Magic's Song Read Online Free Page B

tattoos seemed to spin in cadence with her head. Bile erupted from her stomach. She ran.
    No time to shut the door. The coffee she’d guzzled earlier made an encore appearance, splattering everywhere. She breathed deeply, trying to prevent another gag. True to her own prediction, she’d made a fool of herself.
    She stood over the toilet, huffing until the worst passed. When she felt a little better, Tanith leaned over the unexpectedly clean sink and splashed water on her face. There’d be no audition now that she’d shown her lack of professionalism. Bringing her shoulders back, she held her head high and prepared to make a grand exit.
    The man leaning against the wall stood straight when she emerged. He was handsome in a wooly sort of way. His big brown eyes raked over her, seeming both concerned and amused. “I’m Marcus. Feeling better?”
    She nodded.
    “‘Atta girl. You ready now?”
    What the devil is he talking about? He must have heard her vomit. Heck, the people outside, even those at the end of the line, had probably heard her barf.
    “Happens all the time, luv. I puke before every gig.” Marcus flashed a friendly smile and slipped his arm through the crook of her elbow. “Allow me.”
    He led her onto a small stage before she could protest. She turned to ask him what was going on, but a spotlight landed on her face, concealing his whereabouts. Having grown accustomed to the dimness, the sudden brightness blinded her. She blinked, trying to comprehend the sequence of events.
    “Marcus?” she whispered.
    A voice echoed from the back of the room, smooth and sexy. “What are you going to sing?”
    Definitely not Marcus . Tanith wondered why the man with that voice didn’t do the singing.
    Oh, crap! They still wanted her to sing?
    She hadn’t believed she’d actually audition, so she hadn’t even thought about a song. The lyrics of a Pussycat Dolls song popped into her head—she pushed them back out. The song was too sexy for her. She needed something else.
    A song. She needed a song. Something simple to keep her from making a total ass of herself.
    Her mind didn’t cooperate. Her eyes darted around, looking for the door. Maybe she could run for it.
    A tower of CDs was stacked on a shelf by the door. Who kept CDs anymore?
    “Miss?”
    She couldn’t see the man who’d asked the question, but she could see the labels on the cases. The CD on the top of the stack was by the Pretenders.
    “Miss? What are you going to sing?” the voice repeated, the tone surprisingly patient.
    “I’d like to… I’ll do something by Chrissie Hynde.” Where had that come from? Her voice hadn’t even trembled.
    Unexpected calmness engulfed her. After being the idiot who puked, she reasoned, she had nowhere to go but up. What difference did it make if she croaked the lyrics like a bullfrog?
    “Jesus, we wait ten minutes for another broad doing oldies?” The female voice reeked with sarcasm. “Come on, Brent, the guys only let her in here because of that bit of fabric masquerading as a dress. How many more of these are we gonna listen to?”
    “Don’t pay any attention to the voice behind the curtain,” the sexy voice cajoled from the darkness. “We’re going old school, guys. I think Marcus can play Middle of the Road . Can you do that one?”
    She knew she shouldn’t have worn the blasted dress. It was too short.
    Wait. Another broad doing oldies?
    Something inside Tanith rebelled. Nerves morphed into calmness and calmness jelled into determination. She nodded in the direction of the voice.
    And the witch who’d made the oldies comment.
    The man she couldn’t see quipped, “Don’t be nervous, Marcus won’t bite.”
    The skinny man with the tattoos and kohl-lined eyes re-materialized. Her eyes had adjusted enough to see the same grin he’d flashed at the bathroom door.
    He took his position behind the keyboard and whispered, “I do too bite.” He made a snapping motion with his teeth and winked at