smell the fragrance Thanh had given me. “Mmm. That’s nice.”
Without dropping his gaze, he brushed his lips across my skin, and an electric current shot up every nerve in my arm. I drew my hand back, shrugging off the shiver that hit me like an aftershock. “And you? What do you do?”
He laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m a musician.”
I blinked back my disappointment. From Adam’s appearance, I hadn’t had high hopes, but he might’ve been dressed down for a night out. Way down.
On my list of suitable professions for my prospective mate, musician wasn’t at the absolute bottom. There were plenty more embarrassing or unstable career choices. I wouldn’t date plumbers or proctologists for obvious reasons. Salesmen either because, well, I didn’t like salesmen, but also because their financial situation might be uncertain. Plus they tended to travel. My ideal guy, I’d decided, would be an architect. But there weren’t many of those swimming around my apartment complex in Edison, New Jersey.
I had nothing against musicians. On the contrary, I loved them. I’d supported my brother in his career, but the lifestyle was too precarious for my peace of mind. Even the most talented had a hard time making ends meet. Traveling and selling merchandise became a necessity.
Which is why I never dated musicians.
Unfortunately, all the doctors, lawyers, and architects I encountered were usually not interested in jean-clad, concert T-shirt wearing me. This train of thought brought me around to the realization that I’d judged Adam for dressing exactly the same way.
Micah saved me from sticking my foot in my mouth when he appeared at our side. “Adam! I’m glad to see you here. I see you’ve met my sister.” He turned to me. “Eden, do you mind if I steal him for a few?”
Adam threw me a glance. “Will you be here when I get back?”
The jolt of butterflies this simple question gave me came wholly unexpectedly. “I’ll be here. I’m leaving when Micah does.”
He flashed a crooked smile at me, and I traced his lips with my eyes. He was going to be trouble.
They headed toward the green room, leaving me as confused as Adam must’ve been when I went onstage. I didn’t know who he was, or why my brother wanted to see him.
I weighed the possible options.
Option one: The most logical explanation was that Micah was hiring Adam to temporarily replace his bassist, Rick, who was taking time off to be with his wife after the birth of their first child. I congratulated myself for solving the mystery on my first try.
Option two: Maybe Adam was a drug dealer. No, other than smoking and drinking, I’d never known Micah to try a recreational drug. And surely, this wouldn’t be an ideal location for such a transaction. Besides, Adam already said he was a musician. Option one was looking better and better.
Option three: Or maybe Adam was a homeless man Micah was going to take in out of charity. A homeless man who’d just bought me three beers. I rolled my eyes at myself, but then felt awash with guilt. He probably wasn’t homeless, but it did seem like he might be struggling to get by, and I’d accepted three drinks I could’ve easily afforded. Good job, Eden. Way to drive a man to starvation.
Every new option I came up with to explain Adam’s presence here defied logic and stretched the imagination. I gave up and watched the crowd thin. When Micah and Adam came back out, the bar was empty, save me and the staff.
Micah poked me. “We’re going over to Adam’s. You can come or just go straight back to my place.” He bounced on his feet. I looked from him to Adam, standing relaxed up against the bar. From the looks of things, Micah had a boy crush. I might be interrupting a bromance if I tagged along.
Adam stepped toward me. “I have a fully stocked bar, and I don’t like to drink alone.” His smile was disarming. The whole situation seemed so contrived, and I had to wonder whose idea it was.
Micah stifled a yawn. “Come on, Eden. Just for a drink. Let’s go see how the other half lives.”
Did he know what that expression meant? “Okay, but let’s get going. Some of us have been awake since this morning.”
Mary Ann Marlowe lives in central Virginia where she works as a computer programmer/DBA. She spent ten years as a university-level French professor, and her resume includes stints as an au pair in Calais, a hotel intern in Paris, a German tutor, a college radio disc jockey, and a webmaster for several online musician fandoms. She has lived in twelve states and three countries and loves to travel.