Page 32 of Movers and Shakers

Barry: Yes.

Lila: Can I come over?

Barry: Any time. We can meet at my apartment.

I told Juno to drop me off and stay on call. She agreed and said she would wait outside and stay very close.

Barry met me by the door leading up to his place. His apartment was smaller, with a love seat and a few books stacked on the side tables. His guitar sat next to one of them, in perfect placement for him to reach out to start playing while relaxing on the furniture.

Everything here was ideal for a single person. There was only one stool at the overhanging bar, one chair at a small dining room table, and one set of keys on the hook by the door.

“Lila,” he said. “Welcome.”

Barry wasn’t wearing a flannel this time and my eyes trailed to his arms. Them being on full display made my stomach do a flip. When was the last time I’d ever felt this way over a man?

“Thanks for letting me come over. I love your place.”

“It isn’t much,” he said with a shrug.

“Does it have a rooftop area too? Most of the places here seem to have something.”

“I keep that for personal use. I’d show you, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t be safe for you to go up there.”

“You’re right about that.” I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I got caught. “So, all of this is for you? You have good taste.” I eyed the artwork with music notes and the LED lights behind a record player. “What records do you have?”

“Mostly yours,” he said. “Plus some Fleetwood Mac and Taylor Swift.”

I looked at his collection, and true to his word, many of my albums were there. My cheeks burned at how much of a fan he truly seemed to be.

“So,” I said, determined not to overthink this, “I have some ideas for my anti-Blaze song. Can I borrow your guitar?”

“She’s all yours.” He handed it to me.

I played a melody that was lower than I’d usually go. “I was thinking about this, but with a harsher electric guitar.”

He paused to consider it. “Not bad. It’s very different from your usual sound.”

“This is what I resonate with right now. I almost wish I could release it.”

“Maybe one day.”

I wished I could say yes, but I busied myself by writing down a few more notes. When I looked up, Barry was watching me.

“What?”

“It’s nice to see you in your element.”

“Scribbling words in an old notebook? Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“A compliment. I wouldn’t dare insult you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I must say, this isn’t me at my best.”

“I like it anyway.”

My cheeks heated again and I found my focus pulled from songwriting to him. “How did you find my music anyway?”

“My sister liked you.”

---