Page 79 of Reckless

“That’s true,” she thinks a moment. “Like Queen.”

“Sure. And Muse use the piano in most of their music.”

“I’m going to make it my next mission to find a piano somewhere and listen to you play.”

“I said I could play it, not that I’m that good. It’s been years since I played a piano.”

“Surely it’s like riding a bike.”

“Maybe,” I shrug.

Mom got me the piano lessons when she saw where my music tastes were going. Dad thought she was crazy. Dad’s love of grunge and rock fueled what I listened to.

“Okay, my pick,” she grabs her phone and scrolls for a while, then announces the song. “‘The Beginning’ by Snow Patrol.”

“New.”

She beams. I’ve realized she enjoys introducing me to new music. We’ve adopted the ‘new’ and ‘old’ descriptors for when we’ve heard it before, or if it’s new to us.

She starts the song playing, then sits back and puts her feet up on the dashboard, crossing her ankles. I love she loves wearing shorts. It’s a pretty fucking sweet view.

Krista is introducing me to a lot of music I haven’t listened to before, and I love that. I’m not the kind of guy who only listens to one genre. I love all kinds of music.

In fact, I’ve added a ton of songs she’s recommended to my playlist. A lot of For King and Country, they have an impressive back catalog.

Concentrating on the song, I listen to the lyrics, and I’m sucked in by the message behind them. The more I listen, the more I wonder at how astute Krista is.

It fits how my life is going perfectly right now. How it feels like I’ve fucked up in my life, how I don’t understand who I am and want to make things better, but I’m afraid of reaching for it. Afraid of finding something, or someone, but not knowing how to deal with it.

She is sitting quietly, watching through the window as we drive along. Traffic has been slow going for a few miles now and I glance at the gas gauge. We should stop soon. We’re heading to an RV park outside of Minneapolis before going into the city itself. Krista offered not to go to big cities, but I’m willing to take a risk so she can do the things she had on her itinerary.

I’m not here to mess things up or have her change her plans. My goal is to find a bookstore and buy one of her books. I haven’t told her. She might think it’s weird I want to read one of her books. I could wait until I’m back in LA, but don’t want to. Her writing is a huge part of who she is, and I want to devour everything about her.

I point out about the gas, and she consults her map to find the next rest stop. As we’re nearing it, and it’s her pick again, she chooses Cutting Crew’s ‘I Just Died in Your Arms.’ We sing along together, me tapping the steering wheel, her swaying in her seat like she’s at a concert.

Krista commends me on my skill getting the RV to the pump. We slip into the roles that are becoming automatic now. I pump gas while she goes into the store to get anything we need.

I relinquish control on the last leg into Minneapolis and she puts on Jason Mraz’s 'Butterfly' from the We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things album.

"Krista?" I call from my position on the sofa. It’s amazing how tiring it gets driving long distance and I have a new appreciation for our tour bus drivers when we’re on the road.

"Yeah?"

"Is he referring to a ladies pussy as a butterfly? Is this song about sex?"

She doesn't say anything but I see her shoulders move up and down as she laughs. I grin and lean back, closing my eyes. A little while later, I’m surprised I’d gone into such a deep sleep when she wakes me.

“We’re here. I’m gonna grill some burgers for dinner.”

“Let me.” I sit up and rub my eyes. “You should take it easy. Do some writing.”

As I head to the kitchen and she goes to get her laptop, her phone flashes with an incoming text as I pass it. I’m not spying, my attention goes to the phone because it makes a whistling sound and the screen lights up.

‘Xander.’

My pulse spikes and my jaw tightens. Irrational anger consumes me.

Why the fuck is he texting her?

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