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and dodging my little car through traffic. Another part of me was twelve years old, standing in complete awe, watching myself sitting next to Rob Burns, lead singer of Trouble, while he sang along to Janis Joplin and occasionally drummed out a beat on the dashboard of my Kia.
    When I began to sing along with Rob, he raised his eyebrows in my direction. “Hey, you can sing!”
    I winked, still singing, and he joined in again. The last verse came on just as I pulled into The Attic parking lot and we sang it together. I waited to cut the engine, deciding to show off a little at the last minute and leaning in to harmonize with him at the end.
    “ Nice!” His compliment made me flush, and we grinned at each other in the dark heat of the car. Our smiles faded, almost in harmony, as his eyes locked with mine. I hadn’t realized how close we were, just inches away really. I felt his breath on my face. He smelled like cranberry juice and I knew I probably still smelled like beer. I tasted it as I swallowed, seeing his eyes flicker to my mouth.
    “ Hey Sabrina.” The sound was just breath.
    “ Hey, Rob.” My own voice was a whisper as I tilted my face up, eyes searching his.
    I watched his eyes and saw the decision flash through him in an instant as he leaned in and captured my mouth, his lips pressing mine, soft and light, an easy, casual thing. I made a small sound in my throat, my hand squeezing his arm, his shoulder. The kiss deepened and I opened my mouth to him, his hand slipping behind my head, pulling me closer.
    He broke the kiss first but I kept my eyes closed, breathless, my whole body vibrating with sensation. His eyes were open when I looked at him. I couldn’t read his expression. It was like he was searching for something. I wished I knew what.
    “ Ready?” His voice came back, clear and strong and I nodded, not quite believing I’d just been kissed by Rob Burns.
     
     

 
    Chapter Four
    I looked at my watch as we got to the door of The Attic. It was already eleven. I hoped my assumption—that they played all night—was accurate. If it wasn’t, I was going to have one disappointed rock star on my hands. The music vibrated the soles of my boots as we stood at the door paying the cover charge. Rob paid mine, in spite of my objection.
    The place—dim, smoky and rocking hard—had dark paneled walls. They reflected little light, but the strange, painted tin of the ceiling attempted to make up for it. On a night like tonight, with wall to wall people, I thought this was what sardines must feel like. Rob grabbed onto my hand, pulling me through the crowd, moving steadily towards the music.
    It was loud enough he had to lean in and yell, “Do you want something?”
    He pointed toward the bar in front of us. I shook my head, waving him to the right, toward the music. I glimpsed the stage. It was through a door at the end of the bar and writhing bodies blocked the entrance.
    I drew closer to Rob as we squeezed into the crowded room. People were seated at candlelit tables and many stood along the walls or between the tables, dancing and cheering. Jimmy, still on stage, played a smooth Texas blues like only one of the Voss brothers could.
    Rob sto pped, staring at the stage, eyes glazed, his mouth caught in a half-smile. It occurred to me his expression would have mirrored my own at the very moment Rob himself had stepped on stage that night.
    “ Hey! Rob Burns?” A waitress, carrying a tray of empty glasses, stopped to tilt her tawny head at him.
    He didn ’t look away from the stage. “Yeah.”
    “ Wow! Awesome!” She smiled, trying to catch his eye. When he glanced at her, flashing a quick grin, she rewarded him. “Hey, why don’t you sit up front with Uncle Joey?”
    I did a double take. Here I ’d been thinking we’d have to find a place to stand against the wall! The blonde smiled at me, but now her expression changed. I felt like she would have ripped my hand from his given the chance.
    “