dad’s, who warned everyone she was all bark with extra bite.
Everett was by the stage, untangling cable leads and chatting with some of the locals who frequented the run-down building most nights.
I sidled up to the bar, giving Zoe a smile. Her lips twitched, the piercing in her cheek shifting, and that was as good as it would get smile-wise.
Everett’s attention was pinned on me when I asked for a soda and turned back to face the stage.
I raised my hand, fingers fluttering alongside my stomach as he gave me that devastating, hope-filled grin and then meandered between the tables, coming for me.
“Going to hang around this time?”
I licked my lips, quickly thanking Zoe for the drink she slid over, then let my eyes roam over the black shirt clinging to Everett’s chest. When they reached his face, his own eyes sparkled, all knowing when it came to me. “Depends.”
His brows jumped. “On?”
“On how well you play, I guess.”
“Get on that stage, Taylor, or I’ll be cutting the hot water again.”
I pursed my lips at Zoe’s threat, but Everett only grinned some more.
With a swipe of his fingers beneath my chin, he stalked back through the tables and finished setting up.
It wasn’t the first time I’d come to see him play since he’d shown up in Raslow, but it was the first time I planned to hang around for the whole set. Not that he needed to know that.
Taking a seat on the stool with his guitar strapped to his back, Everett adjusted the mic stand. “How’re we all doing tonight?”
Replies were hollered back, and while taking a sip of water, Everett nodded at an elderly man in the corner of the room. “How’s that hip of yours treating you, Rog?”
“She’s getting there.”
Instead of a forced stage one, Everett flashed a rare genuine smile, swinging his guitar around. “That’s what I like to hear.” He dropped the bottle to the stage, then began to strum, bobbing his head and bouncing his knee as the crowd quieted.
The first song he chose was a popular one the band often played together, but even without them, and Everett singing at a slower pace, it was nothing short of chilling.
His ability to take a more upbeat rock-infused song with rivets of pop and turn it into a haunting, bluesy ballad had my mouth drying and my hand reaching blindly for my soda.
Lemon-scented rum,
In the barrel of a drum
We’re brewing dreams
And I’d invite you because I kinda like you,
But I’m all tied up
In this feeling swinging from the ceiling
In my beat-up truck
Oh, we’re like lovers, you and I,
But it’s only for a night,
Because I’m wasted air
Sorry, there’s no encore even if you want more,
Because I’m wasted, yeah
And I dare you, I honestly do, to find me here
Where the rooms are tight and the moon glows bright,
Let’s get wasted there
Cherry-flavored pie
Shaped like a star in the sky
We’re flying high
And I’d invite you because I really like you,
But I’m all shook up
High on this feeling that keeps on leaving
Like I give a fuck
Oh, we’re like lovers you and I,
But it’s only for a night, because I’m wasted air
Sorry, there’s no encore, even if you want more,
Because I’m wasted, yeah
And I dare you, I honestly do, to find me here
Oh, where the rooms are tight and the moon glows bright,
Let’s get wasted there
Yeah, get wasted there…
With his eyes closed, lips hugging the mic and thick fingers caressing guitar strings, he drowned the entire room with that hypnotizing, magnetic, gravel-stained timbre.
Watching Everett Taylor sing was an indescribable experience. One that took you right out of this world and set you in one where he only existed with you. It used to bother me that other people, that the entire world would get to experience that.
Now it bothered me that not many would.
He rolled through the band’s most popular songs, adding his own perks to suit the lack of instruments, and even sang some new songs I’d never heard before.