Page 87 of Down Beat
THIRTY-TWO
Tabitha
“Interstate Love Song” – Stone Temple Pilots
Kendall pleaded for me to stay at home, saying that it was crazy that we were even entertaining the idea of sleeping at the airport. Yet I refused. I can’t say why it was, but a part of me worried that if I had one more night in my own bed then I might overthink this whole crazy idea and change my mind.
I didn’t want that chance to analyze the fun out of it. I can’t remember the last time I simply up and did something on a whim, trusting my gut instinct. Every decision I’ve made since leaving home has been thoroughly thought out, dissected, and all scenarios taken into account.
This? It’s an adventure. One I’m not likely to ever get again, and if I’m not going to get the chance to go places with my own music, then I’m hardly going to turn down the opportunity to experience what the life of a professional musician is like by living it vicariously through somebody else’s fame.
“Why are you smiling?” Rey picks at the shared meal laid out between us, a lazy smile on his lips.
We’re seated on the floor facing each other near the entrance to the terminal, tucked behind the huge scales they have to check your luggage weight. The only thing open for food at this time of night was a coffee shop halfway between domestic and international. Still, our shared late-night supper of coffee and brownie couldn’t be more perfect.
“I can’t stop thinking about how crazy this is.”
He huffs a small laugh before popping more chocolaty goodness in his mouth.
“Don’t you think it’s a little nuts?” I ask.
He shrugs as he swallows. “Maybe. Why, though? What’s crazy about it?”
“Kendall was right.” I spin my takeout cup in hand. “We’ve known each other a couple of weeks.”
“I don’t have to know you long to know that I like being with you, kitty.”
“I know.” I take a sip to avoid looking at him. The intensity of his gaze is bad enough without actually locking eyes with the guy. “But outside of the fact I play violin, what do you know about me, huh? What if I’m the one who can’t be trusted?”
“If you were going to sell me out, you would have done it by now,” he levels. “I trust you.”
“How, when you hardly know me?”
“Why do you trust me?” He catches my eye, holding it as he pushes the last of the brownie my way. “I’ve had my half.”
“You can have more if you’re hungry.”
“Eat, kitty.”
I pick up a crumbling mouthful and pop it in as he watches me. Damn. I’m kind of glad I didn’t give any up now—this is good.
“Tell me about you,” Rey instructs as I continue to eat. “What should I know about this foxy little woman who knocked me on my ass?”
I grin at his jest, heated by the challenge I find in his eyes. He meant every damn word. Wow. Can’t say I’ve ever been called foxy before.
“Well.” I lick my fingers off one by one. “I’m an only child.”
“Huh.”
“Does that surprise you?” I bundle the rubbish, shoving the crumb-filled napkin back in the paper bag.
Rey shrugs one shoulder as he reaches out to take it from me. “All the people I’ve met who are only children have been entitled assholes.”
“Really?” I know the stereotype, but I didn’t think it was that honest of a representation.
“What else?” He sits up straight and pulls his arm back, lobbing the trash toward the bin behind me. It goes in on the first attempt.
“Nicely done.”