Page 86

The lamp clicks off, and we’re in near darkness.

Silence settles over the room. Outside, traffic hums somewhere far below us. Inside, I can hear Bea breathing in the darkness.

Every shift of the sheets reminds me she’s right there. Bare legs beneath an oversized shirt. Hair spread over the pillow. Close enough that I could cross the room in three steps.

I keep my hands where they are.

“Cal?”

“Yeah.”

“For what it’s worth.” She hesitates. “I meant what I said. At the bar. About those people.”

“I know.”

“I just—” She stops, and I hear her shuffle. “I don’t think they understand the power of music.”

“Careful, Doc. You’re going to become one of them. Give it a few years, and you’ll be asking when I plan to find a real job.”

I deliver it lightly, but she doesn’t take the bait.

“I won’t,” she says. “I think you’re pretty amazing, actually.”

Something uncomfortable presses beneath my ribs.

“Keep talking like that and the cold shower would turn out to be a complete waste of time.”

Her laugh is soft in the darkness. “Did you ever want to be anything other than a musician?”

“Nah.”

Outside, a car passes, distant, and the room settles back into quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“Sure.”

“Why do you close yourself off?” she asks. “Sometimes I think we’re becoming friends, and then you put the walls back up. It’s like you don’t want me to know anything real about you.”

My first instinct is to make a joke. Ask whether this is part of the tutoring service. Tell her my mysterious nature is half the appeal.

But… I don’t. Maybe it’s easier because I can’t see her face. Maybe it’s because it’s Bea.

Either way, I take a deep breath, then a risk.

“There was a woman a while ago. Issy.”

I fold one arm behind my head, staring at the ceiling I can’t see.

“We were paired together for some promotional campaign. Dinners, interviews, events. At first, she was just another person I had to smile beside for photographs. Somewhere around the fourth dinner, I stopped performing around her.”

She’s very still across the room.

“She was funny. Actually funny, not famous funny where everyone laughs at nothing. She could catch me off guard.”

I rub my thumb along my jaw.

“It wasn’t romantic between us. I just liked her as a friend, and I trusted her. Which, in hindsight, was much fucking worse.”