Page 16 of Silver Edge
“I think you got this.” I pressed my palm on his desk and stood, but he placed his hand over mine. His touch pushed my pleasure button, a reaction normal people experienced. I settled into the feeling, the rough texture of his skin, the weight, the tiny hairs dancing, but then his fingers squeezed mine. My legs, arms, neck, toes stiffened. A shot of adrenaline triggered my flight response. I shuffled between feet, hoping for an escape.
“I know marketing for large product firms. Worked a big corporate job straight out of college, but this place is a different breed of business. It’s entertainment. It takes an ear for talent. How will I know which bands to pick?”
His fingers loosened their grip and the tension in my thighs ebbed. For half a second, I liked his touch. Something inside me clicked into place and I longed to have him stay still and allow me to enjoy that sensation, one I hadn’t felt in years.
“Trust your gut, I guess.” I wanted to close my eyes and savor the feeling of his hand. Savor the moment for a second longer. To tiptoe into deeper waters. To see if shockwaves would pound me into the depths of sensory disaster. To see if it wouldn’t.
“I think I found another job for you. I mean, we’ll do it together. You’re more aware of what people want with the music, and I’ll handle the business side of contacting the producer and creating advertising. Will you help me? I’ll pay you, of course.” He gripped the spreadsheets in front of him. “For the first time since I took this club over, I’m excited to make something happen with this place. Tell me you’ll do this.”
Help him? Someone neededme, instead of the other way around? He was admitting I had a purpose. I wanted to cry, or sing, or dance around his office. My throat tickled with a thousand words that wanted to escape, but instead I shrugged. “Sure. I’ll help.”
“Great. You go home and get some rest. We’ll talk more tonight after I get through this mess and figure out how to keep this place open long enough to turn it around.” Drake cupped my hand in both of his and his thumb brushed across my fingers.
Oh God, I thought I’d jump on the desk and offer myself to him right then, what with the tingles radiating up my arm, down my spine, and straight to my happy place.
“Thank you. Walter was right. There is something unique about you. I hope you stick around long enough to see this through.” He sat back, taking his magical hands with him.
Part of me wanted to tell him to touch me again. My eyes shot to the numbers and I calculated several pages. I did a box step around the chair, trying to get control of this strange, new feeling. “Check line thirteen on that page.” I pointed to the document in front of him. “And line twenty-four on that one.”
He lifted the page, scanned the scribbled notes, and did some computer calculations. “Oh. How did you…?”
I waved and retreated out the door. Two more minutes and I would have jumped him, and then where would I be? No, I wasn’t going back to my old ways. I needed to call Ton, but he’d only judge and tell me how much I needed to return to the Straight Edge community and him. This time, I’d keep my distance. I wouldn’t lose my home and nearly my life because of some older guy promising me things and never delivering.
Chapter Eight
After a soothing nap to one of Giacomo Facco’s concertos, I switched the iPod to my eighties dance mix playlist to head out to Bands. I locked up my hideout and hopped from the curb into sloshing puddles and up on the other side with a bounce. I’d regret the dampness of my Converse in a few hours, but for now, I’d keep my mind on one thing. My new job.
I hiked up the street, the music drowning any wayward traffic noise and allowing my attention to wander. Memories of twirling around my mother’s bedroom while we sang and drowned out the world with her music had given me life beyond the torture. Looking back, I couldn’t comprehend how she knew what I needed. A mother, alone, with a baby who screamed every time she touched it. How did she make it through that?
Tonight wasn’t the night to live in the past. I hoped there was a future here for me, a future holding happiness and independence. I should’ve thought about working in a music venue a long time ago. Of course, Ton would never approve because of the saturation of sex and drugs in one small space. But the music would be my shield against temptation. As long as I could focus on work and music, I could avoid the drug call. I had to.
I found the skate park and spotted Bands on the other side. Ton’s voice screamed in my head that I was regressing back to being a dysfunctional little masochist. I shook it away. This felt right, for me.
Two skater guys jumped the rail and halted in front of me. I scooted around a bush and hurtled over a grate, but they only shot past me and waited at the end of the sidewalk.
Their lips moved, and I knew they were speaking, so I finally removed my earphones.
“Ya, she’s beautiful. Got a body.” A guy with long stringy hair in a knitted cap groped the air.
I backtracked, wanting to avoid any trouble. I wouldn’t lose this job because of these guys.
“Hey, look at that. She won’t even talk to us. She thinks she’s too good.”
Me, too good? Ha. Still, not even in my worst strung-out moment would I lower myself to those two.
The skateboard wheels rumbled behind me, drawing closer. I quickened my pace, but the thumping over the cracks in the sidewalk echoed near me. I eyed the club and the path to get there. Calculations spun through my head until the answer registered in my brain. With no way to outrun skateboards on asphalt, I spotted a roundabout through grass to the main road.
I halted, letting them pass. Mocking words flew to my lips, but I bit my mouth closed. This wasn’t the time. Attitude would only agitate them further. Once they rolled far enough ahead, I jumped a chain-link rope, hopped two bushes then a boulder, and ran. Pumping my arms, I made it halfway across the field before either even realized they hadn’t blocked my only route. I could envision them still scratching their heads.
“Hey, are we here to skate or not? Let her go.” A third, welcoming voice sounded from the park. Perhaps not all skaters were assholes. Actually, most of them were cool. It was just that a lone girl walking through the park at night welcomed attention. Mental note, find another route to work.
Finally, I rounded the building and walked up the street, trying to catch my breath before I entered the rear entrance. A piano sang with a beautiful, sweeping rhythm from behind the right side of the stage. The melody and clarity reminded me of a classical piece, yet with a modern twist. It smoothly transitioned into an increased cadence that stole my breath. Love, loss, and grief. Grief of the most intimate kind sounded in each note. I knew that kind of loss.
As if the music carried to the main entrance, hooked a rib, and tugged me toward the stage, my feet glided across the dance floor to the stairs. Before I made it to the top step, the rhythm altered into a disorganized, unemotional pounding of keys.
I covered my ears to shield myself from the sound and dropped to my knees.Klank, granck, klank, dum, thrump, dum, klank.
Sharp notes drilled through the space between my fingers and shredded my inner ear.
