The smile she gave me was tight and didn’t hold its usual joy.
“What’s the matter?”
“The music. It still hasn’t happened for me.”
I firmed my hand around hers. “You’re producing new melodies, right? You just said so.”
“But no lyrics. I’m a writer. I put the words to the music, and I don’t have any words yet.”
I moved closer, cupping the side of her face. “Yet,” I emphasized. “You’re on your way. I can feel it in my gut,” I said before kissing her forehead.
Lena wasn’t convinced. The doubtful gleam in her eyes revealed as much. But my instincts told me she was closer to writing than she realized. The words would come.
“Let’s go have dinner with your parents.”
She grabbed her clutch and her phone, and we were out of her room five minutes later. Our car was already in the garage, waiting for us at the private entrance.
The drive from our hotel took about thirty minutes. I grumbled about being in the car for thirty minutes and only going a few blocks down the damn road. Lena laughed and reminded me that it was more than a few blocks.
Whatever. There was too much traffic in this city for me.
“I’ll agree with you there. LA is worse, to be honest.” She sighed. “Both are terrible.”
“Overpopulated.” I shuddered.
“You’re just a fan of the Lone Star State.”
“Hell yeah, I am. Best out of all fifty of ’em.”
She laughed. We joked back and forth as we rode, past one building after another that all looked the same to me.
“That’s where I recorded my first album,” she said, pointing at one of them. It wasn’t as tall as the ones flanking it. She talked about the studio on the third floor where she’d recorded.
Briefly, I wondered how much she missed the city. Either New York or Los Angeles. I was already planning on how to keep her in Harlington. The thought should’ve scared the shit out of me, but it didn’t.
“We’re here,” she said after a while.
I got out first and waved the driver away, opting to hold the door open myself.
“Lena? Is that you?” a woman’s voice came up behind me.
I turned to find a woman a few inches shorter than Lena and a few shades darker, but other than that could very well be a dead ringer for the woman on my arm.
“I thought so,” the woman said.
“Hey, Ma,” Lena said, leaning in to kiss her mother. “Where’s Daddy?” Lena looked around.
“He’s speaking with the hostess, making sure we get the best table in the house. You know they tried to sit us by the kitchen. I am not having that all night.” She sucked her teeth before her eyes wandered over to me.
Lena let out a slight groan.
“Who are you?” Lena’s mother asked, staring at me.
“Ma, this is my friend, Gabriel Townsend.”
I glared down at Lena.
“Friend my ass.”
