“So, you’re building guitars?” She had a little stutter in the first syllable of the last word. She didn’t repeat it, just took time to utter it.
“Pedalboards, pre-amps, designing a few prototypes, and set upping and fixing guitars to bring out their best potential. Not building them.”
“Yet.” She had a cheeky, big smile on.
I smiled. “Yet.”
“Where in Italy?” she asked. “Your accent,” she added by way of explaining the change in topic.
“Milano.”
“I had a friend who loved AC Milan.”
“An American who loves European soccer?” I said, thinking about my tattoo. “Rio. That’s a unique name.”
“You know Duran Duran?”
“I think so.” I accompanied my laughter with a wink. “You’re Rio from the song?”
“My name is Rio, and I should be dancing on the sand now.” She chuckled, quoting the lyrics. Her large brown eyes under her bangs were warm and kind. “My mom loved that song when she was pregnant with me.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” I said.
“She named my older brother Simon, but I guess that wasn’t enough for her.” She chuckled.
“After Simon Le Bon? That’s one committed fan!” I laughed, too.
“Well, I just wanted to say ‘hi.’ If you need anything, I’ll be over there.” Rio gestured with her head in the general direction of the shop.
“Thanks. I’ll keep my sound tests low, but let me know if it gets loud.”
“Will do.” She turned to leave then pivoted again, her face illuminated. “And … June’s great.” The G stuck in her throat again. She stumbled a bit on velar consonants. I knew what those were thanks to Amber’s vocal coaching lessons.
I pursed my lips in a tight smile, nodded, and hiked my brows up in ashe sure is. I didn’t know about June being great, but the Ragazza Whisperer in me had just concluded Rio.Wonderful, caring friend, has a lot to give, an introverted extrovert, a disconcerted heart, needs someone special to notice her.
Now the Great June, who sang terribly, entered her apartment, hung her canvas bag and jacket on a stylish hook by the door, left her keys in the bowl, and walked toward the kitchen.
“Hey,” I said from my place on the narrow rectangle balcony that opened from the large window in the living room.
“Hi.” She seemed surprised to see me stepping back into the apartment from there.
“Discovered it today when I watered your plants.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“Two of them are dying, so I didn’t water them because they were already soaked.”
Her face fell, and she stopped midway to the kitchen, her shoulders drooping. “Frank and Estelle. I was hoping if I watered them, they’d make it.” It seemed like she was mumbling this to herself.
“Frank and Estelle?”
“Oh.” She made a dismissive hand gesture, and her face turned red. “It’s … nothing.” Continuing toward the kitchen, she made atsksound and sighed then mumbled as if memorizing an addition to her to-do list, “I’ll buy new ones.”
My guitar case was leaning against the breakfast bar. Without even stopping, June swooped it up, detoured, and placed it next to the sofa, where it had been yesterday. She then returned to the kitchen, her original destination.
“Are these the parents’ names fromSeinfeld?”
“Oh.” She scoffed. “Yes. My sister names cars; I name my plants. No big deal.” She looked embarrassed about this little revelation but smiled softly as if we just discovered mutual acquaintances. “There are always four, and I do my best, but they keep dying, and I buy new ones, and …” She sighed again. Then, as if remembering something, said, “You’re familiar withSei—”
