by S. M. West
Minutes from Silas’s house, we stop at a restaurant, two streets over from the beach. The Help Wanted sign catches my eye, and while Silas is in the bathroom, I talk with Betty, the owner.
She’s a short, round woman in her early sixties with cropped white hair and she smells like freshly baked cookies. She encourages me to apply, and I use my tablet to email her my résumé on the spot. By the time he returns, I’m convinced I have the job.
“Black coffee for you, my boy?” Betty points her pencil at him.
He nods. “Yes, thanks.”
“And Pansy, what’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a latte and a slice of lemon meringue pie.” I feel like celebrating, splurging on the pie even though I don’t have the job yet.
The minute Betty leaves, I’m unable to contain my excitement. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”
Silas matches my enthusiasm with a twinkle in his eye and flash of a dimple. “What?”
“I think I have a job!”
“You do?” He scrunches his brow, cocks his head to the side, confused.
“Betty, she’s got a position open, and we just got to talking.”
“I told you that you’re more than welcome to stay at my place and take your time figuring out what you want to do.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, I purse my lips. He means well, but his disappointment is written all over his face, and it’s a total buzzkill. It also ticks me off because this is something I want to do, and I’m tired of everyone telling me that every choice I make is stupid or wrong.
“Silas, we’ve already been through this, please don’t do this again. I’m moving out, the sooner, the better, and I need a job. This is a good thing.”
“Fine,” he says, although I can tell by his short tone and hard expression that it’s anything but fine. “I just want to say, one last time, you don’t have to move out. Save every penny.” His voice is now softer, almost pleading.
“Silas, I know this is coming from a good place, but I can’t take this handout from you.”
“It’s not a handout; you’d be doing something for me too. I enjoy your company and I want to get to know you better.”
“I want that too.”
It’s not until I actually say the words that I realize it’s true. I do. I’ve been on the fence even though he wants more. Or at least that’s what I’m getting from his intimate gestures. I’ve been fighting it with everything I’ve got because I don’t want to fall into my old habits.
I’m not boy crazy, but whenever I’ve had a man in my life, I usually move in with him, and I get comfortable. So comfortable that I stop trying. I don’t want to do that anymore. Besides, who knows if Silas and I are even meant to be together?
“I need to do this on my own. It doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.”
He looks away, playing with a few sugar packets, and his jaw ticks, his annoyance evident. I have the urge to appease him and cave, but I won’t this time. I’m sticking to my guns and doing what’s right for me.
“Okay.” His thumb gently rubs the tops of my knuckles.
“Thank you.” I smile, bolstered by his sweet gesture.
He doesn’t return the smile, but his eyes fix on me. How did we get here? I can’t help but wonder, what do we have in common? If we hadn’t run into each other in the desert, there’s not a chance in a million years that our paths would have crossed. Or maybe they would have?
We have an undeniable attraction, that’s the easy part, but aside from that, is there something here to build on? He’s everything I’m not − rich and famous. He’s already made a name for himself and conquered the world, where I’m still struggling to figure out my shit.
I think he gets my drive. While it may not seem like a big deal to most, it is everything to me. Growing up with disparaging comments from my siblings cut deep, and I want to heal, to prove to them and myself that I count. I’m worthy of being here, just like everyone is.
“You have a good night, darlin’,” Betty hollers.
“Thanks, Betty. You too.” I stroll from the office, having just finished my shift.
It’s been almost a week since I started working and while it’s long days, I like it. Betty is a sweet woman, and the staff is friendly. It’s been non-stop today, and I’m ready to crash. Since Silas hasn’t started the album, he’s been picking me up, but he can’t tonight. He had a meeting in LA, so Jorge will be here in about twenty minutes.
Rather than wait outside in the heat, I pop into the kitchen and find Bunny, our chef, plating a dish.
“Hey, Bunny, got any crazy plans for tonight?”
