Leverage (9 page)

I snapped my acoustic into its case and carried it to the front door. Katy lay on the sofa, asleep on her side. I didn’t want to just leave her alone without telling her where I was headed, so I knelt down beside her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Katy,” I whispered at first, then a bit louder as I shook her gently. “Katy, wake up.”

Her eyes popped open, wild and nervous, and she scrambled up into a sitting position.

I drew back, my hands up. “It’s just me. You okay?”

She stared at me for a second then nodded, but her eyes still looked panicked. She raked her hands over her face then scratched at her scalp.

“Yeah,” she answered as she scanned the room. “Fine.”

I stood and hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Okay, well, I’m leaving for a while.”

“You are?” she asked then looked at her watch. “But…it’s so late. You don’t have class in the morning?”

“No, I do, but I have this audition to get to down at Rush Hour.”

“Rush Hour,” she confirmed, then her lips closed in a crooked smirk. “That where your friend Nooo-va works by any chance?”

“Is this going to be a problem for you? ‘Cause if it is, you should make other arrangements right now.”

“God, Conner, lighten up, geez. Go, do your audition. Break a leg or…whatever.”

I grabbed my case and yanked the front door open. “Be good, Katy. I don’t want any shit in this house. Okay?”

She ignored me and drifted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut without a word.

I walked the six blocks to the coffee house, my collar turned up around my neck and my free hand stuffed into my pocket for warmth. It was cold and cloudy, but the rain held off long enough to see me to the front door.

Rush Hour was a popular neighborhood hangout, as much for the food and coffee as the atmosphere and late operating hours, not to mention free Wi-Fi. Deep and cramped, it was situated on a corner lot with floor to ceiling windows at the front and all along one side. Long, narrow tables ran end to end, front to back, each crowded with students and their laptops. In front of the side windows ran a slender counter with more students. Tall, glass bistro tables were placed in between, all the way back to the register and display case. Artwork lined the interior brick wall, and slim pendant lights illuminated the tables and funky stained concrete floor.

Near the front windows sat a young woman on a stool, a mandolin resting on her knee. Her shoulders hunched over as she strummed the tinny-sounding instrument. Her voice was strong and clear, the tune and lyrics ethnic and unfamiliar, but catchy and fun. Half the crowd seemed genuinely interested and clapped when she concluded. The remaining ignored her as they worked on their laptops or chatted with their friends.

“Conner, hey, back here!” rang a voice from the rear.

I turned and saw Nova back by the kitchen doorway, her arms waving above her head. I walked back and stopped near the register then faced front.

“Wow,” I said to Nova, who’d stepped up to the counter. “This place is busy.”

She grabbed a rag from beneath the register and began to wipe down the countertop. “Have a seat over there,” she directed. “Greg will be out in a few.”

All the lights dimmed to half power, and everyone began gathering their things, stuffing laptops into backpacks and bussing their own tables. Within ten minutes, the only people in the joint were the handful of employees who hurriedly cleaned the tables, swept the floor, or darted about the small kitchen in back.

Fifteen minutes later, half the lights in the kitchen switched off, and a man, maybe five or six years older than me, appeared near the kitchen doorway. He wore a pale blue button-down, tailored to fit his trim physique. It was loose at the neck, no tie, but he had a sport coat folded neatly over one arm. I could tell just by looking at him, and the way the female employees snuck glances at him, that he was the kind of guy women flocked to. I’m not sure if that had anything to do with it, but I instantly disliked him. He struck me as the smug sort, over confident and smooth, not just with the ladies, but with everyone, and well-liked, something he not only expected, but somehow demanded.

He was taller than me, only by an inch or so, maybe six-two, but at one-seventy-five, I had at least ten pounds on the guy. His hair was straight and dark, nearly black, short all around, but longer in the front, where a section broke loose and hung over his forehead in a half-curl. His eyes were green, but dark like a blackened lens, and I couldn’t quite tell what lay behind them, but, as if commanded, they softened and twinkled as he discussed some business with one of the girls. He put his hand to her elbow and leaned down to speak in her ear, and she smiled shyly, her eyes at her feet until he pulled back. That’s when she craned her neck to look up at him with a flirtatious smile. It was like he’d put a spell on her and she’d do anything he asked. That wouldn’t work with me.

