Inspire (21 page)

Chords is a small place. Seats maybe thirty people in all. There are about ten customers now, but the limited seating makes it look more crowded than it is.

“So this is one of your favorite places?” she asks.

I try to see it through her eyes. Mismatched chairs and tables. Mason jars for glasses, but not the kind that are made with handles. Real, actual mason jars. Just like always, there's a guy playing guitar off in the corner, but he's not anyone I recognize. There are old instruments, knick knacks, and photos on the walls. Stuff from Cordell and Lori's life together. I know that it's not much. Definitely not the kind of place I've ever taken any other girl on a first date, and my stomach twists and twists with worry.

“It is,” I answer moments before I hear my name being called and Lori descends on me. She looks the same as the last time I saw her, white hair set in perfect curls.

“Wilder Bell, as I live and breathe.”

I leave Kalli's side to accept the hug Lori offers. She feels smaller and more vulnerable in my arms, but her grip on me is as tight as ever.

“It's been too long, son.”

I want to say something, offer up an excuse or an apology, but the words get stuck. Lori doesn't notice. She releases me in favor of Kalli and says, “And who is this lovely creature?”

Kalli starts to answer, but she gets folded into a hug, shocking her into silence. I shove my hands in my pockets, and her wide eyes meet mine over Lori's shoulder. Then after a moment, she returns my smile and softens in the woman's hold, hugging her back.

“Kalli, this is Lori. She owns the restaurant. And Lori, this is Kalli. We're here for a first date.”

Lori glances at me over her shoulder, lifting an eyebrow, but she doesn't comment.

“It's nice to meet you,” Kalli says, and Lori returns the sentiment. “Do you have a bathroom I could use before we sit down?”

Lori directs her toward the hallway back by the kitchens, and I watch her weave between the tables. When she's gone, Lori whistles.

“That's quite a look you're giving her for a first date, Wilder Bell.”

She's only ever called me by my full name. Ever since the first time I sat on that stool in the corner and said it over the microphone before playing my first set.

“It's not a normal first date,” I tell her.

One side of her mouth lifts high in a crooked smile, and her eyes crinkle as she looks at me. Shaking her head, she says, “No, I don't think it is. Did Cordell ever tell you about our first date?” I shake my head. “That fool took me bowling. On a first date. He very nearly didn't get a second, but he was just so damn charming.”

“Are you making fun of me for my date choice?”

“You know I love this place with everything under my skin, but when you look at a girl like you look at her, I'd think you'd try a little harder.”

I smile. “I thought about that. But she's different. She wanted me to take her some place that meant something to me. You don't get much more meaning than this.”

I'm alarmed when Lori blinks, and then stubbornly wipes away a few tears that track down her cheeks.

“I'm sorry,” I say.

She shushes me. “I just see a lot of my Cord in you.” She nods, fighting off a few more lingering tears, and says, “You could get away with taking a girl bowling, too.”

I laugh and hug her again.

She says, “Well, tell me how I can help. I'll make sure the cook is on the ball, of course. You wanna play for her? I'm sure Jimmy would welcome the break.”

“No,” I say, too fast, then sigh. “No, I'd rather not. I don't—I'm taking a step away from that at the moment. Going a different direction.”

She looks troubled by that, but she doesn't give me any grief. I'm grateful because God knows just being in here is giving me enough grief already. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kalli making her way back to us and I add, “We just want to eat and enjoy this place. That's all.”

“Eat and enjoy, I can do. She's stunning, by the way.”

“I know.”

Kalli steps in front of us with a smile. Her eyes flick back and forth between us, and I'm sure it's obvious we've been talking about her. But for all the charm Lori thinks I have (and I used to think I had), I've got nothing to say. “Well, come on,” Lori says. “Let's get you two seated.”

I lay a hand on Kalli's lower back as we move to follow, and the touch sparks heat all the way through me. Lori leads us to a booth in the corner, far enough away from the kitchens and all the other patrons that we won't be interrupted, but still close enough to the music that we've got a prime spot.   

