The married couple looked up when I stepped into the front room. Ten’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Well, holy shit, what a difference a little shower makes.”
“Oh, stop it.” Caroline slugged him in the arm before popping to her feet and coming to me. “Do you feel better?”
I shrugged.
Cooing out her sympathy, she took my hand and led me back to the couch so I could sit between her and her man. I kind of thought I was supposed to be mad at her for the way she’d shoved me and Asher together on Tuesday night. But then...Jodi had said it right. Caroline hadn’t been the one to shove his penis inside me. I could’ve stopped it myself at any point.
“So,” she started, turning to face me as she tucked one leg under her. “We’re both here to help you get Asher back. Me because I feel like pushing you two together at the restaurant the other night only made things worse, and Oren because...well—”
“Because I’ll have a better chance of being forgiven for being an ass to him if he’s getting some from you.”
I blinked at his crude summation, but basically understood where he was coming from regardless. Then I shook my head. “No...we’re not...Asher’s not going to forgive me for this. I don’t stand a chance in hell with him.”
“Nonsense.” Ten waved out a hand as if my predicament were no big deal. “Just sex him up good enough, and he’ll forgive you anything.”
“Sex,” I snarled, scowling at him, “is how I got myself into this mess in the first place. If I’d just been able to keep my damn hands off him, I might’ve actually, maybe, eventually gotten him to forgive me.” But no, I just couldn’t keep my legs together, could I?
“Whatever.” Ten snorted. “Sex solves everything with a guy.”
“I don’t know,” Caroline murmured, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. “This is Asher we’re talking about. Not you.”
With a groan, her husband relented. “You’re right. Hart’s not normal.” Then he flopped back deeper into the couch as if he had no more ideas.
“I know!” Caroline suddenly cried, sitting up straighter. She whirled to me and grasped my hands. “How did you draw his attention in the first place?”
I furrowed my brow, thinking about the day I’d auditioned as Sticks, but Caroline answered her own question, saying, “Your voice. When you sang on stage that first karaoke night.”
I looked at her and suddenly knew exactly what she had in mind.
Even though the band didn’t play, I worked Friday night, needing something to do, not wanting to be home at my overly quiet apartment. I never found Mozart, and he never showed up at my door. When I saw a dead squirrel on the road on the way to Forbidden, I told myself that wasn’t him. He’d found a nice, safe park somewhere and was living out his dream, collecting nuts and climbing trees.
I still missed the hell out of him, though.
On Saturday, I showed up to work extra early, even though it was another miserable karaoke night. At the moment, I kind of felt as if I could go about the rest of my life without ever hearing another karaoke song played ever again.
But unlucky me, about half a dozen ladies lined up first thing to sing “All About That Bass,” every one of them wearing Incubus shirts, too. I hated it. It sucked even more so tonight, now that I knew who Incubus shirt girl actually was.
I was about to go out of my mind as yet another woman finished the song. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Quinn and Knox I was going to head into the back and check our supplies when a familiar voice spoke over the speaker system.
“So I’ve been watching a couple of you try to imitate my original performance.”
I whipped around to see Remy—in tight blue jeans, a black snug Incubus shirt, and a guitar strapped over her shoulder with her long hair flowing down her back.
“And I must say, some of you...” She cringed and leaned closer to the mike. “Really suck.”
A lot of boos and catty comebacks rolled back, but she ignored them as she smiled at the crowd as if oblivious. “If you were curious, the exact Incubus shirt I was wearing that night looked like this.” She tugged at the sides of her shirt to display it. “Oh and the redhead who sang was with me... Right there.” She motioned toward the stairs up to the stage where Jodi was standing.
Jodi waved and blew kisses to everyone as Remy seated herself on a stool and positioned her guitar into her lap. “Now, I’m not going to sing ‘All About That Bass’ tonight because...well, Asher’s sick of hearing it, for one. And also, it’d just feel tacky to recreate my original show. So I’m going to play something a little different, and since this place doesn’t have karaoke music for this particular song, I brought my guitar to help me out.”
She patted the side of her Taylor—shit, she had a Taylor, too—and then began to strum. Perfectly.