Page 43 of Love Unwritten
Luckily, someone starts up the old karaoke machine that has been around since Julian’s parents got together in this same bar decades ago, and Dahlia quickly joins the line of people who want to give it a go. Julian asks me to save him, but I only push him away with a half-assed salute.
A few people attempt to strike up a conversation with me, but their efforts die once I give only a few one-word answers. I don’t actively try to be a dick, but I’m not the most pleasant conversationalist.
I scan the back of the bar where Ellie was seated, only to find the spot empty. People near the stage whistle before an “Ellie” chant begins.
“I see you all got me tipsy on purpose.” A soft chuckle follows the voice I’d recognize anywhere.
A couple of confirmatory shouts follow. The first chords of a song begin to play from the speakers lining the stage.
“I love you!” a woman shouts from the side, and I follow the sound to Willow, who has her phone in the air, high above the crowd so she can record the stage.
Ellie shakes her head with a small smile. “Some of you might have heard a version of this song already—”
“Screw Ava Rhodes!” someone yells.
Ava Rhodes, as in the pop star? I knew she grew up here and all, but I haven’t given her music much of a listen outside of a few popular songs Dahlia and Lily like. Most people around here aren’t fans of her, although I’ve never bothered to ask why. I just assumed it had something to do with her turning her back on the town she grew up in.
Ellie’s already flushed cheeks turn crimson. “Anyway, I don’t think some of you have heard it like this before.”
The song restarts, and she shuts her eyes.
Her foot taps against the worn wood floor beneath her, and her hips move to the music, drawing my gaze toward her legs again. I try to gain control of my roaming eyes, but the task proves increasingly difficult as the spotlight above her head turns on.
Like a siren calling me toward a watery grave, Ellie pulls me into a hypnotic trance as soon as her lips part and the first line of lyrics pours out of her mouth. I want nothing more than to drown in the sound of her raspy voice.
I’ve never heard her sing before. Anytime she plays, her lips remain sealed, although given her clear talent, I’m questioning why she doesn’t more often.
One a.m., lying in my bed, wondering which husband’s coming home to greet me.
Could it be the man I married, or the one who smells of cheap roses and bottom-shelf whiskey?
Three a.m., bleeding red, pleading for someone to come save me and my baby.
Ominous lyrics weave a story about an abusive husband and his broken wife, and the slow buildup to the chorus has everyone swaying on their feet. Although the backing track matches the same popular song that most of the nation knows, these lyrics are different. Darker.
This version leans toward folk music, and I don’t need to listen to the whole thing to wish it replaced the mainstream rendition.
Ellie’s soft voice is thick with emotion, and her eyes have a sheen to them by the time she gets to the final verse. I don’t hear her because I’m too caught up in watching a tear roll down her cheek, the evidence of her pain written clear as day across her face.
She may wipe it away with the tip of her tattooed finger, but I see it.
Just like I see her.
I have no right to be curious about her and the past I hardly know much about, but I can’t deny the strong tug in my chest that I feel whenever I look over at her. It is the same one I felt when she first started working for me, back before I became consumed by my turbulent emotions, and one I should be wary of given my past. I’m not here because of whatever interest Ellie stirs inside me when I least expect it.
I’m here for Nico.
The last chord plays, and the bar breaks out in a roar of applause, prematurely ending the spell she cast on me.
Spell?
Fuck.
Ellie tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and holds out the microphone for the next person in line like she didn’t just set the bar through the stratosphere.
“Yeah, there’s no way I am going up there after that.” The person standing beside the stage disappears into the crowd.
“Anyone else want to try?” She shakes the microphone.