Her shock transformed into peals of laughter. “Why are you wearing that?”
“Why not?” I spun in a small circle, my tail thumping along the floor. “I got the idea from you.”
“It’s way too small for you.” She pointed at my jeans sticking out below the lizard feet.
“I couldn’t even zip it. I did think about asking your doorman for help, but we’re not really that close.”
She continued laughing at me, but I noticed she didn’t open her door and invite me inside. “How did you get up here?” She swept a hand over her messy hair in its haphazard bun.
I shrugged. “Your doorman liked my car and remembered me.”
“You bribed him, didn’t you?”
I held my hand against my chest and twisted my tail with the other. “You wound me. I’m a nice guy. People naturally like me.”
She exaggerated an eye roll, but I saw a smile tug at her lips.
“Are you going to let me come in? Since I came all this way and I’m already here. And I’m dressed as a radioactive lizard. Your neighbors might become frightened and call the police.”
She still blocked the doorway with her body. “No one ever acknowledges anyone in this building. It would take the real Godzilla to get them to pay attention.”
I listened for the sound of someone else in the apartment. I wanted to ask if she had a someone over, another man, but I held back. Honestly, I didn’t want to know if she was dating other men. That wasn’t true. I wanted to know everything about her, even the parts that I didn’t like or hurt to know.
Instead of opening the door, she narrowed the gap. “The place is a disaster. You should’ve given me more notice to straighten up.”
“You’ve always been a neat freak. Unmitigated disaster would be if you left a glass of water on the table without a coaster.” I leaned in, trying to see around her head. “Are you sure someone isn’t with you?”
“I’m alone. I have an exciting evening planned of binge watching an entire season of something on Netflix and eating junk food.”
“No you don’t. Your plans have changed.” The silly costume was only the beginning of the evening.
“Says who?”
“I’m here to take you to a concert. And while things are casual in Seattle, you might want to wear a bra.”
I was guessing about the bra, but my focus dropped to the top of her breasts through the thick sweater.
“What sort of concert?” she asked without commenting about the bra, but crossed her arms, telling me I was right.
“That’s a surprise. Be spontaneous. Leave your phone here and come spend the evening with me. You won’t regret it.”
A flash of horror crossed her face at the idea of being phoneless for a couple of hours. At least I’d hoped it was about not being connected to the world and not at the prospect of hanging out with me. She hadn’t called security on me yet, so I proceeded.
“I’ll ditch the costume. It’s too hot anyway. Come out with me. I was going to go to the show by myself like I normally do, but for some reason I bought two tickets this time.”
“You go to concerts by yourself?”
“Sure. Why not? I go to the movies by myself, too. Listening and watching are uniquely individual experiences. The last thing I want is someone starting a conversation in the middle of either.”
A small line appeared between her brows. “But what about the pre-gaming before the concert and the post-show analysis? Those are a big part of going to live music. Sharing the moment with other people. Isn’t that the whole point? Everyone is witnessing something together that will never happen exactly the same way again.”
“Close your eyes,” I commanded her.
She closed one in a wink.
“Both. Please.”
She followed instructions.
“Now imagine you’re in a space with ten thousand other people.” I stepped closer, attempting to peer over her head to find out what she didn’t want me to see in the living room. “Even with another person crowding your space, it doesn’t affect your ability to interpret the experience subjectively.”
Her hand pressed against the puffy chest of my costume. “I’m on to you. Quit trying to spy in my apartment.”
I didn’t care that she’d busted me. I glanced down and met her stare. In my shadow her eyes darkened to almost indigo. “Are you hiding stolen goods? Sheltering illegal Canadians? You can trust me.”
“Why would I be sheltering anyone?”
“It must be something illegal, possibly nefarious if you’re so reticent to allow me entry into you abode. I’m a fierce monster. I could stomp my way in there.” We both knew I’d never force myself into her space or make her do anything she didn’t want. Stepping back, I held up my arms and did my best impression of a Godzilla stomp. My war cry sounded high-pitched and pitiful.
“I do know that you’re relentless.” With a resigned sigh, she opened the door wider. “You can come in, but you are not allowed to judge or comment on what you see.”
Feeling triumphant, me and my tail stepped over the threshold.
“If it’s a collection of ceramic kittens or clowns, I’m not going to be able to hold my tongue. I get a waiver on those two things. Or if you have a house hippo. I’m probably going to report you to animal control for one of—”
Whatever witty babbling I planned to say next left my head when I saw what was hanging over her sofa.
“I—You—I—” I gave up using words and pointed with all three of my lizard fingers.
“You accepted my terms when you crossed the threshold. No judgment zone, remember?” Stepping around me, she placed herself between me and the living room. “You can wait here if you can’t behave yourself.”
I didn’t want to behave. I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and find her bedroom.
Hanging above her sleek gray sectional, framed by one of those arc lights on one side and a ceramic lamp on a chrome end table on the other, was a familiar picture.
“It’s enormous.” There was no need to cross the area rug to get a closer look. From my current position I could see as much detail as I’d ever want, probably more than I needed.
