Wild Desire Page 7

  The bell over the door to the pub jingled, capturing her attention.

  Hunter walked in—and the light went on.

  She knew exactly what type of performer Les was looking for to compete in this show, and Hunter didn’t fit the mold. Not even close. Hunter was a pub singer, who’d only seriously started performing nine months ago, after a two-year hiatus. Rhonda dropped her engagement ring by the door and he’d picked up his guitar again. The other competitors had been touring for years, working relentlessly to break into the business.

  Regardless, Ailis didn’t doubt for a minute that Hunter could give the others a run for their money. He was one of the most talented musicians she’d ever seen. And she’d seen millions of them in her lifetime.

  “Hey, mouse,” Hunter said, stopping next to her and Les.

  “Hunter, you remember Les Fossie, my dad’s manager.”

  Hunter held out his hand and the two men shook.

  “Nice to see you again,” Les said.

  Ailis looked at Hunter, surprised to see him again so soon. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”

  “I do. But I think my wallet must have fallen out of my pocket the other night in your be—uh, couch. I was going to go look for it.”

  “Cool.” Ailis recalled the way Hunter rocked her world and fought like the devil to keep from blushing. Les was too canny not to notice, and if he did, her next suggestion was going to fail before she uttered it. “Hey, do you think you could perform tonight?”

  “Tonight? Um, yeah, sure. I guess. You guys going to start doing music on Mondays now?”

  “Possibly,” she lied. “We thought we’d give it a try. Seven work?”

  He nodded, then headed toward the stairs to her apartment. They rarely locked the door, since it was a safe bet there were always two or three cousins in the pub at any given time.

  “So,” Les continued as if Hunter hadn’t interrupted, “our first order of business is to find another singer.”

  “I think I already have.”

  Les gave her a curious look, then his gaze drifted to the apartment door. Hunter was long gone. “The pub singer? Hell no. Ailis, you know what kind of performers I’m looking for.”

  “Let him audition. Tonight.”

  “Ailis, honey, be reasonable. That competition will be cutthroat. I’ve got singers who’ve been on the road for years.”

  “And they still haven’t made it big. February Stars is about promoting up-and-comers. Sounds like you’ve loaded the slate with been-around-the-blockers.”

  Les scowled. “Very funny. I’ve loaded the slate with experience and talent because that’s what the prize calls for. Whoever wins is hitting the road, opening for The Universe on tour. I can’t hand that over to someone whose primary experience is singing in a pub.”

  “All I’m asking you to do is listen to him. He is one of the most talented singer-songwriters I’ve ever met. Trust me. He has the voice, the look and the drive to succeed. If you put him in this show, you won’t regret it. Not for one second.”

  “Ailis…” He was still resistant.

  “Putting him in the contest doesn’t mean he’ll win. This will serve two purposes. Get Hunter some of that experience you claim he needs and even up your numbers. Would it be a terrible thing to have any of the other seven singers win and hit the road with The Universe?”

  “No. I picked them because they were all performers I could live with, ones I knew could handle the stress of the road. Honey, the chances of him making it to the second round are nil.”

  “Then what do you have to lose other than your problem being solved?”

  Les sighed, clearly hesitant.

  “Tell you what. You can go upstairs and take a nap. You really do look like shit. And then, come down for a healthy dinner and listen to some music. If you like what you hear, we’ve got our eighth performer. If you don’t, we’ve only lost a few hours and I’ll start beating the bushes tomorrow to continue the search.”

  Les stood, and she was struck once more by how weary he looked. She struggled to recall when Les had gotten old. She didn’t like to think of him aging, and right now, he looked twenty years older than Pop Pop, who was a very spry ninety-two.

  “I’ll listen to the pub singer. And then, tomorrow, we’ll start a serious search.”

  “Okay.”

  “And, Ailis,” Les said, turning back toward her. “That thing you just did, to convince me to listen to Hunter sing? That’s what I’m talking about. You were made for this life. Time to stop fighting the inevitable.”

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she watched Les climb the stairs and then she waited for Hunter to come back down. She was torn between telling him that tonight was an audition or keeping it a secret, lest he get too nervous.

  His chances of actually getting into the show were probably slim to none. Les was a stubborn bastard, set in his ways. He knew what he wanted, and swaying him—even with someone as talented as Hunter—was going to be tough. So was it right to let Hunter get his hopes up?

  On the other hand, Hunter had more than a healthy amount of competitive spirit. If he knew what was at stake, there was a very good chance he’d kill it.

  He finally reappeared and her decision to tell him was made the second she looked at his clothes. He was dressed in saggy jeans that should have been washed at least two weeks earlier and an ancient T-shirt he found at Goodwill with a faded picture of Christopher Walken that said, “More Cowbell.”

  Image mattered, and she was going to fix his.

  “Hey, Tris,” she said, looking at her uncle. “I’m off the clock in an hour. Since it’s so slow, do you mind if I take off early?”

  Tris shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

  “If things pick up, Sunnie is upstairs and I know she’d pitch in. Oh, and…” She considered the file folder Les had shown her.

