Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I wondered how she did that. She was a beautiful woman, and men had to see that. I wished I knew her trick. She owned and ran a bar on the beach. Yep, in my next life, I wanted to be Pepper Abe. Someone who didn’t get by on their looks.
“It’ll be a packed house tonight. Saturdays are always big. The Judgment comes in and fills the place up. Your tips should be great. The boys are good about tipping,” Pepper said, walking backstage with a bottle of water in her hand that she held out to me.
“What’s The Judgment?” I asked, confused.
She waved a hand. “Sorry. I forget you’re new to town. The Judgment MC. They’re a biker club. The biggest one in Florida.”
My eyes widened. “Like a real biker club?” I asked.
She grinned. “Yeah, but you’ll be fine. There isn’t a one of them that would cause any trouble here. Sure, they’re gonna make a few catcalls and stupid shit like that because, well, you’re stunning, but Micah, my older brother, is their VP, and he’d have their head on a stick if they even tried. When he and his wife, Dolly, get back from their trip to Europe, you’ll meet them. Now, if you need anything, just let me know. Give me a wave, whatever.”
I felt better about this biker thing now that I knew they weren’t about to stand up and start shooting at each other. Her brother was their VP. That explained her clientele.
She gave me a thumbs-up and turned to leave. I picked up my guitar. Pepper had said she didn’t mind if I used my own, and I was looking forward to playing onstage with it again. Opening the water, I took a long drink as I listened to Pepper announce tonight’s entertainment.
There were some cheers and a few shouts about how it’d better not be Swift-type shit from some deep, rough-sounding voices, but Pepper simply told them to shut up and stop being dicks or she’d remind them where the exit was.
I was nothing like Swift, but that didn’t mean I was against her music. She was incredibly talented. I’d just grown up listening to Loretta Lynn, June Carter, Tanya Tucker, Tammy Wynette, and of course Dolly Parton. I was country to my roots, but not the way most country singers were today. There was a twang in my voice that I didn’t try to change.
Taking a deep, steady breath, I slid the strap of my Fender over my shoulder and made my way out the door and up onto the stage. At first, the place went silent, and I knew this was my cue to take control of the room.
“Hey, y’all,” I said, smiling out at the mix of bikers, some business-looking people, and possibly some vacationers.
It was definitely heavy on the folks with leather vests on though. Several shouted out different greetings. There was one marriage proposal by a biker, and someone else yelled out their number.
“I see it’s real nice and friendly down here in Miami,” I said, using my flirting skills as I ran my fingers over the strings. “I grew up in the deep South, if my accent didn’t already give that away, and my favorites are the classics. But I’m also open to requests, so feel free to come right on up with one at any time. But to get us started, I’ll pull one out that I think can get any crowd warmed up.”
More shouts and whistles. I blocked it easily enough as I strummed the first chord of “Coal Miner’s Daughter.” By the time I was on the second line of the song, three couples had made their way out to the dance floor. Smiling, I lifted my eyes to look back at Pepper, who stood at the bar with her arms crossed over her chest, grinning. She gave me a nod and held up the glass of beer in her hand.
I was gonna be okay here.
When I had walked in a week ago and asked to speak to the manager and Pepper walked out, I’d been worried. I wasn’t used to working with women. Men I could get to do things easily. But women were another thing. Pepper didn’t hire me immediately, like most men did. She walked to the back and brought a guitar out, then handed it to me.
“Show me what you got,” she’d said and stood back, waiting on me to do just that.
I’d been so surprised at first, but it only took me a moment to gather myself. When I started singing, her eyes lit up. I felt a real sense of accomplishment. When she’d hired me, it had been because of my voice, not my looks. There was a power in that. One I wasn’t used to.
I moved on to “Before He Cheats,” “Jolene,” “My Church,” “Strawberry Wine,” “Suds in the Bucket,” and then finished the first set with “Mama Tried.” When I stepped back, the bar erupted in clapping and shouting.