whisper from years of booze and cigarettes.
Quinn slowly turned his head in the direction of the intruder, and gradually looked up the length of the slight frame of a woman until he reached her face and rested on her eyes. Something inside him shifted uncomfortably. In the dimness she almost reminded him of someone but he couldn’t place her.
She was holding one of those big plastic bins that dirty dishes were loaded into, and it looked to weigh more than she did. “Seen you here once before, with a pretty thing, performs here sometimes. Right?” she asked, adjusting the weight of the bin against her narrow hip.
“Hmm.” He didn’t feel like talking, especially to her. There was something about her that bugged him.
“I try to notice people, remember faces,” she continued, ignoring the fact that she was being ignored. “And I’d never forget yours. Knew somebody who looked a lot like you a long time ago. But that was another life. Always wonder how he’s doing, though, what became of him.”
Quinn looked up at her, the sudden melancholy of her voice catching him by surprise. He tried to make out her features in the dimly lit room, but couldn’t.
“Well, you have a good evenin’.” She ambled off, and Quinn felt the urge to go after her, demand that she tell him more.
Instead he tossed down the rest of his drink, threw some money on the table, and walked out, thankful for the rush of a cool breeze to lower the sudden rise in his temperature.
He glanced several times over his shoulder, having the strange sensation that the woman would suddenly leap out of the shadows and whisper something he didn’t want to hear. He shuddered and headed for his car. Today was a day he’d rather forget.
But he wouldn’t.
Chapter 8
F or a full seven days Rae hoped that Quinn would call. Every evening when she came in from rehearsal she’d rush to her answering machine and check for his message. There were none. Each morning she’d rise and know that today was the day, and each night she’d turn out the lights—disappointed.
She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him, but she had. There was no denying it. And the wider the chasm grew between them, thedeeper she sunk back into that place she had never wanted to revisit. She’d made several attempts to call him, but backed out, sure that she’d be devastated if he didn’t say the things she needed to hear— Rae, I need you in my life, I want to live again.
So she buried herself in her music, working grueling hours and driving everyone mad with her demands for perfection, for change, for more. Nothing seemed to work for her.
“What is wrong with you, Rae?” her friend and music partner Gail asked as she sat opposite her at Rae’s kitchen table, watching her open and close the fridge, wipe down clean counters, and rewash dishes. “You’re acting like someone on the edge, snapping at everyone, working everybody to death. And look at you, you’re a mess.”
It was Gail who insisted that they cut the rehearsal session short, overriding Rae’s insistence that they stay and get it right, not caring how long it took. It was Gail who drove Rae home, determined to get to the bottom of what was going on with her friend.
“Nothing,” Rae mumbled, keeping her backto Gail as she wiped down the stovetop for the third time. “Want something to eat or drink?”
“No. What I want is for you to talk to me. I haven’t seen you like this since…Sterling and Akia.”
Rae’s back stiffened.
“You did the same thing then, went into a work frenzy until everyone was leery of even being in the same room with you. All you wanted to talk about was work, music, the next project, as if that would somehow make everything go away.”
“Well, it did.”
“Did it? Really? I don’t think so and neither do you. If you’re honest.”
Those were some of the most difficult days of her life, Rae thought. At the time she was certain she wouldn’t survive. “An accident,”
Quinn slowly turned his head in the direction of the intruder, and gradually looked up the length of the slight frame of a woman until he reached her face and rested on her eyes. Something inside him shifted uncomfortably. In the dimness she almost reminded him of someone but he couldn’t place her.
She was holding one of those big plastic bins that dirty dishes were loaded into, and it looked to weigh more than she did. “Seen you here once before, with a pretty thing, performs here sometimes. Right?” she asked, adjusting the weight of the bin against her narrow hip.
“Hmm.” He didn’t feel like talking, especially to her. There was something about her that bugged him.
“I try to notice people, remember faces,” she continued, ignoring the fact that she was being ignored. “And I’d never forget yours. Knew somebody who looked a lot like you a long time ago. But that was another life. Always wonder how he’s doing, though, what became of him.”
Quinn looked up at her, the sudden melancholy of her voice catching him by surprise. He tried to make out her features in the dimly lit room, but couldn’t.
“Well, you have a good evenin’.” She ambled off, and Quinn felt the urge to go after her, demand that she tell him more.
Instead he tossed down the rest of his drink, threw some money on the table, and walked out, thankful for the rush of a cool breeze to lower the sudden rise in his temperature.
He glanced several times over his shoulder, having the strange sensation that the woman would suddenly leap out of the shadows and whisper something he didn’t want to hear. He shuddered and headed for his car. Today was a day he’d rather forget.
But he wouldn’t.
Chapter 8
F or a full seven days Rae hoped that Quinn would call. Every evening when she came in from rehearsal she’d rush to her answering machine and check for his message. There were none. Each morning she’d rise and know that today was the day, and each night she’d turn out the lights—disappointed.
She hadn’t meant to fall in love with him, but she had. There was no denying it. And the wider the chasm grew between them, thedeeper she sunk back into that place she had never wanted to revisit. She’d made several attempts to call him, but backed out, sure that she’d be devastated if he didn’t say the things she needed to hear— Rae, I need you in my life, I want to live again.
So she buried herself in her music, working grueling hours and driving everyone mad with her demands for perfection, for change, for more. Nothing seemed to work for her.
“What is wrong with you, Rae?” her friend and music partner Gail asked as she sat opposite her at Rae’s kitchen table, watching her open and close the fridge, wipe down clean counters, and rewash dishes. “You’re acting like someone on the edge, snapping at everyone, working everybody to death. And look at you, you’re a mess.”
It was Gail who insisted that they cut the rehearsal session short, overriding Rae’s insistence that they stay and get it right, not caring how long it took. It was Gail who drove Rae home, determined to get to the bottom of what was going on with her friend.
“Nothing,” Rae mumbled, keeping her backto Gail as she wiped down the stovetop for the third time. “Want something to eat or drink?”
“No. What I want is for you to talk to me. I haven’t seen you like this since…Sterling and Akia.”
Rae’s back stiffened.
“You did the same thing then, went into a work frenzy until everyone was leery of even being in the same room with you. All you wanted to talk about was work, music, the next project, as if that would somehow make everything go away.”
“Well, it did.”
“Did it? Really? I don’t think so and neither do you. If you’re honest.”
Those were some of the most difficult days of her life, Rae thought. At the time she was certain she wouldn’t survive. “An accident,”
Similar Books
