“What?” She looks at me.
He snickers. “I’ll let her explain. I gotta run. I need to get this work out in before the bar opens.”
He waves and walks away as Juliana pins me with a stare. “What happened?”
I sigh. Of course he would mention my predicament. “Let’s just say I need to work up to your level, Jules.”
We start to make our way to the locker room when Juliana bumps my arm. “Look over there,” she whispers.
“At what?”
“Latson.”
Um, okay. My eyes sweep the gym floor when I spot him standing in front of the same mirrors Juliana and I used earlier. His back is to us as he balances a weight bar across his shoulders and squats. I can’t deny it’s a nice view. Muscular arms, tapered waist. Defined legs.
“Do you see it?” she asks.
“See what?”
“His ass.”
My mouth falls open. “Jules!”
“I told you you could bounce a quarter off it.”
I can’t resist and sneak another peek. He bends at the knees again, causing his shorts to hug his body.
Yeah. You could probably bounce a lot more than a quarter off that.
Just then, his eyes find my reflection in the mirror. He winks to let me know I’ve been caught. I’m tempted to wink back, but I stop myself. He’s involved with Heidi. Instead, I stand there like an idiot and stare.
Great. In addition to stumbling and getting stuck in a leg press, I’ve embarrassed myself in front of him yet again.
“Let’s go,” I grumble and head toward the locker room.
Chapter Six
“Thank you, Tricia. I’ll wait for your call.”
I hang up with my insurance agent and look out over the blue water of Lake Michigan. I watch it lap the shore for a few moments before wiggling my feet and burying them further into the sand. The sun has decided to shine and turn this spring day into an anomaly. The temperature hovers near seventy-five degrees, which is high for this time of year. The city is taking advantage of the warm weather, and I’m one of hundreds on this beach. I thought it would be a good idea to get out of Pete’s apartment, explore a bit, and recover from my gym experience.
I also thought it would be a good idea to spend some time alone. I know I’ve only been here two days, but if I’m going to relax and “do me,” I should start sooner rather than later. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying in Chicago without obligations.
My eyes scan the people around me and they land on a young mother, or maybe she’s a babysitter, with a toddler to my left. They’re wearing jeans, but building sand castles anyway. Farther down the shore a few high school kids toss a football and, past them, a couple stands near the water’s edge. They grab my attention.
He’s wearing a suit. She’s wearing denim capris and flip flops. She gestures with her hands and he reaches out, catching them to stop her. He studies her face, says something, then leans forward and, I assume, whispers in her ear. I watch her take a step back with wide eyes. It doesn’t appear things are going well.
A seagull swoops low over the water and distracts me for a second. I glance at the bird, then back to the couple. They stare at one another. The man looks tired and the woman shakes her head. Then, she wraps her arms around her waist and walks away. She heads in my direction, and I watch the man close his eyes before opening them slowly. I expect him to call her back, or run to her to make things right. Neither happens. When she’s steps away from me, he turns and leaves without saying a word.
I feel awful for her. I know I’m jumping to conclusions, but, given my most recent dating experience, I feel like none of this is her fault. As she passes in front of me I ask, “Are you okay?”
She looks surprised I noticed her and stops walking. “My fairytale just ended,” she says.
Her choice of words strikes me. I can sympathize. Before I tell her so, she brushes tears from her cheeks and continues on her way. I’m sure she doesn’t want to discuss her life with a stranger.
My fairytale just ended.
I turn her statement over in my mind. Unfortunately, I know that feeling all too well. The feeling that something is meant to be, only it turns out the opposite is true. An image of my ex Kyle appears in my thoughts, and I pull my knees to my chest.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I truly thought he was the one.
For three years Kyle and I lived together in his cute little two bedroom ranch. It was my home for a long time, and I made the mistake of assuming it would be forever. I think it surprised him just as much as it surprised me when I walked out. I wanted a deeper commitment. A ring. When I brought up the subject he said he wasn’t ready to take that step. I didn’t understand why and I let my emotions get the best of me. Only after meeting Addison did everything become clear. As much as I wanted his heart, it never belonged to me.
Suddenly, inspiration hits. I open the notes app on my phone and start typing.
The sounds around me fade as a song forms in my mind. It comes to me quickly, faster than any song I’ve written before. Even the one I wrote for Kevin’s wedding took longer than this. Probably because it was his gift and I wanted it to be perfect. Regardless, things can’t always be perfect and this song won’t be, but when I finish the lyrics, I fall in love with what I’ve created.
Standing, I wipe the sand from jeans and find my shoes. I walk away from the beach and toward the sidewalk.
Thank you, mystery couple, I think. I can’t wait to get to my guitar.
~~~~
“Heads up!”
A black t-shirt smacks me in the face.
“Hey!” I look at my brother. “What was that for?”
“We’re short bartenders and I need your help.”
“At work?” My face twists as I lean over to snag the shirt off the floor. “Why me?”
“Because you’re great at it and I know you’d like some extra cash. Plus, it’s Saturday. I don’t want to leave you all alone.”
“I’ll survive,” I say, although the idea of working appeals to me. More money has left my pocket than I anticipated. Juliana and I went shopping on Michigan Avenue the other day. It’s hard to resist new clothes when someone gushes about how cute they look, especially when the outfit matches the new boots you just bought from Saks.
“Okay,” Pete sighs. “We really need your help. A band is performing tonight and the bar will be packed. Both Mina and Maggie called off; they have the stomach flu or something. Gwen is the only one left and she can’t handle it on her own.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” I straighten out the shirt in my hands. “Gwen I’ll help. You on the other hand … ”
Pete rolls his eyes and I glance at the shirt. Scrawled across the chest, in fire-orange letters, is the word Torque. My brother wears a similar uniform, except his shirt has his first name on the sleeve.
Pete checks his watch. “Put that on. We need to get moving.”
Leave it to my brother to wait until the last minute. “If I’m going to make any tips I at least have to comb my hair.”
Pete sighs as I set my guitar down and leave the couch. I head to change, opting for black jeans to go with the black shirt, since I left my bartending skirts at home. In the bathroom, I brush through my hair and pull it back in a low, messy pony. I take a few minutes to fix my face and when I’m done, I have dark smoky eyes and pink, glossed lips. Hopefully this will be good enough for the atmosphere. I’ve never been to Pete’s work before.
The drive takes us around thirty minutes with traffic. If the streets were empty, it would’ve taken us ten. Torque is located on the outskirts of a trendy area in Lincoln Park, or so my brother tells me. He said the bar started out small, but became popular by word of mouth. When we pull down a random side street and up to the entrance, the location is more discreet than I had imagined. Through the car window, I look up at the plain red brick building. Only a few tinted windows dot the exterior, and a small black awning stamped with the word “Torque” marks the door. No wonder this place relies on recommendations. How does anyone find it?
As Pete rolls to a stop in front of the entrance, I unfasten my seatbelt. “Where do you –?”
My question is cut off when my door unexpectedly opens. I turn to see a surprised yet familiar face. Once Felix takes me in, he rearranges his features to look suave. “Mi amor,” he purrs.