Great! I hope he doesn’t think I wanted to see some picture of a bunch of blitzed girls wearing taffeta, or worse, blitzed girls wearing nothing.
I stood up and walked toward the kitchen table where he was scrolling through his phone. When I approached, he held the phone out, showing me the screen. It was a photo of the three guys with their suits on and instruments in hand. Will had the black Gibson, Nate a stand-up bass, and Dustin a set of bongos. They all looked serenely self-possessed and professional, I was quite impressed. They were seated in a half circle next to a rustic gazebo. I could see other instruments in the photo. Leaning against Will’s chair was a ukulele and next to Dustin, a steel drum. I hoped I would get to see the guys play at a wedding someday.
“I had no idea, Will. This is so cool.”
He grinned sheepishly. “It’s just for extra money and we get to play all types of music—it’s pretty fun.”
As I walked over to sit next to him at the table, I stubbed my toe. Searing pain shot through me. “Fuck!” I hopped on one foot. Will stood up and pulled my chair out so I could sit. He sat back down and, without saying a word, grabbed my bare foot and put pressure on all five toes, relieving the pain. He was analyzing my expression. I had my bottom lip tucked entirely into my mouth using my top teeth.
He smiled. “You okay, baby?” I shook my head yes. “Is fuck your favorite swear word?” It occurred to me that I cursed like a sailor around Will and I had no idea why. I paused at the thought and then figured why stop now.
“No, definitely not.” I took a breath. The pain had subsided but Will was still holding my foot in his lap. He started giving me foot massage; it felt divine. “There are at least five swear words I like better than fuck. My favorites are compound words like apeshit, craphat or batshit, but above all, my numero uno, all-time favorite swear word is assclown, without a doubt. Asshat runs a close second. I must say, very few things give me greater pleasure than calling someone an assclown when they really fit the bill. I love it more than puppies and baby seals.”
Will laughed hysterically. He calmed down and shook his head back and forth. Still smirking, he said, “Mia, you are such an enigma.” I think I felt the same about Will.
Moments later, he got up to get ready. He left around seven to go work at the bar. Our little hangout session was a success. No drinking, no slips, just getting to know each other as friends. I didn’t mention Robert to Will; I figured that was my business.
I didn’t see Will at all on Wednesday, but I heard him. When the café slowed down, I walked over to Sam’s to pick up our weekly order of cannolis. Denise, the owner, has been making the delectable pastries since 1979, and we’ve been stocking them in the cooler at Kell’s ever since. Sam’s was quiet except for the muffled guitar sound coming through the ceiling. Will was playing something. I couldn’t put my finger on the tune, but it made me smile and it made Wednesday a good day.
Track 5: Religion
The next morning, I sat at the breakfast bar to paint my nails or attempt to, anyway. Will came into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He was wearing black jeans and a plain black T-shirt. His wallet chain jingled as he moved about the kitchen. Black on black on a man made my fingers tingle. Black on black on Will did more. I focused on my nails.
“Good morning, Roomy. Aren’t you usually at Kell’s by now?”
Staring down, I answered, “I’m going in late. It’s poetry night and Jenny wants me to meet some guy she’s into. I guess he does slam poetry or something.”
“Yeah, Tyler, he’s my guy.”
“You know him?”
“He’s my best friend. He’s awesome! You know he’s like eight feet tall, right?”
Will had a way of speaking where even though his exaggerations were obvious, it seemed like he truly believed what he was saying. It was like Will’s perception really was reality. He probably barely knew Tyler and Tyler was probably six-five. “Where have I been?”
He eyed me speculatively, “I don’t know. Here, let me do that.” He took the polish out of my hand and I made no argument. As he painted my nails quickly, he hummed a mindless tune. There wasn’t a speck out of place. Once again Will proved he had extremely competent hands.
“Impressive, Will,” I said admiring his work.
“Eleven sisters, remember?” He leaned across the bar, pushed on the front of my nose with his index finger and said, “Boop. Gotta go, sweet thing.”