In a Chord (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Beth D. Carter Page B

through to the bar, where a tall man in jeans and a button-down shirt greeted them. Not only did his clothes make him stand out, but his demeanor made him seem somewhat aloof.
    Since the next band was currently setting up, they were able to talk at a mere yelling decibel.
    “Ash, Keaton, this is Gil Johannson, with Abca Records. And this is Momo.”
    The men shook hands.
    “Can I get you anything?” the bartender asked, looking from each of the men, and her gaze lingering for a moment on Momo.
    “Water, thanks,” Momo replied.
    When she had served them, she moved off with a wink at Keaton.
    “Listen,” Gil said, after taking a sip of his beer, “I came because there’s been some buzz about you. I’ve seen you play before, and you were all right, but tonight was something different. I’ve been a scout for ten years and very rarely have I ever seen a band bring down the house like you guys did. And when that happens, I always offer a deal memo.”
    “Oh my god,” Keaton murmured as he watched Byron take the business card.
    “Of course, this is just an informal business arrangement right now establishing our relationship, but I have a good feeling about you,” Gil continued. “Byron, give my office a call on Monday.” He took another drink of his beer before placing it on the bar and standing. He held out his hand, and they all shook once more. When he got to Momo, he bent over and kissed the back of hers. “You guys definitely have a winner with her.”
    Then he turned and left them. Momo fanned herself and downed half her water as Ash and Keaton jumped and hollered. The patrons around them liked the excitement, even though they hadn’t a clue what had happened, and jumped with them.
    They rushed back, stopping Mike and Taylor as they loaded up the van to let them know their good news. Mike produced a flask from the glove box, and there, in the dark, dingy alley, they toasted to a successful night.
    Mike drove them home, not even blinking an eye when Momo got out with Ash and Keaton. They waved goodbye and headed inside the repository, Ash leaving to turn on the generator to get the place warmed up. Keaton flipped on the kitchen light, turned, and rushed to Momo’s side. She was pale and sweating, holding a hand to her stomach.
    “Are you all right?”
    She shook her head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    He grabbed her around the waist and brought her to the sink, where she vomited bile. She hadn’t eaten anything in hours, so only liquid came up. While Ash held her hair as her stomach tossed itself, Keaton ran to the bathroom to get a damp washrag.
    For ten minutes she kept vomiting. Even when nothing was left in her stomach, the dry heaves started. Keaton bathed her face and ran the faucet water to flush away the acidic remnants. Finally, they started easing up, and Ash swung her up into his arms, taking her into their bedroom and placing her gently in the center of the huge bed.
    “Sweetheart,” Ash murmured as he took out her pigtails. “Were you sick all night?”
    “No,” she croaked. “I felt great until just awhile ago. I don’t know what happened.”
    Keaton wiped her face again. He met Ash’s glace and matched his frown.
    “Just sleep,” he told her. “Come morning light, you’ll be right as rain.”
    She drifted off, wrapped up in their blankets. Keaton thought how he’d often wished she were in his and Ash’s bed, but not like this.

Chapter Ten
     
    Keaton watched as Momo stirred and her eyes fluttered open. He lay beside her on the bed, his upper body propped up on his arm. She smiled at him and stretched, her long lithe body arching gracefully under the blankets.
    “Good morning,” he murmured. “How are you feeling?”
    She put her hand over her mouth. “Better. Actually, I feel like I hadn’t puked my guts up last night. That was a weird sickness, eh?”
    “Why are you doing that?” he said, indicating her hand.
    “Oh,” she said with a grimace. “When my