“Water is fine. Thanks.” I approached the island and poked the hanging pots and pans overhead that looked unused.
Rick poured two glasses from the fridge’s filter and handed me one, then led us further into the house. The modern decor and open-plan living room would be great for a party, but gave off the vibe of a place where you’re not allowed to touch anything. Not a museum, as those had pictures on the walls. Here, there were just empty hooks with a tell-tale discoloration on the paint job below, suggesting they used to hold frames that were now gone.
A picture of two boys with, presumably, their parents stood on a shelf next to several books about music. A Hawks Cay keepsake frame held a photo of a teenage Rick and a boy a bit older than him but with similar features. His brother? He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place where I knew him from. They were grinning, holding a large fish, as a pole lay at their feet.
“Come on.” Rick’s voice accompanied his hand on my shoulder and I turned away from prying into his personal life.
We passed a closed door that Rick didn’t acknowledge, then another that was fitted with high-end gym equipment.
“My favorite room is here.” Rick pulled open a door with foam padding on the other side of it and I grinned seeing what was inside.
It was every musician’s dream studio—and packed with instruments from floor to ceiling. Several electric and acoustic guitars lined the far wall while the opposite corner had a drum set, a keyboard, and a synthesizer.
“The room is soundproof, so don’t worry about neighbors.” Rick sat on the chair next to a magnificent Marshall amplifier.
“So no one can hear me scream in here?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“Not if you close the door, no.” Rick’s gaze was a lick of heat on my skin and I realized what kind of screaming was on his mind. Yes, please.
“Do you play all of those?” I gestured at the variety of instruments.
“Yeah, but not all of them well.” He rubbed his nape and his hair fell forward, covering his face. “You? Your great ear for music must come from somewhere.”
“Mostly keyboard and drums lately, but the first instrument I learned how to play was guitar.”
“Keyboard?” Rick sat up. “Do you know how to use the synths too?”
“I do. Creating an algorithm with the modulator and carrier, figuring out what frequency ratio I need for the sound—it’s like music math.” I grinned. “That’s a good thing. May I?” I waved at the keys.
“Knock yourself out.” Rick pushed the red switch on the power extension cord, and the lights on the keyboard and the guitar amplifier turned on.
Despite so many instruments in the room, there was not a speck of dust on any of them. I took the round stool and touched the keys to feel them under my fingertips. I hadn’t played since I came to Miami and a tendril of excitement swirled in my belly at the prospect.
I was on the spot, Rick’s gaze on me turning my heart rate into a scared rabbit. Then he leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes as if he was expecting nothing less than an overture from me. His laid-back posture and no-judgment behavior, however, put me at ease.
An intro from a well-known rock ballad flew from under my fingertips, and soon, I relaxed into playing, switching to my own song. It was a melody that was a mix of what I’d been working on and a new idea that popped into my head the moment my limbs touched the keyboard.
My upper tentacles unwound from around my arms but I paused, ever self-conscious about using them. It was one thing for people to know I have tentacles, quite another to see me use them as they would hands. Sure, I carried plates in the restaurant but touching Rick’s musical instruments was different.
I chanced a glance at Rick. His eyes remained closed.
I danced my tentacles on the keyboard along with my fingers. My overthinking brain let go and I became one with the instrument, the music flowing through the air, through me. The tune would work perfectly with an aggressive guitar riff for the rock concept I had in my head.
I brought the song to a smooth ending with a slide of my tentacle over the length of the keys.
My cheeks hurt from the grin on my face, my entire being floating from the joy playing had given me. So much so, I was afraid of what Rick might think of it.
One look at him told me he definitely enjoyed what he’d heard.
He’d leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands under his chin. There was no judgment or disgust in his expression, only sparkling excitement that shone in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” I snapped my upper limbs up, wrapping the tentacles around my arms.
“Amazing.” Rick sat up and rolled closer on the office chair. “What was it?”
“Oh, just something I came up with.” Heat crept up my cheeks.Did he really like it?
“Original? Fantastic. The way you—” He gestured at my tentacles shaking his head with a smile. “Magic.”
