Page 57 of Shattered Chords

“Do they help?” I asked, motioning at the lollipop he’d stuck in the corner of his mouth. I didn’t want to talk about one drive-by with another.

“Not sure.” Sensing my unease, Dante grinned and gladly steered the conversation in a different direction. “But it occupies my taste buds and I don’t think about wanting a cigarette so much.”

“That’s admirable.”

“What is? My addiction to sweets or my addiction to nicotine?”

“Your desire to beat the addiction to nicotine.”

“Ah.” He gestured at the lights dangling in the wind above our heads. “You know, I’m a bit taller.”

“Be my guest.” I had no fight left in me, so I allowed him to get up on the ladder and untangle the strings with his expert fingers. Then we talked about Ally’s upcoming trip to Jesse Catchum’s studio in Burbank.

“Have you met him?” I asked, squinting up at his lean form lingering several feet in the air. The wind messed with his hair and shirt and when I saw a sliver of his tanned abdomen from my vantage point, my cheeks grew hot and I averted my gaze.

“What are you two doing?” Ally called out from the terrace, then padded toward the ladder to hold it. God forbid Dante fell off.

“Helping your mom with this...” He swallowed the word and pulled on a small bulb, a frown creasing his forehead. “Decoration.”

“Right.” Ally produced atsk-tskand gave me a meaningful stare.

Once Dante was done and back on the ground, she said her goodbyes and retreated to her room, leaving us alone.

“Thank you for doing this.” I rushed over to the terrace to flick on the switch. Soft yellow light spilled over my back yard, casting small moving shadows across the fence, the house, and the table and chairs.

“I’m glad I could be of help, darlin’.” Dante smiled and followed me to the terrace, where we stood for a long moment and enjoyed the fruits of our collective labor.

“You have a really nice place,” he said to me a few heartbeats later.

“Yes, you mentioned that earlier.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he agreed as his gaze wandered to the table and froze, his entire face suddenly becoming rigid. An assembly of somewhat harsh asymmetrical lines.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw my half-open bottle of wine. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll make sure not to have any alcohol out when you’re around.”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head once and the tension seemed to disappear. His eyes were warm and open again, and his mouth curved into a seductive smile. “Such is the life of an alcoholic. Don’t limit yourself on my account.”

“It’s not about limiting. It’s about respect toward other people.”

“Do you want me to help you with the ladder before I go?”

“Oh, I can lift it. I’m short, not helpless,” I bristled.

“I never said you were short.” He smirked.

“But you’ve insinuated it on more than one occasion.”

Dante leaned closer, his lips almost brushing my cheek. “I happen to like your height, Camille. Good night.” And with that, he left.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Dante Martinez anymore.

The next morning when I drove to Dream Bride, I carefully sifted through the events of the previous night in an attempt to find a flaw in the way he behaved or spoke. But there wasn’t one. He’d said all the right words and done all the right things. At breakfast, Ally was ecstatic over a new trick she’d learned from him and I credited her cheerful disposition and sudden desire to eat with me to Dante’s efforts.

It was strange, seeing her so happy and animated in my presence.

On my way to work, I dared to play some Hall Affinity songs, this time paying special attention to the guitar.

Oh, yes, the man was good.

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