Outside the jazz club, small flurries blow around in the wind. It’s as though New York City has been turned upside down, and the snow doesn’t know where to land.
It’s 9:28 p.m.
“Do you have to go?” Rooney asks, catching me looking at my watch. A dusting of snow gathers on her shoulders.
I linger near her. “What’s the alternative?”
“We can walk.”
“Just… walk around?” I ask. “Do you have a plan? Are there any places you want me to see?”
“That’s the beauty of the city,” Rooney says, holding her hands up toward the skyscrapers. “You don’t need a plan. Life will unfold in front of us, depending on which corner we turn down. I’m always discovering new places this way.”
“So, no plan.” I prefer plans. No, I require them. I need to know how long something will take. When can I expect to be back at my hotel? Is where we’ll be walking safe? There are too many unknowns without a plan. And yet. “You’re not too cold?”
She shakes her head. “Not if we walk fast enough. Trust me, this’ll be fun.”
I pinch my eyebrows together. I don’t trust. I verify. Every last measurement. Every last approach. Every potential problem. And Ihave a sneaky suspicion Rooney could be a problem. A cute problem. I never know what to expect from her. But that’s part of the allure. I want to figure her out, understand her mysteries and every inch of her unknowns.
I’m still riding my high from the jazz club. “Trust you? I guess I’ll have to. As long as the lights are still on.” I nod up at the full moon before snapping my fingers and singing, “Oooh.” Rooney joins in on the snaps and “oooh-ing.”
“You really can play,” she says, the beginning of a smile forming. The constellation on her cheek lifts when her mouth grows wider.
I drag my focus from her smile to her sparkling eyes. “The truth is, I’m an even better singer.”
“I don’t know how you’re not headlining concerts,” she says as we stroll down the block aimlessly. “Unless you are… are you a professional musician?”
“I’m flattered,” I say. “I started playing the bass and cello in high school. It’s an instrument designed to collaborate. I liked that.”
She nods slowly. “A real team player.”
She’s the only one who seems to think so.
“I like being part of something bigger than myself,” I reveal.
“So there is a band.”
I tuck my hands into my pockets. “Not quite. I play for me, not for others. Certainly not in public like that. In fact, I haven’t played in front of anyone since I was a teenager.”
She gently bumps me. “The world deserves to know your talent.”
I grin at her. The buzz from the performance still has control over me.
It was a bar full of people. Yet there was only Rooney.
“How far is Times Square from here?” I ask.
Rooney laughs. “You don’t want to go there.”
“Isn’t that quintessential New York? I can’t come to the city and not visit it.” I soak in the view of all the buildings towering over us.
She breathes in deeply. “That’s exactly what you should do. Trust me. Don’t ever go there.”
I stand firmly in place and cross my arms. “I want to go to Times Square.”
“Jack, have you ever been punched in the face before?” She sounds serious.
“No.”
