A pre-Valentine’s Fiction Friday? In Red Letters world that’s just a long party weekend. And excuses to try to shoot shots that you hope will land but if you really paid attention, you’d know that it wasn’t worth the effort. So, let’s drop into the Soulful world without too much warning. After all, if Woods is there, you know the wicked games are on the way, and that he plays chess to other’s checkers. Bonus points for guitar part rose, though. That’s how you stand out in a crowd…

---

Valentine’s weekend 2009

“More flowers?” I asked the newest delivery man, who also held out a heart shaped box of candy that barely fit under his arm. “Oh ok, thank you.”

I signed for everything, gave a small sniff of the pink roses and pulled the card. Another be my valentine request from a name I didn’t recognize right away. Not until I flipped it over and saw the business card attached. I didn’t call him Rod, though I really should, seeing as he was a record man like Martini Martin. No, once I saw the job, I knew this was Popular Preppy, the one who talked to me about pop music, wanted to test bands here if Martin’s ideas worked. I didn’t even take his interest seriously because it felt like he was trying to one up Martin, and I put the card in the bucket under the bar where I had been storing them all night.  Martin was my first customer and the one who helped Woods’ music career. I had some loyalty, even if I knew what would be good for business. Music band testing, yes, trying to steal me away from a friend with a showy obvious move? No.

I took the box of chocolates to the kitchen and added it to the wall of other dessert gifts. Because, besides chocolates, some thought the best thing to send someone who eats and gives cupcakes out constantly is more cupcakes. That’s like bringing me alcohol to my bar. I’ve already got that in good supply. If it was extra fancy, there was a fridge I stored some of my snacks to preserve, because if it was fancy art, I might not eat it but I wasn’t ready to give it away either. Just mass duplications. One of my waitresses was happiest near the chef, the chef was less likely to fling desserts in anger, and I now had someone helping him unpack chocolates into mini gift bags and excess table plates. At least all the chocolates from people I didn’t know wouldn’t go to waste. I was just repurposing solo attention into Valentine’s spirit for everyone in this bar, single or not. 

I slipped back out, and tried to think about where to go with the vase.  

“This next set is for all my alt rock Valentine’s out there, who don’t think pink is dirty enough, and red is better shaded in grunge. You know who you are.”

Woods. Tonight he was up on my stage playing solo with the newer sound systems backing track ability. It meant he would play guitar his way, but the other music elements weren’t missing. Not on a crowded night like tonight. The weekend barely started, the party had been going for about an hour and we were packed. And it wasn’t even Valentine’s day, just a Friday night. 

But he, and his British accent adding to words like dirty, commanded my stage as much as I commanded this room. His opening chords hooked people, and the back up on the bar, people waiting to order drinks shifted to the dance floor. Not forgotten, just willing to wait a bit longer just to be closer to the music they felt in their bones. I felt it too. Woods opened with a Goo Goo Dolls cover, less popular on mainstream radio, but I knew it. Girl right next to me. 

Stupid flowers, I felt the sway of my hips starting, and saw another vase coming my way from a bouncer. White roses. Another name that wasn’t the nickname I used for them. I should probably write thank you notes? But first, I needed to clear the space, and I didn’t want to leave the room. The guitar sounds were sharp and Woods sang with purpose. It’s easy to see why he had a fan base at the edge of the stage, vying for his attention too. 

I saw the pink and white plaid shirt moving around. What was his name? He was one of Gus’ people we inherited in this club, but I didn’t always see him. I just knew he had privileges according to Gus, the co-owner here. So, I popped up in his path, trying not to dance, instead tapping my foot to the beat.

“Hey, can you do me a tiny little favor? In the office is the place we’re putting these flowers. Can I ask you to drop these off for me, pretty please?”

Instead of speaking, he gave a slight nod and relieved me of the vases, moving so fast I couldn’t even thank him properly, though I did call it down the hallway after him.

