In the Rain (6 page)

"Well,
don't let Jay hear you. He's in one of his foul moods."

"Great."

Jason
was a dick to work for on his best days. Hell, he was too cheap to hire staff
to help with stocking and prep for the lunch rush. That was one reason why Lisa
and I were stuck here. It may have offered more hours, but the pay was exactly
the same. After working twelve hours on my feet, the last thing I needed was a
tongue-lashing from a front manager who couldn't give two shits about his wait
staff.

"So
I should basically hide in here then?" I forced a smile.

"If
you're lucky, he'll be too busy belittling the customers to care about what's
going on in the kitchen," Lisa added, picking the buns off the counter. "I
should probably get things set up. You working on the sauces this morning?"

"Yeah,
once I finish unpacking these boxes."

She
nodded, then headed into the dining area. The original staff had left months
ago, and when Jay offered us extra hours, Lisa and I jumped on it. But neither of
us expected the extra workload to last this long.
He seriously needs to get
more staff.

Meeting
with Thayre had improved my energy level, but I wasn't sure how much longer I
could stand working ten or twelve hours every day with a day or two off every
two weeks.

You
need a life, that's
what you need.

No
sense arguing with myself. I had to get out, but not until after I was on my
feet relationship wise.

It
may happen a lot sooner than you think.

God,
I hoped so. I probably should've waited for a bit of closure, but given the
fact I'd thrown in the towel as far as Bret was concerned, closure probably
wasn't the right word.

What
I really needed was to move on.

And
what better way to do with than with music and Thayre?

Two
lovely distractions that,
when put in the same room, made me forget every damned thing. Friday couldn't
come soon enough.

Four
more days.

Jay
could throw a fit at me all he wanted. I'd hum if I damn well felt like it.
So for the remainder of my shift, that's
exactly what I did.

*
* * * *

F
riday
arrived without an incident. In fact, I'd gotten Lisa so caught up in the
melody I'd noticed her humming it as well. Fortunately, Jay kept to himself for
most of the week, which gave us more time to focus on actual work instead of
defending ourselves for something we didn't actually do.

Dressed
in a shirt and jeans, I headed into the bathroom to double-check my smoky eye
shadow, pull up my auburn hair and do whatever else I could to take my mind off
what was my first real date in over three years. I couldn't count the one night
stands or the few times Bret and I had gone out to eat for my birthday as they
were, for the most part, planned. There was no anxiety. No excitement.

But
tonight, the nerves were definitely there, right alongside my self-doubt. The
sheet music was folded in my purse, and while I'd read over it countless times,
I was still afraid I'd screw it up. Of course, it would've helped if I'd
actually been able to play the damned music instead of humming it.

I
hope Thayre doesn't mind my borrowing Angie again, otherwise he won't get to hear the song at all
. I'd come up with lyrics for it, which I'd
added above the melody once I got in the door earlier this evening. It all
looked great on paper, but in practice, who knew.

My
apartment buzzer called out Thayre's arrival, and I quickly went to the door to
let him in. He still had three floors between my apartment and the ground
level, but that only gave
me enough time to second-guess myself, my music and how I felt for him.

During
our high school days, he was a mad crush, but now? I couldn't really say what
he was. We were obviously flirting the other night, but it was harmless—old
friends getting into the swing of things.

I
opened the door as he was walking up the hall. Damn him and that smile
of his. I held on to the doorframe and, I hope, appeared to be resting against
it instead of for support.

"Ready
to go?" he asked, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek.

I
wasn't sure if he kissed every girl on the cheek when he greeted her, but if he
did, I wouldn't object. "If I asked you to leave and come back, would I
get another kiss?"

He
smirked and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Mm, I don't
know. Sounds like too
much work to me."

I
hit him in the arm. "Dork."

"Always."
He held out his arm, then said, "I parked behind the building. Hope your
fellow tenants don't mind."

"For
five minutes?" I tentatively hooked my arm with his, releasing a breath
when he set his free hand on my arm. "I doubt it."

This
doesn't mean anything.
Thayre had always been a gentleman.
Opening doors, escorting me to the passenger side of his car—all the things he
did when we were still in school.
Which is a lot more than I can say for
Bret.

While
we were still figuring things out, Bret made the extra effort, but once he
settled into the comfortable normalcy that was
our love life, every kind gesture fizzled out.

Looking
at Thayre, I hoped he wouldn't be the same way.
Jesus, Moyra, are you
listening to yourself? You aren't even dating.
He's just a
friend.
An old, very good friend.

Taking
a bit of direction from Thayre, I let him lead me out to the back lot, then to
the passenger side of his car before getting in. He must've been as nervous as
I was, and if not, he was pretty close. Even with steady hands, I couldn't help
noticing the hint of nerves as he drummed on the steering wheel.

"More
music?" I teased, trying to follow the beat with my own fingers as I
tapped my nails on the dashboard.

He
forced a smile and turned on the ignition. "I guess you could say that."

He
got quiet then, but I didn't press him. As he pulled out of the parking space
and into traffic, I got to watch the streetlights as they illuminated his face
to show the hint of a five o'clock shadow and the weariness in his eyes.

"You
look tired," I said once he stopped at a light.

"Staying
up to compose does that to
me."

"You
aren't the only one."

He
reached over to squeeze my hand. "I hope my request didn't keep you up too
late."

"And
tell me, what does Thayre Underwood consider late these days?"

"Depends
on you. So, did I keep you up?"

"Only
until one."

"Pfft,
you wuss. I haven't slept in close to thirty-two hours. Dozed maybe, but not
slept."

"Ouch.
I hope that wasn't
my fault."

