Darcy’s fingers almost stumbled when she looked up at the three men who had just sat down at the piano bar where she played. Great granny’s garters, those were three of the best-looking men she had ever seen.
They were obviously related. All three were tall, dark, and handsome, each with chiseled features and full, sensuous lips. They shared the same unusual eye color, a unique silver-gray shade that contrasted sharply with their various shades of hair and sun-bronzed skin. Their hair was different, one sable and curly, one with wavy dark chocolate colored hair, and one with long, straight locks of a golden-brown color, but other than that they could have been triplets. The trio were all muscular, their shoulders so broad they nearly brushed each other as they sat at the bar.
Three times the hunkiness. Yum.
One of them in particular, the one with soft, wavy hair, eyed her seriously. She felt his gaze sweep over her, taking in her long, dark rust-colored curls and whiskey-colored eyes. When his gaze slid across her generous bust line, it almost felt as if he’d reached out and touched her. A shiver traveled down her spine.
Darcy’s fingers trailed over the keys, lovingly creating the flow of the instrumental piece The Autumn Leaves as she watched the man watching her. His pewter colored gaze stayed on her even when he answered a comment from one of the men he was with. Something the one with the curly hair said made a small smile slide across his face, and she watched with fascination as a deep dimple danced in his cheek, softening the hard features.
Wow. Just looking at the guy made her toes curl inside her tan stilettos. Maybe this was going to be her lucky night.
The thought made her smile. That would be amazing. It seemed she had experienced nothing but bad luck lately. Last spring, she had lost her job teaching music because of budget cuts. She had tried but not succeeded to find another teaching job but finally, out of desperation, was forced to take the job here at Papa’s Place. She’d caught her latest boyfriend cheating on her, and it seemed like her car was in the shop every other day. Her life seemed as though if something could go wrong, it did.
Wouldn’t it be nice if something went her way for once?
The last poignant notes of the instrumental faded away and Darcy paused and smiled at the crowd. Leaning into the microphone, she asked, “Any requests?”
“How about Can’t Help Falling in Love with You?” called a deep voice, and Darcy turned her gaze directly on the man with the silvery eyes. “Do you know that old Elvis classic?”
Their eyes locked momentarily as silent messages seemed to zing between them. Darcy broke eye contact finally and smiled warmly. “It’s one of my favorites.”
She played an introduction then began to sing in her sultry voice. She really did love this song. She let her emotions take over and poured herself into the rendition, closing her eyes for the last few bars. When at last she opened them and looked to where the man had sat, he was gone. And so were the men who had come with him.
Well, for gosh sakes. She didn’t think she’d done badly on the song. Not bad enough to run off her customers, anyway. She felt the color mount in her cheeks. How rude. He requested the song and didn’t even stay until the finish?
Darcy attempted to shrug off the hurt. Others were clapping; others had enjoyed it. What the hell was his problem, anyway? She noticed a new twenty-dollar bill in her tip jar. Humph, like money made up for the insult.
Things went downhill after that. A group of drunks took a table near the piano and started heckling her, gently at first, then becoming more venomous. The men at the table made remarks about her body, urged her to “take it off, baby,” and leered at her openly. The women with them made comments about her taste in clothes and style and boasted about their best-looking body parts, comparing their ultra-thin bodies with her more voluptuous one. She handled them with her usual finesse but felt an ache building behind her temples.
Then came an older gentleman who kept requesting the same song over and over. “Let’s hear Take the Ribbon from Your Hair,” he’d holler again and again. She played the song for him twice but didn’t want to bore the rest of the audience. She felt sorry for the old guy, but business was business.
Darcy normally enjoyed her job. Papa’s Place was like a page out of yesterday, reminiscent of the Rat Pack days. The rich red leather and gleaming dark wood counters, bars, and tables were sophisticated and elegant. The crowd was normally fairly quiet, though some nights seemed to attract the crazies, especially those like tonight when a full harvest moon glided across the sky.
Last call was finally issued, and Darcy went into her closing performance of the night. By the time she finished the bar was nearly empty of patrons. She turned to rise from the piano stool just as an older man stumbled towards her, and the entire contents of his glass of red wine flew straight onto the bust of her ivory silk dress.
Darcy’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and the face of the gray-haired gentleman in front of her registered shock. Darcy pulled the dripping off-the-shoulder bodice away from her chest and gasped.
“I am so sorry, madam. So very sorry. Please, let me help you.” He fumbled forward with a napkin and reached for her breasts.
“No, no, that’s okay. I’ll get it.” She jumped back defensively. The last thing she wanted tonight was some old man feeling her up. “No. I’ll take care of it.”
“At least let me pay for the cleaning.” He reached for his wallet. “I insist.”
“Fine. Thank you. Thank you very much.” Her eyes grew wide when he slipped $50 into her palm. It was more than she’d paid for the vintage dress. “Really, that’s too much.”
“No, it was entirely my fault. I insist. Besides, that’s better than a wet T-shirt any night.” He winked at her, glanced briefly at her clinging wet neckline, and walked away.
Oh. She glanced down at the dress. realized the stain was spreading rapidly across the fabric and growled. “Good God Almighty.”
She took the $50 and the rest of her tips and stomped behind the bar. She grabbed a bottle of club soda and a clean white bar towel and made her way to the employees’ break room directly across from the kitchen. It was a small area where employees could sit and rest their feet. A large window looked out into the kitchen, and two small bathrooms were against the back wall.
Darcy scurried into the lady’s room and pulled off the wet dress, spreading it across the vanity. She knew if she didn’t work fast it would be ruined forever. And the last thing she needed right now was to spend money on clothing.
She poured the club soda on the dress then patted it with the bar towel. She eventually got most of the wine out and hung it over the automatic hand dryer so it could blow on the wet fabric. To kill time while her dress dried, she called her best friend, Sophie. Sophie was an artist and liked to work nights and sleep during the day, so Darcy wasn’t worried about waking her even though it was nearly midnight.
“Hey, Snooks, what’s up?” She sat on a bench and crossed her legs.
“Oh, girl, there’s all kind of excitement going on. There was a big fight downstairs tonight.” Sophie lived above a popular bar and lived vicariously through the bar’s regulars. “What’s up with you?”
“Well, it’s been one of those nights.” Darcy went on to tell her about the customer spilling wine on her dress, the hecklers, and the man with the magnetic eyes.
“Dang, girl, he got away?”
“Slick as a whistle.”
“Wow, that’s a mind blower.”
“Isn’t it, though. Hey, I think my dress is about dry. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for brunch, okay?”
“Sure. See you then, girlfriend.”
Darcy disconnected and rose to put on her dress. She had slipped the ivory silk over her head and just settled it on her hips when an explosive noise almost made her jump out of her stilettos. What the heck?
She pulled open the door to the bathroom and peeked out the window in the break room. She stood, opened mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.
Three men, armed with assault rifles aimed at four of her co-workers, had their backs to her. Papa lay sprawled on the floor, his son Rico lying on top of his rotund body. Before she could even move, she heard a voice shout, “No witnesses,” and then there was an eruption of gunfire. Darcy watched as the other two employees dropped to the floor one by one.