Happy Accident Read online

“The same.” I sipped my beer again. I was getting used to the taste.

  Rob looked at his watch. “What time did they start?”

  “Oh, I think around eight.” I shrugged. “I wanted to go myself, but ya know, I had tickets to see Scratch."

  Rob leaned forward, his knees touching mine. “Do you think they're still playing?”

  “They play all night, until closing time,” I told him, catching his enthusiasm. I really had wanted to go, and if Scratch weren't in town, that's probably where I'd have been tonight. “Uncle Jessie Winters plays there every Saturday night.”

  “You're kidding me!” Rob's jaw dropped. “Can you get me there?”

  I glanced at Katie, still standing in the corner, talking to Tyler. He laughed, leaning in to say something into her ear. “I have a car.” I tried not to think about the possibilities as a hot excitement filled my belly. “If that's what you mean.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, I'd hate to drag along my bodyguard for the limo ride. It would be nice to be just an anonymous, regular guy for the night.”

  “I think we'll be safe.” I laughed. “That security guard, Gary, didn't have a clue! He wasn't even going to let you into the venue!”

  “Do I have a forgettable face?” He gave me a sad pout and I paid no attention to the way it made my breath catch.

  I bit my lip. “Hardly. Let me check things out with Katie?”

  “Sure.” He leaned back again, putting his feet on the ottoman as I stood.

  When I explained things to Katie, she jumped at the sudden opportunity, turning to Tyler. “Do you think you could get me home?”

  I stared, marveling at her manipulation, trying to hide my smile of surprise.

  “Yeah, sure.” Tyler slid an arm around her shoulders. “Not a problem.”

  When I returned to the couch, a girl sat close next to Rob, asking him for an autograph. Signing her ticket, he glanced at me. “All set?”

  I nodded, watching the blonde out of the corner of my eye. She gave me a dirty look and I ignored that, too.

  “Great!” He stood, handing the ticket to the blonde and edging away from the heel snaking up his pant leg.

  “How are we going to work this?” I turned my back to the blonde as Rob took me elbow and guided me away from the couch. “I mean, we'll get mobbed if we walk out that door, right?”

  “Oh, definitely.” He slid his hand down to mine and pulled me with him. His fingers were warm, and I felt thick calluses on them, presumably from playing guitar. “That's why I'm going incognito.”

  He put on a baseball cap and a soft brown leather jacket. Then he threw on a pair of sunglasses and turned to look at me, holding his arms out as if to say, “Ta da!”

  I laughed. “Take of the glasses. You have enough problems seeing where you're going in the dark without them.”

  “Hey, I said I was sorry about that.” He smirked and tossed the glasses onto a table. “Okay, here's what we do. Jim over there will take you to your car and show you where to pick me up. Then he'll come in and get me. Sound like a plan?”

  I saw Jim sitting in one of the recliners, his feet up, drinking a Coke and eating a handful of peanuts. “He's...what, your bodyguard?”

  Rob grinned. “Yep. Personal protection agent. That's the p.c. term.”

  I tilted my head, trying to tell if he was kidding or being serious, or maybe a little of both. “Okay, well let's get your P.P.A. and go.”

  Rob made quick introductions. Jim stood so fast he spilled his peanuts all over the floor. The walk to my car seemed to take forever, and we didn't talk much. I wanted to ask him if he knew if Rob went out with many fans after his shows, but I couldn't get up the nerve. Jim filled my little passenger seat and directed me to one of the back doors of the venue, very near the stairs I'd climbed with Katie just hours before.

  Jim left me alone there. I took the opportunity to check my hair and make-up in the rear view mirror. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I smoothed my straight, dark hair, curling the ends under my chin with my fingers. I glanced at the “no parking” sign my little Kia idled underneath, hoping a cop didn't come by. Jim returned with Rob and I unlocked the door to let him in. The sunglasses were on his face again and I saw a bunch of girls flying down the flight of stairs, pointing at the car.

  “Okay, let's roll.” His voice was breathless and I put the car into gear, pulling away from the curb. “Once we're away from the arena, we'll be good.”

  I looked at him while we stopped at a red light. “Don't you think the sunglasses make you look even more conspicuous?”

