Trevor laughed loud enough that the women sitting on the other side of us turned their heads. When they saw who the source of the laughter was, they took their time checking him out. Trevor shot them a wink and a suave little, “Ladies.”

Turning back, he eyed me up and down, a secretive grin shaping his lips. “Okay, I think I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why my brother has such a hard-on for you. You’ve got a smart mouth. It’s kinda sexy.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, just as the house lights dimmed down and a brunette stepped onto the stage to announce Reya’s performance. She had a quite a good following these days, so the bar was packed to the rafters.

A minute later my friend took to the stage, dressed all in black: black dress, black tights, black shoes. Her hair was styled in vintage waves, and her makeup was golden-era Hollywood. She looked striking without showing an inch of skin, and I noticed Trevor’s attention was glued to her. He sipped on his pint as Reya’s hands met her piano keys and she played the opening chords to her song. Mouth close to the microphone, she breathed in and out, creating a sound effect as though she was gasping for air. Her style was so realistically unique, and the very reason why I’d been drawn to her from the first time I saw her perform.

When she sang her voice was clear, her accent slipping through and making the lyrics sound more honest. She had the attention of every person in the room, and I noticed that Trevor was uncharacteristically silent. I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath, but I didn’t quite catch what he said.

All too soon her set was over, and the crowd roared their applause. She gave a little bow and walked off the stage, disappearing behind a red velvet curtain. I knocked back the end of what was my third martini, or was it my fourth? Anyway, I finished it and nudged Trevor with my elbow.

“I’m going backstage to see Reya. You coming?”

He nodded and followed me. A minute or two later, we found her packing up her stuff up into a small duffle bag. Sometimes she brought her keyboard to gigs, but since the venue had its own piano, she’d played that instead. It meant she didn’t have a whole bunch of equipment to carry home. Rising, she hitched the bag up on her shoulder before she saw us. I hurried forward, pulling her into a hug and telling her how great the show was. She held her hand up to me, displaying a bandage on her middle finger.

“I almost had to cancel. Cut myself trying to get the crappy window in my bedroom open. It’s killing me now, but at least I got to play.”

“Well, you’d never notice.”

“Bit of WD40 should do the trick,” Trevor put in randomly, and Reya’s eyes wandered to him. She seemed perplexed as to why he was there, but she didn’t question it.

“Pardon?”

“For the window,” Trevor explained. “If it keeps sticking.”

“Oh, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, an awkward silence elapsing.

Trevor stood with his hands clasped behind his back, studying her. “Why don’t you open your eyes when you sing?” he blurted, something like disappointment in his voice.

“I….” Reya began. “I don’t know,” she lied before turning back to me and changing the subject. “Did you see how many people were here tonight? Crazy talk. It’s a relief I’ll be able to pay this month’s rent now.”

“I know,” I exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you.”

Reya beamed before a guy approaching us caught her attention. “Speaking of which. That’s the club manager. I’d better go and collect my pay.”

I motioned for her to go and a minute later she was back, frowning as she slotted an envelope into her bag.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked in concern.

She shrugged, not meeting my eyes, and I knew she was upset about something. “The bastard low-balled me. When I booked this gig, they said I’d get to keep forty percent of the ticket sales, and now he’s claiming we agreed on twenty. Since I never signed any official contract, there’s nothing I can do. God, I’m such an idiot sometimes.”

“Are you serious?” I said angrily. “He can’t do that. I’m going to have a word.”

Reya grabbed my hand. “No, don’t. If I kick up a fuss, they won’t let me play here again, and I need the money.” We shared a moment of eye contact, and a second went by before we simultaneously realised that Trevor wasn’t standing next to us anymore. Scanning the room, I found he’d approached the club manager, and appeared to be having a serious talk with him.

“Oh, my God, what’s he doing?” Reya hissed, her grip on my hand tightening.

“I don’t know,” I said, pulling out of her grasp before she left a permanent mark.

The club manager gestured wildly with his hands while Trevor spoke over him, his stance confident. The manager frowned and rubbed his chin. Trevor said something else, and then the manager seemed to motion for him to calm down. A moment later he pulled some money from his pocket, counted out the notes and shoved them into Trevor’s hand. Lee’s brother turned and sauntered back to us, holding the money out to Reya.

“There ya go,” he said.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“The twenty percent he owed you.”

“How did you….” she began, but Trevor cut her off.

“Nobody puts baby in the corner,” he said, as though that explained everything. Reya stared at him, flustered, clearly no idea what to say.