Page 27 of The Cannon
This place is just what I hoped for. The Rush retro bar and restaurant is well named. Sitting smack dab on the edge of midtown, it’s a diamond in the rough. Think Bristol was a little taken aback when we first arrived. Looked like I was taking her to a dive instead of the hottest club in Memphis. It was my good luck she hadn’t been here before.
Atticus and Brick gave me the heads up. The place is a hangout for musicians and artists and ball players. Sunday night’s karaoke. Boozy singalongs rule. That’s why we’re here. I know there’s an uninhibited woman buried deep inside Bristol. Hopefully this place will inspire her to come out.
We had to thread up a staircase to the entry. It has an underground vibe. Ironic because it’s upstairs. The romantic low lighting is a surprise. But I like it. Her face in soft shadows is beautiful.
“Have you decided? They’re known for the oysters. Want to start with that?”
I pretend not to know what I’m proposing. Innocent. That’s the expression I’m trying to sell. Naughty. That’s the word for hers.
“Are you trying to slip me aphrodisiac, Mr. Tom?”
She’s aware of my weak game. I like that about her. She’s smart. There is no bullshit games or feigning innocence. She gets to it, so I will too.
“I doubt you need any help in that department,” I say offering a Texas boy grin.
The blush on her cheeks is highlighted by the table light. Awesome.
“Oysters it is. And maybe another of these,” she says holding up her almost-empty glass.
“Great idea. Me too.”
I motion for the passing server to give us another round.
“Tell me again what’s in here. It’s delicious,” she says.
“Rye whiskey and absinthe. It says here on the menu it’s the nation’s oldest cocktail. 1793.”
“I see why it has longevity. And it’s smooth. I hardly feel its effect.”
The way she says it tells me she actually believes it. I won’t tell her that her eyes say something completely different. Also the fact when she said the word smooth there was a little slur. It was pretty adorable.
“Really? I’m kind of a lightweight with alcohol. I’m definitely feeling something. But I like it.”
“This is fun. I’m having a good time,” she says smiling.
I reach across the small table and thread my fingers through hers.
“Me too. So tell me, what are you going to sing?”
A horrified look passes in front of her eyes. Her head starts shaking and her index finger wiggles in my face.
“No! Oh no, that’s not going to happen. You sing.”
“I’m going to. Got my song picked out already.”
The fact I don’t resist amuses her. Biting on her bottom lip and raising a perfectly arched eyebrow she holds back the smile that wants to escape.
The room’s host steps on stage and his arms open wide. He paces from one side of the stage to the other, talking to the crowd.
“Welcome to Karaoke Night!”
Applause and whistles fill the crowded space.
“We’ve got some of your favorites who’ll be performing an array of songs and genres. There’s something for everyone tonight. And there’s a few singers making their debut. I think you’re all going to be highly entertained. Shall we begin?”
Our second cocktail is set in front of us just as the first performer is introduced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome one of Push’s favorite sons. Ron DiCarlo!”
