in me before, she’s probably thinking his interest will only increase if he knows how well I can play.
“You play….?” Zack looks at me with interest in his eyes. I know he wants me to finish what Mia started. I don’t. Instead I just shrug.
“Nothing. It was a long time ago.” I reach out to take Mia’s arm. “Come on. I’ll help you out.”
I look back to Zack and smile weakly. “If that’s okay?”
He takes one step closer to me, his eyes darkening as he looks me up and down. I start to wonder if someone increased the temperature because my body feels ten degrees warmer. It’s shocking he can do this to me. It’s even more shocking I’m not turning away and running out of here in fear; yet.
“Interesting.” His voice is deeper, huskier.
I swallow, taking a minute to calm down and figure out why him looking at me like this causes my heart race in all sorts of ways that have nothing to do with the thought of music.
“What is?”
He gazes directly into my eyes and then frowns. I feel like he’s searching into me, trying to figure out all the half-truths and carefully worded responses tonight and unravel the woman before him. It works. I feel completely unraveled as he stares at me saying nothing.
One side of his lips twitch.
“You are.” And then he winks at me playfully. He waves towards the large crate of guitars sitting on the right side of the stage. There must be at least thirty acoustic and electric guitars hanging from the hooks inside and my jaw drops in awe. I had no idea he would need all of those for a concert. “Knock yourselves out. We need to get practicing.”
Mia tugs my arm gently in the direction of the guitars but I can’t move yet. He hasn’t taken his eyes off mine and I know I’m blushing ten different shades of red right now.
“Close your mouth,” she whispers to me. I snap it shut, not even realizing I had it dropped and scowl at her.
“I can’t believe you did that to me.”
“I told you he was interested. He totally wants you.” I cringe at her sing-song voice.
“Shut up and tune the guitars,” I mutter and walk over to the crate and peer at an entire row of Martin acoustics and Fender Stratocaster guitars. They’re all so beautiful I hesitate to take one off its hook. Mia, on the other hand, doesn’t hesitate for a second. She peers along the row as if looking for something specific. With a sly grin, she sighs and removes a Martin OM decorated with black and blue bolts across the front.
At my raised eyebrow she holds it out to me and explains, “This is what he played on The Morning Show a few months ago.”
I roll my eyes. “How do you even know all this?”
“Celeb gossip dot com.” I laugh at her ability to memorize the most inane facts about her favorite rock star, but somehow forget to pay her parking tickets.
We zone out, tuning guitars left and right, not even sure if he’ll need them all. But I admit I’m lost in the moment and the atmosphere. It’s been years since I have sat with Mia and tuned a guitar waiting for her to play me something so I can accompany her on the keyboard. I watch Zack out of my eye, as he and his band practice the beginnings of a few songs for their sound check.
But then, a vaguely familiar guitar riff begins to play. I look at Zack and freeze. His eyes are down on his hands, mouth pressed close to the microphone.
He croons into the microphone, the same beginning verse that has haunted me for the last year. “Where were you then….”
It takes a split second, and I see them.
“Mommy, dance with us mommy.” Andrew’s soft hand presses against my clammy cheek.
I sniff, my voice sounds scratchy and weak. “Mommy’s too sick today honey.”
I drop the guitar in my hands as if it just caught on fire and burned me. I look at my hands. They’re shaking and tingling. They feel like they’re being pricked by a thousand needles and I can’t stop the feeling as it travels up my arms. I clench my fists tightly and breathe.
This will not break me. I can do this. I can listen to this without terror. I unclench my fists and rub them roughly against my thighs, trying to erase the tingling.