He
looked over at me, and while it was shortly after dusk, I couldn't mistake the
dark circles under his eyes. "Not entirely, no. At first, maybe, but I
have a piece I need to finish by the end of the month so we can have it ready
for Webster Hall in August."

"The
Webster Hall? As in the one in New York?"

"The
very same."

I
stared out my passenger side window, not sure what to say. Compared to Thayre
conducting an orchestra and freaking playing at Webster Hall, my waitressing
gig seemed so unimportant. A part of me wondered if I'd have been in a similar
situation if I hadn't given up my schooling or got involved with my ex—a man
who made me give up my music for three fucking years.

"That's
amazing, Thayre."

"You
don't sound happy."

"No,
I am, it's just,
compared to—"

"Moyra,
do you remember what Mr. Tolis said?"

"Our
old instructor?" I glanced at him.

"Life
isn't a competition. Someone will always reach the finish line before you, but
you'll only get
there yourself by going at your own pace."

"And
staying up for thirty-two hours straight is your pace?"

"I
wish. No. I'm in a rut right now. Our first violinist had another offer she had
to take. I don't blame her in the least, and I'm happy for her, but you won't
believe how hard it is to find a decent violinist in this region, let alone
Pennsylvania. And locally? Forget it."

I
nodded. In fact, I'd been the first violinist at our school as well as one of
our local youth groups, but I knew I was nowhere near ready to play in front of
other people. Three year sabbatical or not, I still wouldn't have been half as
qualified as anyone else.

"So
you're staying up to fill the part yourself?" I asked.

"If
I have to, yes. But I'm really hoping it won't come to that.
The crew is used to the way I conduct, and while we could probably play without
a conductor, I'd feel a lot better if we had one anyway, and every conductor
works differently. So what one may think sounds perfect, the other might want
to tweak."

I
opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped once I realized we'd turned
in the opposite direction of his house. "We aren't going to your place?"

"We
will, but I haven't really eaten yet today—or most of yesterday. Bad habit, I
know. In any case, I figured we could get a bite. You hungry?"

"I
could eat. Just please tell me we aren't going to Kimber's."

He
frowned. "I hadn't considered it, actually. You have a bad experience
there or something?"

"Yeah.
I work there."

He
groaned. "Manager's an ass."

"Try
working for him sometime. He isn't nearly as unpleasant to the customers as he
is to his staff."

"Why
stay then?"

"Like
it or not, the wages are somewhat decent. That, and getting into one of the
other, higher paying restaurants in town is close to impossible."

"Have
you tried Max's?"

I
leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "A place I enjoy eating at? Hell
no. I refuse to work where I eat. What do you think would happen if I got fired
or quit? I'd never be able to show my face there again."

"Hmm,
you do have a point, but does that mean
you aren't against the idea of going to Max's?"

"Of
course not. We used to go there all the time after practice, remember?"

"Why
do you think I mentioned it? Best shakes in town."

"They
do make a mad chocolate malt, don't they?"

He
scoffed. "Chocolate? Thin Mint's where it's at."

I
rolled my eyes. Somehow, Max's had managed to make milkshakes flavored like Girlscout
cookies, and the best part was the shakes tasted like the real thing. Every
time.

"Being
addicted to those cookies is bad enough," I said. "I think I can do
without a milkshake addiction. At least the cookies come once a year."

"But
that's
the best part about Max's. It's year-round!"

"Precisely."

Silence
settled around us then, but it was short-lived, for as soon as we turned into
the parking lot, we fell into easy conversation about music, Max's and how
horrible the manager at Kimber's was. Of course, we kept the badmouthing to an
acceptable volume whenever someone passed by our booth, but then we'd kick it
up again.

After
a shake, burger and fries, Thayre hooked his hands behind his head and glanced
up at the tiled ceiling. "Tastes as good as I remember."

"Probably
because you were hungry," I said, still working on my last handful of
fries.

"You
weren't?"

"I
wouldn't have ordered if that was
the case, but you know everything tastes better when you're hungry."

"So
true." He stretched, then stifled a yawn. "You have some music for
me?" I was about to reach into my purse when he reached for my hand. "I
don't need to see it, I just wanted
to make sure we didn't have to stop at your place first."

I
neglected my music and set my arm back on the table. "So if I'd left it at
home, you would've made us go back?"

"Of
course. Damn, Moyra, I haven't gotten to see you or your writing process for
years. If I need to put another three miles worth of gas in my tank to have that experience
again, you better believe I will."

"You
won't. I have it with me." I sat back and stared at my fries.

"You
done? You're giving your food the evil eye."

"I
wish I could finish, but yeah. Not sure I can take another bite if you're still
expecting me to play before tomorrow morning."

"Well
then, let's get you to my studio."

A
fter
splitting the check, and, once Thayre ate a few of my leftover fries, we got
into the car and headed for his place. The silence from earlier return, but at
least this time, we didn't have far to go. His house was five minutes from
Max's, so while he drove, I tried to get my thoughts straight.

We
passed the corner where he'd found me the other night, and I shivered from the
memory. Not because of how cold I'd been, but because of everything that had
happened after he'd invited me inside. We'd played it safe and kept to neutral
topics, but I couldn't help feeling as though we were still standing on uneven
ground.

He
knew I'd been sleeping around or at least window shopping because of the shady
bar I'd ended up in. However, the same couldn't be said for him. All I knew
about him so far was he worked obsessively on his writing, and while he hadn't
said anything, it was safe to say conducting wasn't his job—it was his life. If
he were dating, it would have to be with someone who appreciated music as much
as he did.

If
only you
realized this sooner.
If I'd held on to my passion, the
crap with Bret never would've happened. Hell, Thayre and I may have stayed in
touch if I'd been as serious about my music at the start of college as he was.

"You
coming?" Thayre asked, canting his head to one side after he'd opened my
door.