special?” I winked.
He patted my butt and shook his head. “Jack works every Saturday night, you know that darling’,” he said to me.
“I’m sorry, Andy. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he could come out and see you sometime?” I asked him. This was the standing argument between Jack and Andy. Andy wanted to feel support for his music career, even if it was just a part-time gig, and Jack consistently treated it as Andy’s hobby that he would eventually grow out of.
Andy’s smile faded for a minute as we stood at the bar and waited for Matt to get us our complimentary drinks.
I didn’t drink alcohol, ever, but Andy usually had a brandy to calm his nerves.
Matt brought my virgin mojito.
“You were amazing tonight, Lauren. You knocked my socks off!” he said.
“Aww, thank you Sugar,” I said and sipped the zippy lime flavor through my straw. I casually turned my head to see if Zack was still at the door; he was.
It looked like he was going to try and ignore me again tonight, which really hurt, but then I remembered that applause he gave me, and I felt a thrill tingle deep inside me. He had clapped only for me. I knew it. I had to squirm on my stool for a minute, just recalling the moment. Heat crept up my neck and ears. Mama never warned me about falling for one of my pet projects. I quirked my lips around my straw. Just a few more sips and I had to get back to the stage for my next performance.
The crowd usually diluted with new people, thinned out, then picked up more guests as the evening wore on. People attending events at the conference center weren’t ready for the night to end and sought out Lonely Nights for the cheap entertainment but classy ambience. I was more than happy to oblige them. The wine flowed freely the later it got, and then the crowd started to get more colorful. It was the couple hours between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m. that I really felt thankful for the bouncers. Even Harley had kept a drunken stalker away from me a time or two in the last several months.
My second show of the night went off without a hitch, Andy and I took our bows and I hustled to my dressing room. My feet were killing me. I couldn’t wait to shove them into my fuzzy socks and sneakers. I had brought some black leggings to slip on under my dress too, for the chilly trip home.
I started to get a little nervous remembering the punks from the night before. What were the odds that people would leave me alone tonight? Not that great, to be honest. Saturday nights were even worse than Friday nights. I considered calling a cab, but that would eat up my tips from Lazy Eye’s today.
Packing everything up, I decided to just walk to the station like always. It would be fine. I still had my mace. I could dial 911 and not press send. And I could act like I still had my gun with me. All those other times, the predators had no way of knowing if I was telling the truth or not. They chose to believe me. It had to be the confidence I felt since Daddy taught me how to shoot. I would just work it.
I closed up my dressing room, said goodbye to Brenda and the girls and Matt, and walked out the door. Zack must have already left. I ignored that pinch in my heart.
He reminded me of that old dog Ticky. I called him that because he had about 493 ticks in his ears, all bloated and feasting off that poor animal. He came around every few days and I tried all kinds of remedies to get those nasty buggers off of him. Flea powder, tomato juice (I got mixed up and gave him the treatment for skunk smell. Ticky wasn’t too happy about that bath. Neither was Mama,) herbal remedies and what not. It got to the point where he didn’t want to come near me because I had tried so hard. He finally stopped coming altogether. Dumb ticks. I blamed the little bloodsuckers, but really he hadn’t come to me to get those ticks out of his ears. He just wanted some food and some attention. I just couldn’t pay attention to what he really needed because the ticks
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