He smiled, and it immediately lifted the darkness hovering around his eyes. His sadness wasn’t hard to see, a wound not quite healed. I didn’t know who hurt him or when it happened, but I knew some days were harder than others. He didn’t brood, but carried a heavy load and sometimes it was plain to see. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Leaning close, I asked, “Want to know what I think?” He nodded and his hand skimmed down my back, landing low on my waist. Right where I needed him. There was no point playing coy when all I wanted was more Sam, and right now, I was ready to make some demands. “I think we should have some drinks and some dances. Then we’ll get the hell out of here and I’ll let you get pervy on me at The Middle East. And then we go back to my place and see what happens.”
“You want that?” he whispered.
“Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said, his breath rushing out over my cheek. “I do.”
Grabbing his hand, I towed him to the bar. Despite the crush of people vying for the bartender’s attention, Sam caught his eye immediately. We knew this routine well—drinks, music, storytelling—and we laughed through the first two rounds while catching each other up on life since the weekend.
His updates often centered on his work projects, but his siblings made frequent appearances. They were different from my family, and their business was nothing like the restaurant, but I couldn’t understand how he put up with their insane involvement in his life.
The whole idea made me itchy.
He knew I wasn’t especially tight with my family, but I spared him the gory details of it all. Instead, he asked about my courses, studio time, and sessions with my little friends. He said it was strange that I called so many people friends. I didn’t share that concern.
Tonight, he was pumped about a new renovation he was starting on Monday, and when he mentioned it was Eddie Turlan’s new house, I slapped both hands over my mouth to keep from screaming.
It was a pee-your-pants-at-a-swanky-club kind of moment for me.
“I could play all The Vials’ songs by the time I was ten,” I said. “Have you ever heard punk rock violin?”
“No,” he said with a smile. “But I’m not supposed to say anything about it. Pretend you didn’t hear that. They have an extensive non-disclosure agreement.”
“Because they don’t want people like me creeping on their new house,” I said.
“That, and they’re hoping to bundle the restoration with a special anniversary release of an old acoustic performance in Paris. They figure they can get some architecture and design magazine coverage, and cross-promote.”
“The Vials, acoustic in Paris?” I repeated. “I must have it. Do you know I’d listen to a recording of a garbage disposal if it was acoustic in Paris?”
“I do now,” Sam laughed.
An endless string of runway-ready women passed by our table, each one gifting Sam with their standard-issue Fuck Me hair-flipping then glaring at me as if I was the garden gnome he was forced to tote around for the evening.
He was accustomed to this. He enjoyed it, too.
And I hated pretty much everything about that.
“How many hearts have you broken this week?” I asked.
Sam sent me a bitter expression. “I don’t break hearts. I don’t go anywhere near hearts.”
I knew that was his take on reality, and I knew he liked an appropriate amount of distance between himself and the world. I existed in a strange little pocket of his life, and I was only there because I kept bullying my way in.
“Hearts broken, cherries popped. Same thing,” I said.
“Not doing any of that either.”
“Maybe not intentionally.” I wiggled my empty glass at him.
I knew I was poking the beehive, and Sam did not like it. But I needed to know whether he was still trolling the club scene for hook-ups, even if it hurt to hear the truth. Even if it meant I wasn’t going to get what I wanted.
He picked it up and signaled to the bartender for another. “No one gets their heart broken over a hook-up,” he said.
“So you’ve never been with the same chick twice?”
He shrugged in that tight, impatient manner he acquired when the conversation veered a little too far beyond his comfort zone. “When would I even have time? I’m scouring the city with you and the rest of the band geeks every goddamn night.”