He looks away from the plate with ribs and cornbread, his smile big and bright. “Flower girl,” he says with a wink. “My ass is stuck in this kitchen until closing.”
Callie, my new friend and co-worker, enters the kitchen and lightly hip-checks me. “Janis is still not here.”
I shake my head and sigh. “Do you need help until she shows up? I’ve got time until my ride gets here.”
“No, I’m good, hon,” Callie says.
Janis is another waitress, and even though I’m new, it’s obvious that she’s a problem. She’s always late and never penalized for it. While she’s a single parent and has difficulty finding a sitter, she seems to get paid for her full shift no matter how late she is. I’m convinced she’s bumping uglies with Ralph, the assistant manager.
Callie takes the two plates from Bunny and leaves. I have no clue why he’s called Bunny, and he refuses to tell me. In fact, he out and out ignores me every time I ask, and trying to get the 411 from Betty is like trying to get into the Pentagon. Not going to happen.
I imagine it’s something sweet and romantic because how else do you rationalize a six-foot-tall, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound, fifty-year-old African-American man being called Bunny?
“I thought JJ was working tonight?”
“That boy called in sick, again.” We share a skeptical look. “He’s not long for this joint, let me tell you.”
“That sucks, Bunny. You have a good night.”
I plant a kiss on his cheek, and he gives my shoulder a light squeeze.
“You too, flower girl. Say hi to Jagger for me,” he jokes, referring to Silas.
Everyone who works at Betty’s knows who Silas is and knew him well before I worked here. Both Betty and Bunny are fans and take any chance they get to rib him.
I laugh and leave, finding a spot at the counter to chat with Callie while I wait. She’s making lattes when a tall, lean, dark-haired man stands beside me.
“This seat taken?” he asks, peering down at me and the empty stool beside me.
“No, it’s all yours.” I gesture to the spot, and he smiles before awkwardly cramming his lanky limbs into the confines of the diner stool.
“I’m Vincenzo Lupo, but call me Vinny.” He extends his mitt-sized hand, his elbow knocking my arm as we shake.
“Pansy.”
“This is my first time here. What’s good to eat?”
“Pretty much anything. Well, that’s not true. Don’t have the nachos or tacos. Bunny’s a great cook, but he’s definitely not from the hacienda, and no matter what we say, he refuses to believe it.”
He chuckles, his dark eyes twinkle, and his mouth spreads wide to reveal a gleaming row of straight, white teeth.
“All right, a burger it is.” He slaps down the menu, and I have to fight the urge to spring into action and put his order in.
Janis arrived while I was in the back, and now she’s flitting around, flirting more than working.
“Janis, a burger for this gentleman,” I call to her because Callie’s no longer in front.
Janis absentmindedly nods as she’s busy trifling with Ralph, the manager who should have left hours ago.
“He may be thirsty, too; you might want to take his drink order.” I can’t resist reminding her that she should be working.
Vinny chuckles beside me, and Janis narrows her heavily made-up e
yes at me; then she spies him, and as predicted, her expression shifts from annoyance to opportunist. Vinny is good looking, with deep-set eyes the same color as his black coffee colored hair, golden skin, a cleft chin, and an athletic build.
“I’m fine, thanks.” He waves her away. “Just some water, please.”
She spins on her heel and puts an extra something-something into her hips.
“So, you come here often?” he asks.
Water sprays from my mouth, my laughter following fast behind. With the back of my hand, I wipe at the drops running down my chin, shaking my head in disbelief and embarrassment. He hands me a napkin.
“You didn’t just say that to me.”
“What?”
“That’s the oldest and lamest pickup line ever.”
“What?” His eyes widen, dawning with understanding. “I wasn’t trying to pick you up. No, it’s just that you know the waitress and what’s on the menu and...”
Saving him from his verbal diarrhea, I interject, “Vinny, now you’re just insulting me. You weren’t picking me up?”
