Sun & Moon - a contemporary romance (The Minstrel Series #1) (11 page)

Herr Sturm twisted to look, apparently amused by the dramatic scene playing out in front of him.

“I thought it time to hang something up,” Micah muttered.

“
Hmm
,” Frau Sturm hummed. She turned back to Katja. “Is this your signature?”

Katja nodded. She waited for a commentary on the quality of her work, but Frau Sturm’s lips formed a firm line. Then she said, “What do you do for employment?”

“Mama?” Micah said, breathing out hard. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“What?” Frau Sturm feigned puzzlement. “I’m just trying to get to know your friend.”

“I work at the coffee shop around the corner,” Katja blurted out. It was a lie. She didn’t work anywhere, but she didn’t want Frau Sturm to think she was an unemployed bum. She wasn’t sure why she cared what this woman thought, but she did. And she did know why. She was Micah’s mother, an important person to him, and she knew deep down she had the power to take him from her.

Even though he wasn’t hers.

What was the matter with her? Katja couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so flustered and so… lacking.

Frau Sturm turned to Micah. “I must visit your restroom.”

It was like a tornado died down when Micah’s mother disappeared behind the closed bathroom door.

Katja stared at Micah with wide eyes and whispered, “Should I leave?”

He shook his head sharply. “No.”

Katja slumped into one of the chairs, feeling completely exhausted and depleted.

Frau Sturm’s interest returned to something outside the window. “Are you planning on staying at this branch for a while, then?” he said without looking at his son.

Micah frowned. Katja sensed there was something deeper implied by the question. Micah didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

Katja knew he meant juice or water or tea, but she could use something much stronger right about now.

Frau Sturm came out in time to accept Micah’s offer of a tall glass of sparkling water. She took it, then motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen.

Even though his mother made an attempt to lower her voice, Katja could easily hear her, and she understood her English perfectly. “What’s going on here, Micah? The truth now.”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“That girl. She looks like…”

“Mother!”

“Are you living together?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

“I found feminine items under the sink.”

Oh, good Lord, Katja thought. She’d left a box of tampons there.

“You were snooping?” Micah’s voice was hard and low. Katja could picture the look on his face. Narrowed eyes, deep lines pulling his lips into a frown.

“Don’t deflect. This girl isn’t right for you.”

Katja stood sharply and grabbed her coat and purse. She couldn’t avoid seeing Micah and his mother as she approached the door.

“I’m sorry, Micah. I forgot I have this thing.” She couldn’t think of anything nice to say to his mother, so she said nothing. She did make a point of slamming the door when she left.

Not surprisingly, Katja found herself sitting on a bar stool at the Blue Note, her home away from home.

“Hello,
ma Cherie
,” Maurice said when he saw her. “Oh, why the sad face?”

“It’s my birthday,” Katja said. “I need a drink.”

“All the best! We must celebrate!” Maurice removed her favorite wine from the shelf and poured her a glass. It warmed her heart that he remembered the kind of wine she liked.

“So.” He leaned thick elbows on the counter. “How old are we today?”

She took a long drink and then sighed. “
We
are twenty-one years old.”

“Oh, yes. The twenties. Such an exciting time of one’s life.”

Katja didn’t share his enthusiasm. “Can I ask you something, Maurice?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you live in France?”

He grinned coyly. “How can I live there, when my true love is here?”

His answer surprised her. “You’re married?”

His smile faltered. “My dear wife passed away five years ago. I joke that my bar is my true love now, but my heart knows better. I’m here in Dresden because it was the hometown of my beautiful wife, and it’s my home now. We were married for twenty-five years.” He winked. “Otherwise, the Blue Note
would
be in France.”

Suddenly Renata’s face flashed across Katja’s mind. “Do you think you’ll ever remarry?”

He washed a glass in a sink of soapy water. “I doubt it. I don’t think love like that comes along twice in a lifetime.” He smiled and put the glass he was drying on the shelf. “She was the sun to my moon.”

Did he really say that? “The sun to your moon?”

“Yes, like your song.”

A shrill ring came from Katja’s purse on the counter.

“Your purse is ringing,” Maurice said. He left her to serve other customers. Katja removed her new phone and stared at it. She didn’t want to talk to Micah right now. She pushed ignore, switched it to vibrate and shoved it in her back pocket.

The front door of the pub opened continuously, and the place was soon full. Music pumped from the speakers in the corners and Katja started to relax in the party atmosphere. Sebastian and Karl-Heinz were there, and she sat in a chair across from them.

“Hey,” she said. “It’s my birthday.”

“All the best!” Sebastian said. “Your next drink is on me.”

Katja readily accepted it. She wanted to drink. She wanted to forget. “Thanks!” She looked around for Sebastian’s girlfriend. “Where’s Yvonne?”

Sebastian shrugged and ran a hand through his spiky hair. “She has some family thing.”

Karl-Heinz leaned across the table. She observed him with her artist’s eye. He had messy black hair and thick eyebrows. His eyes were a grey blue and he had slender lips. He’d be an interesting subject.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” he said.

Katja squinted at him. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He flashed her a lopsided grin. “I think my night just got a whole lot better.”

