by M.J. Kane
Chapter 5
It was six-thirty. If I drove fast enough, we would get to the gig with a few minutes to spare.
Ebony hadn’t spoken since we pulled out of the parking lot.
Getting her to go out with me had been a challenge. Running late nearly blew the opportunity.
The condition of my work truck made a bad first impression. I didn’t consider this detail before insisting she go with me to the dance. Mentally, I slapped myself for being an idiot and not accepting her attempt to reschedule. My pride wouldn’t allow me to let her walk away from me again.
Discovering where she lived was a coincidence. The reward of spending time with her was worth more than the fifty-dollars I would have charged. Besides, she would only play this game once. Tonight was make-it-or-break-it time.
I grabbed an empty bottle of Gatorade as it rolled from underneath my seat while merging into traffic. The recently purchased pine-scented air freshener swung wildly beneath the rearview mirror.
Maintaining a clean truck had never been a top priority. The cab’s only occupants were my cousins when they worked my guitar, and me. Most of my dates were either at the woman’s house or we met somewhere. When a woman was worth my time, I would pick them up. Only then would I spend time cleaning my truck. The amount of food wrappers, empty bottles, and junk mail attested to the fact I hadn’t taken a woman out in a while.
I inhaled deeply, testing the air. It didn’t smell too bad. Maybe the pine fragrance would mask the odor of gasoline, grass, sweat, and foot funk. The odors no longer bothered me.
Even though Ebony hadn’t complained, it wasn’t hard to miss the wrinkle of her nose. I rolled down the windows, grabbed the half-eaten bag of chips and empty water bottle off the middle console, and tossed them to the seat behind me.
If we go out again, I am definitely getting my truck detailed.
Traffic came to a stop, so I stole a peek at her. The fading light of the setting sun glinted off her auburn hair. She wore it down again. Long, springy spiral curls graced the slender curve of her neck, resting on bare shoulders.
She wore make-up. A hint of color matched her brown shirt, accentuating her eyes. Her lips were shiny from some kind of gloss and looked delicious.
I cleared my throat to get her attention. “You look good.”
Ebony tilted her head in my direction and smirked. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I dressed for dinner at a pizza parlor on a Tuesday night. Now you’re dragging me to a dance. You’re dressed up, and I’m dressed for the movies. Everyone will look at me and wonder why I’m there.”
“Where we’re going, nobody’s going to notice.”
“Yeah, right. How do you not notice the only woman in the room who’s not dressed up at a dance?” She crossed her arms and turned her attention to the car next to us.
I didn’t care what she had on. Over the past few days I’d seen Ebony dressed for a night at the club, work, and around the house; all fit her body perfectly. Each time felt as though I was seeing a different side of her personality. And each time she’d been more beautiful.
“I’m wearing Capri pants, a tank top, and flats,” Ebony continued, sulking. “I am seriously underdressed. Why did I let you talk me into this?” She paused, putting a finger to plump lips. “Oh, yeah, a dare.”
My chuckle earned me a glowering stare. “Look, it’s not the kind of dance you’re thinking about. It’s at a senior citizens’ retirement home. Everybody’s probably got cataracts.”
Ebony’s burst of laughter was infectious and made me smile. I enjoyed the sound of her laugh.
“Brian, are you serious?”
“As a heart attack…wait a minute, that was not a good reference since we’re going to an old folks’ home. But yes, after an hour, everybody will probably be ready for bed.”
“So let me get this straight,” she said when her laughter subsided. “You play in a band at a nightclub, own your own business cutting grass, and you play at senior citizen homes during the week?”
I nodded. “Well, not every week.”
“And I thought I stayed busy.” She angled her head and studied me. “What made you decide to be a musician?”
My attention returned to the road when the car in front of us moved. “My grandfather gave me a guitar for Christmas when I was seven, and that pretty much sealed the deal. I learned as many instruments as I could. When I graduated, I went to U.C.L.A. to get a bachelor’s in music.”
“What do you play?”
“Bass guitar for the band. But, I played the double bass in high school. I also play the piano, which was my mother’s doing.”
“Wow. Playing an instrument is something I’ve never been able to do.”
“It takes a lot of work and years of dedication. I don’t plan to work in nightclubs for the rest of my life. The big money will come from working in the studio or going on tours.” When we stopped at another red light, I studied the GPS. We were almost there. “It’ll happen one day. Right now my focus is on getting a newer guitar. I own two guitars, but it’s time to step it up a notch. I’ve saved for three months for the one I want. After tonight I’ll only be $150 away.” I tossed her a look. “If I’d gotten paid yesterday, it would have been one hundred.”
Her eyes widened. “So it’s my fault you didn’t get paid? You’re the one who decided to go with it. I thought you were going to say no.”
I laughed. “I made the right decision. When this is done, I plan to show you a good time.”
Ebony’s smirk didn’t hide the laughter in her eyes. “We’ll see.”