Tease (Songs of Submission #2)(9)
Author: C.D. Reiss

“Fuck. What do I do?”

“You go and act like this is your room.”

Right. This was my room. Kevin was the interloper. I stood up straighter and continued toward the woman in the green dress: Jonathan’s sister.

“Theresa,” I said, “hi. I’m so glad you came.”

She kissed each of my cheeks. “I had to, of course, since I was the one who told Gene about you.”

“Oh, it was you,” I said. “Thanks again, then. I had no idea you worked at WDE.”

“I run the accounting department. Not glamorous, but it keeps me busy. This is my sister, Deirdre.”

Deirdre stood close to six feet tall, and she wore jeans and an Army surplus jacket. Her auburn curls stuck out everywhere, and her eyes were as big and green as the emerald isle itself. They were also glazed over, with lids hanging at half mast. She was drunk, and dinner hadn’t even been served yet.

“Hi,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

She looked at me, then made a point of looking away. I was being ignored, and somehow it was deeply personal. I turned back to Theresa with a big fat smile. “I hope you enjoy the entertainment tonight.”

Deirdre made a huffing noise, and Theresa and I looked at each other for a second. She seemed as embarrassed as I was as she said, “I’m sure I will. Come by the table after.”

I thanked her and left. I looked at Rhee. She spoke with a customer, nodding and serious, her dark skin a flawless velvet despite her knitted brows. If she wasn’t on me, I had a minute. Scanning the room, I saw Kevin sitting with his buddy Jack. Kevin waved me over with one hand and pushed Jack’s shoulder with the other. Jack gave me a quick wave and vacated the seat. Apparently, I was supposed to sit there. I glanced to Rhee again. She held up five fingers. Five minutes left. Perfect. I slid into Jack’s empty chair. Kevin didn’t get up or pull the chair out for me. He never did.

“Nice to see you,” I said.

“You changed your number.” He gave me the sorry eyes. They used to put me in a state of panic that I’d done something to hurt him. His huge brown eyes, big as saucers, hung under eyebrows that arched down at the ends. He had the textbook cartoon sad face. His hair had that greasy hipster look, a perfect complement to the ever-short beard that broadcast he was above such trivial concerns as looking nice in company. I used to think that made him smarter, more intellectual, more spiritual, but really, he’d just hit a lucky triple in the looks department and made it to home plate on a force play.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You know where I live.” I smiled because I wanted Rhee to see me engaging a new person, not looking like an alley cat about to defend a fishbone.

“That’s stalking,” he explained. “The fact that you didn’t want to talk to me was enough of a message.”

“Yeah, well. We’re grown-ups, and that was a year and a half ago. So, I have four and a half minutes. It is nice to see you.” I plastered my friendliest smile across my face as I delivered the last line, and he bought it. He took a sip of his beer and relaxed.

“I heard about you singing here. Everyone’s talking about it. ‘This girl at Frontage will make you cry.’ As soon as I heard it, I thought it was you. My canary.” I think I blushed a little. No. I know I blushed a little. With all his degradation of my music toward the end, I’d forgotten his pet name for me. The memory of the time he did honor my talents went straight to my heart.

“And once I thought about you…” He stopped himself and reached into his pocket. “I thought, man, I’d like for her to see what I’m doing too. Thought we could hook up again. Artistically. You know? As creators in this mad city.”

He handed me a brochure. The Los Angeles Modern Museum had a Solar Eclipse show every time there was a full eclipse somewhere in the world. It was a group show of the moment’s hottest visual and conceptual artists, and an invitation to show could open doors to new artists, reinvigorate the careers of established artists, and solidify stars in the historical lexicon.

Kevin’s name sat in the middle of the list.

“Congratulations,” I said. “Tomorrow night, huh? Have you hung it already?”

“Did it today. It looks amazing. This is my best work yet. I have one last invite, and well…” He made his deep artist face, where he looked away and made a pained expression before he blanked it off his face. “You contributed to my work. You were my muse. I want you to be there.”

Either he had a new expression or he really meant it, because his face was nothing if not completely sincere.

“I’ll try to come. I’m happy for you.”

He smiled, and I remembered why I’d loved him. Not for the serious crap, but the smiles that lit up his face and my heart at the same time.

I caught sight of Rhee out of the corner of my eye and stood up.

“I’ll put you on the list,” he said as I walked away.

I walked to the piano and touched Gabby’s shoulder. She opened her eyes.

I gave the flyer one last look before slipping it onto my music stand. Jonathan’s ex-wife, Jessica Carnes, was at the top of the list. I folded it over.

Gabby started Stormy Weather. The room quieted, though I could still hear the occasional fork or clinking glass. I had to close my eyes against the spotlight. I sang it the way we’d rehearsed, of course, with the sexual longing intact, but something was missing.

Jonathan’s ministrations that afternoon had done their work on my body, but my mind was on Kevin, and everything he said to me and didn’t, every expectation I couldn’t meet, every time I’d failed him with my own ambitions. My disappointment at the inadequacy of his love came in a flood.

I had nothing to do but use it because I started Someone to Watch Over Me. I growled it from my diaphragm. I used the breakup I’d caused, cutting me off from friends I depended on because I was the aggressor. I wasn’t allowed hurt. I wasn’t allowed to grieve. Without Gabby and Darren, I had had no one to love me during that time. No guarantees. No sisters to protect me from bad decisions or whatever predatory lover followed. No Deirdre to defend me. No one would shelter me or worry about me. When I found that emotional place, I roared the last notes of the song, getting rid of all the accumulated junk feeding the angry girl in my heart.

Then I felt clean. I went through the rest of the songs the way we’d planned, with the dynamics and inflections coming from the right place. We culminated with Moon River, our gentle send-off from the emotional roller-coaster of the set.