The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead #1)(23)
Author: Alice Clayton

“Well, if you get here, you get here. If not, no big deal. I might be doing another open mike next week, too,” I answered, picking at a nonexistent piece of lint on my jeans. I really was getting more nervous about tonight than I thought. This was good, though, good energy to have.

“Actually, I’m not sure if I’ll be there,” he said. “Holly and I talked today and I’m going to have to start doing some more press. They’ve got interviews lined up for me all next week, and at some point I have to head up to Santa Barbara for a photo shoot.”

“Oh, OK. Well, whatever. It’s just an open mike night. I understand,” I replied, shocked that this affected me so. I could feel my stomach tightening up as I realized that I had really been looking forward to having him hear me sing.

Grace, this isn’t your boyfriend. This is someone who hasn’t even seen you naked yet.

Well, he saw me almost naked. That was not for his lack of trying, though.

Despite the fact that I had kept him away all week while I was working, he tried almost every night to talk me into coming out, or at least letting him come over.

After his front door performance, I was sorely tempted. Nevertheless, I was being an adult and getting my work done first.

Was I maybe also playing a little hard to get? Oh, hell yes.

“Grace, you know I’ll be there if I’m in town, right? You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” he assured me, and I could hear someone talking in the background. “Right then. They need me back on set. I’ll ring you if I can’t make it. Otherwise I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll talk you later. Hey, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“If I do see you tonight, you’re going to finish what you started,” I teased, remembering what he promised the last time we were together.

He was quiet and I thought he had hung up until he said, almost in a whisper, “Grace, I will focus on nothing else in life until you come. I will start it and I will f**king finish it.”

Oh. My. God. The Brit was a little dirty birdie. I scraped myself off the floor and tried to start breathing again. “Hamilton, I have no words for you.”

“Good. I like you speechless. Now let me go work so I can get to you faster,” he teased and hung up.

Christ on a crutch …

I arrived at the club early and waited for my friends. Sitting at the bar, I nursed a hot tea, trying to get my mind off Jack’s words. I was getting warm for his form just thinking about him, and I found myself wishing that the night were over so we could be together.

Girl, you got it bad.

Yes, but I was hoping to get it good. As I was sitting there, I felt a pair of hands on my waist and I smiled. I turned around and was not expecting what I saw.

“Bitch, this redhead has been identified!” It was Nick, and he was holding a copy of the TMZ picture from the beach. He was not pleased. “Tell me you are not f**king him. Please, God, tell me you haven’t hit this.”

“Why would you assume that just by looking at this picture? Maybe we were just sharing some shrimp, a harmless lunch?” I protested, innocently.

“So, you haven’t slept with him? Oh, thank you, Lord. I was going to smash my head through a plate glass window if you stole my British dreamboat before he knew he was secretly g*y. I need some more time to convince him.” He laughed, relaxing his posture.

“No, Nick, I haven’t slept with him,” I answered truthfully, wondering how I was going to dodge this particular bullet.

“Not yet she hasn’t. I give it another week before actual penetration happens,” Holly piped up, sneaking around me to steal a cherry from behind the bar.

“Dammit, Holly,” I started, watching Nick’s face move through all shades of red and on toward purple.

“How could you? My dreamboat, my British hotness, my steak and kidney pie, my, my … ” he stuttered, as I struggled not to laugh.

“Nick, I am sorry for your loss, but he’s straight—thoroughly, completely straight. If there were a chance that he wasn’t, I never would’ve kissed him. And that’s all I’ve done, just kissed him.”

“He felt you up the other day. Oh, and almost made you scream up against my doorbell,” Holly added, smiling gleefully.

“Not helping,” I seethed through my teeth.

“Well, at least he’s putting it to someone I know,” Nick started. “That makes me a little happy. And no one needs it more than you, except maybe you, dear,” he said, suddenly turning on Holly. She gulped, swallowing her cherry.

“When did this become about me? I’m fine,” she protested, turning her own deep shade of purple.

“Oh, please, it’s been months since you had sex with someone else in the room. And don’t try to lie. I am in tune,” he said fiercely, placing his fingertips to his temple in an attempt to divine the last time Holly had gotten some.

I pulled myself away from the conversation, listening to them bicker back and forth. I needed to focus. I once again smoothed down my outfit, picking at nonexistent lint.

That night I had settled on a tight black linen button down, which was fitted, and I had left the top few buttons undone, strategically. I had paired it with black swingy pants, finishing off with The Urban Shoe Myth: Black Patent Leather Mary Janes. My hair was down, and I didn’t even pretend to fool myself that I didn’t wear it down for Jack. He had told me on the phone one night that he loved my hair, especially when it was curly. I was now analyzing what he said as if I was in junior high—which I was practically in when he was born … oh man.

Grace, settle. You have been over this. Jack is just Jack. Forget the age difference.

Focus on the prize. The package is the prize.

The package was indeed the prize. I’d been dying to peek at that very package ever since the day I was straddling him on his bed with a back full of espresso welts. The boy was excited, and I had taken notice. Let’s just say that he could have had a gun in his pocket and been glad to see me, as well.

I kibitzed with Nick and Holly for a bit, and when performers started taking the stage, I scanned the crowd for Jack. It was almost nine-thirty, and no sign of the Brit. Ah well, I knew he was going to try. Re-shoots must have run longer than he’d anticipated.

When the host called my name, I climbed on stage with my guitar. I had picked two different songs, and I was happy with my choices. Watching Holly and Nick applaud for me, I let the familiar feeling that I got from performing take me. It always made me a little high. I closed my eyes, found my center, and when I finished the intro, I opened my mouth to sing.