“He’s somewhere around here,” Camryn says. “Just look for the big guy in the company shirt. His name is German.”
“Thank you, doll,” the woman says and looks back at me.
That one, I admit, kind of scares me. And since she seems to be the leader of their pack, I decide I need to move on before she really thinks I’m that into her and I’m the one needing Camryn’s help to get me out of the mess I started.
“Have a great night, ladies,” I say with an inviting smile and then I turn to walk away.
I feel a hand slide into my apron pocket. I stop and look down as the woman’s hand moves away. She’s gazing up at me with that famous horny look.
“You too, sugar,” she says.
I wink at her and smile at the other three as I casually walk away. When I make it into the kitchen, I empty my tub and then reach into my pocket and pull out three twenty-dollar bills.
Hell yeah, maybe that bet wasn’t so ridiculous, after all.
Two hours later…
Yeah, the bet was ridiculous.
“Two forty, forty-one, forty-six, fifty-six.” Camryn keeps counting her tips now that our short shift is over. She smirks and adds, “And how much did you get?”
I’m trying to keep a straight face to make my disappointment seem somewhat genuine, but she’s not making it easy. So I pull out my money, count it again, and answer, “Eighty-two dollars.”
“Well, that’s not bad for a busboy, I have to give it to you,” she says, pocketing her cash.
“Give it to me how?” I ask as I untie the apron and take it off. “You’re letting me out of the bet?”
“Pfft! No way,” she says.
German comes up behind us.
“You two betta be good,” he says. “An’ none o’that rap stuff or dem fancy new-age songs.” He snaps his fingers rapidly as if he’s trying to name an example, but then he just gives up. “This ain’t no ’Merican Idol.”
“Understood,” Camryn says with that sweet smile of hers.
German, with a big dopey grin on his face, snaps out of her spell, and as he walks away he snarls at me as he passes. It’s better than him looking at me the way he looks at Camryn, so I’m not complaining.
I turn to Camryn. “Don’t be nervous.” I take her hands into mine. “Like I said, you’re going to kick ass out there.”
She nods nervously. Then she lets a quick burst of air move through her little rounded lips and inhales a deep breath.
“I’ll run out and get the guitar while you get ready,” I say.
“All right,” she says.
I kiss her on the lips and head outside to the car where the electric guitar she bought me for my birthday is hiding in the trunk. “Edge of Seventeen” may be her solo, but the guitar riff itself is so well-known that I’m almost as nervous as she is about performing it. OK, maybe not so much as nervous—it’s a fairly easy song to play. What has me a little on edge is screwing it up for her. She’s the only reason I feel any kind of pressure about tonight’s performance.
I walk up onto the stage to find the drummer, Leif, who we met yesterday, getting set up. “Thanks for doing this, man,” I say to him.
“Hey, no problem,” Leif says. “I’ve played this song a number of times at a bar in Georgia I used to work at a few years ago.”
Camryn was happy to find a drummer who knows the song. She was prepared for it to be just the two of us, knowing it wouldn’t sound the same without the drums, too. But when we met Leif yesterday during her waitress training and he agreed to play with us tonight, I think Camryn’s confidence level shot up a few notches.
I slip the guitar strap over my shoulder just as Camryn steps onto the stage.
She walks right up to me, and I lean in toward her ear and say, “You look hot.”
She blushes and looks down at her clothes. She changed out of that cute black top she was wearing and replaced it with another black silky top that hangs low in the back, exposing her skin almost to her waist. The necklace I bought for her dangles in the front, shining against the black. And she let her hair down. I love the braid she always wears, but I have to say, she’s a whole other level of sexy with that long, soft blonde hair falling all about her shoulders.
The voices in the bar carry through the large space, loud even over Leif messing around with the bass drum behind us. All of the tables on the floor are full, as well as the booths lining the back wall. My four “girlfriends” are still here and have migrated from their booth to a table closer to the stage. They seem intrigued that I went from busboy to guitar player. Normally, I would be scanning the audience for my “victim” of the night by now, but tonight is different and there won’t be any of that from either one of us. Camryn’s too nervous and focused to try pulling off our usual.