“Sorry,” I said. “My mind sometimes goes to… places.”
“Happens to the best of us,” she said. “So why is it such a big surprise for you to have a good time?”
I sighed. “I’m warning you, it’s a long story.”
“It’s a beautiful night. If it gets too late, I’ll give you a ride home. Don’t worry about it.”
Melany’s eyes searched mine and I looked away, my heart pounding like a kick drum. No, Kendra. Don’t.
She was so hot though, and that wasn’t the alcohol talking. It’d been such a long time since I’d felt any kind of romantic spark with anyone, and I couldn’t deny that something was going on here. But I knew I couldn't get involved. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t handle having feelings for someone else, and I knew I didn’t want to just hook up, either. I wasn’t ready for anything like that. I didn’t think I could handle it.
How far back do I go with this story? How much do I want to tell her?
I started with Max’s story, but once I started going, everything just started to spill out of me. I ended up telling her the entire story; about how I’d been cheated on, how it’d killed my ability to drum, how I’d lost my mojo. I talked and talked, venting seven months of pent-up stress, and Melany listened quietly. By the end of it, we’d stopped and sat on a bench looking out over the river.
“And, yeah. I’m pretty much fucked if I can’t make up the amount of money I’m losing.”
“Wow,” she said.
I cringed, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Hearing about the baggage of some person you just met is probably not your idea of a good date.” She looked at me, and I realized what I’d said. “I mean… It’s not a date. It’s… oh, fuck me.” I buried my face in my hands.
Melany laughed, and I was surprised to feel her reach around my shoulder and give me a hug. My body pressed against her—she was warm, and her touch was oddly comforting. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “I asked for the long story, you gave it to me. And we don’t need to call this anything. We’re just two girls who haven’t been on a date in a long-ass time enjoying each other’s company. I don’t know about you, Kendra, but I needed this. It’s always nice to vent, and I needed a distraction from my work. I’m glad we’re out on our—whatever this is.”
She released me from her embrace, and I straightened up. My heart was still beating hard, but it wasn’t in an anxious way. I felt relaxed.
“Me too,” I smiled.
“So, I guess you’ll be out drumming again, then? I know you’ll make a killing doing it.”
“Yeah, I will. I don’t have a choice, unless I can find other work. But it’s hard to find a job around here—even the restaurants aren’t hiring.”
Melany nodded.
I looked around. It was a weeknight, so the dinner crowd had thinned out, and now only a few late stragglers strolled around the walk. “Wow, I was talking for a while. I didn’t even realize how late it is.”
She looked at her phone. “Mm. You’re right.”
My heart skipped a beat when she reached down and gave my thigh a playful squeeze. “We could continue this conversation back at my place, if you’d like? We could pop open another bottle of wine, and I’d love to show you my records. I have a great sound system we can play them on.”
Dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum. My pulse raced. “No, I’m okay.” The words rose to my lips, but then they got stuck there. I was so accustomed to turning people down.
Instead, I said, “Yeah,” and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
Melany grinned. “Awesome.” She pointed with her thumb. “My car is parked over there. Shall we?”
The moment we pulled into her building, I found myself wondering about just how successful Melany was. The place was in an old brick warehouse that had been renovated into modern, luxury condos. Just from the lobby, I could tell that this was a place I’d never be able to afford to live in—I mean, she had a private elevator for a front door! When we got up to the condo, I did my best to seem unaffected by just how damn nice the place was.
It had a huge, semi-open floor plan, with polished stone floors and huge windows that overlooked the city. The lights in the place slowly lit up on their own, and Melany went over to the kitchen and got out a bottle of wine from a special wine cooler that rose out of the floor. Out of the floor! Over by the windows was a sectioned off office space, and in the middle of the condo was a large leather sofa set in front of a gas fireplace bordered by shelves of vinyl records. On the opposite side of the condo from the living room area was a metal spiral staircase that led up to a bedroom up above.
“I love your place,” I said.
“Thank you,” Melany replied, handing me a glass of red wine. “Small portion, just to keep our buzz going.”
“Thanks.”
She walked over to the living room area and tapped the back of her couch. “Take a seat. What do you want to listen to? I’ve got everything from jazz to Japanese alt-rock to Norwegian death metal.”
“It’s not drums, but you got any George Benson?”