Page 4 of All That Jazz


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She curls one side of her upper lip and points at the stage with her half-empty glass. “Yes, you are.”

I manage to tear my gaze from the stage to look at her incredulously. “I amnot. What would be the point of that? So I can be totally awkward and embarrass myself in front of my favorite musician?”

“Excuse me.” She grabs my arm and turns me to fully face her. “What was the point of coming to his show if you aren’t going to go say hi? You said he always goes straight from the stage to the audience so he can mingle with his fans after every show.” She swings her arms through the air, tossing the last of her amaretto sour into the abyss of the crowd, which is too drunk to notice getting doused with liquor. “Go mingle with him!”

I could puke from my nerves at the idea ofminglingwith Lucky De Luca. He’s not only sexy AF, but he’s also cooler than I’ll ever have a prayer of being. “No!”

“You know what, you areridiculous.” Setting her glass on a nearby surface, Zoey steps behind me, grabs both of my arms, and starts shoving me through the crowd toward the stage. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re never going to be happy in life until you start taking life by the balls?”

Zoey is slightly taller than me, but alsowaystronger, and I’m no match for her forcing me to weave through the crowd toward the foot of the stage. Through the mass of people, I can see Lucky’s hypnotic blue eyes and perfect, coal-black hair getting closer and closer to me. Two young women and a guy are gathered around Lucky, chatting enthusiastically and gesturing wildly as he nods, listening attentively, with a warm smile on his face. The small group—and basically everyoneelsewho’s clambering in an attempt to snag his attention—is dressed up in perfect-looking, authentic retro outfits. The women have meticulously applied, vintage-style makeup and flawless shiny, 1920s-inspired waves, and there’s not an awkward bone in their bodaciously curvy bodies.

As Zoey pushes me closer, the women flutter their long eyelashes and flirtatiously flit their wrists at Lucky, and I couldn’t be more polar freaking opposite of them.

I’m fromAustin, so I have onjeans. And atank top. Andflip-flops. This isn’t exactly a big, fancy city with music clubs that have dress codes. I knew we would be standing up for two hours, and I dressed for comfort. I put on some mascara, but that’s it. My totally unremarkable brunette hair is in a ponytail—and not even a cute, sexy, Ariana Grande-style, high ponytail. It’s just pulled back and drooping, and I’m not drunk enough for this.

After snapping a few selfies with the small group, Lucky offers his hand to shake with the women and their male friend, and Zoey decides this is when we’re going in for the kill.

“Hey, you! Hot piano guy!” she hollers, pushing me about half an arm’s length from Lucky’s tall, confident body, and he turns to face us, one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing his jaw with his thumb and index finger. “My friend’sin lovewith you, and she’s too nervous to say hi.” She gives me another firm push that much closer to him, and I want todie. “Say hi to her.”

Lucky is completely unfazed by this mortifying introduction and smiles at her before he holds out his hand to me, palm up. “What’s your name, miss?” he asks in that Italian-New Yorker accent that makes me positivelyweak.

I’m frozen on the spot, so Zoey picks up my arm and forces my hand into his. “Her name’s Ava. Ava Herald. And shelovesyou.”

I’ve never believed in the Rapture, but right now I’m silently begging God to just whisk me away to the afterlife, leaving nothing in my wake.

Lucky continues to take everything in perfect stride as he slowly shakes my hand and even pulls me a little closer to him.

“Ava Herald,” he repeats, inclining his head slightly to one side as his dark blue eyes appear to focus intently on my face. He looks at me in silence for a second, still slowly shaking my hand. “I see you a lot on my page, don’t I?”

Holy crap, he knows who I am!

I didn’t expect that at all.

My mouth is suddenly as dry as a desert, and I can only nod.

His eyes suddenly feel like a microscope, and the club feels like a petri dish, and I’m a specimen on full display for his andeveryone’sinspection.

My hand is still in his, and I wasn’t prepared for how soft his palm is. It’s so soft that I’m suddenly terrified that I’ll start accidentally rubbing my fingers over his skin like a weirdo. I attempt to slip my hand away, but he gives it a gentle squeeze, trapping it in place, and takes a step closer to me.

He leans his faceextremelyclose to mine, to the point that I automatically lean mine back slightly. “Am I making you nervous, Ava?”

I frantically shake my head and manage to blurt out, “No, not at all.”

Lucky narrows his eyes playfully. “You sure?”

My lips part as I attempt to formulate words just as Zoey interjectsagain.

“Yes, she’s nervous. Shelovesyou.”

He slyly cuts his gaze behind my head as though glancing at her before looking at me again. “Is that true, Ava?”

Someoneshootme.

“I…well…I mean,” I stammer. He’s close enough for me to smell him. The scent of rich bourbon and fine tobacco fill my lungs, and I’m suddenly as drunk as Zoey, and I just start talking. “There’s just a lot of depressing stuff on social media, so I try to avoid it by sticking to your music videos.”

A rich, hearty laugh shakes his broad shoulders, and he releases my hand to wag his finger at me. “Ain’t that the damn truth?” His laughter fizzles out with a long sigh and a blinding white smile. “I personally try to avoid current events as much as possible. In fact, the world could be going to hell in a handbasket, and I’d never even know.”

Hey, I managed to make him laugh and smile.