Kalli takes a seat first, and I hesitate, unsure whether I'd rather be sitting beside her where I can touch her or across from her where I can see her better. Thinking of her request that we take things slow and do this the normal way, I settle for across.

Lori lays menus in front of us, and with a final wink at Kalli, leaves us alone.

I don't need to look at the menu. I know it like the back of my hand, but she picks up hers, and I watch her eyes scan over the words.

Lori wasn't quite right. Kalli is something more than stunning. She's otherworldly. I'd told her that there wasn't any need to dress fancy for this, and she's not. She's wearing jeans and a black sweater over a plain gray shirt with a colorful scarf tied around her neck. The scarf is really the only special item she's wearing, but she still somehow manages to look like she's stepped off the pages of a magazine or a movie screen.

She drags her dark, silky hair around so that it all sits over her left shoulder, and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as her eyes dart wildly across the menu. After another minute, she finally slaps it down on the table and says plainly, “I'm nervous. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be, but—”

“I am too.”   

“You are?”

“Hell yeah.” I start to open my mouth to tell her all the reasons, but I decide better on that. It's not just bringing her here that has me tied up in knots. It's the fact that I missed her so much after only days apart. Even though we barely know each other. That fucking tears me up, and as badly as I want to say something and find out if it's the same for her, I'm more concerned with not scaring her off.

She blows out a breath. “Well, that helps. I guess.”

“Why are you nervous?” I ask, which I know is unfair considering I'd just held back my own reasons, but I can't help myself.

She shrugs, her big brown eyes catching, ensnaring mine. “Lots of reasons.”

“Give me one,” I plead.

She runs a hand over her hair like she wants to pull it over her shoulder again, but it's already there.

“I don't know how to describe it, but this just feels different than dates I've been on in the past. Those were easy, and this …”

She trails off, and I try to ignore the way my stomach clenches over the thought of other dates she's been on. And the fact that she doesn't feel at ease with me. “Is it something I'm doing?” I ask. “To make things harder?”

“No.” She reaches across the table, and lays her hand over mine. “I didn't mean that this was hard. Not like that. I mean that being here with you feels … bigger than those dates felt. More important.”

I flip my hand over beneath hers and wrap my fingers around her delicate wrist. She does the same to mine, her fingers not quite long enough to reach.

“It feels that way for me, too. So maybe we should stop feeling so much pressure. We both want this to work. So I don't see why it shouldn't.”

Her fingers tighten around my wrist, and an unreadable expression, almost like pain, crosses her face before she lets go and picks up her menu again.

“So what should I order here?”

I struggle to make sense of the change of pace and say, “Well, eighty-five percent of the menu is fried. Hopefully that's okay. I think they might have a salad on here somewhere.”

“No salads for me,” she says. “My only response to fried food is ‘yes please.’”

I laugh. “Thank God. Well, in that case, you can't go wrong with the chicken fried steak. The barbecue is great too, especially the brisket. The meat loaf is always popular.”

“What are you getting?”

“Chicken fried steak.”

“Then that's what I want.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. I want to know everything you love about this place. Starting with how you know Lori.”

“This was one of my old haunts in high school. Rook and I came a lot.”

“Rook. He's the guy who called you that night downtown?”

“Yeah. We've been friends for a long time, and Cordell, Lori's husband, sort of took us under his wing. We both had corporate parents who were gone a lot. We could have gotten into way more trouble than we did without this place.”

“You still got into
some
trouble?” she asks with a smile.

“Any teenage boys with limited parental supervision are going to do that.”

A waitress comes up then to take our orders, and we go ahead and put in our drinks and food all at once. When she's gone, the silence settles again, easier than before, but still with a touch of pressure.

She brings back the drinks pretty quickly, and then leaves again.

“So do I get to hear stories about this trouble you got into?” she asks.

“Oh, I'm sure when you meet Rook, I won't be able to stop him from telling you.”

“Tell me about him.”

