Sin's Haven (3 page)

“Take your time, Hazel.
Seriously.
I’ve got it up here.”

Mark’s voice was
lost as she nearly ran to the back bathroom.

A few splashes
of ice cold water later and after an impromptu thirty minute break in the
stall,
she’d breathed her way through the pain. Walking back
to the front of the club to the café space, Hazel reminded herself of why she’d
agreed to do this, and that it was too late to back out.
If doing this helps just one person,
she thought. Mark was
currently up to his elbows in bags of onion bagels and industrial sized fancy
tea bags, showing Dusty how to count inventory.

Tonight wasn’t
just about losing Jay.

Mark’s younger
brother had committed suicide too. She didn’t know many of the details, only
that he’d been sick his entire short life with a horrible disease and hated
putting his and Mark’s mom through all that pain.

Sweet, brave, young man.

Hazel wished
she’d have met him. Just the same as she’d wished Jay was still around so she
could have finally introduced him to her parents. That would never happen, but
it reminded her how important tonight’s fundraiser was. If they raised enough
money to help just one person get into counseling or on the right meds, getting
up there was worth the nausea.

“I can do the
restocking, guys,” she said to her big softy of a boss, feeling slightly less
edgy after her break and sorry if she’d scared Dusty. She gave them both a soft
smile and patted
Dusty’s
shoulder. It was solid and felt
nice but she pulled back when Dusty nearly reciprocated. Flirting was one
thing, but leading guys on when she hadn’t really felt the spark was low.
Honestly, Hazel didn’t know if she was even ready for feeling sparks,
connections. She rubbed her forehead in circles.

“No restocking,
you are officially released from the operation on this side of the counter. As
of right now, you are the talent,” Mark said.

“God, you know
how I feel about that. Please don’t say that.”

Two hours later
with night time rolling in, she made her way to the front window and pulled
back the heavy, dark purple drapes to check the sidewalk outside, curious if
they had a line for the show admission yet.

“Oh!” she said
and fell back into the thick curtain—thank God it had caught her. She hadn’t
expected the extreme close up view of the man hunched over, shading his eyes
from the glaring street lights and neon signage, staring into the club,
directly at her.

 
She stared back even though her instinct
should have been to turn away.

It had been
awhile since she’d looked, really looked, into someone’s eyes for fear of what
they’d figure out about her. No one needed to know the ways in which she was
broken inside. Assured this stranger couldn’t see her very well through the
heavy tint, Hazel stayed, feeling safe. Plus, he was interesting.

He blinked but
then his deep set, intense green eyes caught her attention even more. There was
something very attractive about him but what disarmed her most was his
authenticity. She’d never seen anything like him. Was that animal print on his
shirt? Wait, could he see her?

Any
other night
, she thought, maybe she would have given indulging
in this moment a try. She was just about to shove off but before she knew it,
Hazel set her fingers to the glass window, at the level of his shoulder. The
old feelings she’d had of being in touch with auras surprised her as she drew
from his energy. It was only a guess, but oddly she was sure. He was out of
balance, missing something. Familiar with that feeling, Hazel guessed he’d been
this way for a long time now. It showed the more she gazed at him.

But that was
crazy, she thought, as she noticed more, unable to pry her eyes from his
telling face. Thick dark eyebrows brought out his long black lashes, giving him
a fascinating boyish, mannish air.

No, it wasn’t
crazy. What she was getting from his stare was true enough. She hated not
trusting in the way of the world, in destiny and karma and the loving way her
parents had raised her like she had before. But studying him brought a tiny
part of that back. Her brow crinkled because who knew if she was ready to have
any of that empathic heart back? She’d found a safe zone with her flirting and
skirting around the edges of real life.

Hazel’s
fingertips warmed against the window. No longer sure this heartbreaking yet
fascinating man couldn’t see
her,
she had no idea what
else to do so she waved, like an idiot.

What was wrong
with her?

Hazel was about
to finagle her way out of the grasp of the drapes, embarrassed, when his frown
softened and he looked down toward his side of the ground. Reminding herself
she was safe behind the window glass, Hazel stood, perplexed by him, and
waited. For what, she had no idea.
Curiosity?
Attraction?
He was definitely cute, handsome, and sexy even.
His shirt choice made her smile. Definitely didn’t fit in to the norm around
here which intrigued her all the more.

He brought his
head back up, stood to his full height, and then pushed long, lush brown bangs
from his forehead. The look on his face nearly tugged her hand up with him; she
wanted to touch, soothe. The more intrigued she became, the more her senses
collected tiny bits about him, tuning her in. When he waved back, she had about
as much sense as the dead wooden counter she’d been wiping up all day.
Good thing he turned and walked away before he saw her
absentmindedly pawing her way through the curtains.
Breathlessness
hadn’t overcome her in a very long time, flirtations aside. For a second, she’d
had an actual craving to connect with him. It hadn’t just been mental, which
surprised her.

Just like that,
the moment passed. But Hazel couldn’t stop hoping he’d end up inside somehow.
That he’d come back and she’d see him again, if only to figure out what he’d
been looking for at the window. She balled up the ends of her blouse in her
hands, noticing how sweaty they were, and blindly made her way from the trappings
of the curtains. If she didn’t know any better, Hazel would think she’d just
made a connection. And there might even have been a teeny tiny spark mixed in
there somewhere.

She bolted from
the window.

