“It held up,” I say and follow her as she leads me toward the stairs. I’m eye-level with her ass, and I’m fucking salivating. “I didn’t know there was anything up here. I figured it was storage or something.”
“It was my dad’s apartment,” she says simply. “I tore it out, made most of it open so it’s now outside seating, and kept some of it covered for the bar."
We walk out to the best rooftop bar I’ve ever seen, and I’m no stranger to bars. She found an antique bar to match the one downstairs, and it’s indeed covered, with maybe half a dozen tables and chairs nearby. But the outdoor space is just plain kick ass.
“Wow,” I breathe and stop, hands on hips, glancing around. Couches are grouped together around gas fireplaces and covered with red, blue and yellow umbrellas to block the hot sun. But my eyes are drawn back to the woman responsible for all of it. I’d thought it was all in my head, that she couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as I thought she was.
But nope. She’s hot.
“This is the best part,” Callie says with a smile that I’ve rarely seen and leads me to the railing to look out over the Quarter. We can see right into Jackson Square. People are bustling about, munching on beignets, wandering through shops. Music from street performers drift up, tickling my ears.
The saxophonist near Café du Monde is damn good.
We lean here, side by side, and take in the Quarter.
“This is the part I missed.” Callie’s voice is soft, softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“What’s that, sugar?” I ask, not looking over at her, but she’s stiffened up, as if she didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“The Quarter,” she replies and takes a deep breath. “All of the people.”
“There are a lot of them,” I agree. “This is beautiful, Callie. You’re going to pack people in here.”
“I hope so,” she says with a laugh. “This sucked up most of my savings.”
“It’ll pay off.”
“You’ll help,” she replies and turns to walk away, but I catch her elbow and turn her back to me.
“Wait. Are you being nice to me?”
“I’ve never been mean to you,” she says, her voice cool and eyes even colder, making them so fucking blue I’d swear they came from the ocean. Her skin is soft in my hand, making me think of long, sweaty nights.
“Let’s be honest. I don’t think you like me much, and I’d love to know why. I’m a likeable guy.”
“I don’t dislike you,” she insists and pulls her arm out of my touch, making me want to just touch her somewhere else. “I’m just not typically drawn to men who drink whiskey. Daddy liked it too much. I don’t like it at all.”
I knew when I ordered the whiskey, the last time I saw her more than three months ago, that it struck a nerve.
“I don’t always drink whiskey. Frankly, I’m happy with tap water.”
She cocks a brow and then chuckles. “You’ll be good for business, Declan. And I’m thankful for it.”
“I will be,” I agree, not at all afraid to admit that I’m popular around here. It pays my bills nicely, and does the same for the business owners I play for. “I’ve missed playing here.”
“You have?” she asks, seemingly surprised.
“I have.”
“Well, good.” She clears her throat and leads me back to the stairs. “Maybe I can talk you into giving me Fridays and Saturdays.”
You could probably talk me into just about anything, darlin’.
And that just won’t do. Women are a great distraction, but that’s all they are.
“I’m booked on Saturdays,” I reply.
“We’ll see,” she says with a smile as her heels click down the stairs back to the main bar where Adam has finished with his call and is stocking bottled beer in the cooler.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“I think you’d better stock more beer. This place is going to be hopping in about two hours.”
***
God, I love to perform. I love every part of it: singing, playing all of the instruments, watching the crowd as they dance or sing along. Music is as necessary to me as breathing and it’s always come naturally to me. They call me a prodigy, but I don’t know about that. All I know is, it’s a part of me that I’ll never let go of.
I’m toward the end of my last set, and I was right. The place is packed, wall-to-wall, standing room only. Adam and another bartender I haven’t seen before are working the bar, and two waitresses are working the room.
Callie has been mingling, helping wherever she’s needed, and working her ass off in general.
How she can do all of that in the shoes she wears is a mystery to me, and my sister Charly owns a shoe store. I’ve come to realize that I’ll never solve that particular mystery.
As long as women continue to wear them, I’m good.
Speaking of Charly, my eyes meet hers in the crowd. It didn’t surprise me that she showed up with our brother, Eli, and his girlfriend, Kate. It did surprise me, however, to see that she brought a date along.
I wonder who the fuck this one is.
Not that he’ll be around for long. Charly doesn’t keep men in her life. Odd, how our parents were married for the better part of five decades, faithfully and in love for every day of those years, yet most of their six children are commitment-phobes.
“Are y’all havin’ a good night?” I ask the crowd as I tickle the keys on the piano and smile when the room erupts into applause and cheers. “I am too. Let’s give the owner, Callie, and the staff of The Odyssey a big round of applause for making this place so beautiful.”