For aspiring singer Ivy Hart, all that should be on her mind is to get a well paying job to help support her struggling and ailing family. But when she stumbles across a speakeasy in need of a new waitress, she crosses paths with a sarcastic yet wil...
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After sticking to Heather like glue for the rest of the party last night, but still pretending like my thoughts were tamed the remaining few times with Ivy when it came to business talk and meeting many great artists together—now, I was finally back in my element.
Being a bartender while writing new songs. The party life was never for me.
I didn't see the joy of it compared to being in a quiet room and creating new musical magic.
Walking through the back halls of the bar, I finally managed to get to the front door that was now dignified as Ivy's changing room. A.K.A one of the storage closets we converted when she started to become even bigger than she could imagine herself.
As Jimmy Carter and the band passed me, I kindly smiled as they did so too before knocking.
"Come in!" I heard Ivy's angelic voice ring out.
Doing as told, there was the brown eyed beauty I've been getting to know.
Yet to my surprise, instead of finding her doing her vocal warmups as we practiced every week...she was only in her closed robe she usually wore between costume changes—staring at herself in the mirror appearing in a bit of distress. Her hair pinned up in an alluring bun.
"Oh Levi! Thank god ya here!" She shouted at me grinning.
I give off a baffled expression. A man could get used to an attractive woman addressing him like that everyday.
"Don't tell me. Ya got so lonely for a short minute, ya needed my attention?" I joked.
She smirked and rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't flatter yourself, big guy. I just needed some help. The new attire for tonight's set is giving me all kinds of grief, let me tell ya. I can't reach my toes to zip up the heels and the corset I've got on underneath before putting on the gown feels a bit too big—I just don't know exactly where. Think ya can lend a hand and zip my shoe up please? Only if you're comfortable that is." She then shyly requested, trying to fix it a little through the robe but still struggling.
I teasingly chuckled. It was a bit of an adjustment coming from her literal rags Shelly loathed so much. Though for me, I liked her in pretty much anything before and certainly now. Half the things she had to wear were like night and day—and something I wouldn't dare to complain about from a man's standards.
"A-a-are ya sure you'd want me to do that?" I timidly questioned.
She's never asked me before. But I guess after learning more about each other, she just trusted me more too.
"Oh, well if it's not too much trouble. Ya know what? Forget I even asked, I'll go grab Shelly-" She flustered, about to rush out of the room.
Oh come on Janson. The girl wasn't asking for my hand in marriage. I just had to fix her shoes and attire. That's all. Yeah.