  “Yeah.” He tossed them onto the dashboard along with the hat. “Jim insisted. He doesn't approve of this little trip.”

  “He could have tagged along.” I looked around for signs to the expressway. I hated trying to navigate in the dark, but I didn't want to appear lost.

  “I didn't want him to.” Rob's hand slid over my knee, giving me a brief squeeze. In my surprise, my foot hit the gas pedal harder than I expected when we took off. Thank God the light had turned green!

  Rob flipped through my CDs as I drove. The Attic was only fifteen minutes away, not far at all. My sense of direction was awful, though—hence Katie's Mapquest directions to the venue—and with Rob sitting next to me, I felt even more spacey than usual.

  “Hey, look!” Rob pulled Scratch's “Open Season” out from my collection. “Oh, and what's this? Rick Springfield?”

  I flushed. “So?”

  “Here! Janis Joplin!” He popped it into the CD player. “This'll get us in the mood for some blues.”

  Janis started to wail “Try, try, try just a little bit harder,” and Rob sang along. I glanced over, feeling my chest constrict. Part of me was acting all casual, a thirty-something year old woman making small talk and dodging my little car through traffic. Another part of me was twelve years old, standing in complete awe, watching myself sitting next to Rob Burnett, lead singer of Scratch, while he sang along to Janis Joplin and occasionally drummed out a beat on the dashboard of my Kia.

  When I began to sing along with Rob, he raised his eyebrows in my direction. “Hey, you can sing!” I winked, still singing, and he joined in again. The last verse came on just as I was pulling into The Attic parking lot and we sang it together. I waited to cut the engine, deciding to show off a little at the last minute and leaning in to harmonize with him at the end.

  “Nice!” His compliment made me flush, and we grinned at each other in the dark heat of the car. Our smiles faded, almost in harmony, as his eyes locked with mine. I hadn't realized how close we were, just inches away, really. I felt his breath on my face. He smelled like cranberry juice, and I knew I probably still smelled like beer. I tasted it as I swallowed, seeing his eyes flicker to my mouth.

  “Hey, Sabrina.” The sound was just breath really.

  “Hey, Rob.” My own voice was a whisper as I tilted my face up, my eyes searching his.

  I watched his eyes and saw the decision flash through him in an instant as he leaned in and captured my mouth, his lips pressing mine, soft and light, an easy, casual thing. I made a small sound in my throat, my hand squeezing his arm, his shoulder. The kiss deepened and I opened my mouth to him, his hand slipping behind my head, pulling me closer.

  He broke the kiss first but I kept my eyes closed, breathless, my whole body vibrating with sensation. His eyes were open when I looked at him. I couldn't read his expression. It was like he was searching for something. I wished I knew what.

  “Ready?” His voice came back, clear and strong and I nodded.

  I looked at my watch as we got to the door of The Attic. It was already eleven. I hoped my assumption—that they played all night—was accurate. If it wasn't, I was going to have one disappointed rock star on my hands. The music vibrated the soles of my boots as we stood at the door paying the cover charge. Rob paid mine, in spite of my objection.

  The place—dim, smoky and rocking hard—had dark paneled walls. They reflected little ligh
t, but the strange, painted tin of the ceiling attempted to make up for it. On a night like tonight, with wall to wall people, I thought this was what sardines must feel like. Rob grabbed onto my hand, pulling me through the crowd, moving steadily towards the music.

  It was loud enough already so he had to lean in and yell, “Do you want something?” He pointed toward the bar in front of us. I shook my head, waving him to the right, toward the music. I glimpsed the stage. It was through a door at the end of the bar and writhing bodies blocked the entrance.

  I drew closer to Rob as we squeezed into the crowded room. People were seated at candlelit tables and many stood along the walls or between the tables, dancing and cheering. Jimmy, still on stage, played a smooth Texas blues like only one of the Voss brothers could.

  Rob stopped, staring at the stage, his eyes glazed and his mouth caught in a half-smile. It occurred to me that his expression would have mirrored my own at the very moment Rob himself had stepped on stage that night.

  “Hey! Rob Burnett?” A waitress, carrying a tray of empty glasses, stopped to tilt her tawny head at him.

  He didn't look away from the stage. “Yeah.”

