Madly

Chapter Five

Wes stood there, hoodie in hand as Rowyn hurried away. He tried to pluck enough pieces of that conversation so he could assemble them into anything remotely rational. 

Keaton blinked. “I think it’s fair to say my date was better.  What was that about?” 

“Your guess is as good as mine, bro.”

The two stood in silence for a moment while the absurdity of what happened sank in.

“She can’t date you, ‘cause you’re a musician?”

“That’s what she said.”

“That’s the first time I’ve seen that be a disadvantage. I thought girls loved musicians.”

Wes scratched his head. “Yeah. Me too.”

“So?”

“So?”

Keaton smiled. “Are you going to let her get away with that? I thought you really liked this girl.”

“I do. She’s hot. She’s sweet. She’s smart.”

“She owes you some kind of explanation,” he said.

Keaton was right. If she was going to rip away his hope for something amazing, it was only fair that he expected her to have a damned good reason for doing it.

Wes smiled at his brother. “You know, for being younger you dish out decent advice.” He handed the hoodie over to Keaton and as it passed his face he realized it smelled like girl. Like flowers. Like her. A scented reminder of what he could no longer have. “Be right back.”

The door to her apartment was open a crack and Rowyn sat in dim light, practically folded in half on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest, a blanket draped around her shoulders. The TV was on, and she was obviously using TiVo to pause, rewind and re-watch him. That’s how she found out and she was now simply grinding salt into fresh wounds.

Wes cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said. “Can we talk?”

She wordlessly pointed the remote to the television and paused it at a close up of Drew’s tattooed forearm strumming the guitar and although she didn’t utter the word ‘yes,’ he took her actions as enough of a sign that she’d at least listen to what he had to say.

Wes moved to the couch and sat down beside her. “In the interest of being honest,” he said. “I gotta tell you I am so confused right now.”

She was silent and brought the corner of her blanket up to swipe at her red-rimmed eyes.

“Today was probably the best time I’ve had on a date. Ever,” he said.

She nodded. “Me too.”

This was going from highly confusing to completely bewildering in record time.

Wes set his hand on her knee and looked at her. “Then what does it matter what I do for a living?”

She wiped her eyes again and rose to her feet before she disappeared down the hallway. She returned with a frame in her hands and offered it to him. It was a CD, pressed between two plates of glass. He knew what it was immediately. An award; recognition for a platinum album—the kind given by record labels when their artists achieved that level of success. 

She spun around and pulled something off the mantel on the fireplace and handed that to him too.

Holy crap. “This is a Grammy.”

Rowyn flopped beside him. “One of many. I swear you could take it if you wanted to. My father wouldn’t even know it was gone.”

He squinted to make out the writing on the plaque in the dim light of the room. It was too difficult though, so he set both pieces on the coffee table.  “Who is your father?”