She laughed. He was flirting with her. See? She
was
desirable. Guys
did
like her. Take that, Micah Sturm. She winked at Karl-Heinz and slugged back her drink.

She liked the buzz. It made her happy. It made her feel good about herself. She didn’t need anything or anyone. Especially not
him
.

Why did her butt keep vibrating? She reached back and found the phone. Oh yeah, her birthday gift from Micah.

“
Heelllooo
,” she sang. “What? I can’t hear you. Blue Note? Hell, yeah!” It took a couple tries to push the tiny end call button—why’d they make it so blurry anyway?

“Does anyone want to dance?” she shouted.

Karl-Heinz reached out a hand. “I’m game.”

She swayed with the upbeat music, and Karl-Heinz pulled her close until her body slammed into his. His hands moved down her shoulders and over her hips. She pulled away a little, not exactly comfortable with how close they were, but at the same time it felt good. His hands on her body signaled to her that he wanted her.
She was wanted
.

She felt his lips brush her forehead, and she stiffened slightly. She didn’t know him, but, she decided at that moment, she didn’t care. She just wanted to be loved, and if
he
wouldn’t love her, she’d take it from wherever she could get it.

Karl-Heinz whispered in her ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

She knew what he was saying. Did she want to go have sex with him? Did she want to have sex? Yes. With him? No. Besides, she hadn’t been here long, and she wanted to party.

She felt a hand on her shoulder before she could answer. She turned and burst out laughing. “Micah? What are
you
doing here?”

Why are you here? I don’t want you here. I really
want
you here.

He didn’t smile. He flashed Karl-Heinz a blistering glare, then said to her, “Let’s go home.”

She pulled away from both of them. “I don’t want to go
home
. I don’t
have
a home. I want to
paarrrtttyyy
.”

Katja stumbled back to the table and squeezed in beside Sebastian. “You’re such a good friend,” she slurred. She picked up his drink and took a sip. “You don’t try to use me. You don’t try to change me. You’re not ashamed of me.”

Sebastian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently removed his drink from her with the other. “I think you’ve had too much to drink already.”

“I don’t care,” she whined. “It’s my birthday.”

She was vaguely aware of the two empty seats in front of them becoming occupied by Karl-Heinz and Micah. They both looked frustrated. They both could go to hell.

“Sebastian,” she said. “Why do we do this?”

“Do what?”

“This?” She flung out an arm almost knocking Sebastian’s drink over. He expertly rescued it. “Play music. Write songs. What drives us to pursue this life so hard?”

“It’s the way we’re built, baby. Not playing is like not breathing.”

Katja narrowed her gaze at Micah, but continued to converse with Sebastian. “He doesn’t approve,” she slurred. “His family are
bankers
. They don’t get people like
us
.”

Katja was drunk, but not so much that she didn’t catch the hurt that flashed in Micah’s eyes. He shifted as if to leave, but she reached across the table and grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t go. I’m sorry.” She pulled a sad, pleading puppy dog face. “Please.”

She giggled when Micah relaxed back in his chair. “Micah doesn’t drink,” she announced. She raised her half-empty glass. “Can you believe it? He’s my designated driver. Except that we walked here. He’s my designated walker!” She lifted her drink to her lips and emptied it.

She slammed her glass down and locked eyes with Micah. “I want to dance. With you.”

He slowly reached his hand out and lifted her to the dance floor. She leaned into him and swayed with the music. It was so different than with Karl-Heinz. He held her gently, stroking her hair. He didn’t grope her like she was a sex toy. She wondered why.

She looked up at him, and soaked in his beautiful, brown eyes. “Are you gay?”

His eyebrows jumped. “No.”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

Micah swallowed. “Yes.”

“Do you know what Maurice told me?”

“Uh, nope.”

“His wife was the sun to his
moon
. He said that. She’s dead now, but
she
was the sun to his moon. Isn’t that romantic? He said he got that from my
song
.”

Micah laughed a little. “It’s a great song.”

“So, why don’t you like me?”

His eyes grew sad again. “I do like you, Katja. Very much. But you’ve been drinking, and you’re probably not going to like having this conversation now. Let’s save it until later, okay?”

“Okay.” Katja rested her head against his chest. Micah was such a nice guy. Such a good, decent, nice guy. His prissy, judgmental mother was right about her. She wasn’t good enough for her son.

Katja woke up the next morning on the sofa bed in Micah’s living room with a splitting headache and no recollection of how she got there. She still wore the clothes she had on the day before, so Micah obviously hadn’t felt comfortable stripping her and putting her into her night T-shirt. She was glad of it. She already had far too much to be mortified over.

Her jeans cut into her knees and her stomach. She eased the top button open to relieve the pressure. The room swirled when she attempted to sit up. She had to get to the bathroom. She really had to pee. And she thought she might throw up.

It was too much to hope for that she would’ve forgotten the night before. No, she remembered everything. Every shameful thing. Her smutty dance with Karl-Heinz, the horrible things she said about Micah right in front of him. Her questions and confessions.

Ugh.

And then there was the whole fiasco before it with his
über-
domineering mother. The anger she felt at Micah for making her pretend she didn’t live here, like she was a dirty little secret, bubbled up again.