Songbird
Authors: Victoria Escobar
Tags: #love, #Drama, #music, #abuse, #bad boy, #social anxiety, #touring band
Victoria Escobar
Songbird
Victoria Escobar
Copyright © 2015 by Victoria Escobar
Smashwords Edition
Edited by AGC Editing and Services
Cover Art by Donna Dull
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic
form without permission.
Of GaeaOf Sparta
Just About Healing
Peerless
Unnatural Selection
Leaving Tracks
Unattainable
Coming Soon
Unpretty
Table of Contents
“The most important thing is this: to sacrifice
what you are now for what you can become tomorrow.”
― Shannon L. Alder
If he snaps his fingers at me one more
time I swear I’m going to snap his neck
. With a polite smile
forced on my lips I crossed back across the room to the dark
skinned man sitting with an entourage of very pretty, and vapid
women.
“Can I help you, Mr. Rox?” I gave myself a
pat on the back for maintaining a courteous tone.
“Fatty, my drink is empty.” Crispin Rox’s
grin bordered maniacal. The asshole gave new meaning to the word
malicious.
I took the half full glass—it most certainly
wasn’t empty—and showed some teeth with my smile. “Would you like
another Long Island, sir, or something else?”
“Gin and tonic, thunder thighs.” He smirked
and my hands tightened around the glass. Oh, the temptation to toss
the remaining contents in his face was great. The woman wrapped
against his right side giggled.
“Right away, Mr. Rox.” I turned and managed
to keep civility on my face. My waist length braid swung with my
quick motion and I grabbed it pulling the plait out of arms reach
of the asshole. I would tolerate a great many things, but pulling
my hair wasn’t on that list.
When Maggie Mae passed off waitressing as a
promotion I thought she lost her damned mind. As an outdoor
vendors’ assistant I was above waitressing. Besides, the
entertainment house that I worked for had clear specifications for
who was allowed to be hired as a waitress. I did not meet any of
them.
Maggie Mae had mentioned the girls wouldn’t
waitress on the Friday and Saturday night due to
conflicts.
If Mr. Snappy Fingers was any indication of the previous conflicts
I didn’t blame them. She assured me, quite insistently, I would not
receive any such harassments.
If only she’d been right.
Any girl that paid her own way through
college knew how to waitress. However, for the first time I felt
rightfully overqualified. Even so, I scanned the eight tables I had
people seated at as I passed through to the bar. There were still
two acts for tonight missing, and only an hour left before the show
began.
He was a nobody. A bully. He was a child
denied his favorite toy. I would not play into his tantrum.
His direct slap on my double digit waist
wasn’t nearly as painful as Maggie Mae’s had been that afternoon.
Mr. Rox at least didn’t beat around the bush about calling me fat.
Then again, code of conduct policies wouldn’t allow Maggie Mae to
say it.
“Bianca, darling.”
I stopped and sent a genuine smile to the
blonde woman who reminded me slightly of Dolly Parton. “Yes, Ms.
Barbara Jean?”
She held up a ten dollar bill. “Can you get
me another Sea Breeze? You keep the change.”
She had been the only one to tip so far
tonight. As her drink was six dollars and this would be the third
that would make a whole twelve dollars in tips for the night.
Maggie Mae wasn’t joking when she said tips would be
nonexistent.
“Of course, Ms. Barbara Jean.” I took the
money and tucked it into my apron, hurrying over to the bar.
Sweet faced Derek nodded before I opened my
mouth. “I heard. You can’t help but hear that one. At least tonight
he’s not grabbing your ass and demanding oral satisfaction in
exchange for tips.”
“No, I’m just the butt of every joke.
Literally.”
“He’s probably jealous of your hair, and the
fact that those boots give you the legs of a goddess and he’ll
never have tone like that. Thunder thighs, my ass. You just keep
being you, sugar. He’ll get what’s his.”
Derek’s eyes moved past me and glowed with
excitement. “Mr. Walker just walked in.” He licked his lips and
winked. “You should get him seated and see if he wants something
while I make these. Remember, the night’s almost over.”
A sigh caught in my chest and I swallowed it
down. As Derek said, the night was almost over. I wanted this
evening to be over now. I didn’t want to serve anymore
holier-than-thou art artists of any kind.
