Chapter Two…
Going about my business, working the lunch-and-beyond shift, I never said a word to Marzi and she didn’t say anything to me. Maybe she didn’t recognize me, after all I was back to my natural… dyed dark brown hair for waitressing. And as far as I could figure out she hadn’t said anything to Bossy-Pan, a nickname I gave my boss Pansie. Of course, there was no harm in singing or working somewhere else, but something about it felt a tiny, teensy-weensy bit dishonest. Especially, since I had told her that I was uncomfortable up on the stage singing in front of a crowded room. The night before had been my first time up on stage, out front, and I didn’t particularly love it.
I did love singing along to music in my car, at home, and even in the café while working. No one seemed to mind my voice. In fact, that was probably why the girls kept telling me that I should take one of the slots on open mic night. Thinking about it more, I had been working on my confidence during band rehearsals—stepping out front instead of standing in the back, hidden behind the band members while singing backup. That was why I had been able to do the duet, but it still wasn’t singing alone, all by myself.
Busy working inside, I hadn’t been able to take a break until late afternoon. But when I got the chance, I grabbed my journal and a coffee with lots of cream and headed to the patio. Singing absentmindedly as I stepped out, I quickly stopped right next to him when I spotted him, the gorgeous tat guy.
Frozen on the spot, staring down into his icy blue eyes that were almost clear, he spoke louder than I wanted him to. “Hey, I saw you singing backup at…”
Leaning down with my hands full, my mouth quickly covered his as he sat at a table. I probably could’ve figure out how to use one of my occupied hands but he baffled me and had me doing something totally out of my comfort zone.
He didn’t seem to mind and actually twisted his hand around my hair and tugged me closer and deepened our kiss. He was by far the best kisser I had ever experience and could go on kissing him forever had Vixen not been tapping me, clearing her throat. Loosening his grip on me, I stood up straight and glanced around—a couple tables were looking our way.
“Sit,” he said before I could move away.
Pulling out a chair, I sat across from him and settled my book and coffee in front of me. Awkwardly, I looked at him. “Sorry about that a… kiss. I’m Evie, by the way.”
“Nate,” he replied with a grin. “I’d shake your hand but I like your greeting better.”
“I didn’t want you to blow my cover. I never told Pansie that I sang with a band. They all know here that I love to sing because I can’t contain myself often and just pop out in song if I hear something I like playing here.” It was true, I absentmindedly sang and couldn’t help it was in my blood. I come from a long line of musicians and singers.
“And who is this Pansie you speak of?”
“She’s the owner of the café. She has me managing our open mic nights on Wednesdays. She always tells me to sign myself up too with everyone else every week. I keep telling her no because I’m not confident enough to sing alone. So I just sign people up I have met through music connections. I like to bring in good acts, but I haven’t gotten up to sing yet.”
“So you just wanted to shut me up, is that right?” He looked a little disappointed.
“Well, not exactly. I liked the kiss. It was great and…” I stopped myself before I sounded like a lovesick teenage girl.
“It was great, I agree. So what are you writing? Something tells me that you don’t use it as a diary. I’m thinking you write poetry and maybe even lyrics… songwriting is your thing, I’m guessing.”
Vixen appeared again. “Evie, times up. Pansie ran out with Basil to the public garden and then to drop off donations. She said she’d be back soon and wants to talk to you privately. If I was you, I’d keep my lips off customers. Anyway, can you help up front, maybe cut your break short?” I nodded and she walked away after winking at me.
“Don’t listen to her when it comes to me. But I agree with her where all other customers are concerned. I better run too. See you on open mic night. I’m first to go on.” Nate stood as soon as I did and leaned forward. I swear he was going to kiss me but instead put his lips to my forehead and held them there for a few moments, I didn’t dare move until he did.
Following behind him back inside, I watched the back pockets of his nice jeans with a smile on my face. Popping behind the counter, I watched him stroll out the front door. He was going to sing? I had to check out the sign up list. I didn’t remember a Nate on it. I began to wonder when he had come in and if someone else had cancelled. Not that any of it really mattered, but was he by chance coming back to see me? I hope that was the case. I was also interested in hearing him sing and wondered what he would be singing. What did I picture him singing? New country would be nice—something to have in common. He seemed like the type to sing something original. Maybe something he wrote recently about a broken heart or about running away from his feelings. He had a story. We all had stories, some worse than others, some better. I like to add a bit of fashion to mine to give them texture and movement, like the flow of silk on a windy day as…
She watched him walk out of her life. She wondered if it was forever or if he told the truth and would return to sing to her.
