only outlet I allowed myself anymore, and even those weren’t strictly for fun.
“Okay, honey.” Sophia’s expression softened. “I just wish more for you. You know I do. So, this opening band,” she said too brightly. “What did Ash tell you about them?”
Ashland Keys wasn’t only the co-owner of Outside. He was also the drummer for the world-famous Dirt Dogs. Semi-retired from his band, he worked full time at the label he’d cofounded with his cousin, Lincoln Savage, the lead singer of the Dirt Dogs. Incidentally, Ash was also my boss. Well, he was for tonight, and any other time he needed a special-event bartender.
“Ash says they’re my speed,” I said. “Loud and heavy on the metal like Tempest, and they have double guitarists.”
“That sounds cool.” She nodded reflectively. “Nice of him to give you a break at the beginning of the evening to catch some of the lineup.”
“Not here for the concert. Here to work. He pays me well to bartend for these special events outside of Ocean Beach.”
“Sí, mi flor.” Yes, my flower. “But it’s your birthday,” she said with a frown. “He should pay you triple, considering that.”
“Maybe.” Letting Sophia’s richly accented voice and her indignation on my behalf wash over me, I set my troubles aside and gave her a smile.
At that moment, the recorded background music stopped, and I turned my attention to the stage. The house lights lowered, and the stage lights came on.
Ash came out. Strutting confidently across the stage, all blond and blue-eyed with his golden tan, he looked like a typical SoCal surfer. But in his all-season wool slacks and button-down shirt, he was dressed like a business exec.
“You guys having a good time?” Ash asked the audience, his mouth to the center mic.
I clapped enthusiastically like everyone around me. His gaze finding me, Ash smiled. He was awesome. I didn’t tell Sophia, but I would find a way to do these events for him, even if he didn’t pay me as well as he did.
“On behalf of the Dirt Dogs and Outside, I just want to say we’re really glad to have you here tonight. As you know, all the proceeds from ticket sales are being donated to HIV research. But enough of that. We’re here to party and rock hard. And our first band, Black Skulls, will help us get started right.”
He stepped back and moved away as the band members filed onto the stage.
The lead singer was hot with his inky black hair and piercing blue eyes. He went to center stage to claim his denim guitar. The Ryan Gosling lookalike drummer hopped onto his drum riser. The colossus that had a guitar strapped to his mammoth shoulder strode stage right. The Dark Knight bassist swooped left.
The drummer took his seat, thrust his sticks into the air, clacked them three times, then brought them down. The lead singer stalled his blue gaze on my bestie. His fingers hovered above the frets of his Martin.
But it was the guitarist beside him who strummed the scintillating opening chord. My gaze moved to him and my heart stopped. His hotter-than-hot brown eyes met mine, melting me into a puddle where I stood.
Everything but him and the heat within his incredible eyes burned away.
Lotus
“A CROWN AND Coke, easy on the Coke, if you know what I mean.” The Ryan Gosling lookalike drummer from the Black Skulls placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar in front of me.
“Got it.” From behind the counter, I refrained from rolling my eyes as I poured a double shot of Crown Royal in a plastic cup and added a splash of Coke for color.
“Here you go. But you can keep your money.” I set his drink on the counter and picked up the cash, trying to return it. “Drinks are complimentary.”
“It’s a tip, darlin’. You’re cute, and we’re having a private party with your friend. You should come.”
“I’m working.” It had taken effort, but I’d managed to scrape my gooey body off the floor after having it melted by the guitarist in his band.
“I can see that, but it’s winding down.” He gestured to the large space, like a convention hall, and he was right. What had once been packed by several hundred VIPs had whittled down to about thirty. Most were executive types, closing deals. No one had stepped up to the bar in a while.
“You’re right,” I said. “But—”
“Babe, c’mon. The band needs drinks. We’re VIPs. Bring us a couple of bottles of Cuervo. We’re in