Deacon laced his fingers with Harper’s and walked through the front door. No bouncer. It seemed that they were a little early. He was hoping to catch a bit of the early practice. The band was local, but very tight.
Inside, the mural motif was still going strong. The walls were much more structured. Caricatures bumped up against realistic paintings, which then manipulated dark corners with moody silhouettes depicting musicians in various moments. A trumpet player with bruised lips, but a deep and abiding love for the brass. A vocalist with a busted microphone and heart ripping out of his chest, a drummer with a kit that rivaled Neil Peart’s.
“This place is awesome.” He turned back to see Harper messing with the gold chain around her neck. This was completely her type of place. From the vaulted ceilings and the mismatched furniture to the old bar lining the back wall…all of it was exactly the type of place she geeked out over.
Instead, she looked almost lost. She was stunning and somehow so separate.
He drew her to him, draping his arm around her shoulders. She smiled up at him with a distracted look. She was checking out the space, and yet her eyes never lit anyplace long enough to seem to truly take it in.
Deacon led them to a small table at the edge of the dance floor. The stage was set up to oversee the dance floor. Either it would be a general admission crowd or a laid back drinks and dancing set up. He wasn’t sure which one.
A waitress glided over to them, her smile bright and polite, then slid immediately into recognition. “Oh, God, you’re—”
Deacon held up a finger to his lips. “My wife and I are just looking to enjoy some music tonight.”
“Sure.” The petite redhead in all black looked over her shoulder then back to their table. She flipped over her order booklet. “Do you think I could have your autograph?”
Deacon smiled. “Absolutely.” She was totally going to tell the entire staff. Ah well. Maybe they’d leave them alone after the initial hit up for pictures and signatures. Deacon scrawled his name across the back of her pad and returned it.
She sucked on her bottom lip for a few seconds then leaned in. “Do you think you could sign it to Becky?”
Deacon’s smile widened. Look at that, a signature not going on eBay after her shift. He took it back and wrote her name carefully and legibly, then drew a devil tail for the y.
“Oh my God, my boyfriend is going to shit.”
He sat back and slid his arm along the back of Harper’s chair. She instinctively turned into him, giving their waitress a polite nod. Harper was used to people interrupting them and never made a fuss. Even better, she always made the fan feel welcome. Even the rude ones that treated her with contempt.
This had to be the first time she didn’t react at all.
He brushed his lips along her temple. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Nothing with tequila, that’s for sure.”
Deacon grinned then looked up at the girl. “Do you have flavored seltzer?”
Harper rested her hand on his thigh absently and he finally relaxed a bit. At least she was actually touching him, finally. They were out of sync, and he hated it.
Becky nodded. “Raspberry, peach, and lime.”
Harper lifted her shoulder. “Raspberry.”
“And I’ll have whatever dark beer you have.”
Becky nodded and slipped her pad into her pocket, ruffled around in another pocket, coming out with a well used one. She scribbled down their order and disappeared.
“Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Hmm?” Harper clicked back in, leaning on his shoulder.
“I figured you’d be babbling about the decor. It’s something you’d normally be taking pictures of.”
She glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Again she shrugged. “A bit too busy for my taste, but it’s definitely rocking the multi-genre music vibe.”
“It’s like Jazz opened her notebook and it exploded all over the wall.”
“Our manic pixie would definitely be all over this place,” she said.
He bowed his head until their foreheads touched. “We’d find her in the corner, cross legged with a box of markers, drawing on the wall.”
“Right.” She rested her elbow on the table, tucking her chin on her hand. Again, conversation fell away.
It wasn’t like he needed constant chatter. He and Harper had never been the types to fill every silence, but he’d never sat next to her and felt like she was in the next room either.
The band started unloading. Microphones, guitars, keyboard, and brass were set up in a semi-circle. When he noticed the electric violin, he sat up straight. That had been one of the additions to “The Becoming”, their biggest song to date.
Maybe they needed to hit on that sound again. It brought a symphonic flavor to their music that he liked playing with. So close to the guitar and yet, so totally different.
Another layer.