I needed to get that written down in my book so I quickly grabbed it from below the counter and scribbled as I was caught by my boss.
Pansie asked to speak to me privately.
Once one of the teen girls took my place, I went to meet her at a table and I began to rattle off my apologies right away. “Sorry, Bossy-Pan, I didn’t mean to attack the customer. I just wanted him to shut up.” Better to be upfront.
“You attacked a customer? When?”
“Not exactly attacked as in hit… physically maimed kind of attack. I… I kissed him… on the mouth… took him by surprise.” I stammered as I confessed, looking down and rubbing my hands together.
“What?!” I glanced up to see a questioning look on her face.
I was quick to explain that he was commenting about seeing me in a compromising position and I didn’t want our customers to hear. My hands were full with a book and coffee so I used the next best things I could find—my lips. I almost told Pansie about the bar, but it was close enough to the truth.
“Oh, thank God. As long as he doesn’t file a sexual harassment complaint about you. Not sure that works customer to worker. I need to look into that. But, no, that’s not it… Marzi and I were talking…”
“Okay. I can explain about that too. She was dancing with the delivery guy and… Well, I’m moonlighting… and the kiss guy… well, he was there drinking beer and he saw me singing with a band but in the back.” I stopped before I got to my disguise and she thought that she had a looney-tooney working for her in her café.
“Wow, Evie, I’m a bit shocked… I swear I don’t even know you. However, before you confess anymore to me, I think you need to let me speak. And by the way, never become a spy—you’d fold within seconds and give away trade secrets.” She stopped and laughed.
“Only about myself when I think that it might affect other people or I’m in the wrong. Otherwise, I’m good at keeping other people’s secrets.” I’d done it all of my life.
There was so much that I kept hidden—changing my appearance as soon as I left home for college. I wanted to experience life as any other student. Since I had been photographed starting at birth, there was only one way to go unnoticed; a bottle of dye and colored contacts. My first name I shortened to Evie and my last name was no problem since I used my father’s non-stage name. I became a completely new person when I wasn’t with my parents and I loved the anonymity.
Knowing that it was hard to trust anyone to keep such a big secret, I didn’t tell a soul. I even asked my parents to have my grandparents drop me at school and begged them to not visit me. Correspondence between us was even done through alias email addresses and any packages arrived from an unrecognizable name and location. The only thing I couldn’t keep them from attending was my graduation.
Fortunately, they agreed to do it incognito, wearing disguises—something they had no problem with doing since becoming famous. And I have to admit I was happy to have them with me to celebrate my achievement of receiving a degree in English. Surprise to my parents who thought that I was studying music. I did take several lower division music courses because they were easy for me coming from a long line of musicians who were always happy to teach me about the history of music. Not to mention, I had been taught to read music and play the piano to a point, as guitar was my instrument of choice—I did take some advanced guitar courses.
My English declaration was due to my love of writing poetry. I figured that learning about the great poets and writers of the world along with their brilliant works would only serve my own poetry writing. My poetry, I found, easily translated into lyrics for songs. My different roommates teased me that I was going to be the next Taylor Swift. I laughed to myself because I knew that I would never have her performance presence—maybe her songwriting ability, but never her stage savvy.
Being involved in the open mic nights at the café, I had moments that I yearned to have the nerve to pop up on the stage to do more than announce the next performer. But I had yet to add my name to the list and continued to mill about the place singing softly—louder when customers were sparse. And after meeting Nate, knowing that he planned to attend our next Wednesday night event, I was definitely sealing my lips and keeping mine from attacking his again. No musical notes would be slipping out with him nearby. At least that was what I told myself earlier in the day as I arrived at the café with a great lineup of repeat performers along with the guy—invading my mind and poetic words much too often—clearly marked as a definite performer. No problem were my last famous words before he graced the café with his dynamic presence.