Chapter Two

It was close to
show time and Hazel didn’t need to pinch herself, she needed a full on leather-gloved
slap to the face. Seriously, what would have been more nerve wracking, sliding
up to Jaxon James, lead guitarist for mega band Sin Pointe, to ask if he’d like
his bagel toasted, or having to sing random song requests karaoke style in
front of him on this very night?

But she already
knew the truth.

The best option
would have been to slink away and keep her distance altogether. She wasn’t in
awe because of who he was, but rather sick to her stomach from remembering it
was a gritty musician’s lifestyle that had stolen Jay. She’d seen how no one in
this industry cared about anyone else and something about Jaxon James just
rubbed her the wrong way. Most women would think she was crazy.

She wanted no
part of it.

Except for one
saving grace, her sexy man with the brilliant but solemn green eyes was seated
with him. She wondered what their connection was and what her deal was becoming
so fascinated by her stranger in the leopard print shirt. Seeing his unique
style again made her grin. Not many guys walking these streets felt as comfy as
Mr. Eyes obviously did to sport animal print, a skinny tie and the massive
amount of black rubber-looking bracelets he did on his one wrist. Not to
mention pants that tight.

Long legs, big feet and a cute butt.

Maybe the stars
had once again aligned for her, bringing this much needed intriguing distraction
out here tonight.

As Hazel
swallowed and did her best not to lose the diversion Mr. Eyes had created, she
made her way to the small, square stage in the very back of the club. She took
her place next to the mic stand and thanked the heavens Mark had gotten his
wife, Julie, to agree to play guitar for her so she wouldn’t be up there all
alone. And then she heard her boss welcoming their small-sized crowd.

As in
practically non-existent except for the one table with their famous patron and
those who appeared to be in his small circle of significant others.

Jaxon James was
the only member of Sin Pointe she recognized. No Stefan Calderon, Marion or
Will Cordero with his signature
mohawk
.
Mentally flicking herself in the forehead, Hazel snapped back to the here and
now. She couldn’t be thinking about Mr. Eyes and his friends, because it was
time to concentrate on breathing.

“Thank you so
much for being here tonight. It is a very special night as we are doing what we
can to help raise sorely needed funds for suicide prevention. And a huge
thank
you to Mr. Jaxon James for sponsoring our event last
minute.”

Hazel nearly
choked at that part. What did Mark mean by sponsoring? Was that why the club
looked like it had been reserved for a private event with all of five guests
present? Yes, she’d wished for a smaller crowd earlier but now it kind of
pissed her off. If that was the case, Hazel hoped Mark had made Jaxon James pay
a pretty penny to rent them out. She could feel her spine arch and crack with
new tension and old memories of greedy, grabbing hands out to steal Jay and his
once beautiful gift.

Why couldn’t she
see it as the rock star having done her a favor? Maybe it was his cool smile,
the one that promised the stars and grated on her nerves. As soon as Jay’s
manager had discovered him, their sky had gone black with promises. And then
one night, Jay had disappeared. She prayed he was in the light now, just to quiet
the whispers she heard here and there that people who took their own lives were
weak, selfish and hell bound. He wasn’t any of those. He was simply hurting.

Hazel took in a
deep breath and let it out, trying to force away the negativity she’d become
lost in so suddenly. This night was about hope and helping.

Mark continued
on while Julie rubbed Hazel’s back.
“So tonight we’re doing
things a little differently than on our normal open mic.
We have a
special young woman here, one of our very own, who will be performing your
requests and my beautiful wife backing her up on acoustic guitar. The deal is,
it’s
one dollar for every request you make and each song the
lovely Hazel can successfully perform, the club will match your donation,” he
said to the one table. “And consider yourself forewarned, this girl knows her
music.”

Hazel would have
cringed at that but was busy trying to distract herself by doing the math—how
much would they really earn off of five people—when someone she didn’t
recognize dressed in jeans and a light blue western shirt called out loudly
from the table. She saw that he was seated next to Mr. Eyes. Her anger died a
tiny bit. “What do you say we up that to ten bucks a request?” The broad
shouldered, long-haired man made a sweep of the other four who all nodded in
agreement.

That was when
his table mate, Jaxon James, leaned over and whispered into the ear of a blonde
lady seated practically on his lap. A second later, the lady kissed his
forehead and chimed in. “And whatever your club makes at the end of the night,
we’d like to double that in thanks of accepting our request to make this a
private event.”

Of
course.
She’d been right. It was easy to throw money around, Hazel thought.

If she remembered
correctly, she’d heard on the radio that a female close to Jaxon James had died
the year before.
Most likely collateral damage.
Hazel
shook her head, not liking the conclusion she’d jumped to so quickly but unable
to get over her irritation at such a blatant move by the rock star.

Who did he think
he was?

Buying their
club out for the night? But another turn of Mr. Eyes head back toward the
entrance caught her attention and she wondered what he was looking for. He brought
his head back to the stage and with that, his fingers slid easily through his
long, cocoa brown bangs, calling to her. Like the silly way she’d unknowingly
brought her fingers up to the window earlier, she felt them begin to leave the
mic in his direction and stopped before she made a giant fool of herself.
Again.
But she couldn’t deny how drawn she was to him. Her
heart beat pumped a little too much blood and she felt herself warm from the
inside out. If she were to lay a hand to her long neglected throat, surely
she’d feel a sting on her skin and maybe a few beads of sweat.

Mark turned to
her. He looked speechless for a moment. If he only knew the love-hate
relationship she’d instantly formed with their table of guests. Hazel forced
a thumbs
up at his hopefulness, finally conceding that they
would indeed be making a fair amount for their fundraiser tonight.