Gemma O'Neill took a seat at the dim bar in The Garrison, taking in the gilded mirrors and what appeared to be antique light fixtures. It wasn't the normal club decor she was used to, but she appreciated the beauty of the design.
She reached down to take her phone out of her bag, and pulled her head up as she heard a low and gravelly voice speaking from the other side of the long bar top.
"Can I get you something, love?"
Her eyes met clear grey blue gazing back at her, a small smile to match, on the face of one beautiful man.
"Oh yea, thanks. Could I get a Coke, please?" She responded, and you too, she thought to herself.
He raised an eyebrow slightly at the non-alcoholic request, then smiled and nodded his head, grabbing a clean glass from below. Gemma watched him pour the Coke from a tap, taking in his presence. The severe undercut hairstyle, which would look ridiculous on anyone else, only accentuated his bone structure and the piercings in both ears. His sleeves were rolled up, and she could see the muscles in his forearm flexing against a tattoo, a silver bracelet at his wrist, the engraved signet ring on his left pinkie.
He placed the glass in front of her on a napkin, and leaned forward slightly. It wasn't often a girl came in alone to The Garrison, much less one that sat at the bar and ordered just a soda. He was intrigued.
"New around here?" He said casually, catching her eye.
"That obvious with my accent?" She said, smiling back.
"A bit, yeah. And I'd remember if I've seen you here." He responded.
"Been in Birmingham a few months."
"And what brings you The Garrison tonight?"
His accent was making him even more attractive, if that was possible. Gemma was surprised she could keep speaking evenly.
"I work for a record label in A&R. I'm interested in hearing the band headlining here tonight, figured I'd check out the full lineup."
"Coventry? They're big around here. Personally, I'm a fan of The Cut, they're up second."
He looked up and saw a group hanging at the other end of the bar, and groaned internally, before pushing himself back up to standing.
"If you need anything, just call for me. I'm John." He said, smiling once more at her.
"Gemma." She responded.
John nodded and grinned at her before sauntering down to the other end of the bar. She watched his shoulders strain against his shirt, the wallet chain hanging from the pocket of tight jeans.
Gem, you are so fucked.
John had watched Gemma from the corner of his eye through the first band's set, noting how she really paid attention, smiling when she liked a song, making some notes on her phone. He watched her flip her wavy hair to the side as she took a sip of her Coke, and how her eyes looked up at him, holding his gaze for the longest beat of his life. She smirked at him and turned her attention back to the stage at the front of The Garrison.
He had intended to go back to her in between sets, but the bar was flooded with orders and by the time he'd finished, The Cut had walked out on stage.
Gemma paid close attention to the second band, if John liked them she at least hoped they were decent. If he had bad taste in music, it wouldn't be a dealbreaker, but she'd certainly take note. As if there is a deal here, Gem. Though he was watching me. She glanced back over to John, and saw that he was slowly making his way back in her direction, a little closer with every song.
She had to admit that The Cut had promise, rough around the edges, but with some time and direction, she could see a long career for them. She propped her hand up on the edge of the bar, making some additional notes in her phone, and when she looked up, the grey blue gaze was back.
"So, what did you think?" John asked, as the The Cut wrapped their last song and moved off stage.
"Definitely promising, and I can see why the girls love them." Gemma responded and laughed, motioning to the groups of girls towards the front the stage.
John smiled back at her, reached for her glass, and refilled it. He felt her hazel eyes watching him, and he knew he was hooked already. He set her glass back down on the bar top, and leaned forward like he had earlier, coming more directly into her eye line. Gemma watched him for a moment, taking in his lightly freckled skin, the chain she could see dipping underneath his shirt. She reached out for the glass and their fingers brushed. They stayed in the moment, fingers touching, eyes locked, hearts pounding. It was a rare encounter, when you could feel the power of it coursing through you. Electric.
"So, um, after tonight, what's next on your show list?" John said, gruffly, before slowly pulling his fingers away.
"A placed called The Armory, next Friday? There's a band that's been sending demos to the label, they've got a slot that night, figured I'd see what they're like live. It's the most important aspect to me." Gemma responded, her eyes lingering on his chain as it flickered slightly in the dim lighting.
That caught John's attention, and he snapped back to reality a bit more.
"I know you're an independent American girl and all, but The Armory … it's not in the best neighborhood, and a lot of fights break out in that pub. How about I meet up with you and we can go together?"
"You won't be working?"
"Nah, the boss likes me, I can get the night off."
"Alright then, let's do it."
"Hand me your phone, so I can put my number in?"
Gemma gave him a smile, knowing exactly what he was doing, but unlocked and handed over her phone. He took it and she watched his hands as he typed in his number and then sent himself a text. He could feel her watching him and it was doing things to his mind that no girl had done in a long, long time.
"There. Now you can call me whenever, which I hope is soon. Don't leave tonight without saying goodbye, yeah?" John said, giving her the head nod and winking at her.
Gemma nodded back and smiled. What is it with the guy head nod? Coventry began their set and she turned back towards the stage.
As the room cleared out a bit after Coventry finished for the night (Gemma hadn't been that impressed anyway), she caught sight of The Cut's bassist heading over to the bar. He started talking to John animatedly, and John smiled back, teasingly clapping the side of his head and rubbing his hair. He said something quietly in the younger man's ear, and after a moment, John looked down towards Gemma and waved her over. She walked slowly over to the other end of the bar, trying not to smile as John took her in. Absolutely fucked, he thought to himself.
"Gemma, this is Finn, from The Cut." John said as Finn turned and smiled at Gemma.
"And also John's little brother." He responded.
"Oh, so that's why you pushed The Cut so hard with me, John. Makes all the sense now. Great set, Finn, you all have a really unique sound." Gemma said, laughing at the look on John's face.
"I hope you'll come back in a few weeks to hear us again?" Finn said hopefully.
"Count on it. I'll be here."
"Hey I gotta go help the other guys load out, so I'll see you soon then. Goodnight, Gemma." Finn said, as he grabbed his beer.
"Oh, and by the way? John owns this place. Night, bro!" Finn said quickly before turning and running off, laughing.
"Well that is an interesting piece of news. What do I call you as the owner of this fine establishment, Mr…?" Gemma said, turning fully to face John, who was rubbing his hand behind his head.
"Look, I don't like to tell people straight off, sometimes it just gets weird. But yes, I own The Garrison, as part of Shelby Company Limited, my family's business. So that's Mr. Shelby to you, Ms. Gemma …?"
"O'Neill. Gemma O'Neill."
"A pretty Irish name for a pretty American girl." John mused, as he leaned far over the bar top.
They were so closed he could've kissed her, but instead, he just gently touched Gemma's cheek.
"Expect a call from me tomorrow, Ms. Gemma O'Neill."
"I'm holding you to that." She responded, reaching up to adjust one of his earrings that had twisted itself, and then trailing her fingers down his jaw.
"I will. And I never break my word." He responded, voice low and charged.
A voice nearby interrupted them and John internally groaned as he pushed himself up to a standing position. Gemma slung her bag over her shoulder, and smiled at him again, knowing it was exactly the right time to walk out.
"Goodnight, Mr. Shelby. Talk to you tomorrow."
"Get home safe, Gemma. Text me when you're in, alright?"
She nodded, smiled at him once more, and turned to go out into the night. John wanted nothing more to walk her home, but he was short a bartender, and there were still a few hours left before last call. You are beyond fucked, mate. You are in. Hook, line, and sinker.