Nightchild--The SeriesBook 1--Falling

Chapter 11

Nate Stevens watched the woman in the flickering candlelight as she reached across the table to talk to the man opposite her, the smile never leaving her lips or eyes. It was hard to tell her age in the soft lighting's glow, but he guessed her to be in her thirties. She was attractive, not beautiful in an obvious way, but sultry subtle and earthy. There was an air about her; the way she moved, the way she flirted without consciously trying. It was as if she held court and the men around her were beloved subjects, paying the homage naturally due her by right of birth. She looked real, touchable and warm. Briefly, Nate glanced at the blond. She was gorgeous but paled next to the scintillating persona of the other woman. She must have realized it because she looked terribly annoyed.

Nate's fascination grew as the woman with the laugh continued her flirtatious game. She was at ease with herself, enjoying the attention she took for granted. Suddenly, she leaned across the table toward the brunette and at once became serious, almost pouty while listening to her friend. It was then Nate saw it, the sadness that lay hidden beneath the surface. But the vulnerability made her more appealing, more enigmatic.

Slowly, she turned to speak to the large man next to her and for the first time, her face was in full view. As if Nate willed it, her eyes strayed past the man to look directly into his and he held them. Neither person wanted to be the first to glance away, as though she offered him a silent dare and he accepted. Nate had no idea how long it was before her companion swung round in his chair to follow her gaze. She smiled then and her mouth tilted up provocatively at the corners, accented by shallow dimples. The eyes sparkled with mischief, almost childlike, the faint hint of sadness erased, the vulnerability gone.

Nate felt a knot tighten in his stomach as she averted her eyes and sat back in the deep captain's chair, disappearing once more behind her bulky companion. He regarded the group of men around his own table. They were all there. The next night would be their last performance in Reno then they would load the bus and meet Chance in Hot Springs to work a dinner theater for a few nights. The group was involved in a heavy discussion and no one seemed to have noticed his preoccupation. Nate shot a quick glance across the room again but only the hands of the woman, idly playing with the rim of her martini glass, were in sight. Nate signaled for the waiter.

"Another gin and tonic, sir?"

He shook his head. "No thanks...just a bottle of tequila, some limes and shot glasses all around."

Joey was the first to respond as the glasses and bottle were placed on the table. "What's this shit, Stevens...a challenge? You know I can outshoot anyone here!"

"Shut-up and drink. There's no contest with me tonight. All I want is sweet oblivion...not to have to think for a while."

The drummer was about to spout off again when Heathe gripped his arm and shook his head in a warning gesture.

Eddie took the opportunity to sidle close to Nate, lowering his voice confidentially, "Nathan, buddy, I scored some really awesome shit today. Why not give it a try? I swear it'll fix ya right up."

"Yeah, I bet it will, just like it fixes you! No thanks, buddy. And when the hell are you gonna quit tryin' to push that shit on me, anyway?"

"Christ, I'm sorry. I was just tryin' ta help ya out. I've been worried about ya."

Nate was irritated but dropped it. Eddie always irritated him. He took a shot of tequila, savoring the warmth it brought and waited for the obliteration enough of it would bring. After the third shot, he began to relax as the liquid numbness he sought slowly embraced him and he continued his vigil over the far table. But still she was not in sight. Only occasionally now would a soft ripple of her laughter drift across the room, though she didn't look his way again, clearly content with the rapt attention she was receiving from the admirers at her own table.