I had no one but myself to blame. If I didn’t
have that insane desire to nurture and take care of things this
would have never happened. Even with my crippling car payment I
could have turned down Maggie Mae but the allure of a grand in tips
on Friday night and fifteen hundred on Saturday night was too good
to pass up.
However one fact remained, I wanted to help;
I wanted to take care of others; I had some ridiculously insane
desire to be useful. I needed to start curbing that shit.
The sigh swallowed down only moments ago was
exhaled in a shaky breath. I hadn’t expected Mr. Walker to be as
breathtaking in person as he was in pictures. I needed a minute
before I could walk over without being stupid.
He was always on the covers of those gossip
rags for one reason or another. There was no way to live in
Nashville and not hear of Nicholas Walker. His reputation in
Nashville per the media outlets was as the “Black Angel” of country
music, though I didn’t actually know why. In his black on black
attire, I decided angel for his looks and black for his clothing
choice. Worked for me.
His mahogany hair was carelessly tousled and
his eyes even from across the room were intent as they scanned
faces. Wasn’t there a saying about the camera told lies or
something? I resisted—barely—the urge to smooth down the shirt I
had tucked into high waist pants. Instead I pushed the cat eyed
frames up my nose and squared my shoulders.
I could do this.
He was a little younger than me but other
than that I knew very little. I didn’t have time to waste on gossip
that spread like wild fire in this city. Everyone in Nashville
heard one story or another, but there was a big difference between
facts and rumors.
“Good evening, Mr. Walker. May I show you a
seat?” I deserved a pat on the back for sounding completely cool
and unimpressed.
His jewel green eyes looked down at me, a
feat considering my own height with the added benefit of heeled
boots. I lifted my chin as his eyes took their time tracing my
features. His mouth quirked when he followed the slightly off line
of my nose.
Tossing my obsidian bangs out of my eyes I
waited for the inevitable. Maggie Mae said once people were
unnerved with the blue speckles in the brown of my right eye.
I didn’t disagree with her. The normal
reaction was scorn or disgust. I waited to see what his would
be.
His smile was just enough to allude to a
dimple. His fingers played with a ring I couldn’t quite see in the
dim light. “Sure.”
“Please follow me.”
The seating had been prearranged by Billy
according to artists’ preference that was why I had to walk by Mr.
Asshat before getting to Nicholas’s edge of the room table.
“Yo, tubby tubby, where’s my drink?” Crispin
sneered as I walked by.
“On the way, sir.” I replied without looking
at him or over my shoulder to see the reaction of my follower.
Almost everyone in the room had ignored Crispin’s abuse. I doubted
Nicholas would do anything different.
Nicholas nodded at the table I stopped in
front of and stepped past me to take his seat. His cologne was
enough to make women rabid at five paces. The magazines and news
reports never mentioned the pantie wetting sin of smell he stained
the air with. God, I had to tense my leg muscles to keep them from
going to Jell-O. Suddenly, I was overjoyed men didn’t find me worth
paying attention to.
“Can I get you anything to drink, Mr.
Walker?”
“Just water for now.” He leaned back in his
seat and smiled fully there was a dimple. Just one on the left and
it was gorgeously lickable. His fingers played with the large ring
he wore again. Interesting habit.
“Would you like a meal? The kitchen is open
for your convenience.”
“I’m sure it is.” What an arrogant ass. “Call
me Nick. I don’t think we’re far enough apart in age to be Mister.
You have beautiful eyes.”
“I’ll get your water,
Mr.
Walker.” I
used his name deliberately before turning away. The compliment was
odd, my eyes were never praised for beauty. Even though strange,
the words were easy enough to ignore. Eloquence meant very little
to me. I knew all too well the deception behind pretty words.
Derek sent me a sly grin when I approached
the bar once more. “What can I get Mr. Tall Dark and Hot as
Hell?”
I rolled my eyes. “He wants water. You got
the other drinks?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Derek set the orders on my
tray.
Since Crispin had deemed being an asshole was
part of his makeup for the evening I served Barbara Jean first.
“Thank you, sugar.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.” I felt eyes on me
and looked around to see if someone was signaling for another drink
or desert. Instead I found Nicholas staring at me steadily. The
gaze wasn’t intrusive, or it didn’t feel like it was trying to be,
he was just…watching.
“I’m in a drought, blimpy.” Crispin snapped
his damn fingers again.
I seriously considered dropping it in his lap
instead of setting it on the table. “Here you are, Mr. Rox. Is
there anything else I can get for you this evening?”