He broke away from the young woman and turned his charm on Nova. She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear then pulled away with a half-smile. His expression turned hard for the slightest moment, his eyes frigid and his shoulders stiff, but when he looked my way, he relaxed back to his calm, charming self, his smile broad and flashy, and his eyes glowing with excitement. I turned and looked around, wondering if there wasn’t someone behind me he was directing his interest at, but no, I was the only one left.

He laid his jacket over the back of a chair then approached me with his hand out.

“Ah, this must be the mysterious musician Nova has been raving about all day,” he said with the burr of an accent, English, like Ty’s, but different somehow, harder, less refined. He took my hand, his grip tense, almost threatening, like he wanted to prove he was the stronger man. “Conrad, is it?” he asked.

I offered my standard handshake in return, unwilling to take the bait. “Conner, actually. And…? I’m sorry, Nova only mentioned your name once.”

He glanced briefly at Nova on his left then back to me. “Please, call me Greg.”

“Right, Greg. Nova said to come by and audition. You still looking for someone?”

He nodded. “Of course, I’m always looking. I hear you cover our local legends.”

“Yeah, but not exclusively. I cover quite a few contemporary bands, as well.”

Greg clapped his hands together then used them to point to the makeshift stage at the front corner of the café. “Why don’t you set up over there and get started. Maybe just four or five samples so I know if we’re a good fit or not.”

I pulled out my acoustic and settled in, silently running through a few tunes I thought would best showcase my abilities. “How about a little Alice in Chains? Nova said you dig grunge.”

“By all means,” he replied as he sat down backwards at one of the long narrow tables, his back to its edge and his arms slung casually along the top rail of a chair.

As Nova slinked back toward the counter, I strummed the intro to
Nutshell
and allowed myself to settle into the melancholy of the song before plunging into the lyrics. At the end, I segued seamlessly into
Angry Chair
and scanned Greg’s face for a reaction. His mouth turned up the slightest bit at one corner, and he nodded in what I hoped was appreciation. Lastly, I played a medley of Smile Empty Soul. When the music faded and the room turned silent, Greg just sat there, contemplating me for what seemed like a full minute before he did a slow-clap and stood, his eyes charged and his grin broad as he strode to my side.

“Bravo, Mr.…?”

“Maguire, but please, Conner’s fine.”

“Very well, Conner. My, you are a rather emotive young chap, are you not? As a musician, I mean, of course. No offense.”

“None taken, and at times, yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well, it makes for a more evocative performance, one I’m sure my customers will enjoy. Think you can start tomorrow night? We’re all a bit tired of Naevia’s mandolin.”

“What are your terms?” I asked.

“Oh, ever the business man, too. I like that,” he said with a light tap to my shoulder. “We’ll start at one-fifty a night, one set, three nights a week, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, then see how it goes. Sound fair?”

I tried to hold my mouth closed and not stare all bug-eyed, but failed miserably. “Um…yeah,” I replied. “
Very
fair. Thank you.” I was beginning to like this guy, despite myself. I held out my hand, and he shook it with more vigor than the first time. I tried not to wince like a pussy.

“No need to thank me, good man,” he said with another slap to my shoulder. “You’ll be earning your paycheck, I assure you.” He turned and started to walk away then said over his shoulder, “Make sure you come in a half hour early so you can fill out the proper paperwork.

I waved without speaking, and he turned away with a quick double-fingered salute.

“Until tomorrow, Mr. Maguire,” he finished and disappeared into the darkened kitchen.

Nova skipped over to me as I buttoned up my guitar and slung it over my shoulder. Her smile was bright and contagious. “Yay, Conner!” She applauded. “You got the job!” She hugged me then pulled away, a bit embarrassed.

“Thanks to you. Guess I owe you now, huh?”

“Hmm, I kinda like the sound of that,” she said, those shoulders of hers swaying back and forth again.

“Nova!” Greg’s voice boomed from far away.

She yelled back, “Oh, sorry! Be right there!” Then she turned to me again. “I have to go do the receipts. See you later maybe?”

“Maybe,” I returned. I walked to the front door, and Nova unlocked then opened it for me. I passed though, out into the drizzling rain, and spun back around. “Thanks again.”

“Nova, godammit!” Greg swore from inside, his lean silhouette in the kitchen doorway.

