Chapter 7: Black Friday

Rainy's POV

I cannot believe that he has just walked away and left me with my jaw ajar like this. No conversation. Nothing. I clutch his card in disbelief and discomfort.

"Bron Ambrose" with his number and address. Even his email. All in an elegant metallic silver calligraphy on the glossy black card. It felt very high quality and heavy in my hand somehow.

Well, that's certainly interesting. I guess he has his own unique style, just like everyone in this city.

This is a unique city where people seem to know when you're going to show up even though you don't announce it. It is rather strange if you really think about it. I am a woman who is inclined to overthink.

Checking out the crowd, I see a lot of long blonde hair and designer handbags. I spot a bright orange Hermes on a woman wearing cowboy boots. I suppose this is the look that comes with success in oil and gas.

I find myself a seat and enjoy the show.

Cass might as well have eight arms like an octopus. She is producing perfectly mixed craft cocktails like "Smoke on the Water" featuring a bed of dry ice surrounding a martini glass with a blue liquid in the center, lit on fire.

I can hear the "Oooo's and ahhh's" of the crowd as they receive their beautiful cocktails.

My bestie looks really happy working so hard. She has always been high-energy and loves to be on the go. I get choked up and a little lump develops in my throat as I watch her in her element. I love her so much.

She looks hotter than I could ever dream of looking in her little black cocktail dress with spaghetti straps. Even better than Veronica. That's why she is the star behind the bar, lit up with spotlights. That's all Cass.

Did Brett hire the entire staff from that cafe? I remind myself to ask Cass later.

Now that I think about it, Bron was wearing all black too. Oh my god. Does he work here with Cass and Veronica? Is that why he is here? Of course, it is. Now it is starting to make sense.

I wonder what the commotion in the cafe kitchen was all about the other night. Did Brett buy that cafe and hire all their staff, or does he somehow know Bron and Veronica? And is Bron closer with Veronica than I realize?

Wow, everyone works here except me. I feel a little bit left out until I remember that amazing painting I have been working on in every spare minute. Along with the hundreds of pieces I hauled all the way to Castleberg in hopes of showing them in a gallery someday.

My work is dark and textural with black bases and hints of metallic silver gold and bronze. People always tell me that my work is "an experience." I don't know if that is good or bad, but at any rate, they seem engaged with my pieces of modern abstract art.

One day, I will be doing much more than walking dogs for spare money and painting alone. I have to believe in this dream if I want it to come true. I need to focus on more than Bron and Brett and the mysterious mansion.

"This is it," I tell myself, as I take a sip of my expertly made Caesar. With a spicy green bean, three olives, celery, and a pickle. I chuckle a little. It looks like Cass made a salad on top of my drink. My girl knows I love all the fixings.

I twirl my straw as much as my pickles allow. I hope nobody notices me as I take out the skewer and start eating. Oh well, all these garnishes should keep the alcohol from going to my head too quickly.

"This is healthy drinking," I laugh to myself. Maybe I should order some food. Leaving my jacket on a chair to mark my spot, I walk up the the shining brass bar.

"Hey Madame Cassandra, got a menu for me?" I raise my eyebrow at her as one corner of my mouth curls into a smile.

"Madame Cassandra? You make me sound like I am running a whorehouse, Rainy. That's hilarious."

She giggles as she hands me a leather-bound menu with several pages. "The Rooftop Pub And Grill" is written in metallic gold script across the front. "Ooo, Cass, fancy menu," I say as I flip through its many pages with paper that feels almost like linen.

Cass is hit with another wave of drink orders just as I am about to mention what happened with Bron. I wait at the bar for a moment before giving up and heading back to my table to watch the show.

Brad Kaslo is really hamming it up. To be honest, I have never been a fan of country music. I love almost any musical style except for that. I just find the whole thing so cheesy. But I am doing my best to fit in and appreciate the city's local talent.

"I want to introduce my best friend and owner of this beautiful state-of-the-art sound stage. Without this man, I don't know where I'd be right now. Brett Wolfsong, come on out!"

What? Brett Wolfsong is here? Is he Sylvia's friend’s ex-husband? But she is so old, and he doesn't look a day older than maybe 40. He is so sexy.

As the hot silver fox takes the microphone, I could swear that we are locking eyes. But how can he see me with the lights in his eyes, sitting among the huge crowd? There is no way. It is just wishful thinking.

"Brad Kaslo, my best friend here, puts on a pretty amazing show, or at least, he seems to think so," Brett says jokingly, turning to Brad with his arm outstretched as if to say "come here, buddy."

Brad half hugs Brett onstage as Brett lifts his microphone again, chuckling in amusement. "I am going to let Brad introduce our next act."

Brad takes the microphone and chuckles. "Alright folks, now for a change of pace let's introduce the sexy, the beautiful, the talented, Wolfmother!"

The lights above the tables fade smoothly down, as blue mood lighting casts its vibe of mysticism over the stage.

A tall, beautiful woman with long blonde wavy hair is wearing a long white gown, reminiscent of a Victorian sleeping gown. She casts an eery image. She speaks in a low, raspy voice. "I am Carnelian Wolfsong. And it is my personal belief that we should be helping the wolves, not opening new bars."

The crown suddenly goes silent, as an electric guitar wails, and a voice that sounds like a howling she-wolf ring throughout the room as Carnelian rips off the white gown in one fell swoop. Revealing a black latex bodysuit, fishnet stockings, and chunky studded platform boots.

Loud guitars play as thick, heavy luscious metal music takes over the expanse of the room. Carnelian's voice is mesmerizing. She is a gothic punk rock queen with her flowing locks lit up from all angles.

Carnelian Wolfsong. Is she Brett's daughter? They share the same last name. Could she be his wife? I saw no mention of her online the other day, but then again, I wasn't looking for her specifically.

I take another sip of my drink and feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Electricity again. I look up and sure enough, it is Bron Ambrose smiling down at me.