Strangers in the Night

by Ines Saint

  Jake looked at her. “As a matter of fact, I do. I meet with them on a regular basis and I help them manage their budgets.”

  Keila stood up. “Well, reality isn’t black and white, on paper, and in neat little rows of numbers, reality is that some students won’t be able to benefit from the program because of your little fee. You only know the type of person who comes to you for help. I took classes with kids whose parents chose cigarettes or a shot of tequila over their child’s needs. How about showing a little compassion for those kids?” Keila flared, and the fact that the press had described her as feisty came to mind.

  “Throwing money at people isn’t compassion, and it doesn’t solve their problems. Helping people help themselves is the responsible thing to do, Miss Diaz.” Unlike Keila, Jake kept his voice even and controlled, but he couldn’t help it, he stood up, too.

  “Well then, Mr. Kelly, let’s be responsible and shut children out of this program so that they don’t have anything to do after school and they can go get themselves into trouble instead of discovering a new talent.” Keila took a step closer as she spoke, her hands again gesturing in that lively way he’d admired just a little while ago.

  “They won’t be shut out. Studies show they will be more responsive.” Jake stepped toward her.

  “Wow, you really, really don’t get it!” Keila put her hands on her hips and glowered, the yellow in her fiery eyes glowing furiously, and he couldn’t help remember her eyes had also glowed when he’d pulled her closer, as they’d danced. Obviously, she was of a passionate nature.

  “This is why I knew we wouldn’t work well together. You are being way too emotional.” His eyes strayed to her mouth.

  “At least I have emotions, unlike certain Republicans in denial,” she shot back, her breath uneven.

  Jake leaned in closer, trying to keep his temper under control, and his eyes away from her pretty pout. But the woman was getting to him, in more ways than one. She was making him uncharacteristically hot under the collar. “And you think spilling your bleeding heart all over the music program is reasonable?”

  They stared at each other, both fire and ice, both breathing a little too hard, until they heard a cough. Startled, they both looked toward the door. Cate was standing there.

  “I thought you’d like to know the reporter who’s going to talk to the kids is here. She’s waiting, just outside, with the photographer,” Cate informed Jake, her voice strained.

  Jake looked at his watch, it was fifteen to ten. “They’re early,” he said. And they were supposed to wait for him across the street, at the youth center, he silently added.

  “Right, but I just though you would like to know, they’re here.” Cate gave him a look, and shut the door.

  Jake looked back at Keila, who was obviously still steaming. But beyond that, he saw she was hurt, too. He sighed and looked away for a moment, realizing that they both had good intentions at heart.

  “We’ll figure this out, okay?” he said, meeting her eyes.

  • • •

  Keila breathed in, met his eyes, and folded her arms across her chest. A moment before, his glare had been like liquid nitrogen, freezing yet surprisingly steamy-like. Now, searching his face, she saw sincerity. “Right. I guess we have no choice but to try and find some middle ground.”

  They turned away from each other, each gathering their things before heading toward the door.

  “Filip took the reporters across the street,” Cate told Jake as soon as they were in the main room.

  “So, you’re Tania Diaz’s sister?” Tyrone turned to Keila, his demeanor oh so casual, but his eyes glowing.

  “Yes, but, trust me, you don’t want to go there,” Keila said, catching Cate’s eye.

  “Go where? It’s just a question.”

  “Oh, she knows where you’re going with your question, you’ve got that look in your eye, and it ain’t happenin’. Tania hates men,” Cate explained.

  Tyrone laughed. “Right, she hates men.”

  Keila shrugged. “Sorry, she does. And she’d probably hate you in particular — you’ve got a little too much of that Taye Diggs thing going on.” Keila wiggled her fingers at him. “And she especially dislikes good-looking men. So, yes, I’m Tania Diaz’s sister, and yes, she’s single, but no, I won’t introduce her to you. It’s for your own good.”

  Tyrone stared at Keila and Cate. “So not introducing me to a beautiful and intelligent woman is for my own good?”