Next up on the set list, as that last song ended and the bar was better caught up on the drink business, I heard something else I knew. Another Goo Goo Dolls cover, Dizzy. But, was he trying to say something this time? Felt like it, especially when he sang the chorus and kept tilting his head towards the bar, towards me. But hell, he could play. The way he teased that, what did he call it? That whammy bar wiggle? I wasn’t the only one forced to sway to that melody. I saw the impact, even if it felt like he was watching me. Then he signaled the two and two with his fingers, our drink shorthand for him. I answered with a hold on gesture. We were catching up but I still needed a bit more time.

So, when one song ended, the next began. This time a 3 Doors Down cover. So I need you. That man needed to stop looking this way when he sang certain lyrics or a lady would get the wrong idea and think he was singing at her. Because that one had lyrics that sounded like flirtation. And he might be mine, but we both belonged to this bar world too. So, I tried not to melt under that kind of feeling and tried to pretend he stared because I hadn’t delivered drinks yet. It’s not like we talked about doing anything for Valentine’s day. I hadn’t even been sure he’d show up to play the stage. 

Armed with a tray of drinks for him, and some of the repurposed sweets, I readied for the stage. When he was with the band, I knew what to expect. Woods alone? Never knew what he’d do to tease me. The song ended and he was on the connected remote, setting up his next song when I got near him, putting the tray on the stool. 

I couldn’t help myself. “Great set so far, really getting people’s attention tonight, enjoy the treats.” 

Woods caught my eye, his gaze sliding up and down, taking in my black, pink, and red plaid mini skirt, with my white lacey long sleeve top, and my dark red boots. I didn’t match his dark red band tee and black jeans with the rips, like we were two different styles. But something in that wink he gave me before I could walk away made the chills in my spine feel like a promise and a warning. And I ran from that stage as fast as a lady could walk. Just because I was alarmed and recalling a moment when I talked to Woods and he played a song that got the whole bar talking about me, didn’t mean he’d do it again, right?

Safely in the crowd on the dance floor lingering to see what was next, that’s when I got my answer, and gave in to dancing with whoever caught my hand until I could get back behind the bar.

“Why thank you, Trouble. But you could say what you really mean…” as the opening strings of Rod Stewart’s Do Ya Think I’m Sexy started to play and came from Woods lips. 

It felt like hours before my face stopped burning from that one, and that the other bar staff distracted the patrons from what Woods did.You know, after they all got some good jabs in at teasing me too. There were only so many ways to say that they too thought Woods was sexy on my behalf. I couldn’t be too mad, because Woods was playing a great Valentine’s set for the crowds and really keeping the mood great in the room, it just knocked me off my game now and again. 

So, when he found me a bit later, when the crowds had started to settle in and slow down for the night, I wasn’t expecting anything. 

“I see you chose innocence before Valentine’s, luv. It suits you, but never as much as black and red do.” Woods slipped behind the bar with me, grabbing some empty glasses and moving them to the sink, as if a future budding rock star was meant to tend bar too.

“I leave the red for tomorrow itself. Gotta plan for these party weekends sometimes.” I turned around, and found him standing by the sink, leaning on its edge.That smirk on his face? Always made me want to grab him and kiss him and ask questions later. But we were still in public, and I behaved. 

“Did you plan for all the attention you’re getting too? I saw all the gifts being given back to the crowds. Love that you are giving every lady some roses from your collection. Even if some came my way.”

I blushed at that. Woods knew the inner workings, and had his own chasers. At least we understood that in each other. It wasn’t our fault we were both good at what we did and that got us fans. Only what we did after that mattered. “I mean, it’s impersonal. Like yes, I love cupcakes, but I am usually eating what we sell at the bar, so giving me more of that feels weird, like yes I see what you meant, but don’t you think I have enough of them IF I EAT MY OWN SUPPLY?” I hadn’t meant to shout, and I didn’t really, but it was louder.

Woods chuckled, “because they are boys trying to get the attention of a woman.” He leaned in just so, his words teased in that off and on accent again, the way he knew it made me shiver. “A woman whose attention is usually on me…”

When he leaned back again, and the heat calmed slightly, I saw it, a rose he held between us. But it wasn’t just a flower rose, it was different. My brow must have furled, because he added “picks, luv, made of picks.”

And then it made sense. A rose made of guitar parts, with picks as petals.

“Will you be my Troublesome Valentine?”