“Night,” she whispered then pulled the door closed and locked it.

I watched her walk slowly back toward Greg. The place was fairly dark, but I thought I saw him stroke her jaw before he took her by the elbow and steered her away with one last glance in my direction.

And there it was again, that feeling, that small nugget of something I couldn’t quite define—hostility, resentment. Whatever. I had to suck it up though. Greg was my boss now, too.

When I got back to my place, all the lights were off and the TV was on, the volume turned low, but Katy was nowhere to be seen. I laid my guitar down and turned the television off then walked down the hall, pushing the bathroom door wide. She wasn’t there either. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or pissed that she’d left without a word. Without switching my bedroom light on, I walked over to my bed and plopped down on my back, but only for a second before I jumped back up, my heart racing and my stomach lodged in my throat.

“Fuck!” I swore at the darkness, one hand raised in a fist, the other pressed to my chest.

“What?” came Katy’s groggy whisper. “It’s just me.”

“Geez, K. Holy crap! You scared the shit out of me.” I dropped the fist, but kept my palm to my heart in an effort to slow its thundering pace.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“What are you doing in here anyway, in
my
bed?”

“I don’t know. I was tired, and your sofa is lumpy.” There was pout in her voice. “Plus, I figured you’d be gone a while, what with your date with Nooo-vah and all.”

“Back off. It wasn’t a date.”

“Sorry. God. So sensitive.”

“No, I’m just tired, so…if you wouldn’t mind.” I raised my arm toward the door, a futile gesture in the dark.

She groaned. “Please don’t make me sleep on your piece of shit couch. You have this huge bed.” She bounced on its squeaky springs. “I promise to stay on this side. You can even put some pillows or something down the middle.”

It was my turn to groan.

“Please, please,
please
?” she begged again.

This time, I sighed, adding a shake of my head she couldn’t possible see. “Fine. Just…you know…”

“Keep my hands to myself?” No pout this time. A grin instead.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Deal,” she replied then patted the space next to her loud enough for me to hear.

I returned to the bed, sitting along the edge while I removed my shoes and socks then pulled my t-shirt over my head. I stood, unzipped my jeans, and started to push them down over my hips, but thought better of it. I pulled them back in place and re-zipped.

Katy snorted at the sound. “Really, Conner? You’re so afraid of me you’d rather sleep in your jeans?”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” I slipped under the bedcovers, plumped the pillow beneath my head, and sighed as I tried to relax. I heard Katy shift beside me, the bed dipping as she moved closer to the center.

“So,” she whispered, “did you get that gig you auditioned for?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.”

I not only heard her impatient huff, I felt the heat of it on my shoulder.

“You got a problem with that, too?”

“No... I mean… Sort of. I guess. Shit, Conner, I don’t know.”

With my hand beneath my cheek, I turned to face her, though I couldn’t see anything. “Look, um… I’m not doing this to hurt you or anything. It’s just…I need to move on, you know? And getting a job is part of that.”

“Yeah, but…you couldn’t just get one at a pizza joint or something? You had to take one where
she
works? ‘Cause let me tell you, Conner, that girl’s wet for you.”

I thought about it, whatever it was Katy had seen in Nova. I’d felt it earlier, too, big time, right before Katy barged back into my life. Perhaps that interruption had been a blessing. I really shouldn’t get involved with anyone.
Damn!
The timing really sucked though. Two hot girls, obviously willing and eager, and I was supposed to be abstaining?
Are you fucking kidding me?
Just the thought made me hard. And the heat coming off Katy’s body didn’t help, nor did the sweet smell of her skin. I loathed turning away from that. I drew in a breath more uneven than intended.

Katy wiggled an inch closer, the impression on the mattress dipping even farther into my side. I put my hand out, meaning to place it on the space between us so I could move back, but I found Katy’s hip instead, and there wasn’t anything covering it either. No t-shirt, no blanket, not even a sheet. Just her blessedly warm, smooth flesh. I retreated as if she’d burned me, because it honestly felt as though she had. But Katy grabbed my hand and moved it back in place, her palm blazing as it rested atop mine. My heart beat faster, harder, and I could barely take a breath. She pushed my hand down over her hip and thigh then turned it to cup the neatly groomed space between her legs.