“What am I doing here?” she cried.
But of course she knew very well what she was doing here: Trying to save her job is what she was doing here. Fresh out of college with a master’s degree in music business, she had charged onto the country western scene in the Music City ready to discover and manage the newest and greatest bands Nashville had ever seen. Then reality had set in, as she learned that, like guitar players, Nashville was simply crawling with agent wannabes, and she had been forced to settle for an entry-level job with an established firm. Her “boss from hell,” Kitty Konstantine, kept all her minions out late at night, seven nights a week, trolling the small-time venues for the best and brightest new musicians and bands she would then “discover.” Fat bonuses and promotions had been promised to those minions who delivered, but in reality, following the “Konstantine Rules” barely allowed Mel to pay the rent and keep the lights on.
“But why did they have to come here?” she moaned. “Couldn’t they have been seen hanging out at a pizza joint or a Mickey D’s?”
The “they” in question were the members of a country western band she had heard the night before in a little dive down on Belmont Boulevard near her old haunts from her university days. They called themselves The 4 Saints, which had seemed a little weird until she’d learned the four members were brothers with the last name of Saint. Their music had absolutely enthralled her. Traditional in style, as they all played acoustical instruments only—guitar, double bass, mandolin, fiddle, and drums—they had a new, different sound when they sang, because there wasn’t a tenor among them. All four sang bass or baritone, and their voices had blended in a way that only siblings who had sung together all their lives could. They performed all their own songs, which had been a happy mix of up-beat tunes and ballads; hilarious and solemn; family-friendly and sexy.
When she’d first walked in, they’d been singing a song about animals on a farm that had had the audience rolling with laughter, but by the time she’d taken her seat at the bar, they’d switched to a love song, a ballad that had nearly broken her heart. There had been something about all of the brothers that had left her feeling as though they’d been singing directly to her, and at one point, the lead singer—the guitarist—had met her eyes across the room, and she’d almost melted on the spot. She’d told herself later that of course he hadn’t been singing that song to her, personally, but when she closed her eyes, she could still see him.
Those eyes were not something she was likely to forget any time soon, for even from a distance that deep golden color had seemed to look right into her deepest places. All four young men were big—tall and straight, with broad shoulders, slender waists, and muscular arms and legs. Their costumes were nothing more than worn jeans and flannel shirts over white t-shirts, as though there was nothing special about what they were doing. Every brother had dark, rich, wavy hair that varied in color from mink to beaver, and all but the youngest had a distinctive five-o’clock shadow. After watching them for a time, she realized they all shared the leader’s golden eyes, too, a fact that had tickled something at the back of her mind, but after a time, she’d dismissed it as unimportant. She’d had to remind herself to breathe more than once throughout the evening, and if she hadn’t been called away by a text message from Kitty, she would have stayed right where she was until they’d turned out the lights.
The really frustrating part was that Kitty had had another, totally inane errand for her to run, and by the time she’d gotten back to the bar, The 4 Saints had been gone. It was the bartender who had told her that they liked to play pool at a place called the Irish Town Pub south of the airport, so here she was, desperately hoping they were here this evening. She hadn’t told Kitty about the band; there was no way she was going to give anyone the chance to steal this discovery until after she’d had a long talk with them. They were good enough that getting them on her side might make the difference between getting real credit for her discovery and taking a back seat to The Boss once more.