Heading In The Right Direction

Chapter Five

Author's Notes:

This upload is a day late for a number of reasons, the biggest one being the overwhelming brain fog and frequent distraction that happens on a day to day basis recently. This was one of the reasons that I don't set a weekly posting schedule anymore...to give myself and E time to get things done so the chapters aren't half-arsed and full of holes.

Anyway, things are starting to ramp up from here on in...hope you enjoy this week's read...

J💕💕💕

Heading In The Right Direction

Chapter 05

Jon POV

Emmi was his Whiskey and Honey... and ...his Summer Breeze?!

The moment was like a punch in the gut but in a thoroughly good way.

Jon sat transfixed as Whiskey Breeze, or Summer Honey... what the hell was he supposed to call this magical woman now , he wondered...moved through her set of both classic and contemporary jazz and blues numbers.

Emmi's stage presence was mesmerising; commanding in her stillness in the slower numbers, the mournful, heartbreak songs or the ballads, yet unafraid to physically show the power of emotions in the uptempo ones.

"Put your tongue back in, asshole. She ain't for you," the doorman-come-bouncer said gruffly, as he walked back past Jon to the bar.

"What the fuck?!" Jon questioned in surprise, gesturing with his hand. "I'm just tryna enjoy the show, man. Why ya givin' me such a hard time anyways?" His own Jersey accent coming out, stronger than his normal conversation style, in unconscious retaliation for the antagonistic tone..

Ducking behind the bar and thanking Willy, who moved on to serve other patrons at the bar and the waitresses' orders, the older man continued, "I know your type. I've dealt with your type. And I don't trust your type," he sneered, tapping his finger on the bar top to emphasise his point. "You been hangin' around here all week like a fuckin' dog in heat."

"My type?" Jon shrugged. "I just wanted to see Whiskey and Honey for myself. Which is what I'm tryna do now, if you don't mind."

He thought it was a reasonable explanation and couldn't figure out why this guy was so uptight about it. If Jon had to rate the place on the friendliness alone, the bar would be getting less than half a star at this stage. All the rest of his complement of stars would go to the singer.

"Who?!" The man pulled a bewildered face at Jon.

"Your singer!" Jon said, exasperated, pointing to the stage. "Her voice sounds like whiskey and honey combined," he shrugged with one shoulder, "so that's what I've been callin' her. What's it to you anyways?"

"She's my daughter!" the man growled. "So keep your eyes in their sockets and your hands where I can see 'em at all times."

"Great...nice hospitality too by the way," Jon said, not bothering to keep the contempt from his tone. Holding eye contact with the bristly man behind the bar, he picked up his drink and threw back the contents, completely blowing his earlier resolution of taking his alcohol slowly. Indicating the glass, Jon said, "Same again. Double."

He didn't give a fuck that the man eyed him suspiciously, he was getting used to it these days. He pulled out another note from his wallet, smaller this time, just enough to cover the second drink and the bare minimum tip, and tossed it on the bar. Emmi's father snatched it up at the same time as he set the glass down in front of Jon.