  Keila sighed. “I know, it’s a shame, she really does have it all. She’s scary smart — ”

  “Scary being the operative word,” Cate interrupted.

  “And she’s wicked funny,” Keila continued.

  “Wicked being the operative word,” Cate added.

  “Oh, and she’s freakishly perceptive.”

  “Let me guess, freak being the operative word?” Tyrone cut in. “What about you? Are you a smart, beautiful man-hater like Cate and Tania?” he asked.

  “I’m not a man-hater!” Cate protested, and then, with the devil’s glint in her eye, she said, “And hate implies passion. Keila here has recently been semi-dumped for showing a lack of passion. So no, she doesn’t have the nature for man-hating in her.”

  Keila’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe Cate had just shared that bit of information! But why her eyes went to Jake instead of to Cate, she couldn’t say. And why her stomach flipped all over the place when Jake looked back at her, a disbelieving eyebrow raised, stumped her even further. With one cold and quick, “See you next week,” she left, ignoring a knowing look from Cate.

  Filip was across the street and he offered Keila a tour of The Chicago Youth Project.

  When they were finished with the tour, Keila walked in a circle in the middle of the blue and beige rec room, taking it all in. Everything around her spoke comfort and purpose; the worn sofas and pool, ice hockey, and foosball tables, the private rooms in which children received tutoring, and outside, the basketball court and park. Filip had said there was a second, very colorful center in Pilsen, and Keila wanted to see that one, too.

  Impassive, yet caring? Distant, but involved? No, she didn’t understand Jake. All she knew was he unnerved her. When he’d been standing close to her, arguing so calmly, she’d been torn between pounding him on the chest or tugging hard on his shirt to pull his lips onto hers to get him to listen to her again, the way he had when they’d been talking about the city, both seemingly enveloped in a strange, delicious cloud of intimacy.

  A little while later, as she walked toward her stop, she caught sight of Jake, Tyrone, another man and a few teenage boys, playing football. Apparently, it was shirts vs. skins. And, because life was unfair as of late, Jake just had to be skins. And, because life was unfair as of late, he just had to be ripped. Breathless and flustered, she thanked God she wouldn’t see him for a full week.

  • • •

  Keila forgot all about her frustrations the next day. She’d finally be rehearsing with a full, nationally renowned orchestra. The fact that she wasn’t getting paid for it yet seemed like a minor detail. Playing was all that mattered. Her heart beat picked up as she made her way to the rehearsal hall, the sounds of musicians fine tuning their instruments filling her with contentment.

  The first person she saw when she walked through the door was Julia Hamilton. Julia looked up when the door swung open, and then quickly looked away. Everyone was gathered either in small groups or pairs, but Julia sat alone, tuning her violin.

  Michelle Moynihan caught sight of Keila and motioned her over. Surrounded by a couple of musicians Keila didn’t yet know, she said, “You’re going to love this; you’ve got your first outside gig!” She introduced Keila to a viola player named Ralph, and then to Simone, a cello player. Michelle explained they were part of a string quartet she’d been asked to put together, and she wanted Keila to join. “We’ll be playing this Friday night, though, so we’re going to have to meet every evening this week and practice until midni
ght,” she added.

  Keila happily agreed, relieved she’d have more income.

  “Where will we be playing?” Ralph asked.

  “We’ll be playing at a private fundraiser for mayoral candidate Jake Kelly, Simone got us the gig.”

  Keila’s heart fell. Jake was going to think she was stalking him or something.

  “Right,” Simone agreed distractedly. She was busy staring at Keila. “Wait a second, aren’t you and Jake dating or something like that?” she asked.

  Briefly, Keila thought of trying to get out of the event. But she knew she’d seem ungracious and she’d never get invited to play with them again. So instead, she set them straight.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Keila arrived at the Lincoln Park address half an hour before the fundraiser was scheduled to begin. The event was being held in a historic, picturesque brick home with an old-fashioned, wrought iron fence guarding the front yard. Ivy lined the sides of the home, and Keila was charmed by its appearance. Inside, she was shown into a spacious parlor off a long, narrow hallway.

