Part 19 (2/2)
He walked right up to the front door and grinned at the well-muscled guy guarding the door.
”Hey, Tyler.”
”How's it going, Greg?”
”Good.”
Greg opened the door for them. ”You two have fun tonight.”
”Thanks.” Ty tipped him, then escorted Jenna through the door over the complaints of those waiting outside in the cold.
As soon as they stepped inside, she turned to him. ”So you're that famous, or have you been here before?”
He quirked a grin. ”This is my first time here. Greg does security at the Ice games. I saw him when we drove by, figured he might let us bypa.s.s the line.”
”Lucky break.”
”Wasn't it?” He put his hand on the small of her back and led her inside the club.
It wasn't a rocking dance club with high-tech loud music. There was a bar off to one side and a stage that centered the whole place, with lots of tables scattered around. Right now a band was on stage playing something cool and country.
”Oh, this is fun,” Jenna said, turning to him as they wound their way around the crowds to locate an available table. They found one near the far side of the club and sat down. ”Not at all what I expected.”
”Yeah? What did you expect?”
”From the lines out there? Something louder, heavy on the lights and ba.s.s. I figured it was one of those hot new dance clubs.”
He laughed. ”Yeah, you're not going to find that here.”
The waitress came by and they ordered drinks.
”My friends told me it was a great club, but they didn't tell me what kind. This band is good.”
”They are.”
They sat back and listened while they had drinks and watched everyone dance. Tyler waited for Jenna to notice the book, as well as the pencils and cards on the table. So far she was preoccupied with the band and checking out the club, as well as her no doubt natural inclination to eye the bar and the bartenders. Checking out the compet.i.tion and all that.
But when the band finished their set, took their instruments, and left the stage to thunderous applause, Jenna frowned.
”That's it?”
”Huh. I guess so.”
”That was short.”
Until a singer came onstage, a girl dressed in jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt. She had on neon orange tennis shoes and her hair was in pigtails. She was cute.
The announcer asked them all to give it up for Marie, so everyone clapped and hollered.
Music started playing, and Marie began to sing.
She was pretty good.
Then Jenna frowned again, noticing the book on the table.
”Oh. It's karaoke or something.”
”Is it? The band did karaoke?”
”I don't know.” She picked up the book and flipped through it. ”No, it's open mic night tonight. You can bring in your band or sing your own music or they have recorded songs you can sing to.”
”Huh. That's pretty cool.”
She slanted a glance his way. ”You didn't know about this?”
”How the h.e.l.l would I know about it? I've never been here before. Like I said, some of the women mentioned coming here and said it was awesome, so I thought we'd give it a try. You know, since it's not a sports bar and all.”
She gave him a look like she didn't believe him, but turned her attention back to Marie and let the subject drop.
So far, so good.
He was going to get Jenna on that stage tonight.
And he wouldn't have to do or say anything to get her up there.
JENNA WATCHED A PARADE OF TALENT CLIMB ONSTAGE for a couple hours, admittedly transfixed and awed and appalled.
For some reason, people weren't shy about showcasing what they had-good or bad. And some people who were really awful-or really drunk-thought they sounded great, which the crowd didn't seem to care about. They were polite, sometimes teased or booed depending on who was up there, and often clapped loudly, which was to be expected considering several of the people who'd been up there were d.a.m.ned talented.
This still smelled like a setup, but Ty hadn't encouraged her or asked her if she wanted to go up and sing. So maybe he was being honest and hadn't known this was the kind of place where local talent could show what they were made of. All he did was sit back, drink, and make comments to her about who he thought was great and who he thought stunk.
She agreed one hundred percent with his a.s.sessments, too.
Still, she was nervous, certain at any moment he would suggest she put in a bid to sing tonight. Which she wouldn't. Couldn't. Hadn't since that awful experience in Germany when she'd been told she wasn't good enough.
She'd never go through that again.
Two hours in, he still hadn't said a d.a.m.n word.
Still, she was better than half of the people who'd drunkenly sauntered up there to slur the latest Katy Perry or Miranda Lambert or Adele song.
Dammit.
I could light a fire under these people's a.s.ses and bring them to their feet.
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