Page 38 of Your Rhythm
“It sounds pretty terrible when you say it like that.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, “it kind of does.” He grabs his mug and tips it upwards, draining the rest of his drink before setting it back down. “Fortunately for you, I might be willing to indulge your selfish favour if you’re willing to indulge mine.”
He pulls the zipper of his jacket up and motions to my drink.
“Finish that. We’re going on a little adventure.”
“What?” I demand. “Is that your selfish favour? I think I’d like some more information first.”
“Just finish it. There’s something I want you to see before I ask.”
He’s already getting up from the table and waving goodbye to Roxanne, so I don’t have any choice but to chug back the dregs of my French vanilla and join him on the street. It’s already dark out, the neon lights of a St. Laurent night reflecting off the wet pavement and piles of melting snow. I stop to pull my gloves out of my pocket, but Matt’s already jogging down the sidewalk.
“Come on!” he shouts. “Our bus just went by.”
I take off after him. “We’re getting on a bus?”
He won’t answer any of my questions as we climb aboard an STM bus heading in the direction of the Old Port. We turn right onto Boulevard René-Lévesque and continue until Matt signals for us to get off at a stop in the heart of downtown.
“Matt, seriously, where are we going?”I pant, trotting along after him as he looks both ways before jaywalking across Rue Peel.
“For this next part,” he says, heading towards the base of a huge skyscraper, “you’re going to have to act like you know what you’re doing here.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here!” I protest, as we swing ourselves through the revolving doors and into an empty lobby. One side of it leads to a bank office that’s closed for the night, and the other opens onto a tiny Tim Hortons store.
“I used to work there,” Matt tells me, pointing to the Timmies as he steers us past it and towards some elevators.
“You worked at Tim Hortons?” I snort, distracted from how confused I am as I picture Matt in a visor, selling donuts.
“For like a month,” he says defensively. “That’s how I found out about where we’re going next.”
I resign myself to a few more moments of mystery as we step into the elevator and Matt pushes the button for the top floor. We exit into a hallway full of closed doors that I assume lead to offices.
“You sure we’re allowed to be here?”
“We’re not,” he says breezily. “Come on.”
He steps around me and leads us down to the end of the hallway, leaning into the push bar of a grey door that swings open to reveal a concrete staircase. We climb up to yet another grey door.
“How many fucking doors are you going to take me through, Pearson?”
“Last one. I promise.” He grins at me, excitement written all over his face. “This is the part where you have to close your eyes.”
I cross my arms over my army jacket. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“No really, you have to.”
“I’m notclosing my eyes, Matt.”
He shrugs. “There goes your story then, I guess.”
I make a sound that comes out close to a growl. “Fine.”
With my arms still crossed, I shut my eyes. I feel the heat of Matt’s body as he moves behind me, circling an arm around to rest his hand just in front of my glasses.
“No cheating,” he says into my ear. “Now walk forward, really slowly.”
“This is so, so stupid.”
