"I'm surprised that hasn't caught on as a fashion trend," I said.
She tipped her head back and laughed. "Don't encourage the fashion industry. That might be their next big thing. I can see it now, paraded on the runway as haute couture. Superhero couture."
I snorted. "Maybe I should design something myself. I could make a fortune."
I wouldn't. Firstly, that would look ridiculous, and secondly, I didn't need a fortune. I already had one I was trying to spend.
"I want to be front row center at your fashion show," she said.
"Absolutely not." I shook my head. "You're going to be right there on the runway, modeling."
She giggled at that but said, "You're the only person in the world I'd do that for, but please don't ask me to."
"The more you talk about it, the more I want to," I joked. "I could call it superhero chic."
"Does anyone else know how big a nerd you are?" she teased.
"Only you, and only because you're just as big a nerd as I am. Aren't you the one who wants to write music for Broadway? And then move on to movies?"
"That's not nerdy, that's epic," she said with a playful sniff. "Imagine it. My name on the screen at the end of a movie. Right up there with whichever Hemsworth or whoever it is…" Her smile was dreamy.
"I want that for you," I said honestly.
I could make that happen tomorrow, if she'd let me. I could hire her to produce a movie, write the music, do all the things she wanted to. I wouldn't. She'd hate it if I gave her a shortcut like that. She wanted to earn it and she would. There was no doubt in my mind. She deserved it and more.
"I know you do," she said. "I want you to be happy too. Do you think you'll ever get back on stage?"
"I don't know, I'm rusty," I said. "I haven't played much for the last few years. Not for anyone else anyway." Every couple of days I'd sit down at the piano in the corner of my apartment and play and sing to myself. Softly because I didn't want to disturb the neighbors. Even though the walls were thick and they probably wouldn't hear a thing, I always felt like they would. Like they'd bang on the walls and insist I be quiet.
At some point in my life, I got good at making myself small.
"You should come to rehearsal with me," she said. "Play along with us. For old times’ sake, if nothing else. I know you must miss music."
"I do," I said softly. "Maybe I will. I don't know."
She looked like she was going to suggest she turn up at my apartment and drag me there, but she didn't. She knew I'd be there when I was ready, if I was ready, not before. Sometimes I thought she was a better friend than I deserved.
"It's there for you whenever you want to turn up. Let me know and I'll tell you when and where," she said. "I guess I should let you go and finish getting ready for your date."
She gave me a sly smile and added, "Please tell me you're wearing matching underwear. Preferably something lacy, sexy and red. Or black. I'll accept black." She nodded as she spoke.
"You might not know this about me," I said slowly, "but I always wear matching underwear. You know what my mother would have said."
I raised my voice to a higher pitch. "You never know when you might have an accident. You wouldn't want the ambulance people to see you in mismatched underwear." As if somehow that was a great crime.
"Okay, but don't forget sexy," Savannah said. "You want something he can peel off you."
He wasn't going to be peeling anything off me tonight, but I wore underwear that made me feel cute. Maybe a little sexy.
"Noted," I said. "Don't worry, I have it covered."
"Not too covered." She grinned again.
I groaned. I'd walked right into that one, hadn't I?
I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Covered enough."
"You're going to have the best time," she said. "And if not, tell him goodnight and go home. Remember, you don't owe him anything. If he's boring, you're allowed to leave."
