But one face stands out. Sitting at the bar, a glass of bourbon in his hands, he watches me with a warm, comforting expression. Suddenly, I remember that day on the street in Paris. Just play for me, he said. So, that’s exactly what I do. I imagine there’s not another soul in the room, just his rich chestnut eyes and the proud look on his face. If I’m just playing for him, I couldn’t screw this up if I tried. “Thank you,” I mumble into the mic, and the crowd quiets to a low hush. “My name is Daisy Moon. And this song…is called ‘The Highest Bidder.’”