I do, describing how we were with each other growing up. I tell her about his job as a tattoo artist now. “He's the one who did all this.” I gesture to the section of my sleeve that shows from where I've rolled up the fabric of my shirt.

Her eyebrows lift. “He's talented.”

“Yeah, he is.” In more ways than just that. I bite down on the urge to tell her about the band. About how Rook can play damn near any instrument, but he’s the best on the drums, and how he always seems to be able to invent the right music to go with my lyrics. I want to tell her about it because it's such a huge part of my life, but I don't trust myself to talk about it. Not with her. Certainly not here.

When Lori suggested I play for her, the idea latched onto my heart, and now I can't get it out of my head. From the moment I met her, it's been harder to fight the urge to write. And there are all these little pieces of songs and melodies that make me think of her. I want to share those things with her, and a little part of me is aware of how girls have always reacted to my music. Maybe it will impress her and make up for the fact that I've brought her to a grungy cafe instead of a nice restaurant for our first date.

But I know if I do that, if I open that door, I won't be able to shut it again.

And it has to stay shut. Music isn't the way to build a life and support a family. Maybe someday down the road, when Mom and Gwen are settled again, but not now.

So I tell her about my life and my friends without telling her about the music, even as the intricate guitar-playing coming from the corner underscores our conversation. After we talk about me for a while, I turn the tables and say, “How did all your work go yesterday? Did you get it done?”

She fiddles with the straw in her drink as she answers, “Oh, I took care of a pretty big chunk yesterday. Enough that I can take it easy today.”

“So computer stuff, huh? Is that what you think you'll major in, too? You said you were undecided, right?”

“I did. But no, I don't plan on majoring in anything like that. It's just something to bring in money.”

“So then what? You can't go too much longer without picking a focus, can you? You're what … a junior? Will you even be able to graduate on time if you don't pick soon?”

She lifts her cup to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the straw for a long pull. “I might have to go a little longer, yeah. I've been thinking about maybe arts management. I don't really do much in the way of fine arts myself, but I like that world. Arts management would give me an opportunity to be around it still, but with a more business focus.”

“Yeah, Lennox mentioned something about how you fit in with all the artistic people in your group.”

She stiffens a little. “What do you mean?”

“I just noticed that everyone in your friends group is an artist of some sort, and you are the only one who doesn't fit into that mold. She said you kind of work as a sounding board for all of them. It makes sense now. Arts management sounds right up your alley.”

“I don't know. Like I said, it's just something I've been thinking about.”

“You should do it. Who knows, maybe we'd even get in some business classes together.”

“That's right.” She gestures at my office clothes. “You're the business guy.”

“I don't know about that, but I do take classes for it. We should look at your options if you go into arts management. It's not too late to adjust your schedule for next semester. I think it would be cool to have a class together.”

Rather than answering that, she asks, “So the glasses. Do you always wear those to work?”

I reach up, pushing at the frames that I'd forgotten were there. If I'd had time to go home, I would have switched into my contacts.

“Usually,” I answer. “I spend all day looking at a computer or small print on paper, and it irritates my eyes less when I wear them.”

Our food arrives then, and I’d almost forgotten how huge the chicken fried steak is here. It takes up so much of the plate that they bring the sides out in extra little bowls. The conversation slows then in favor of food, and I swear I nearly lose it when she lifts her first bite to her mouth and moans in response.

No longer is the edge between us at the table awkward and nervous. Now, it’s filled with a greedy desire that I’m just barely holding back. It’s incredibly erotic watching the fork slip past her lips, and I’ve never in my life had to fight off an erection just from watching a girl eat. The effort makes me even more quiet as dinner continues, and before I know it, we’re done and she’s declining desert, and it’s time to leave.

We say our goodbyes to Lori, who raises an eyebrow at me on our way out, and I can almost hear her whispering
bowling
in my ear. That’s why when we’re halfway across the parking lot, I grab hold of Kalli’s wrist and pull her to a stop.