“I wasn’t sure if it would fit the wall, but Cari promised to reprint it for me if it didn’t.”
“Cari’s talented. It’s tasteful. For a wall of naked asses.”
“I think so.”
In all of its black and white glory, the group photo from the calendar filled the wall above the couch. It had to be at least five feet across. Probably six.
“How much did you have to spend?” What sort of price would twelve naked-man asses fetch?
“Less than you did. This print wasn’t for sale. Cari had it made for promotion at the event. We struck a deal.”
“Shit. Why didn’t I think of that?” I threw some serious shade at the other eleven men in the image.
“Everything’s for sale for the right price.” Her smugness sounded smug.
“You sound like a capitalist,” I grumbled.
She ducked her chin and looked up at me. “Did you just call me the C word? All I had to do was ask. Funny how straight talk gets things taken care of.”
The photo was tasteful. Shot from the back, all twelve of us were in various states of levitation as we ran into the water of Useless Bay.
“Well, damn,” I mumbled.
“Still want me to go with you to the concert now that you know I’m a pervert with naked men hanging out in my condo?”
“Better than imagining you sitting her all evening with this hanging behind you.” I pulled off the lizard costume’s head and ran my real hands over my hair.
“Believe it or not, I don’t lie around staring at it all day and night.”
“How could you get anything done with that perfection so close?” I pointed to my likeness in the middle.
“You’d be surprised at my ability to focus.”
“As much as I’d like to stand here all night admiring the
view, show starts at seven thirty at the Paramount.” I stepped out of the rest of the costume. Part of me wanted to hang it over the print to hide the other men. Instead, I draped it over one of the arm chairs.
With a resolved nod, she backed into the other hall, which I assumed led to her bedroom. “Let me get changed.”
“Nothing fancy. If you have cowboy boots, wear them.”
“Why would I have cowboy boots?” she called from down the hall.
“I don’t know why women have all the shoes they do.” I faced the window and away from the parade of asses on the wall. The view was as spectacular as I imagined.
A few minutes later I heard the sound of the shower. I never questioned the ways of women and their preparation for going out of the house. Some mysteries were better left unexplored. I hadn’t lived with a woman in a decade. Before I’d ever met Roslyn I moved in with a girlfriend who swore she was the one often enough she’d convinced me of the same.
She wasn’t. Six months of living together proved it to both of us. Ever since that relationship, I’d kept my own place.
Fifteen minutes later, the bedroom door opened and Roslyn reappeared.
Wearing black boots to her knees.
I stared at the sexy leather covering half her leg. “Those will work.”
“Are we going horseback riding?” She sounded wary, but excited.
“No, but this isn’t a stiletto and fancy dress kind of evening.”
She grabbed a black leather jacket from the closet in the entry. “Is this too rock n’ roll?”
“It’s perfect.” She looked gorgeous. A big part of my new life was being honest and speaking my mind. “You look stunning.”
She blinked and stared at my mouth for a moment. “Thank you.”
“You’re beautiful. I should’ve told you when you opened the door. Makeup and styling your hair don’t make a difference. In fact, I think you’re more beautiful without it.”
A small smile appeared on her lips. “I can honestly say you’re better looking without the costume.”
“Good. I don’t think I could last more than a few minutes inside that thing.” I followed her into the hall. “But it was worth every penny to see your expression.”
“Watch out for payback, Ashland.” This time when she said my name, it didn’t sound like she wanted to replace land with hat. We were making progress.
“Do you only see old people in concert?” We sat in our center orchestra seats about ten rows back from the stage. The opening band had finished and the roadies scurried around on stage setting up for the main act.
“I think the word you’re looking for is legends.” I lifted my cup of beer. “Cultural phenomenon works, too.”
She tipped her head toward the stage. “I think eighty-three counts as geriatric in every culture.”
I covered her mouth with my hand. “Shh. Don’t insult Willie Nelson.”
She peeled my hand away and spoke in a normal voice. “Trust me, he can’t hear a word I’m saying backstage.”
“He’s like a braided hippie version of Santa. He’ll know.” I almost said something about enjoying the legality of marijuana in our fair state of Washington, but didn’t need to voice the obvious. Several concert T-shirts on sale in the lobby had pot leaves emblazoned on them.
Roslyn gave me a half-laugh for my joke. “In the car, I didn’t think anything when you invited me to see Yo Yo Ma at Benaroya Hall in January, but it’s all making sense now.”
“Mr. Ma isn’t old. Barely sixty.”
She blinked slowly at me.
“Don’t say sixty is old. It’s not. I’m closer to sixty than I am to twenty.”
Her blinking sped up. “No, you’re not.”
I waited as she did the math in her head.
“Oh, shit. You are!” The slap to my arm barely registered. “Holy shit.”
“Thanks.” I shifted away from her as far as I could in my seat. “You’re closer to fifty than you are to eighteen.”
Her jaw dropped open. “Dammit. How did that happen?”
