Page 2 of Bewitched By the Siren
“I’ll take a sweet tea. And the lasagna dinner,” I say, offering her my menu without even opening it.
Her smile widens as she takes it and shoots me a wink. “Great choice. The lasagna is amazing. I’ll be right back with that sweet tea.”
“Thank you,” I say and watch as she bounces away, her dark ponytail swinging behind her.
I check out the other customers and staff as I wait, and nearly every one of them is smiling. And not polite, fake smiles that come out when you think youhaveto. Real, happy smiles that broadcast contentment.
“Here you go,” Taylor says as she materializes beside me once more.
I thank her, and she watches me expectantly until I realize she’s waiting for me to try the tea. Nodding, I lift the glass to my lips and take a long swig. I don’t dare flinch when the sugary liquid pours over my tongue. It’s not bad, just unexpected. I hum with pleasure as I swallow, and Taylor grins at me before telling me she’ll be out in the two shakes of a dog’s tail with my food.
I’ve never heard the euphemism before, but if I have to guess, I’d say it means “soon.”
And she wasn’t lying.
A few minutes later, I have a hot, steaming plate of some of the best looking and smelling lasagna I’ve seen. Taylor sets a jar of grated parmesan like the kind you see in pizza parlors in front of me before taking a small step back and asking if there’s anything else I need.
“Actually, yes,” I say, cocking my head. “I’m headed over toMemaw’stonight. Are you familiar with the place?”
She shakes her head and chuckles. “Everyone knows Memaw. And all the locals hang out there.”
“Wait,” I say, “Memaw is a real person?”
“Of course, she is,” she says with another laugh. “And don’t get on her bad side, or you’ll end up black-balled.”
“What about the entertainment? I heard there’s an amazing singer who performs on the weekends…Hali Weston. You know her?”
“What about her?” she asks, her smile dropping for the first time since I sat down.
I pull out my wallet while she eyes me suspiciously. Plucking out one of my business cards, I hand it over. Her eyes narrow as she reads it. Handing it back to me, she lifts her chin.
“Yeah, I know her. She’s performing tonight, but don’t get your hopes up. She has no interest in getting a record deal or being famous.”
I shake my head. “Every singer wants to be famous and adored by the masses.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” she says, then spins around and heads back to the server station in the corner.
The smell of melted cheese and spices overwhelms my curiosity over Taylor’s sudden change in attitude, so I pick up my fork and take a big bite.Oh, my God.She was right. This is the best lasagna I’ve ever had.
Looking around, I spot Taylor in the same spot in the corner, her phone to her ear, and her eyes locked on me as she speaks urgently into the device. Her gaze turns devilish, and she nods to herself before she taps at the screen and drops the phone into the pocket of her apron. What was that all about?
Taylor still smiles when she comes by to refill my tea and bring me the check, but it’s different. More like she has a juicy secret rather than the bright hospitality she showed before. I pay the bill and leave her a nice tip before heading out. It’s almost time for the show, and I want to get a good table atMemaw’s.
And…I should’ve come earlier.
The place is packed with people milling around the bar, waiting for one of the two bartenders to fill their orders. There a small stage on the back wall, and I spot a small, empty table near it that will give me the perfect view. I bypass the crowd at the bar and stride toward it, sliding into the seat just before another patron pulls up short with a frown a few feet away. Hispinched expression smooths out when he spots another empty table nearby, and he rushes to grab it before he loses that one, too.
A roar explodes in the bar as a drummer, a guitarist, and a keyboard player climb onto the stage and start warming up. A beat later, a woman joins them, and I’m stunned into stupidity. She’s beautiful, with long, curly strawberry-blonde hair and a pair of bright eyes of which I can’t make out the color in the dim lighting. She’s wearing a slinky, sequined dress and her feet are bare. There’s something wild and ethereal about her, something that has me slack-jawed as I stare at her in wonder.
She greets the crowd, and as they shout back, I snap out of the stupor I’d fallen into and jerk my phone out of my pocket. Tapping at the screen, I put the camera in video-mode and point it in her direction.
“Alright y’all,” she says, her voice smooth and lyrical, “put those phones away. Y’all knowMemaw’shas a strict no photo or video policy.”
She grins impishly, and I find myself closing my camera app and tucking my phone back into my pocket as a shiver rolls down my spine. Something in the back of my mind argues that this is what I’m here for, and Julius will kill me if he doesn’t get a video, but I can’t seem to pull my phone back out. I don’t want to break the rules. I don’t want to disappoint Hali. I want her to be happy, not angry with me.
Then she starts to sing, and my thoughts scatter. Completely.
Holy shit.
