When the guys left the stage and Bree walked out, the jukebox faded, and everyone turned to the stage to cheer her appearance. She looked so gorgeous, standing up there with the stage lights lightening her hair and giving her a halo. She had her guitar strapped on already and approached the mic with a huge smile. “Thank you! How are y’all doing tonight?”
Everyone cheered but someone yelled, “Just got a helluva lot better!” Some people laughed. It made the hairs on the back of Trent’s neck stand up. Was that guy the troublemaker he’d been sensing?
“Glad to hear it,” Bree said, strumming her guitar. “I hope you’re all ready for some more music. This is a song from my last album called ‘Taking it with You.’” That got a cheer from the crowd as the song was one of Bree’s more popular ones. She began to play, and a lot of people were up on their feet clapping and swaying to the music. Trent stayed seated, keeping an eye on the situation.
After the song, Bree gave him a little wave, and he waved back, trying to look at ease as he gave her a smile. He didn’t want to alarm her or make her uncomfortable while she was performing. He was in awe of her; it took a lot of courage to get up there on stage and pour her heart out for everyone.
Bree continued to play through her songs. A few members of the crowd grew more rowdy. The next time the smartass had something to say, Trent spotted him. Knowing what he would look like might be helpful if things became heated.
“This song is one I’m sure y’all have heard before,” Bree said, strumming her guitar slowly. Trent recognized what she was going to play from that opening chord. The other night, in a theater, with a much calmer crowd, she’d mentioned that the man she’d written it for was there, and he’d turned bright red, not because he was embarrassed to be hers but because he still couldn’t believe such a woman would claim him. That and everyone was looking at him. Since then, she hadn’t pointed him out, probably because she saw it made him as red as the theater seats.
Tonight, she was discreet as well. “This is the most meaningful song I’ve written so far. If you know the words, go ahead and sing along with me.” She broke into the first verse of “Meant to Marry Me,” and a whole bunch of people sang along with her.
The smartass and his friends were listening but chugging back beers. When Bree was done, the crowd cheered loudly, as they always did when she played that song. Trent knew she was almost through with her set, that she only had three songs left to play, and he hoped the group would mind their manners a little bit longer.
After the next song, loud-mouth shouted, “Keep them songs comin’ pretty baby!” His whole group laughed loudly. Trent could tell Bree was getting uncomfortable. Her eyes were flittering across the faces in the crowd, along the perimeter. She was looking for the bouncers.
Now, Trent was looking for them, too. He saw one of them in the back, talking to a cute waitress. The other two were nowhere to be found. The guy with the big mouth was a little bigger than Trent, and older. He had at least four friends with him, which meant if Trent took him on, he’d be greatly outnumbered. But if he didn’t learn to keep his mouth shut, Trent would be forced to make him. It had been years since he’d thrown a punch at anything other than a punching bag, but lifting and working out six times a week had to count for something. Maybe he could at least hold his own until the damn bouncers showed up. He pushed his chair back slightly and readied himself to hop up if smart mouth said one more thing.
Bree played another song, “Under the Moon,” another one of her more popular songs. When she was done, she said, “I’ve got one more song for you, and then--”
Before she could finish the sentence, likely something like, “and then my time will be up,” the smartass screamed, “Then you’ll show us your tits?”
Trent was out of his chair before he could even stop to think about what he was doing, not that he would have stopped for anything. He closed the distance between himself and the hecklers quickly, ignoring Bree saying his name in the microphone. He grabbed ahold of the punk and slammed him down in his chair, hard.
“What the hell?” the guy asked, his eyes wide. He was clearly drunk.
“Mind your goddamn manners!” Trent growled, his hands still fisted around the man’s collar. “Don’t ever talk to her like that again.”
“Everyone stay calm,” Bree said into the microphone. The bouncer from the back was there now as one of the man’s friends pushed Trent off of him.
“Hey, hey, chill out,” the bouncer said. “No need to start anything.”
“I’m not starting it. I’m ending it,” Trent replied. He looked at the other three jerks to see if any of them wanted to try him. They all had their hands in fists, looking ready to swing.
“I think the bouncers have that under control now,” Bree said into the microphone. “So I’m going to go ahead and play my last song.”
She was trying to avert the attention from the scene near the middle of the room.
“What’s going on?” one of the bouncers asked.
“I was just having a little fun with the singer, and this asshole came and shoved me down in my seat,” the drunk bastard replied.
“The singer is my girlfriend, and you’ve been heckling her all night. What you said was inappropriate, and I’m telling you right now, you’re lucky I didn’t punch you in the face.”
“Okay, okay, let’s all settle down now,” the first bouncer said. “She’s playing her last song. Why don’t you go wait for her backstage?”
Trent looked the troublemaker in the eyes, a warning, and then backed toward the stage doors as he’d been instructed. He had a feeling this wasn’t over, though. He wasn’t normally the fighting type, but when it came to protecting Bree, he’d do whatever needed to be done.