Well, that I knew for a fact, wasn’t true.
And now I was keeping them from her too.
The stage at Blanche’s wasn’t big, and only as high as a barstool, but it was just tall enough that I could see Lauren’s head and shoulders over the people standing on the floor in front of her. Her blonde hair was a sleek curtain draped on either side of her face, and the ends of it brushed against her sleeveless plaid crop top. It was tied in a knot above her flat stomach, of course, and she’d completed the outfit with cutoffs and cowboy boots.
Her country sound influenced her look, and she’d leaned into it hard for the tourists. It was paying off too. The white tip bucket with her name on it at the edge of the stage was nearly full. Although I had concerns those tips had less to do with her talent and more to do with her looks. The buttons down the front of her shirt were undone enough that the center of her pink bra was visible whenever she moved.
I didn’t fault her for dressing like that. It fit her brand and a girl had to eat, after all. But I wished with all my heart the men in the crowd were seduced by her voice, rather than just her cleavage. She had stunning control and flawless pitch, and she was one of those singers who earned your trust in a single, pure note. As soon as she began, you felt confident you’d enjoy the song from start to finish.
The bar was crowded tonight, and I’d watched her set from several different areas around the room, evaluating her performance. I hadn’t told her I was coming, and she hadn’t spotted me either. It wasn’t until she was finished and swiped her post-set bottle of Bud Light off the end of the bar that I made my approach.
Lauren had been both excited and nervous to see me, but her anxiety faded as we walked up the stairs to the second floor, where it was quieter, and I explained why I’d come. Eagerness warmed her face. She understood how huge this could be for her career.
“We have to find the right song for your audition,” I told her. “I’m going to send you some ideas, and let’s get together before your set next week.”
Her thin eyebrows pulled together. “You didn’t like any of the ones I did tonight?”
“For Stella’s audience? No.” This was business, and she had a head for it, not to mention a thick skin. She wouldn’t be offended by my honesty. “We need something crossover. Halsey has some stuff that might work for . . .”
I trailed off, cocking my head to the side as I listened to the sound filling the room. Blanche’s was two stories, plus a rooftop bar, and although there was also a stage on this floor, it was empty tonight. The music from the band that had just started playing downstairs was piped through the sound system, and I stared at an advertisement for Jack Daniels as I evaluated the music.
The balance was off. The lead guitar was so loud, it overpowered the drums, and the moment it began, I’d written the performance off. A rookie mistake that didn’t bode well for the group.
But then the vocals came in, and my thoughts derailed.
That tone.
The male voice was rich smoke and filled my body with heat.
The band was covering Chris Stapleton’s Midnight Train to Memphis, and the singer mimicked the same bluesy gravel, but there were hints his range was much wider.
“You okay?” Lauren asked.
I motioned toward the speakers. “Who is this?”
I’d been in the business long enough I knew most of the acts around town, but this one I’d never heard before.
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was supposed to be Kicking Fences, but Kevin’s got laryngitis. It’s some new guy from the standby list with Kicking Fences’ band backing him.” She eyed me as she took a swig of her beer. “Why? You like him?”
I nodded. “I do.”
In fact, I liked what I was hearing enough that when I finished with Lauren, I’d likely stay and watch the rest of the show.
We discussed a few more things and set up a time for me to call and check in with her late next week, but the entire time we talked, I had one ear focused on the sound coming from the main stage. The guy was too close to the mic and probably new, but there was so much talent there, it made up for it.
After we said goodbye, I hurried down the dark stairwell lined with photos of past acts that had gone on to make it big. I hoped the guy with the great vocals also had the ‘it’ factor. It was a good sign the crowd was into the performance because I could hear them shuffling along with the beat, plus the occasional catcall.