moon. Sales and marketing analysts grabbed a hamburger on the way home, plopped down on the sofa, and watched the news. Didn’t they?
For over an hour Jagger Brodie and his band performed, song after song, with only minimal breaks during which Jagger would relate humorous anecdotes or trivial song information to the audience. Tabby was mesmerized, most of the time forgetting Emmy was even in the room with her—forgetting that anyone else was in the room with her. It was as if Jagger had some strange power over her, as if he’d managed to hypnotize her with the sound of his voice, with his gaze and the occasional smiles he’d send her way. She began to wonder things about him she’d never dared wonder before. She knew he wasn’t married—every female in the office made certain that fact had been ascertained long ago. Yet she wondered if he had a girlfriend. She glanced around the room once or twice. There were several very beautiful women listening to Jagger’s music, yet she hadn’t seen his gaze linger on any one of them. Thus, Tabby decided that if he did have a girlfriend, she wasn’t in attendance. She wondered about his past and his family. Rhett had said Jagger was his cousin, that their fathers were brothers, and that their grandmother was from New Orleans. Rhett had a very discernable accent, so it was obvious he’d spent at least his formative years in the South. Though Tabby had spoken with Jagger on several occasions, she didn’t note the same accent in his speech, however. Still, she wondered where he grew up—wondered if Katrina had driven him out of New Orleans the way it had his grandmother. She wondered how many other members of his family were employed at the restaurant. If the hostess was Jagger’s aunt, the owner his grandmother, and one of the waiters his cousin, then was the pretty little waitress attending a nearby table also related to him?
As the song Jagger was singing ended, Tabby’s attention snapped back to the stage.
“Thank you. Y’all are great,” Jagger said, “Hey…we’re taking a little break. Just give us about fifteen minutes and we’ll be back. All right?”
Tabby watched as Jagger set his guitar on the stand—as he followed the band back across the stage to disappear behind the wall of black curtains.
“Well?” Emmy began, jabbing Tabby in the ribs with one elbow, “what do you think?”
“I think this is my chance to run over to the gift shop and buy Jagger Brodie’s CD, that’s what I think,” Tabby whispered as she stood up.
“No…I mean what do you think about your little Derrière-inator now? Are you ready to pursue him?” Emmy asked. “I mean, come on, Tabby—he’s perfect for you! He’s totally hot, totally charming, and totally a musician. Blues even! It’s like he was made for you.”
Tabby smiled. “And every other woman in this room, Emmy. Look around. They’re all completely crushing on him.”
“So?” Emmy said. “Get him to crush on you!”
“Oh, yeah…like that will ever happen.” Tabby shook her head, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous suggestions Emmy sometimes made. “Will you stay here while I run to the gift shop? I don’t want to lose our seats.”
Emmy sighed with exasperation. “Yes, I’ll stay here. But hurry.” Emmy frowned. “That guy next to us keeps staring at me, and I don’t want to sit here alone for too long, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll hurry.”
Tabby quickly glanced around. She didn’t really want Jagger Brodie to see her buying his CD. Once she was certain he was nowhere near, she headed toward the front of the restaurant and the little gift shop just to the left of the entrance.
“Hi,” a young woman greeted as Tabby entered. The woman was folding T-shirts embroidered with small cypress trees and the words Sweet Genevieve’s .
“Hi,” Tabby answered as she began to look around. She smiled, delighted by the little novelty items placed here and there. There were plush stuffed animal
For over an hour Jagger Brodie and his band performed, song after song, with only minimal breaks during which Jagger would relate humorous anecdotes or trivial song information to the audience. Tabby was mesmerized, most of the time forgetting Emmy was even in the room with her—forgetting that anyone else was in the room with her. It was as if Jagger had some strange power over her, as if he’d managed to hypnotize her with the sound of his voice, with his gaze and the occasional smiles he’d send her way. She began to wonder things about him she’d never dared wonder before. She knew he wasn’t married—every female in the office made certain that fact had been ascertained long ago. Yet she wondered if he had a girlfriend. She glanced around the room once or twice. There were several very beautiful women listening to Jagger’s music, yet she hadn’t seen his gaze linger on any one of them. Thus, Tabby decided that if he did have a girlfriend, she wasn’t in attendance. She wondered about his past and his family. Rhett had said Jagger was his cousin, that their fathers were brothers, and that their grandmother was from New Orleans. Rhett had a very discernable accent, so it was obvious he’d spent at least his formative years in the South. Though Tabby had spoken with Jagger on several occasions, she didn’t note the same accent in his speech, however. Still, she wondered where he grew up—wondered if Katrina had driven him out of New Orleans the way it had his grandmother. She wondered how many other members of his family were employed at the restaurant. If the hostess was Jagger’s aunt, the owner his grandmother, and one of the waiters his cousin, then was the pretty little waitress attending a nearby table also related to him?
As the song Jagger was singing ended, Tabby’s attention snapped back to the stage.
“Thank you. Y’all are great,” Jagger said, “Hey…we’re taking a little break. Just give us about fifteen minutes and we’ll be back. All right?”
Tabby watched as Jagger set his guitar on the stand—as he followed the band back across the stage to disappear behind the wall of black curtains.
“Well?” Emmy began, jabbing Tabby in the ribs with one elbow, “what do you think?”
“I think this is my chance to run over to the gift shop and buy Jagger Brodie’s CD, that’s what I think,” Tabby whispered as she stood up.
“No…I mean what do you think about your little Derrière-inator now? Are you ready to pursue him?” Emmy asked. “I mean, come on, Tabby—he’s perfect for you! He’s totally hot, totally charming, and totally a musician. Blues even! It’s like he was made for you.”
Tabby smiled. “And every other woman in this room, Emmy. Look around. They’re all completely crushing on him.”
“So?” Emmy said. “Get him to crush on you!”
“Oh, yeah…like that will ever happen.” Tabby shook her head, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous suggestions Emmy sometimes made. “Will you stay here while I run to the gift shop? I don’t want to lose our seats.”
Emmy sighed with exasperation. “Yes, I’ll stay here. But hurry.” Emmy frowned. “That guy next to us keeps staring at me, and I don’t want to sit here alone for too long, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll hurry.”
Tabby quickly glanced around. She didn’t really want Jagger Brodie to see her buying his CD. Once she was certain he was nowhere near, she headed toward the front of the restaurant and the little gift shop just to the left of the entrance.
“Hi,” a young woman greeted as Tabby entered. The woman was folding T-shirts embroidered with small cypress trees and the words Sweet Genevieve’s .
“Hi,” Tabby answered as she began to look around. She smiled, delighted by the little novelty items placed here and there. There were plush stuffed animal
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