  Simone was already there, speaking to an elderly woman. As planned, they were dressed nearly identically in satiny black, floor length skirts and ivory blouses, their hair in French braids.

  Keila looked around and noted four chairs set up in a diagonal line to the left of the room and gathered that’s where they’d play. To the right were six silvery blue clothed round tables set off by intimate, soft glowing candles. The wood paneled walls and a magnificent marble fire place made the room seem cozy despite its size. She wondered if Jake Kelly was there and hoped he wouldn’t arrive until she was already sitting down, lost in her music. No doubt he would notice her, but hopefully, he’d leave her to her playing and go schmooze with the guests who’d paid to be here and spend time with him.

  Ralph walked in, and Keila smiled at how grown-up he looked in his black suit. She knew Ralph wanted everyone to believe he was a rebel without a cause, but his baby-face looks were more High School Musical than Woodstock. Though she’d gotten to know most members of the orchestra a little over such long hours of practice, she’d especially warmed up to the members of this string quartet. Their personalities meshed well and they’d shared a lot of thoughts and personal history during the long, tiring, after-hour practice sessions that last week.

  Michelle arrived next and soon the newly formed string quartet was playing as if they’d been together for years.

  Keila forgot all about Jake Kelly as Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nacht” streamed from her instrument. As people filed into the room, they played pieces by Mozart and Beethoven.

  They put their instruments down to change their sheet music, and Keila realized the room was now full. She guessed there must’ve been at least sixty people, and she wondered if Cate was there. She’d been so busy practicing; she hadn’t called her friend to find out if she’d be there with Jake Kelly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Tyrone speaking with a man in a dark suit, red tie, and incongruous pony tail.

  As agreed, they began playing a more modern fare, beginning with Keila’s personal favorite of the music they’d be playing that night. It was very rare for a second violinist to play anything personally moving at a gig, and a feeling of exhilaration filled her heart.

  Depending on the music, Keila sometimes felt as though she was soaring across the sky one moment, then dipping and gliding the next. Sometimes she felt as though she was flying fast and low. Tonight, the music was all about spiraling, and it was both exciting and ominous.

  • • •

  Jake Kelly arrived to the sounds of stringed instruments and a marathon of whispered names and instructions by Tyrone.

  No sooner was Tyrone finished than people began taking turns to greet him and subtly press for time so they could in turn, press their issues.

  Because the activity was a fundraiser and the required donations steep, attendees had to be well-to-do citizens. Not wanting to owe anyone favors he couldn’t or wouldn’t repay, Jake had hand-picked the attendees. All were outstanding leaders and citizens with no hidden agendas, only legitimate concerns. Jake listened to people congratulate him on his efforts, and ask about his agenda for education and crime.

  He caught sight of his mother and her best friend Regina White, the woman who was hosting the fundraising event. Both women came up to greet him with warm hugs and pride in their eyes. He chatted them up for a few minutes, and they introduced him to a few friends.

  Jake then joined a conversation about the local real estate market. A popular topic, a few more people soon joined in, expressing their concern over the effect morose mortgages had on the local economy. A stuck-up old-money local banker rocked back on his heels and puffed his chest out, as if he was about to say something that would change the world. Instead, he made everyone around him aware of his self-importance and ignorance. It was a typical fundraiser.

  And just as Jake was about to speak up again, someone in front of him shifted, giving him an unobstructed view of the string quartet, and surprise gripped him in a way he was unaccustomed to.

  Keila was there, and she looked more intriguing than ever because of the soft emotions playing out in her features. He must’ve stared at her a moment too long because Tyrone cleared his throat meaningfully. Jake turned back to the small crowd, said his bit on the real estate market, and slipped away.

  He joined his mother and some of her friends again, positioning himself near the string quartet, trying to single out the sounds coming from Keila’s violin. Different feelings seemed to pour out of her and he felt strangely protective of her.

