“Can I buy you a drink before I go on?” Shep asked.
“Sure. I’d love one.” She turned to me, and I’m sure my mouth was hanging open at this point. “I’d like a Corona, Tay.”
I recovered myself enough to utter, “Really? I thought you were allergic or something.”
“Not that allergic.” She smiled.
“Well, if you’re sure.” I frowned and grabbed a cold one from the fridge behind me, but as I put it on the bar with a cocktail napkin, a large male hand took the bottle from me.
“She doesn’t drink,” Adonis stated, sort of in a Terminator voice.
“Back off,” Cynthia snarled at him.
“What’s going on, Cyn?” Shep frowned, having to look up a few inches to see Adonis clearly. “You know this guy?”
“No, I don’t,” Cynthia growled, and I have to say, I was absolutely speechless. I’d never seen Cynthia break a sweat on a hot day, much less get downright angry. She was always the blonde who was cool and in control no matter what crisis happened to be playing out.
“Leave her alone.” Shep, poor guy, did his best to stand up for Cynthia, though it was clear he was nervous and scared to be facing a guy who looked like a powerhouse. I appreciated that Adonis seemed to be a blond version of Ryder, all big and hulking.
There seemed to be a sudden surplus of big and hulking...
“Make him go away, Cyn,” Adonis said in a quiet voice. He displayed an absolute lack of concern for what Shep thought he could do in a fight. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”
Cynthia glared up at the man’s face as seconds ticked by, and I could almost hear Shep gulp. Then she plastered a smile on her face and turned to Shep. “No worries.” She leaned over and kissed Shep’s cheek. “He’s an old friend. I think your band is ready to start.”
“Are you sure? ’Cuz if you need me to, I’ll kick this guy’s ass.”
“No, really,” Cynthia insisted. “It’s cool.”
I almost laughed seeing the look of relief that crossed Shep’s face. “Okay, then. If you’re sure.” But he couldn’t get away quickly enough. He moved toward the stage at a fast pace and didn’t look back.
Adonis tossed bills my way for the beer he was leaving behind. “Let’s go.”
“No,” Cynthia snapped, getting comfortable on one of the bar stools. “I’m here for a good time.”
“You want to do this here?”
“I want you to leave me alone. We have nothing to talk about.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Cynthia, do you need help?” I lowered my voice. “Charlie and Bill can handle this for you.”
“I’m fine.” This was a Cynthia I didn’t know. Her face was composed in unusually hard lines, and though she was definitely angry, I thought there was a hurt look to her eyes. Had this guy hurt her in the past? Was he the lying, cheating bastard from long ago?
“Let me know if that changes.”