  “Wow! Awesome!” She smiled, trying to catch his eye. When he glanced at her, flashing her a quick grin, she rewarded him. “Hey, why don't you sit up front with Uncle Jessie?”

  I did a double take. Here I'd been thinking we'd have to find a place to stand against the wall! The blonde smiled at me, but now her expression appeared different. I felt like she would have ripped my hand from his given the chance.

  “That'd be great!” Rob grinned, his eyes widening when he looked at me. He looked exactly like Katie had earlier tonight when Rob informed us we were getting all-access passes and I fought the urge to laugh out loud.

  The waitress led us through the crowd to a table right in front of the stage. The vibration of the music rolled through me, up my feet and legs, right into my pelvis, a rocking pulse. I pursed my lips against a smile while the waitress made introductions.

  “Uncle Jessie, this is Rob Burnett—from Scratch!" The blonde beamed, leaning in to yell the words. I couldn't tell if the volume was because the music was so loud or because Uncle Jessie was going deaf. An old man, his gray hair and mustache a subtle contrast to his dark skin, lifted a wrinkled hand at Rob and smiled, his eyes bright.

  “You're Uncle Jessie Winters!” Rob exclaimed, shaking the man's hand so hard I worried about the old guy for a second. Rob slid into the chair next to him, still grasping his hand. “I can't believe it! You're Uncle Jessie Winters!”

  I stood there, forgotten, grinning and hugging myself. Voss finished a song and the crowd cheered, whooping and hollering for more the way you can only do in a blues club. The waitress tried to get Rob's attention, asking if he wanted anything, but someone behind her called for a drink and she was forced to move away from our table.

  I slid into a chair next to Rob, smiling at the dark-skinned woman on my right. She smiled, but her attention was focused on the stage. Rob and Uncle Jessie were able to talk more freely now that the music lulled. Voss tuned his guitar and he took a shot of what looked like whiskey from one of five full shot glasses sitting on a stool on stage.

  “Yeah, I loved his stuff!” Rob clapped the old man on the shoulder. He must have felt me move in next to him, my thigh brushing his, because he turned to me, still grinning. “Sabrina! This is Uncle Jessie Winters! This is the guy who single-handedly kept blues alive around here in the 70's!”

  I laughed. “I live here, Rob. I know all about the jam sessions in the house on 29th Street.”

  “Oh, right.” His face fell for a moment, and I squeezed his arm and winked.

  I reached over him to shake Uncle Jessie's hand. “I've seen you play. You're amazing! It's nice to meet you. I'm Sabrina.”

  Uncle Jessie smiled and gave me a nod as Voss started another song. His guitar skills were legendary and his music was just Uncle Jessie's style, right out of Memphis in the 60's. A lot of acts they'd had in here lately appealed to a younger crowd, less delta blues and more blues-rock and blues-funk. From the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Jessie nodding and tapping his foot to the beat. Rob leaned back and watched Voss in amazement, his eyes on the guitar strings as if he were watching magic.

  Jimmy rolled with one of his tribute songs to his brother, Raymond. I liked rock concerts, but for me, blues clubs were so much more intimate and intense, the audience calling out in response to the music as it moved them. This was one of my favorites, and I whooped along. For me, the words were irrelevant—it didn't matter what they were singing, it was the rough sound of the voice, the sweet licks of the guitar, as if my body were being played along every riff. Blues music made me want to take my clothes off.

  I shrugged my coat onto the chair and strung my purse over it, the song moving me in my seat. There was just no sitting still for music like this. It radiated a rhythmic kind of heat, and Jimmy's guitar was like dark lightning in a summer sky. I danced in my chair, my eyes closed, arms raised above my head, letting the music move down the front of my body and seep into my hips, like thick honey. I felt Rob's hand on my thigh and just smiled in response, not opening my eyes.

  When the song ended, I leaned back with a sigh, looking at Voss on the stage. He downed another shot, raising the glass as he turned to the mic, like he was making a toast. “Well, folks, are you having a good time?”

  The room stomped and howled in response, Rob and I included. Our eyes met and we both grinned.

  “More!” Rob's voice surprised me and I jumped at the sound. He was flushed, his eyes bright, as he squeezed my leg—my thigh this time.

