Page 36 of Cruel Delights
“Whatever, man. I’m done here.” He walks off with a shake of his head.
Kaden’s chilling gaze follows him every step of the way.
I wave a hand in front of his face to bring him back. “What was that about?”
At last, he remembers normal human beings blink, and he does too, the scary calm vanishing. His easy-going, friendly vibe returns. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like when men give women a hard time, and it sounded like he was harassing you.”
I fold my arms. “I didn’t need you to get in. I had Grady under control.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to presume—”
“You do that a lot.Presuming. We barely know each other, Kaden. I only met you a few hours ago, and already you’re taking me to lunch, showing up at my work, trying to scare off my ex.”
“That was your ex?”
“No… sort of. It’s complicated. Anyway, chill, okay? You’re starting to scare me.”
“Of course,” he repeats. For the first time, I sense uncertainty about him, like he’s a robot about to malfunction. He sticks both hands in his pants pockets and forces on a grin. “It’s getting late. I should go. I have an early morning. Enjoy your evening, Lyra.”
A minute ago, I was in the middle of a surprising standoff between two polar opposite men. As Kaden excuses himself from the Velvet Piano, I find myself the last one standing out of the three.
In a crowded bar yet somehow completely alone.
* * *
My spirits don’t pick up. Closing time arrives and the duelers walk out well before everybody else on staff. Maximillion winks at me and wishes me a good night in the fakest, most taunting tone imaginable. I scowl and consider spraying him in the back of the head with my bottle of all-purpose cleaner.
I’m stuck cleaning up alongside Erma, the bartender, and the servers on shift. We make quick work of the compact, purple-tinted bar by dividing and conquering. The bartender wipes down the bar area. The servers clean the tables and stack the chairs. I’m on the go, locking the front door and mopping the floors.
Erma supervises, which is really standing around and fussing with her phone.
When everyone’s satisfied, they migrate to the backroom to collect their things out of their cubbies. I’m not as eager to leave.
After such a shitty week and a half, and an even shittier night, I need something to take the edge off.
My gaze swings from the fully stocked bar counter to the stage. Both pianos sit obediently and untouched under the hue from the neon purple lighting.
I can’t explain it. I can’t begin to put it into words or make sense of it.
But my feet move. I fall under a trance.
In a matter of seconds, I’m seated at the bench of the piano to the right and my fingers hover over the keys. I inhale a careful breath, a bundle of nerves fluttering inside, and then I let go.
I let my fingers take over.
The empty bar fills with the soothing, trilling melody of Chopin’s Nocturne in C-minor.
My eyes close. My body sways. My fingersdance.
I’m swept up in a kaleidoscope of rich notes and fluid composition. I’m soaring among the stratosphere. Free as a bird. High as the sky.
Beauty becomes a sound as I play with romantic abandon, feeling every stroke of the keys in my soul.
It’s a moment.
One I haven’t had in a very long time. One that ends with a satisfied beat of my heart as I play the last note and strike the last key.
Musical perfection.