Forcing air in and out of his lungs, he watched as Babs darted through the crowd, making her way to the stage. She managed to maneuver right next to Jerry.
Christina hugged her, turning away from Jerry. Babs leaned in closely and whispered something that made Christina nod and place her fiddle on the stool behind her near Steven’s microphone. The two women walked toward the bathroom in the hall behind the bar.
Whipping his head around, he stared as Jerry watched Christina leave and then moved toward the others. He shook hands with the group, and they all chatted a moment before he moved to Steven. Leaning closer, Jerry talked to just Steven. Jerry maneuvered the two of them around so that he was able to keep an eye on the hall where Christina had gone.
“Their drummer is so stoned I can’t imagine him understanding anything Jerry said to him,” Cobb commented.
“Yeah, I’ve had my eye on him all night. Christina says they never let him drive anywhere but the man makes me nervous.”
“Damn, I should have had Babs stay near Jerry. What do you think he’s talking to him about?” Drew said.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad Babs got Christina away from the man. I don’t like the way he looks at her.”
“You mean different from the way most of these men in this room look at her?” Drew laughed. Clay shot him a narrowed-eyed glare, and Drew threw his hands up in supplication. “Hey, just stating the truth.”
Clay looked back toward the stage, noting Jerry was now walking out of the bar. Sighing, he said, “Yeah, I can deal with the other men. Plain old lust and awe, I get. Jerry? I don’t know what his game is when it comes to the band. Is he just a lackey for Congressman Bennett or is he working his own angle?”
Swinging his head around, he grinned as Christina and Babs approached. Babs hopped up on the chair next to Drew, and Christina moved directly to Clay as he slid from his barstool. Wrapping his arms around her, he said, “Great show, babe.”
She beamed, then stood on tiptoe to meet his lips in a quick kiss, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing. “Thanks.”
The others in their group threw out their appreciation for the performance as well. She continued smiling, accepting the bottle of cold water Clay had ready for her. She fit in so well with his friends, a fact that meant a lot to him. He now understood what his fellow Keepers meant when they found women that suited not only them but meshed with the group.
Twisting her head around to the stage, she appeared to be taking stock of the band. “I need to get back up and help take things down. I especially need to get my fiddle. As much as I love those guys, I don’t trust them!”
“I’ll go with you,” he offered, earning another wide grin. As they pushed their way through the crowd, he kept one arm protectively around her and used the other as a block to keep people from bumping into her.
“You know, I’m used to getting run over most of the time,” she joked.
“Babe, get used to someone making sure you’re taken care of.” Holding her hand, he gave her a boost up onto the stage. She maneuvered around the small platform, deftly stepping over wires and cords as Jamie and Mike unplugged and packed the amplifiers. The bagpipes had already been safely stowed in their cases, and Dunk staggered in from the back after having taken part of his drum set out to their vehicle.
Dunk approached Christina and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her up. “Great show, Tiny.”
“Put me down, you big oaf!” she complained.
Just as Clay was ready to come to her rescue, Dunk set her feet back on the stage and swayed slightly as he moved back to his drums. She looked at Clay and rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
“He’s a good percussionist. And friend,” came a comment from behind.
Clay swung his head around at that comment, seeing Steven standing close by. Having been so focused on Christina, he hadn’t noticed the man approach. Glancing down, he saw Steven shoving an envelope in his coat pocket.
Offering an explanation to Clay’s unasked question, Steven tapped his pocket and said, “The bar owner gives us a cut of the evening’s cover charge. Gotta admit that amount has grown larger since Christina joined us. People like her music, but let’s face it… men like having a pretty face to stare at while they're drinking.”
Clay wanted to argue but knew Steven was right. “I just hope she’s appreciated for her musical talent more than the sex appeal you’re trying to bring to the group.”
Lifting his hands up in front of him, Steven replied, “Hey, we all have the utmost respect for her musical talent. Hell, our fans do, too. They might like having someone pretty to look at, but the way she plays her violin while moving to the music is pure magic.”
He nodded, unable to deny Steven’s assessment.
“We just hope she sticks with us as we get bigger.”
Clay’s gaze moved from Christina to Steven. Cocking his head to the side, he waited to see what else the other man had to say.
Steven shrugged slightly, then exclaimed, “It’s taken us a while, but we’ve got an agent. Well, a part-time agent. Someone who likes the demo we made and says he can take us further. Of course, he’d take his cut, so we’re not ready to sign with him yet.”
“That’s smart. There’s a lot of unscrupulous people in the entertainment industry.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, man. I grew up in this business.” At Clay’s raised eyebrow, Steven chuckled. “My grandfather had a garage band back in the ‘60s. He was sure he was going to make it big but never did. My dad played guitar for a small-time metal band in the 80s. My first few years were spent being dragged around from city to city. Looking back, the band had a real chance, but they kept putting their faith in one asshole agent after another, having most of their money stolen.”
Clay had looked into each of the band members but now regretted that he had not done a full background check. Continuing to keep his eye on Christina as she chatted with Jamie and Mike, he asked, “Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”
“I’ve never seen Christina with someone,” Steven said, jamming his hands into his coat pockets. “She’s never had anyone come to our concerts. I don’t have any illusions that the band’s goals are just to go around and play in some bars. We’ve had our eye on getting on a much larger stage—national, international. We’re already a hit in the northeast and getting a name in a few places in Canada. As far as I’m concerned, the sky’s the limit.”
Turning so that his body now fully faced Steven, he eyed the man with a hard stare. “And Christina being front and center is a big part of where you want to go.”
“Told you, I respect her talent. Hell, if I just wanted a short skirt and legs, I can get that anywhere. But the whole package that’s her gives Amhrán M'anama a chance to make it big.”
“Including the fact that she gave the band its name.”
Steven sucked in a quick breath, then narrowed his eyes. “Yeah… the name is hers.”
“What about the Portland Orchestra?”
Snorting, Steven shook his head. “I get that she loves that gig, but she’s never going to make a name for herself being one of many violins sitting in an orchestra that’s not internationally known.”