True. It was a far cry from a gin and tonic. “I decided to live dangerously and let the bartender pick for me.”
Murph hummed and gave the half-finished drink a closer look. “Is that rum, orange, and 7-Up?”
Ari tipped his head. “Among other things. It’s actually not as terrible as it sounds.”
“I bet it’s not,” Murph laughed. “That there is Sex with the Bartender.”
Ari nearly choked. “I’m sorry?”
“The name of the drink.” His eyes were dancing, and he did nothing to hide his grin. “Not very subtle of Jax, but then again, subtle has never been his métier.”
No, that much was obvious. Ari had to admit there was a certain refreshing charm in being pursued so boldly, even if it was outside his realm of experience. He opened his mouth to ask about him—how long Murph had known Jax, what he was doing here—before he realized that would be invasive. He’d already asked Jax. If Jax wanted him to know the truth, he would tell Ari himself.
In the meantime he shouldn’t pry.
“Show’s about to start,” Murph commented, nodding toward the stage. “Oi! Jax!” He swatted at him with a bar towel. “You’re up.”
Jax ripped off a lazy salute, unslung his own towel from his shoulder, and leaned forward with his elbow on the bar to drop a paper umbrella in a patron’s cocktail. “That’s my cue.”
A general cheer went up as the house lights went down until only the stage was illuminated.
Naomi stepped up to the stage first, wearing heeled cowboy boots, jeans, a white top, and a red guitar slung over her shoulder. As she was plugging in her patch cord, Kayla, the redheaded drummer, stepped up behind the kit and twirled a stick in her fingers.
Jax jogged up last. Ari let himself appreciate the view of his lanky body and broad shoulders, the way his jeans clung to the curve of his ass—who could blame them?—and long legs. The second the spotlight hit him, he seemed to grow three inches taller. He pushed up the sleeves of his Henley and grinned at the crowd as he made his way to the piano on the left.
His eyes met Naomi’s across the stage. She rolled hers, and Jax grinned wider.
“How’s it going, London!” Naomi half shouted into the microphone. Ari winced. He knew she had to hype up the crowd—he’d taken his share of turns doing the same when he worked here. He’d just always hated it.
The crowd cheered in response. Sometimes it was difficult to get much energy out of them so early in the evening, before the music had actually started and the alcohol flowed more freely.
“Unless I miss my guess, half of you are first-timers.” Naomi plucked out a few bendy notes. “So I’m Naomi, and that’s Kayla on the drums.”
Kayla hammered out a quick solo and ended with a cymbal crash. “Hey.”
“And if you’re here because of last night’s viral video sensation, you probably recognize Jax Hall tickling the ivories.”
Jax picked out a quick, light melody that sounded suspiciously like “Strangers in the Night.”
Naomi huffed a laugh at him, but fondness seeped into her feigned exasperation. “Jax’s a man of many talents, the most obvious being his ability to flirt with an entire room of people at the same time.”
Jax inclined his head in acknowledgment of her glowing praise.
“Since we’ve got some newcomers tonight, I’ll give you the 411. This”—she picked up the request jar from Jax’s piano; it already held several slips of paper and five-dollar bills—“is where you put your requests. You can find the slips on your tables or at the bar if you run out. Keep in mind this is a lighthearted entertainment set, and bored people don’t buy alcohol, so if you request Leonard Cohen you’re probably gonna be disappointed. We’ve got a couple more musicians who’ll rotate in over the course of the evening. Happy hour starts at nine.” She glanced at Kayla. “Did I forget anything?”
“Guitar pick?”
“Got it.”
“Sound check.”
“Done it.”
“Ritual shaming of Jax.”
Naomi turned from Kayla to Jax, then shook her head. “Well, I tried.”
Kayla grinned. “Reminder to tip your bartenders?”