  “I already heard. Congrats on the new gig. I’ll tell Ewan to leave you off the work schedule for the foreseeable future. Hopefully forever.”

  “You go to hell for eavesdropping,” she teased.

  “Sweetheart, it’s not eavesdropping that’s gonna send me there,” he said with a wink.

  She laughed. “By the way, you might want to tell Ewan to call in a couple of extra waitresses for tonight.”

  “What do you have planned?” Tris asked.

  “You’ll see,” she said as Hunter walked up to her.

  “Found it,” Hunter said, waving his wallet.

  “Can you take today off work?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I guess. Why?”

  “Call your uncle. We have a lot to do and not much time.”

  “Ailis,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

  “You remember me telling you about February Stars?”

  He nodded. “That’s the talent competition you’ve been helping your dad’s manager with, right?”

  “Yeah. We’re down a singer. Tonight is your audition.”

  Hunter didn’t move, didn’t make a single sound for a full minute. “I thought this competition was between experienced singers, performers who’d been at it for a while?”

  “It is. Was. One of the guys broke his legs and an arm. It’s last minute, so replacing him is going to be tough. A lot of the performers we have in the competition committed nearly a year ago because they travel and have touring schedules.”

  He didn’t reply, so she kept talking.

  “You’re good, Hunter. Really good. I know you haven’t been at it as long, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have the talent to pull this off. If I didn’t believe you could enter that competition and seriously compete, I wouldn’t have mentioned your name.”

  Hunter had been in a band all through high school and into his early twenties. Then Rhonda complained about how often it took him away from her and he quit. Since the breakup, he’d been performing solo, primarily at the pub and the occasional gig at smaller local venues.

  “You know you’r
e the only person who really believes that, Ailis. Everyone else just thinks I’m goofing off.”

  “I think people are afraid to go for their really big dreams. It’s easier to shrug things off as impossible than to put themselves out there and try.”

  He grinned. “Are you calling me a coward?”

  “Not at all. I’m saying you’re different.”

  “How so?”

  “Because you’re not a coward. You’re not afraid to dream big. And you’ve also got an amazing work ethic. You’ll do what it takes. I know it.”

  He still seemed hesitant, so she continued, “If you really want this, Hunter, it’s time to put your money where your mouth is. You’re going to kill it at this audition tonight. And then you’re going to win that competition. And then you’re going to go on tour with The Universe, record a million gold records, and that is when the entire world is going to see exactly what I see.” She waggled her fingers, jazz-hands style. “Superstar!”

  Hunter reached out before she realized his intention and tugged her toward him, wrapping her up in a giant bear hug. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you, mouse.”

  “For what?”

  “For cheering me up a year ago when I crashed into your apartment, intent on killing Paul. For giving me the singing gig here—I know you were the one who talked Tris into hiring me. For what you just said about me being talented, and for believing in me. And about a million other things. I keep thinking this last year sucked, but now, I’m not so sure it did. That probably sounds dumb.”

  She shook her head, his words soaking in, making sense. She had been miserable since Paul left. And at the same time, she’d been happy too, having fun with her cousins and with Hunter. It wasn’t the future she had imagined, and there was still some big stuff to work out—her career and her love life—but for now, she was footloose and fancy free and that wasn’t as horrible as she liked to pretend. “No, it doesn’t sound dumb. I get it. I really do. But, Hunter…”

  “Yeah?”

  “That T-shirt and those jeans are garbage. Stuff that wallet back in your pants. We’re going shopping. You and I are about to create your new image.”

  Two hours later, Ailis looked up from her phone as Hunter walked out of the dressing room of the fifth shop they’d visited.

  Her mouth fell open. “Oh yeah. Finally. What do you think? How does that feel?”

  Hunter, whose patience had faltered somewhere between the third and fourth store, replied, “I think what I thought about all the rest of the outfits. It’s fine.”

  She stood up and waved her finger, indicating he should turn around. He did so without complaint, which was an improvement from the first two shops.

  “I’m really not enjoying this reverse Pretty Woman thing we’ve got going on,” he said once he was facing her again.

  She grinned but ignored him, her gaze locked on his outfit. She’d paired new slim-fit cuffed jeans with an untucked dark gray button-down shirt that sported a funky, but low-key black pattern and topped it with a fitted blazer. “It’s perfect.”

  Hunter looked in the full-length mirror. “You think so?”

  “Absolutely. A bad boy Prince Harry. A heartbreaker. But not the scary variety. The sexy JT type. Do me a favor. Don’t shave when you get home. You’ve got just the right amount of scruff going on. It adds to the look.”

  Her phone beeped and she glanced at the screen.

  “Who have you been texting all day?”

  “Just some people. I’m trying to set some stuff up.”

  “So I’m buying this getup?”

  She nodded. “Definitely. Okay, so now that we’ve nailed down your look, we need to figure out your set. Song selection is going to be crucial, because I doubt Les will sit through more than the first two or three numbers if he’s not wowed. So we’ve got to make those songs count. February Stars is going to be a mix of covers and original material, so we should work that angle tonight. Start with a familiar showstopper, then move on to your strongest original, which is—”

  “‘Her Eyes’,” they both said in unison.

