I couldn’t disagree. My heart was bursting with pride. Even though this was a small venue and wasn’t exactly Madison Square Garden, Lexie and the boys had blown the roof off. It was like they had been playing together for years, not months. I had hardly believed that that was my daughter up there. It was a bittersweet feeling, considering it meant that she was on the fast track to growing up. I was not ready for that, let alone having her jam out in clubs when she was six years away from even being allowed to drink in one.
“I’m going to go and whisk the kids out of here,” I addressed the group. “Even though Wyatt knows the owner who is, ‘totally dope,’” I finger quoted, “they were still only allowed to play on the proviso I was here and escorted off the premises as soon as their set was done,” I explained. “Anyone need a ride home?” I asked, as I had only sipped the rocket fuel Amy declared a drink while the others, apart from Gwen, had partaken heavily. I was impressed they were still standing.
Amy shook her red hair then pointed to the bar. “We have almost exceeded our curfews also and we each have a badass biker who may or may not drag us out of here over their shoulders, depending on how much we want to stay.” She gave me a mischievous grin. “I’m totally for the over the shoulder exit myself.”
I followed her eyes and jolted slightly to see the prospects had been joined by more leather-clad hunks. Cade was leaning against the bar with his arms crossed, his hard stare directed at Gwen who grinned and gave him a finger wave. Brock was much the same, although he had a beer in his hand and his posture was slightly less tense. He shook his head and smiled when Amy blew him a kiss.
My eyes landed on Zane, who was not looking relaxed and was definitely not grinning. His eyes were locked on me and were blank. He had his arms crossed and I couldn’t be sure from this distance, but I thought a muscle in his jaw ticked. I resisted the urge to poke my tongue out at him. I felt such an act may be slightly juvenile, since I was a mother and thirty-three years old.
Before my inner child got the best of me I said my goodbyes to the women, who all made me promise to get Lexie’s autograph on a bar napkin and to have a cocktail night again soon. As I pushed through the crowd, I could still feel a stare at my back. I did my best to ignore it.
“Mom!” Lexie shouted as soon as I made it to the little room backstage.
She hopped up off the sofa she and the boys were lounging on and bounded over to me.
I hugged her and barely held her for a second before she pulled out of my arms with excitement.
“That was awesome!” she declared loudly. “We totally rocked this place.”
“Hell yeah, we did,” Wyatt interjected from the sofa, where he was lounging casually, looking every inch the rock star wearing all black and almost as much silver as Lexie. How a teenage boy could pull that off I had no idea, but Wyatt did.
“I think I carried your asses. It’ll definitely be me on the cover of Rolling Stone—I’m the best looking,” Sam said with a joking grin.
Lexie poked her tongue out at him. She could totally pull it off, being a teenager and cute and all.
Noah sat quietly with his bottle of water and grinned at his bandmates. Although he was the most reserved off the stage, I think I liked him the most.
“You guys were certainly the best band I’ve ever seen live,” I told them, deciding to omit the fact they were the only band I’d seen live.
“Thanks, Mrs. S,” Sam said, beaming. “We totally appreciate you bringing us here and not getting all parental about the venue and the time. We just gotta rock—you know, no rules,” he said sincerely.
On that note, Clay, the owner opened the door and gave me a look. “Babe,” he muttered quietly.
“Okay, guys, the only reason I’m not getting all ‘parental’ is because we’re blowing this joint in t minus two on the account of the fact your delicate teenage sensibilities are yet to be corrupted by what’s in this bar, and I’m afraid long term exposure could mean danger for your music career and Clay’s reputation. Get your stuff,” I told the group.
Luckily, there were no groans of protest, only a couple of “dopes” and lazy grins. They started to pack up their gear with a speed I didn’t know was possible from teenage boys.
I was slightly surprised to see Clay had moved close to my side.
“Thanks for letting them play. You’ve pretty much made my daughter’s life,” I said with a grin.
He regarded me. “You can thank me by letting me take you to dinner,” he said with his grey eyes dancing.
He wasn’t bad-looking. One would even call him hot. He was slightly taller than me in my heels, and although he wasn’t as built as some of the bikers I knew, the muscles bulging out of his black dress shirt were nothing to sneeze at. Nor was his broad chest. Or his face, which was chiseled, although his nose was slightly crooked. His eyes were light and kind, and he was a bit older; I’d say early forties, if the slight bit of salt in his jet black hair was anything to go by. He wore his age well. Really well.