His mouth opens and closes, his eyes darting all over the place as he squirms in his seat. Even though we’ve only just met, this guy is so easy to read. He’s trying to decide if he should shut this down, find another seat, or run.
“I’m kidding. Relax. For a split second, I did think you were trying to flirt. Rather badly, I might add. I work here. My shift just ended and I’m waiting on my ride.”
He nods, and a small smile breaks through his uneasy features. He leans his forearm on the counter, and it’s then I notice a white cloth wrapped around his arm, from his elbow to wrist.
“What happened?”
We both glance at his bandage, and he grimaces on a slow exhale.
“Diving mishap. I cut it along some coral, and it tore me up pretty good.”
“You dive?” I ask, fascinated.
“Yeah. I’m a marine biologist. I teach at UCLA, and if I’m lucky, get to spend the summer researching with other scientists.”
“Wow. A marine biologist. What’s that all about?”
“The simple answer is that it’s the study of marine organisms and sea life.”
“Does that mean you’re in the water a lot? And how do you study them?”
“Not always in the water. It depends on the area of focus. Some marine biologists teach, some are dolphin trainers, others work for corporations…”
“Wow, really?”
Vinny chuckles. “Yeah, it’s fascinating and diverse. You could manage a marine wildlife sanctuary, or work in a museum, or do research. It sounds glamorous, but it’s a lot of hard work, and in some cases, long grueling hours in the lab.”
His burger arrives, and we continue to talk. He graciously answers all my questions between mouthfuls.
“You mentioned diving? What’s involved with diving?” I ask.
“Well, you need to get certified to dive. It’s important you have all the proper gear and know what you’re doing.”
“Tell me more.”
Vinny continues with more on how to get your diving certification, and the thought of deep diving, learning about the ecosystem under the sea, excites me. My phone buzzes, signaling that Jorge is here.
“Vinny, I’ve got to go, but I want to know more, and I definitely want to get my diving certification. What should I do?”
“If you’re serious, I’ll arrange the diving; I just need your contact info. And if you change your mind, that’s okay too. We’ve only just met and sometimes, once the thrill wears off and things sink in, you might change your mind. If so, no prob.”
He hands over his phone, and I put my number into it, also sending a text to me so that I have his number. “Thanks again. Talk soon.”
I wave goodbye to Callie and hop into the car with Jorge behind the wheel.
The house is in dark when we get home, and Boy greets me with a brush against my bare legs and a wag of her tail as I slip off my Chucks.
“Jorge, thank you. Good night.”
“Night,” he says, heading down to their apartment. “See you in the morning.”
I’ve been trying to find a place, but so far, I’ve had no luck. Santa Monica is expensive, and anything in my price range is a dump. The longer I stay here, the harder it will be to leave.
I traipse up the stairs, ready for a bath and bed when the music hits me. I tiptoe toward the music studio where I find the door ajar. Silas sits at the piano, his profile’s silhouetted by the moonlight filtering in through the wall of glass.
This is where he goes to make his music. To escape and create. It’s simple and sparsely decorated with his musical instruments and the magnificent view of the ocean and sky as a breathtaking backdrop.
In addition to the piano, a worn-out guitar case rests against the wall, a music stand in the corner, and a small desk with a pencil and papers strewn about.
Silas is oblivious to my presence as the melodic notes float through the air. I sway to the beat, mesmerized by his grace when the tune registers. “September Song” by Agnes Obel. My breath catches because this song reminds me of my mother. Even though she wasn’t alive to hear it, she loved piano pieces.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I sniff to keep them from falling. Stopping mid-note, Silas turns to me, and his serious expression softens. I’m drunk on him.
Relationships with the opposite sex have always been fun, nothing more. I don’t do casual, and I wasn’t driven to have a boyfriend, it didn’t matter to me. Yet with Silas, whatever is between us has the potential to be huge and life-changing. Even uncertain of this volatile, creative, and sweet man, I’m drawn to him.
