Another Summer by Sue Lilley Page B

boobs.  But when it got the attention of the overworked barman, she was pleased she’d been brave enough to abandon her everyday clothes.
    She was nervous and wanted a vodka but made do with tonic and lime as she’d promised to drive Jake home.  She may be sleep deprived but she wasn’t deluded.  She knew the evening wasn’t going to end with a peck on the cheek but she’d stopped being shocked by how much she wanted that.
    She wondered where he was.  Was she meant to hang about until he spotted her?  Which wouldn’t be easy in this crowd.  It seemed the band had quite a following.  Their logo, Morgan Run was daubed like graffiti on the drum kit and a fair number of T-shirts.  There was a buzz of anticipation and she hoped they were as good as Jake obviously believed. 
    As she squeezed her way to the front, the lights dimmed and the cheers tingled up her spine.  The first three on stage were a lethal combination of looks and swagger.  But when Jake strode out, he nudged them into a different league.
    His skinny black jeans were sprayed on the muscles of his thighs, his white shirt fastened by a single button at the waist.  His cuffs were undone, wafting in the lights as he caressed the saxophone, eyes closed against the glare.
    Then he sang solo and a hush fell over the crowd as he stood alone in the spotlight, his gentle voice haunting in the rustling silence.  He seemed lost in some rapturous world away from the noise and the drunken adoration.  Evie stood transfixed by his mouth and the thought of what it was going to do.
    He played again, the most poignant saxophone blues she’d ever heard.  She wanted him so much she could barely breathe and she ached to reach out and touch him.  He opened his eyes and looked into her soul.  Then he smiled, just once, before he disappeared.
    She felt dizzy and tried to laugh at herself.  What was she, sixteen again?  It was only a song and he was a performer.  He got paid to make people feel like that.  But she still wanted him.  It was a terrifying cocktail of guilt and excitement.
    She made for the ladies.  But the corridor was crammed with gorgeous young girls, all tanned in tight little dresses.  A sudden commotion and there he was, basking in the attention.  Still playing to the audience, he tugged on the ends of a towel he’d slung around his neck.  The white shirt was damp, clinging to the honed contours of his chest.
    “Jake, you didn’t call.”
    “Sorry babe, been busy.”
    “Can I have a photo, Jake?”
    “And me?”
    God!  She needed a drink.  And the spiky shoes were killing her.  But she was trapped in the crowd and had to stand there and watch as he was grabbed by two insistent blondes.
    His hand dangled against one girl’s breast as she snuggled into him, kissing his cheek for the photo.  He grinned down at her top, so tight it was almost transparent, as the other girl’s hand made a play for the button on his jeans.
    Evie shrank back into the shadows.  He could have any of those girls on a plate.  Probably already had.  And here she was, doing nothing to resist while he reeled her in like a fish on a hook.  What must he think of her?
    She made it to the ladies and wished she hadn’t bothered when the harsh lighting did nothing for her confidence.  She looked every year of her age.  And she’d been drooling so much she’d licked off all her lipstick.  Who was she trying to kid?
    “Why are you hiding in here?”
    He leaned against the door, arms folded, legs crossed in a rock-star pose of arrogant amusement.  Wishful thinking, she reminded herself.  He hadn’t made the big-time yet.  But it took major concentration to get the top on her lip gloss and back into her bag.
    “What makes you think I’m hiding?”
    He leaned closer, trapping her with a proprietary arm on the wall.  She could smell the maleness of him.  Could see the beads of sweat still clinging to his skin.
    “Don’t mind about that shit.  Goes