you.”
Liv blew me a kiss, buying a death glare from me. “Show time, Sis.”
“Fine. You owe me.”
“Big time. Tab it for me.”
Shaking my head, I started for the door when Liv pulled at my arm. “Wait! Here. I got you something.” With that, she pulled out a glittery silver and purple scarf from her jacket and hung it around my neck, wrapping it around once before dangling the two ends down my chest. “There. Rock-chic defined.” Then she twirled around and disappeared out the door.
I reached up and touched the soft material. It was so light; I barely felt it on my skin. I peered at my reflection in the dingy mirror across from me. Water spots surrounded my image as I reveled in how it’d transformed me. She was right. A bit of makeup and the right accessory made all the difference. I looked like Liv, when she didn’t have her hair dyed a few shades darker. We could be twins with the makeup and styles on.
Somehow, the kinship between us calmed me. She was wild hearted, but I couldn’t stay angry with her near me. I forced a smile, and the girl in the reflection looked beautiful even. Keeping the wattage on, I pushed the bathroom door open and found Saul with my eyes, waiting on stage for us. He looked charming there, without any effort. My determination wavered, realizing again that he couldn’t see me with my face done up and my gorgeous scarf. Shrugging it off, I determined it was okay because he’d already said my voice was perfect. If he could understand my music, he had a major plus on his side for that.
Maybe it would be good to have someone really see me, without their eyes, for once.
Chapter Eleven
Liv
IT WASN’T HARD to find Jonas in the crowd. The bar was bustling with loud patrons and smoking hot scantily clad women with torn stockings and heavy makeup. The smoky air disguised the age of most of them, blurring their faces in the myriad of flashing lights. It kept most of the bar dimmed, setting the mood as the room filled with electric energy.
Jonas was the only one dressed in casual dress pants and a button down shirt with a metallic blue striped tie. Not one hair out of place, his sleek look reminded me of the Hispanic bad boy singers I often drooled over in music videos. He could pass for one of them without effort. One leg crossed the other, his Armani shoes reflected the rainbow flashes of strobes that flickered with the beat of the house mix music. His bodyguards sat around him like bored puffed up drones, waiting to pounce on any one who dared step one inch too close to their king.
It was rather comical to me, like watching some Spanish television novella with overly good looking actors playing the villains. This was real life, though, and I had to play my part down to every little scene. Jonas was my opposite and looked every bit ready to play the game.
Show time.
Straightening and lifting my chin up as I strolled past the groping patrons with their jealous girlfriends who shot daggers in my direction, I made my way toward this man. Before I closed the distance between us, one drunken woman lost her footing and tripped, landing almost in his lap. His guards were already grabbing at their pistols, yanking them from their shoved positions into their pants, but Jonas waved them down with one lift of a finger. I watched him as he helped the obviously intoxicated woman up, offering her a charming smile while wrapping his fingers around her skin, kissing her hand, and causing her to flush red from the attention. She stumbled away, rejoining her concerned girlfriends who promptly dragged her ass away from the deadly looking bunch. Their hushed, urgent whispers fluttered past with their reprimands at her as they pressed their bodies to the complete opposite side of the room.
Chickens.
I knew just how right they were to run away from this particular bunch; the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, warning me of such things. I ignored it, pasting on
Liv blew me a kiss, buying a death glare from me. “Show time, Sis.”
“Fine. You owe me.”
“Big time. Tab it for me.”
Shaking my head, I started for the door when Liv pulled at my arm. “Wait! Here. I got you something.” With that, she pulled out a glittery silver and purple scarf from her jacket and hung it around my neck, wrapping it around once before dangling the two ends down my chest. “There. Rock-chic defined.” Then she twirled around and disappeared out the door.
I reached up and touched the soft material. It was so light; I barely felt it on my skin. I peered at my reflection in the dingy mirror across from me. Water spots surrounded my image as I reveled in how it’d transformed me. She was right. A bit of makeup and the right accessory made all the difference. I looked like Liv, when she didn’t have her hair dyed a few shades darker. We could be twins with the makeup and styles on.
Somehow, the kinship between us calmed me. She was wild hearted, but I couldn’t stay angry with her near me. I forced a smile, and the girl in the reflection looked beautiful even. Keeping the wattage on, I pushed the bathroom door open and found Saul with my eyes, waiting on stage for us. He looked charming there, without any effort. My determination wavered, realizing again that he couldn’t see me with my face done up and my gorgeous scarf. Shrugging it off, I determined it was okay because he’d already said my voice was perfect. If he could understand my music, he had a major plus on his side for that.
Maybe it would be good to have someone really see me, without their eyes, for once.
Chapter Eleven
Liv
IT WASN’T HARD to find Jonas in the crowd. The bar was bustling with loud patrons and smoking hot scantily clad women with torn stockings and heavy makeup. The smoky air disguised the age of most of them, blurring their faces in the myriad of flashing lights. It kept most of the bar dimmed, setting the mood as the room filled with electric energy.
Jonas was the only one dressed in casual dress pants and a button down shirt with a metallic blue striped tie. Not one hair out of place, his sleek look reminded me of the Hispanic bad boy singers I often drooled over in music videos. He could pass for one of them without effort. One leg crossed the other, his Armani shoes reflected the rainbow flashes of strobes that flickered with the beat of the house mix music. His bodyguards sat around him like bored puffed up drones, waiting to pounce on any one who dared step one inch too close to their king.
It was rather comical to me, like watching some Spanish television novella with overly good looking actors playing the villains. This was real life, though, and I had to play my part down to every little scene. Jonas was my opposite and looked every bit ready to play the game.
Show time.
Straightening and lifting my chin up as I strolled past the groping patrons with their jealous girlfriends who shot daggers in my direction, I made my way toward this man. Before I closed the distance between us, one drunken woman lost her footing and tripped, landing almost in his lap. His guards were already grabbing at their pistols, yanking them from their shoved positions into their pants, but Jonas waved them down with one lift of a finger. I watched him as he helped the obviously intoxicated woman up, offering her a charming smile while wrapping his fingers around her skin, kissing her hand, and causing her to flush red from the attention. She stumbled away, rejoining her concerned girlfriends who promptly dragged her ass away from the deadly looking bunch. Their hushed, urgent whispers fluttered past with their reprimands at her as they pressed their bodies to the complete opposite side of the room.
Chickens.
I knew just how right they were to run away from this particular bunch; the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, warning me of such things. I ignored it, pasting on
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