“Oh. Yeah, of course.”
There’s a beat of silence as he keeps walking.
I call out after him. “You mean like a business dinner?”
“No. Like a date,” he answers without looking back.
Oh…
I guess I should have known we would be going on dates considering our agreement.
Very public dates.
I mean, if people can’t see us, what’s the point? And I know he is a Hardin. I know he has a lot of money and can spend a lot of money and is worth a lot of money but this…I guess for some reason I just wasn’t expecting this.
We are having dinner at the Rise, a steakhouse at the top of one of Charlotte’s tallest buildings. From here, I can see the entire Queen City– the stadium, the Bank of America Building, even the amusement park in the distance, lit roller coasters and all.
We have a candlelit table covered in a black cloth next to the railing. There’s a private bar and fairy lights and jazz music playing. And suddenly I am having flashbacks of Vegas.
“This is lovely,” I say as I pick up my wine glass and take a sip. It tastes expensive. Everything here is expensive.
“Do you like it?” he asks, smiling from across the table. The light from the candle casts shadows across his face, accentuating the flecks of silver on his temples.
“I mean if it makes the people with the cameras happy–”
“There’s no cameras here,” he cuts me off.
I smile and glance around. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I look back at him. “How do you know?”
With that, he just smiles. It’s a small smile. Only about a third of a smile. But a smile, nonetheless. “Because I paid to make sure there wouldn’t be.”
I smile, narrow my eyes and smile again. “You have to pay to keep the paparazzi at bay?”
“I’m a Hardin. I have to pay for everything. But…sometimes it’s worth it.”
He adds another third to that modest smile, giving me almost a whole one, and I smile too. Our food and drinks come– a center cut sirloin with roasted red potatoes and garlic asparagus and a caprese chicken with a candied pecan salad– and the waitress tops our wine glasses off.
“So, how’s the studio?” he asks after taking a bite of his steak.
I bite my lips in a smile and shake my head. “It’s unbelievable. You do know where I come from. I am used tostudios in the back of chain guitar stores and janky garage set ups. This is…I don’t belong here.”
Callum leans in. Close enough that I can smell him. Close enough that I can taste him. His stormy blue eyes lock on mine and his jaw tenses in seriousness.
“Yes. You do. I wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t.”
I pick up my glass and trace the rim with my thumb.
“No offense, Callum, but you hardly looked at my profile.”
“That’s true. But I did look at what mattered. And I listened to your tapes. I fell in love with– I really liked your tapes, Amanda. You have raw talent. And in a world where art is literally being smothered by technology and greed, raw is hard to find.”
I study him, trying to decide how much of myself I want to give. But between those words, his eyes and the way being this close to him makes me feel, I can’t lie to myself. And I can’t hold the walls up anymore.
“Music saved my life. It saves my life every day.”
