Music From Another World - Robin Talley Page 0,53

Guess I should go over.”

“Make him come to you.” Evelyn took a swig of Coke. “Why should women always be at the beck and call of men?”

Kevin coughed, as if he was choking on his soda. Midge chuckled and turned back to glance at Johnny by the door.

I wondered how she and Johnny acted when they were alone together. Did they always walk around with their arms wrapped around each other, the way they had the first night I’d seen them? I tried to picture it…

And then, out of nowhere, I was picturing Midge with a girl.

The image in my mind was sudden and clear. I saw Midge wrapping her arms around a girl’s waist—it was the tall girl I’d seen at another club once, with the thick black mascara and the fishnet gloves—the same way she’d done with Johnny.

Then lying down, propping herself up on her elbow and kissing her, the way Tammy had written about kissing Carolyn.

“You okay?” Kevin pressed a Coke into my hand. “You look like you’re feeling sick.”

“I’m fine!” I said, but I must have said it kind of loudly, because all three of them turned to look at me.

“Maybe we should get going,” Kevin said. Suddenly that sounded like a fantastic idea.

“Okay, well, come by the store if you can, Sharon,” Evelyn said. “Tell whoever’s at the register you know me. We’re having volunteer sessions almost every night now.”

“Cool, thanks.” I twined my fingers into Kevin’s and tugged him toward the door.

As we stepped outside, I lifted the can of Coke and drained it in two swallows, then tossed it into a trash can. We’d left his car a few blocks away, and it was getting cool out, so I started walking fast.

Kevin put his arm around me, and it reminded me of Midge again. I leaned in closer to him as we walked.

“What did you think of the show?” I asked.

“Well, my ears are still ringing, so it’s hard to know for sure.”

“It was cool though, right?”

“Sure.”

He unlocked my door first, the way he always did, then went around to let himself in as I climbed into the car.

“Do you need to go straight home?” he asked as he steered us smoothly onto Broadway and pulled onto the Embarcadero. We rolled up the on-ramp, and as we climbed onto the upper level, I could see the Ferry Building rising up ahead in the dark. “Are you feeling sick?”

“Nah. I’m fine, and Mom won’t notice if I’m late.”

“Want to go get a burger?”

I slid across the seat, closer to him. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Me, neither. How about some music? I just got the Tom Petty album.”

He meant did I want to go parking. We’ve gone almost every time we’ve seen each other for the past week. “For sure, but I don’t know if I’m in the mood for Tom Petty. Got any Pink Floyd?”

He grinned over at me and leaned on the accelerator. “You know it.”

I laughed, and he laughed, too.

I rummaged around on the floor until I found The Dark Side of the Moon, then popped it into the tape deck. The music started up, its eerie notes filling the space between us.

Two songs later, we were pulling onto the grass on the edge of a park off King Street. Half a dozen other cars were lined up nearby, most with the windows fogged up. Somehow, guys always know exactly where to pull over.

The music was pumping through me. It was entirely different from the angry, disjointed music at the show. Pink Floyd is smoother, stranger. Nothing like the jagged rhythms that have become my automatic mental background music whenever I think about Tammy.

And I was thinking about Tammy. I’d been thinking about her ever since we left the club. I’ve had to fight to think about anything but Tammy ever since I read that letter.

I can’t believe I’d been writing to her all that time, and I didn’t know.

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