Page 3 of The Music of Love

“What I said is not a line,” he says as he reaches past me and grabs the pen and pad we use to mark take-out orders. He begins to scribble something down. “I meant what I said. I’m sorry, Reese. And I’d like to take you out to apologize. You can reach me at this number.”

With a callused hand twice the size of mine, he presses a piece of paper into my palm. “Now don’t let that get out, okay? I’ll have to get a new number.”

“You suggesting I would sell this?” I ask.

“I know you wouldn’t do that, Reese,” he replies, his eyes fixed on mine as he moves aside, making way for me. “Call me. I’ll show you a great time.”

2

Reese

I’m playingwith the piece of paper between my thumb and forefinger when I get back to the apartment. My roommate, Sarah, is in the bathroom doing her makeup, getting ready for her shift at Tigress’s, the gentleman’s club where she dances. I come in and say nothing. I just sort of lean against the doorframe, looking down at the string of numbers in my hand.

“What’s up with you?” she finally says as she curls her lashes.

“I…I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” I finally reply.

Sarah and I have been friends since freshman year. She’s always been the more outgoing one, which is why she became a dancer when I became a waitress. She turns around and gives me a questioning look.

“Try me.”

“You see this?” I ask, holding up the paper for her to see.

“Yeah?” She shrugs.

“You know whose number this is?” I ask. She leans in to take a closer look, and although I trust her with my life, I snatch the scrap away from her, causing her to frown at me like I just tried to attack her.

“What are you–?”

“Cal Shelton’s.” When his name comes out of my mouth, a strange sense of pride comes over me, and I don’t like it. I shouldn’t be feeling it. Not me.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sarah laughs, turning back to the mirror.

“No, I’m serious!” I reply. “It’s Cal Shelton’s. He came into Henry’s tonight.”

“Henry’s? What would Cal Shelton be doing at Henry’s? Why wouldn’t he be at The Blue Ivy or one of those places working on three Michelin stars? This is New York, for crying out loud!”

I shrug in complete agreement. This is why Sarah and I became friends andstayedfriends for so long. “Beats me! But he was there.”

I go on to recount all the details of what just happened back at the restaurant, and by the time I’m finished, there’s a look of total disbelief on Sarah’s face. I completely understand why.

Sarah has diagnosed me with a heavy case of RBF, aka resting-bitch-face. As such, men simply don’t come up to me. In my entire eighteen years of being on this planet, I’ve only ever hadonesingle boyfriend, and that was back when I was fourteen. His name was Tucker, and I found out later that the only reason we ended up dating was that his hockey bros dared him to.

“So you told Cal no?” Sarah asks, even though I just told her I did.

“Yeah.” I nod. She also nods.

“Good.”

“Good?” I reply, more than slightly confused. Sarah is normally the one pressuring me into doing things I don’t want to do—like dancing. She’s been telling me to apply to Tigress’s ever since I turned eighteen.

“Yeah.” She nods, moving past me and going into her bedroom. Confused, I follow her.

“Wait, what?” I ask. “I expected you to be telling me to sayyesto his invitation.”

Sarah shakes her head as she pulls out some new pieces of lingerie from her closet and examines them.

“Nah, you wouldn’t be able to handle a guy like Cal.”

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