and another got down on his knees. “Please, Miss Cindi, it wasn't our fault.”
The bearded one stood. “We're sorry. We'll be good the rest of the night.”
There was more laughing and back slapping and Cindi whispered in her ear. “I have an extra shirt in my locker. I'll be right there.”
Lee ran to the kitchen, past Billy, and into the back area where there were several lockers. She sat on the chair. How will I make it through the rest of the night, she thought. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Cindi. “Now, listen, sugar, don't worry about it.” She opened her locker and handed Lee a shirt. “Take off your wet shirt and put this one on.” She grabbed an apron from one of the hooks. “Here, I forgot to tell you to put this on.”
“I don't know if I can do this.” Lee pulled the dry t-shirt over her head.
“Sure you can.” Cindi tied the apron on Lee and gave her a squeeze. “It's just beer and perverts.”
The back alley door opened and Zac strolled through the kitchen with a half smile on his face. He strode past them to his office and slammed the door shut.
Cindi clicked her tongue and her eyes were hard. “Bastard's gonna get us all killed.”
Billy's voice sang out from the grill. “Order up.”
Cindi helped her take the burgers out to the table. The men were finished with the first two pitchers and asked for more, but seemed to have forgotten the wet t-shirt contest.
The two school teachers waved her over and one of them put her plump hand on Lee's forearm. “You have any low fat cookies?”
“We have oatmeal chocolate chip. They looked kind of healthy.”
“We'll take three each.”
Tommy was at the microphone, guitar around his neck, when she came back to the table with the cookies. The two women leaned forward in their chairs, eyes in a school girl glaze, fixated on Tommy, the corners of their mouths lifted in shy smiles. Lee set the two oversized cookies on the table. The blond one grabbed the largest without taking her gaze off Tommy.
Tommy adjusted his guitar and spoke into the microphone, his voice and body fluid, relaxed. “Thanks for making it out tonight, even with the terrible weather. We're Los Fuegos. Got a couple of tunes to keep you entertained this evening. This first song I wrote myself.” He smiled at the school teachers. “You regulars will recognize it.”
The ladies giggled and clapped their hands together. Lee watched from the bar, fascinated but scornful of their adoration for this small town singer. She began to pour another pitcher of beer from the tap.
Then he sang.
Lee looked up from pouring the pitcher and stared. His voice was a melodic baritone, soulful and emotional, James Taylor mixed with Jackson Brown. There was something unusually frank in it, like you could hear into the place most people kept hidden. The song was a ballad, kind of folk and country mixed. He sang the chorus, eyes closed. “ See you in a stranger's gait, cry each time it isn't true, how I wonder where you wait, was heaven waiting there for you?”
Her scalp tingled and she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes.
“Are you in the blades of grass, are you the breeze of mountain air, do you swim with river bass, how I wish I saw you there.”
She looked down and realized she'd forgotten to let go of the beer spout and it overflowed onto the plastic pad and dripped to the floor. She pushed the spout shut and wiped the excess beer with the towel from the sink. Cindi came around the counter, grabbed Lee's hand and talked in an important, self-congratulatory way, like she was personally responsible for his talent. “Don't he sing like an angel? This song's about his dead brother. He lived in Nashville for a long time but never could make a deal. He says no one wanted to sign a Hispanic country singer. There was no ‘American Idol’ back then or I bet he would've won.”
Lee swallowed to rid the lump in her throat. “What's he doing here ?”
Cindi
The bearded one stood. “We're sorry. We'll be good the rest of the night.”
There was more laughing and back slapping and Cindi whispered in her ear. “I have an extra shirt in my locker. I'll be right there.”
Lee ran to the kitchen, past Billy, and into the back area where there were several lockers. She sat on the chair. How will I make it through the rest of the night, she thought. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Cindi. “Now, listen, sugar, don't worry about it.” She opened her locker and handed Lee a shirt. “Take off your wet shirt and put this one on.” She grabbed an apron from one of the hooks. “Here, I forgot to tell you to put this on.”
“I don't know if I can do this.” Lee pulled the dry t-shirt over her head.
“Sure you can.” Cindi tied the apron on Lee and gave her a squeeze. “It's just beer and perverts.”
The back alley door opened and Zac strolled through the kitchen with a half smile on his face. He strode past them to his office and slammed the door shut.
Cindi clicked her tongue and her eyes were hard. “Bastard's gonna get us all killed.”
Billy's voice sang out from the grill. “Order up.”
Cindi helped her take the burgers out to the table. The men were finished with the first two pitchers and asked for more, but seemed to have forgotten the wet t-shirt contest.
The two school teachers waved her over and one of them put her plump hand on Lee's forearm. “You have any low fat cookies?”
“We have oatmeal chocolate chip. They looked kind of healthy.”
“We'll take three each.”
Tommy was at the microphone, guitar around his neck, when she came back to the table with the cookies. The two women leaned forward in their chairs, eyes in a school girl glaze, fixated on Tommy, the corners of their mouths lifted in shy smiles. Lee set the two oversized cookies on the table. The blond one grabbed the largest without taking her gaze off Tommy.
Tommy adjusted his guitar and spoke into the microphone, his voice and body fluid, relaxed. “Thanks for making it out tonight, even with the terrible weather. We're Los Fuegos. Got a couple of tunes to keep you entertained this evening. This first song I wrote myself.” He smiled at the school teachers. “You regulars will recognize it.”
The ladies giggled and clapped their hands together. Lee watched from the bar, fascinated but scornful of their adoration for this small town singer. She began to pour another pitcher of beer from the tap.
Then he sang.
Lee looked up from pouring the pitcher and stared. His voice was a melodic baritone, soulful and emotional, James Taylor mixed with Jackson Brown. There was something unusually frank in it, like you could hear into the place most people kept hidden. The song was a ballad, kind of folk and country mixed. He sang the chorus, eyes closed. “ See you in a stranger's gait, cry each time it isn't true, how I wonder where you wait, was heaven waiting there for you?”
Her scalp tingled and she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes.
“Are you in the blades of grass, are you the breeze of mountain air, do you swim with river bass, how I wish I saw you there.”
She looked down and realized she'd forgotten to let go of the beer spout and it overflowed onto the plastic pad and dripped to the floor. She pushed the spout shut and wiped the excess beer with the towel from the sink. Cindi came around the counter, grabbed Lee's hand and talked in an important, self-congratulatory way, like she was personally responsible for his talent. “Don't he sing like an angel? This song's about his dead brother. He lived in Nashville for a long time but never could make a deal. He says no one wanted to sign a Hispanic country singer. There was no ‘American Idol’ back then or I bet he would've won.”
Lee swallowed to rid the lump in her throat. “What's he doing here ?”
Cindi
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