Play Mine (Brooklyn Dawn #3) - Cari Quinn Page 0,1

gripped my throat and forced myself to keep moving. This was not the ideal environment for a chick who jumped at spotlight switches and startled every time someone dropped a guitar pick.

After hurrying up the hallway, I moved into the main area of the club, which contained a mix of booths and overturned chairs on tables. The long bar gleamed even in the low light off to one side, and in front, the wide expanse of stage beckoned.

I crept toward it and then climbed the short flight of stairs on the side. The floor was reflective black tiles, perfect for magnifying the lights. Normally, the stage would be empty, but we’d arranged to have some of our equipment brought in around closing time so we would be ready to go for an early-ish band meeting and then rehearsal. At least two was early for me.

Once upon a time, I’d been a morning person, back when I’d temped as a legal assistant from nine to five while Pat went to his shared office space and worked on his art in a safe, non-judgmental space. I’d never understood how our empty townhouse had been unsafe or judging him, but in retrospect, I hadn’t understood a lot about him.

I took a steadying breath and moved toward the curved bench placed in front of my keyboard. In the arenas, I used my designer pink Steinway Grand piano, a gift from my far too sweet parents for joining the band. At smaller venues like this one, I made do with a portable piano rig.

But my special riveted padded bench came with me everywhere.

I slid a loving hand across the leather, molded precisely to my own shape after many hours of rehearsal and shows, then sat down and ran through a quick set of scales. Limbering up my fingers as an athlete would, warming them so that I could do the tricks I saved for my own personal concerts. Hand over hand, occasionally even behind my back. Fun stuff that amused me and had no place in Brooklyn Dawn shows.

In a band full of big personalities, I was happy to just play a support role, quietly and competently. Well, mostly quietly, except when I’d had a little too much tequila.

I rolled my achy, tense shoulders and forced myself not to look out into the empty audience. Already I was going to that place in my mind where I imagined a crowd listening to me as I played. The sound of the notes rang out so clear and true, luring me to play one of my favorites. “Moonlight Sonata” was a moody, desolate piece, at least to me. But instead of helping me relax as it usually did, the nerves buzzing along my spine only grew.

It’s just thoughts of Pat crowding in. And hello, middle of the night, weirdo.

My hands moved without me telling them to, which was a good thing since my mind was racing in concert with my heart. But the music eased me even as I glanced around, half expecting to catch a movement out of the corner of my eye.

Maybe Coop had followed me. He was my closest friend in the band and we hung out often. At least we had before the latest Ripper Records chaos had opened up a rift between us.

He didn’t make a habit of lurking around my place when I hadn’t invited him over, but lately, he was fairly obsessed with keeping an eye on me. That was a less worrisome thought than thinking someone else could be here with me.

Nah. That was just nerves talking. Much better to focus on my fingers gliding across the keys as I played Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” than to work myself into a frenzy over nothing.

Hadn’t I sneaked out tonight for the thrill of pretending to play for a crowd of my own? Now I was freaking out about shadows.

Think about Coop. Just Coop.

A smile curved my mouth. He wasn’t a hardship to think about. No one could make me laugh like he did. Every now and then he called me “little redhead girl” after Charlie Brown’s crush. I didn’t even know where he’d picked that up, but he teased me with it when I poked at him about his love of peanut butter and banana sandwiches—gross—or his solitary ways to relax. He loved to go on long hikes anytime our bus was parked and we weren’t needed for band stuff. Mostly because I wanted to hike with him. Silence between