  Ailis laughed. “Well, I guess that’s decided. So now we just need to figure out your first song.”

  “Would it be sucking up to sing your parents’ biggest hit?”

  “‘Maybe Tomorrow’?” Ailis considered the suggestion. The song was originally a duet, but it had been remade several times over the past thirty years in a wide variety of arrangements. She’d actually heard Hunter’s version before. It was incredible. “I think that’s a great idea. I love the way you’ve reworked it. Made it faster, grittier.”

  “So it’s happening.”

  Ailis tilted her head. “Are you nervous?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I wasn’t until about five seconds ago. You’ve done a great job distracting me all day.” He glanced at the time on his phone. “Shit, is it that late?”

  Ailis leaned forward to look and winced as well. “You don’t have time for a freak-out right now. Tell you what? I’ll get a cab back to my place. You run home, change, grab your guitar and I’ll meet you back at the pub in an hour.”

  Hunter nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Hey,” she said, gripping his forearm. “You’re going to be great.”

  His smile grew, and then, like on New Year’s Eve, he shocked her when he bent down and kissed her. Unlike that night, this kiss was quicker. Less passion and friendlier.

  “You keep kissing me,” she said, eyes narrowed.

  “That one was for luck.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well then, break a leg.”

  He chuckled, paid for the clothing, and they parted ways on the sidewalk.

  By the time Ailis returned to the pub, she’d managed to work herself up into her own mini panic attack. Not only was she nervous for Hunter, but what she’d agreed to take on was slowly beginning to sink in as well. Helping to organize an event the size of February Stars was going to be a shit-ton of work, even with Les at the helm.

  She was two steps inside Pat’s Pub when her phone rang.

  “Hey, Mom,” Ailis said as she answered.

  “Hi, sweetheart.”

  “Where are you now?” Ailis had seen an itinerary of her parents’ tour before they left, but there’d been too many cities to keep track.

  “We’re spending a couple of days in Tuscany before popping over to Barcelona. It’s so beautiful here, babe. Wish you could have come with us.”

  “I don’t remember getting an invite.”

  Her mother didn’t respond for a moment. “Would you have come? I’d gotten the impression lately that you were tired of the hustle and bustle of touring.”

  Shit. She couldn’t deny that. Chalk up another mark in the loss category. She’d missed out on a fantastic European trip and a chance to meet the freaking Queen thanks to her lack of backbone while under Paul’s influence.

  “I’m kidding,” she lied. “There was no way I could leave this glamorous job waiting tables at the pub.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you’ll have to do that for much longer. Les just told us the exciting news!”

  “Exciting? Is that what we’re calling it?” she joked.

  “Of course we are. Your dad and I are thrilled you’re finally pursuing your calling.”

  Ailis rolled her eyes, grateful her mother wasn’t there to see her. Her parents, like Les, had always thought she was made for a career in music. Not the singing kind. The managing kind.

  “Mom, you guys set me up, so you can stop pretending otherwise.”

  “You’re intelligent and creative, Ailis. It’s time to stop hiding in that pub and get out, do something with your life.”

  Wow. Talk about a theme. “It’s only been a year.” She grimaced even as she said it. A whole freaking year. “I’m going to figure it all out, Mom. Honest.”

  “I know you will. And I’m sorry for the speech. I worry about you, love. It feels like everyone in the world can see your potential except for you. Paul was only t
oo happy to let you support him without ever giving you a chance to truly shine.”

  “Did you always feel that way about him?”

  Mom paused for several heartbeats. “Not as strongly as I did after he ran off with that woman. I guess I saw it, but you always seemed so happy and in love.”

  “I was an idiot.”

  “No, you weren’t. He was your first love. We all do stupid things when we’re in love.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I got lucky. I think in the end you’ll be a stronger, smarter woman because you’ll go into your next relationship with your eyes wide open. Just make sure you don’t lose sight of what you want and need as well.”

  Her mom was always good with the pep talks.

  “I will. Thanks, Mom. Look, I hate to do this, but I really have to go. I’ve got a slew of things to take care of.”

  “Hunter’s audition.”

  “Les told you about that?”

  “Yeah, he said he only agreed to listen because you were so insistent and earnest. I don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”

  Ailis appreciated her mother’s concern, but the only thing about this entire venture she was certain about was Hunter’s participation in the competition. Her mom and Les had never heard him sing, didn’t realize the incredible talent Pat’s Pub had been harboring.

  She’d heard him playing with his band with Paul on occasion, and she’d always thought he had a great voice. However, it wasn’t until he’d picked up the guitar again and started playing solo that Ailis had recognized his true potential.

  Apparently, he’d been writing songs for most of his life, but since the breakup, he’d penned a ton of them, called it “his therapy.” They were amazing—stories set to music, full of emotion and poetry—and they really showcased his voice, the rich tone, the deep flavor of it. “It’s going to work out. Hunter deserves to be in the competition. Les will see that in an instant.”

  Mom chuckled softly. “And you still think you weren’t made to be a manager.”

  “I really do have to go.”

  “Okay. Text me later to tell me how it went.”