  The second the melody ended, she turned toward Jake, her gaze pinning him, her eyes questioning. He turned away, the people and sounds in the room coming into sharp focus again.

  • • •

  Keila felt heat rise and fall in her chest. Jake Kelly had been staring at her, no doubt wondering if she was finding ways to turn up in his life. As soon as she’d been able to, she’d stared right back, to show she had nothing to hide, but the look on his face as he gazed back had been hard to read.

  She caught Michelle studying her and was about to share a smile with her new friend to show her all was well when someone tapped her shoulder.

  “Why, you’re that violinist. I hadn’t paid much attention to the news, though to be sure, you seem to have brains and that did catch my attention, but just barely, dear — you know how they tend to make things up. However, now that you’re here and I saw the way the two of you were looking at each other, dare I believe the reports are true?” The older woman squeezed Keila’s hand and recognition dawned as Keila took in the woman’s strange features.

  Her upper lip was a tad too full, her eyebrows too surprised, and her smile too stretched. The woman speaking to her was Jake Kelly’s mother. And she was under the wrong impression.

  “Um, yes, I’m the musician your son hired as an advisor, but the reports are untrue, Mrs. Kelly. Your son and I are not dating. He was just looking at me because he was probably surprised to see me here.” The string quartet’s first set was over and Keila’s friends were now waiting for her to join them for supper, so she signaled for them to go on without her.

  The older woman frowned. “So he wasn’t captivated by you just a moment before?”

  Keila shook her head no. Whatever he’d been, it had definitely not been captivated.

  “Bewitched, maybe?” Mrs. Kelly seemed hopeful.

  “Nooo.”

  “The evening paper stated one of their own reporters saw you two arguing passionately on Monday,” she pointed out, her eyes bright.

  “We were disagreeing passionately — about the scope of the music program.”

  “I’m really beginning to feel like I’ll never have any grandchildren.” Mrs. Kelly then frowned. “I simply adore music, and I had this sudden image of a musical grandchild,” she sighed resignedly before asking, “How do you feel about the Dixie Chicks?”

  The change in subject
was so abrupt, Keila laughed. “Empowered women who dare call themselves ‘chicks’? What’s not to love?”

  Mrs. Kelly smiled excitedly. “Well, I’m suddenly in the mood for ‘Landslide,’ do you think you can play it for me?”

  Keila hesitated, looking around at the sea of stuffed shirts. “I’m not sure this is a Dixie Chicks or Stevie Nicks kind of crowd.”

  “Oh, they won’t even notice! Come here, just the two of us,” she said, leading Keila away from the crowd to two corner chairs. “How did you know I was Jake Kelly’s mother?”

  “Well...I looked your son up when I found out I was going to work for him, and I saw a few pictures of the two of you together.”

  “I do have a face you don’t soon forget,” she sighed again. “It’s my scarlet letter. My face is my warning to all women: don’t be insecure!” She seemed so earnest and so sincere that Keila found she was eager to play for her.

  Keila played a soft rendition of “Landslide”, with Mrs. Kelly singing the words under her breath. When she finished playing, she squeezed Keila’s hand again. “All worthwhile philosophy should be lyricized and put to music, don’t you agree?”

  “I do, Mrs. Kelly,” Keila smiled.

  “Call me Patty, please. Now tell me, are your parents or grandparents musical? Is this something that is inherited? Or do — ”

  They were interrupted by Tyrone, who’d brought over two plates heaping with food. “We wouldn’t want you to forget to eat while you entertain the lovely Mrs. Kelly,” he winked at Keila.

  • • •

  A while later, after the quartet finished their second set, they looked around and realized the event was basically over and it was time to gather their things and leave. They went out into the hallway, saying their goodbyes. Simone and Michelle left immediately, Ralph stayed behind to speak to someone he knew, and Keila rummaged through her purse to find her cell phone.

  “Do you need a ride home?” Jake’s deep baritone asked from behind her, and the skin on Keila’s neck prickled in response.