“It’s called life. It’s what happens when we’re busy doing other things.”
“Is that the story behind all of these concerts? See them before they die?”
I shrugged. “In a way.”
She rolled her hand for me to continue.
“I’m making up for lost time. In my thirties, I was too focused on making money and being seen as successful. I worked too much to enjoy anything meaningful. Yeah, I went to events, sitting in the best seats and suites because I was expected to show up and make an appearance, or I was trying to impress someone, usually a woman. Did I do what I wanted? What meant something to me on a deeper level? Rarely. I’d rather watch a football game sitting around in a friend’s living room instead of crowded in a stadium with thousands of strangers. I’d rather be here with you listening to Willie Nelson jam on guitar and ramble than have front row tickets to this year’s one hit wonder no one will remember in ten years.”
After finishing my rant, I stared at her. Her eyebrows were raised and her lips parted. I couldn’t tell if I’d shocked her or if she thought I was crazy. Probably both.
“Wow, you feel strongly about this.”
“I missed a chunk of my life chasing money and feeding my ego.”
“But not anymore?”
With a wry smile, I shook my head. “Not if I can help it.”
“Hence the recluse on an island lifestyle?” A slim edge of snark darkened her tone.
I circled my arm above my head and leaned back. “Not on the island right now. You’d be surprised how often I come to Seattle for concerts, meals, and other things.”
“Other things?”
“I still have a few friends in the city.”
“Oh. I see.” Was that curiosity or jealousy in her voice?
I should’ve clarified these were platonic and mostly male friends, almost all of them married. I didn’t. I liked she was nosy about my life.
“I give you props for keeping your life private.”
“Not that difficult when I make sure nothing interesting happens. No drama, no news.”
“So who’s on your must see list?”
I rattled off five or ten artists. Most were older, but some had battled with addiction most of their careers. The wild cards, those were the ones near the top of my lists. The unpredictable nature of addiction would always be a trigger for downfall and an early death.
“I missed seeing Bowie and Prince live,” Roslyn admitted, sounding sheepish.
“Who would be on your list now?”
“Justin Timberlake. Not because he’s going to die any time soon. For other reasons.”
I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. “Crush on JT?”
She focused on the ceiling. “Since I was a kid and carefully cut out magazine pages of him to plaster all over my bedroom walls.”
“Duly noted.”
“No teasing?”
“I respect your music choices. We’re in a no judgment zone. You came to see Willie with me.”
“He’s an American legend.” She grinned at me. “I’ve always loved his braids. Not many men can rock the double-braid look.”
“Maybe double-braids will be the new bun next year.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears, my friend.”
I stilled at the use of the f-word. We’d decided to date. I’d laid out all of my cards over the phone and here she was tossing around the friend label. I’d never thought of her as “just a friend.” Clearly, she had.
When Willie took the stage, the crowd cheered wildly.
I stayed seated until Roslyn pulled me up.
My friend Roslyn.
I plastered a happy expression on my face while my mind ran with all the moments I’d misinterpreted her over the past week. Hell, the past seven years.
AT THE END of the night I didn’t make the first move. Unlike our evening at the Edgewater, I didn’t drive us to a notorious mak
e out spot. When we approached her street, I wondered if there was an app for secluded locations. Not that anyone would “check in” to such places. Or we needed one.
Her “friend” comment had thrown me. She’d said she wanted to take things slow, but we’d kissed more than once. Hell, we made out in the front seat like teenagers with a curfew. Not to take away from the evening we’d spent horizontal on my couch.
When I was about to pull into the loading zone in front of her building, she finally spoke.
“You can park in my guest spot in the garage. Pull up to the entrance and the gate will open.”
“Okay.” Slightly bewildered, I followed her instructions to the garage.
Without looking at me, she pulled something out of her small purse and held it to the window. The gate recognized the responder and opened. I followed her directions and parked alongside her SUV.
“You drive a tank.” I gestured at the behemoth looming above the Porsche.
“You’ve seen Seattle traffic. It’s a war zone out there.”
“Sometimes on the island I get stuck at one of the handful of red lights for a solid three minutes. Hell, I tell you.” I shrugged and bit the inside of my cheek.
“Shut up.”
“Another good thing about living on an island. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
“Let’s go, island boy.”
I was tempted to remind her I was a man not a boy, but I’d rather show her. Instead, I stepped out of the car and said, “I’ll follow your lead.”
She tilted her head to look up at me. I towered over her by about a half foot. “Is that a promise?”
I slung my arm over her shoulders, pulling her close to my side. “I’m not saying I’ll follow you over a cliff or go bungee jumping.”
“Noted.” She looped her thumb through one of the belt loops on the back of my jeans.
The elevator stopped at the lobby level and an elegantly dressed older woman entered followed by a cloud of lilac scented perfume. She wore an eggplant purple skirt suit and low heels, the kind of outfit my own mother wore to special events and weddings. We said hello and smiled at each other.
“Aren’t you a handsome couple!” She winked at me with thickly mascaraed lashes.
Better Love Page 13
