“What does that mean? I saw you guys kiss at midnight.”
“We didn’t kiss kiss, though. Later on when I was cutting his hair.” Her mouth fell open again. “I sat on his lap and things got a little crazy; I stopped it and stormed off to my room… and then I passed out and didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
“So you led him on again and rejected him and then couldn’t even roll your ass out of bed to say goodbye?”
“I heard him leave in the morning so I ran to the window… I saw Sonja waiting for him with a town car.”
“Sonja was at your apartment? Oh my god, how awesome!”
“Jenny, please, she’s probably in the process of seducing Will as we speak.”
“Don’t be silly, Will is no dummy.” She paused for long second. “He’s in love with you.” She said it deadpan as she stared into my eyes, waiting for a response.
“How do you know?”
“I can tell and anyway, he told me. I believe his exact words were cosmic, soul-shattering, air in your lungs kind of love.”
That sounded like something he would say, but it hurt to hear it from Jenny. “Will loves everyone. Anyway, why didn’t he tell me himself and why are you telling me now?”
“He asked me not to; he said he wanted you to figure things out. He wants you to be happy.”
The following week flew by like I was watching it on a movie screen in fast motion. I still had not called Will back. I received a postcard of a fishbowl with one tiny little lost goldfish soul in it. There was a line on the back in Will’s handwriting,
WISH YOU WERE HERE-
He didn’t sign his name. Later that day at the café, I let my curiosity get the best of me. I went into the back office, which was a glorified broom closet with a computer, and I did an Internet search. I typed in “Will Ryan” and immediately found a video link titled “Sonja and new guy Will Ryan sing a duet.”
The video was from the concert that had taken place the night before in San Francisco. It was posted by a Sonja fan, so I doubted they had the inside track on anyone’s personal life, yet the title still caught my interest.
The video started with Sonja at the microphone introducing Will. “Hey, everybody! If you were here to see this guy open the show, then you know how much he fucking rocks!” I rolled my eyes at that line but continued watching the torturous spectacle. “I talked him into coming back out to sing a song with me, so here he is, my new favorite person, Will Ryan.” The crowd cheered. Will sauntered out onstage sans guitar, which was completely out of character for him. When he took a seat at the piano, I gasped. He proceeded to play the opening riff of The Rolling Stones’ “Wild Horses.” It was a song I’d played for Will many times. I knew he could play the piano a little, but he was a much better guitarist, so I could only deduce that he was somehow playing the song to me, at least I hoped that was the case. His voice sounded pained while his eyes focused fervently on the piano keys. He played a beautiful and extremely slow version. When he sang, he held out the words until there was no music, it was just the sound of his voice slicing through the silence. He increased the tempo and volume on the piano as Sonja stood at the front of the stage and sang the second verse, quite well I must admit, even though it seemed like Will was trying to drown out her voice. No matter what was going on or how innocent the intention, these two people were singing an intensely romantic song; people were going to make assumptions. When they were through, Will got up and Sonja walked over to him, stood on her toes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He didn’t react, which was unusual for Will, who made it commonplace to kiss his friends on the lips. He blew a kiss out to audience and waved as he walked out of view. He never once smiled the entire time he was onstage. Even through the jealousy, my heart still ached for him.
The video ended as the intrusive ringing of the café phone startled me out of my seat. “Kell’s,” I said abruptly.
Will let out a long breath. “Baby! How are you?
I hesitated. “I’m good.” Lies. Lies. Lies. What I should have said was that I missed him like crazy after only a week and a half.
“I played “Wild Horses” last night on the piano, but it didn’t hold a candle to your version. Sonja sang it with me.” He said the last part with zero enthusiasm.
“How is Sonja?”
“She’s a pain in the ass.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, she’s a spoiled little brat and I’m starting to think this whole arrangement was made to appease her and not the label.”
“Well, she seems to really like you, doesn’t she?” I said with feigned excitement.
Will was silent for a long beat. “Who cares, Mia?”
“Are you mad?”