“Hey, you.” The rasp of his voice sparks heat within me.
“Hey, I thought you were in LA.” Taking one step into the room, I plant my back against the wall, not daring to go any farther.
His brow arches before he turns to pull the cover over the keys.
“I was. Got back about an hour ago. I had dinner with Bianca and my lawyer, Otto, to go over the agreement.”
“How’d it go?”
“Fine, but slow. We still have to go back to the label for their consent, and it’s not likely they’ll agree to everything. So, it’s a work in progress, but we’ll get there.”
“What you were playing was beautiful.”
“Thanks. It wasn’t mine.”
He now stands in front of me with his hands in his pant pockets. He’s more dressed up than I’ve ever seen him before in black dress pants, a blue button-down shirt, and his hair back in a low, tidy ponytail.
“I know. Besides the guitar and piano, do you play anything else?”
“The bass and ukulele.”
“Wow.”
We are only ten feet apart, but it feels both close and far. He strides slowly and deliberately toward me.
“How was work?” He places one hand on the wall beside my head, and his other tucks stray strands behind my ear. His blue eyes flash with fire, and I hold his stare.
“Fine,” I whisper as he leans in, licking his lips as to his intent. With a firm hand on his chest, I halt his progress.
“I missed you.” His low, smooth voice intensifies the mass of butterflies stirring inside me.
“Silas, what are we doing?” I’m overwhelmed by our attraction and perplexed. Should I even be rooting for us? We’re such an unlikely pair.
“This is me getting to know you better.” He smirks, running his thumb along my collarbone.
Pushing him back, I step from between him and the wall and head to the view of the gentle, rolling waves beyond the glass.
“No, that was you trying to kiss me. That’s different.” I twirl to face him, back against the cool glass.
Still by the door, he studies me with his thumb lightly grazing his lower lip. “I’ve kissed you before. I liked it.” His voice deepens. “Really liked it. I want us to give this a try.”
He advances on me until he’s only a foot away and
gazes down at me. I tilt my head up to meet his eyes. Why is my heart racing when he hasn’t even touched me?
“What do you mean by ‘this?’” I dare to ask.
I need him to be crystal clear. Even as I try to keep our attraction at bay, terrified of screwing up this chance at getting my life right, I want him. Even if he’s not part of the plan. No guy is at this point.
What scares me the most is that he’s not just some guy. I could easily date, and it would be light and fun, but not with Silas. I could get lost in him and abandon my goal. Together, we’re more addictive than anything I’ve ever had.
“I haven’t had a serious relationship since high school. Once I started the band, music was my only focus. And once my career took off…” He pauses, pulling me in for a hug before bringing us to sit on the piano bench, side-by-side. He swallows hard and wipes his palms on the tops of his thighs.
“I was a dog. I’ve slept with lots of women, groupies, and I didn’t ask their names and didn’t want their numbers. It was about getting off and nothing else.”
I slide a few inches from him, and he takes my hand. What he did before me shouldn’t matter. We didn’t know each other, but it’s hard to hear.
If I’d known him then, I would have wanted nothing to do with him. He sounds like the type of guy I’d steer clear of. Silas wouldn’t have been my type. I’m not sure he is now, but I’m willing to find out even if it hurts.
“Go on,” I encourage him.
“Like everything else, it soon became old, and I was lonely. Sex was no longer enough. I wanted something more. I want a relationship, and you’re the first woman in what feels like forever who I want to explore that possibility with.”
“Silas, I’m not going to deny that I feel the same way about you.” A slow, sexy grin breaks across his face, and I rush to get it all out. “But I’m also uncertain. I want, no, scratch that, I need to focus on me, to figure out what I want to do with my life. I’m worried you’ll be a distraction. A wildly sexy and sweet distraction, but one nonetheless.”
Silas chuckles and lightly kisses my lips before pulling me up with him from the bench. He tucks me into his side and opens the glass door to the balcony.