Damn.
“There’s another option,” Naomi said before he could panic. “One of the bartenders also plays.”
That would be acceptable. Ari preferred to play with someone he knew, someone he’d worked with before, but he wasn’t in a position to be choosy. They were slated to begin in twenty minutes. While concerts rarely began on time, Ari preferred to be punctual. He respected the people who had paid to see him perform. Just because this concert cost only a fraction of what the larger venues charged didn’t make the audience less deserving of that respect.
Still…. Naomi seemed uncertain.
“You have reservations?”
She shook her head. “No, just… well, you’ll see for yourself. I’ll go get him.”
The break room hadn’t changed much since Ari had played here—no new paint, just a few new chips in it. One or two of the instruments hanging on the wall had been replaced, though, and the keyboard wedged into the back corner looked new.
At least Murph had thrown out the chair with the cracked seat. Ari couldn’t count the number of times he’d pinched his leg on that.
Perhaps a minute and a half passed before the door opened again—just long enough for the tension to start creeping back into his shoulders. He was in the midst of another breathing exercise to relax his muscles when he looked up and completely forgot what he was doing.
One of the bartendersreferred to a tall, blond white man in a threadbare T-shirt that highlighted every ounce of lean muscle. Ari barely had time to note startling blue eyes and the hint of a smile on a generous mouth before Naomi nudged the man forward.
“Immovable object, meet unstoppable force.”
The bartender laughed. As he held his hand out for Ari, he asked Naomi, “Am I the immovable object or the unstoppable force?”
After the barest of hesitations, Ari took the offered hand and refrained from commenting on the stupidity of such a question. Only five seconds into their conversation and Ari could already tell—no one who knew this man would characterize him as an immovable anything. “Ari Darvish,” he said instead.
“I guessed. Jax Hall.” Jax’s blue eyes flicked down and up, and his lips parted to reveal a tantalizing view of pink tongue.
“Down, boy!” Naomi groaned and hit the back of Jax’s head.
Jax released Ari’s hand and rubbed ruefully at his hair. “Geez, Naomi, I was only saying hi.”
“You can leave the horndog at home tonight. We want you to make a good impression.”
“I object to being characterized as a dog.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought the implication that you’d hump anyone’s leg very apt.”
“Naomi!” He sniffed. “I would never hump anyone’s leg—uninvited.” He winked at Ari.
At fifty seconds into the conversation, Ari learned Jax was positively shameless. “I will be sure to refrain from giving anything approaching an invitation, then,” he said dryly.
Jax fluttered his lashes. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Ari ignored the twinge in his stomach. “I’m told you can play piano.”
“I do a mean rendition of ‘Toxic,’ it’s true.”
Ari did not have time to contemplate that. Instead, he asked if Jax could help them out.
Jax took the offered sheet music and then pulled out his phone. “You’re on Spotify, right?” He strode across the room to the keyboard, spread the papers out, and after some searching, pulled the corresponding song up on his phone.
“Let’s leave him to it.” Naomi hooked her arm through Ari’s. “Come to the bar. Say hi to Murph.”
Ari didn’t usually warm up for shows while standing at bars, but given the circumstances, he followed Naomi out of the room without a backward glance at the strange bartender hunched over his sheet music.
ARI DREWhis bow over the strings, and the music vibrated through his body. He’d played this chord countless times; it began the refrain of one of his oldest pieces. But playing it had never felt like this before.
Jax sat behind the piano, head tilted at an alluring angle, a smile on his lips as his fingers flew across the keys in an approximation of Ari’s music. It couldn’t be expected that anyone other than a seasoned professional could learn so many songs so quickly, and the occasional errors and fudging of complex chords and progressions were to be anticipated. Still, Ari hadn’t expected the flourishes.