  “I got a song or two left in me tonight, I think.” Jimmy set the empty glass behind him on the stool. “Anything you want to hear, pretty lady?”

  Rob's hand on my thigh was distracting and it took me a moment to realize that Voss was looking at us. I glanced up, surprised. He couldn't mean me? But Jimmy looked right at me and winked. I put my hands to my cheeks, feeling them burn.

  "Lost In You?" I called out, even though I was sitting only six feet from him.

  Voss smiled, nodding, and turned to cue the band. “You gotta give a pretty lady what she wants.” The room agreed in unison, whooping and jeering.

  Rob slipped his arm over my shoulder, pulling my chair closer to his. “You seem to have a way with musicians,” he murmured against my ear.

  I shivered as his breath moved the hair on the back of my neck. “Do I?”

  His eyes fell to my mouth again and I knew he was going to kiss me. His lips met mine just as Voss began making his guitar sing—a long, slow wail. I slid my arm over Rob's shoulder and across the back of his t-shirt, kneading the muscles there with my fingers. His tongue found mine and I moaned. Voss’ voice was like liquid smoke and between the music and Rob's mouth on mine, I was completely carried away.

  When I broke the kiss, Rob's eyes met mine in the dimness. “Dance with me?”

  “Now?” He looked around in surprise. There were a few people dancing alone or with a partner, but not many. There was no real dance floor.

  I nodded, standing and starting to dance by myself, glowing in the heat of Voss’ guitar. I stretched my hand out to Rob, enticing him. He watched me, his gaze roaming over my body as I undulated in response to the pulse of the music, before he stood and pulled me to him. I felt his denim-clad thigh between mine as we swayed, his hand against the small of my back, pressing me hard against his chest.

  The throb and swell of the music moved us against one another, a delicious chafing. Jimmy's voice and the slide of his guitar urged me to melt into Rob's body, the flush between us turning to fire. Under the pressure of his hands, the surge and ripple of him, the room disappeared. Our bodies clung together with the sweltering flow of the music all around us.

  Rob pulled me close, his mouth against my ear as he sang the words, “Need you more every day, hooked on you, don't want nobody else...”

  The realization h
it me—I was dancing ten feet from Jimmy Voss while Rob Burnett held me and sang the same song into my ear. The motion felt natural, easy, but the thought made my knees weak. I clutched him and he moved to kiss me again as we danced, his tongue playing over mine, his mouth sweet, dark heat.

  When the song ended, I didn't want to let him go. I kept my arms around him, my head against his chest, my eyes closed, breathing in his scent.

  “Well, folks, I've been up here going on two hours now, I think it's time to give Uncle Jessie his stage back, whaddya say?”

  Clever, I thought, looking at Voss. There were no arguments from the crowd with that segue. Everyone cheered and stomped for Uncle Jessie as he stood, slightly hunched, and lifted one hand in acknowledgment to the crowd. He made his way onto the stage as Voss made his way off.

  Rob squeezed me hard, kissing my forehead, a chaste thing in comparison to the past few moments. “This is so awesome. Thank you, Sabrina.”

  I pressed my hip against him as I turned, pulling out my chair. “My pleasure.”

  Uncle Jessie sat at the piano and started banging out a boogie beat. He looked small and ancient sitting with a homemade harmonica holder around his neck, but the man could play like nobody's business!

  Rob caught the waitress and ordered us two beers. I just tapped my foot to the music, enjoying the feel of his arm and thigh against mine as we listened to the music. When the waitress put our drinks on the table, Rob paid her. She leaned down to whisper something into his ear.

  Rob's mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't. “No, but thanks.”

  I raised my eyebrows but didn't say anything, twisting the cap off my beer and taking a swig as I watched the waitress swish away.

  “To accidents.” Rob tipped his beer toward me and clinked the bottleneck against mine.

  I laughed. “Interesting toast.”

  “Should I say, happy accidents?” He smiled around the rim of his bottle as he started to drink.

  “Hey, mind if I join you?” We both looked up to see Jimmy Voss standing behind us and pointing to the chair Uncle Jessie had vacated.

  “Sure!” Rob jumped up, pulling the chair out. “Please, sit!”