the keys of a piano, but not pressing down. The potential was there—it’d be so simple.
Play a chord, and the man two tables over by the wall would become a chihuahua and pee on the floor.
Play a different one, and the woman who was desperately flirting with the bartender would turn into a cactus.
I shouldn’t have this kind of power.
I really, really shouldn’t.