The bell tinkled when she opened the door. Shiny guitars lined the walls, and her pulse quickened. She walked the outer perimeter of the room, pausing now and then to peruse the offerings. The shiny Fender. The gleaming Stratocaster. She had once owned six electric guitars. One by one, she sold them. She couldn’t play them in the luxury loft she and Liam had moved to shortly after they got married, because the first time she had, someone complained about the noise. She couldn’t bear to part with her beloved acoustic, but for years it sat zipped into its case when she wasn’t using it to teach other people how to play. When they moved into the new house they’d bought, she could have played it whenever she wanted. She strummed it occasionally, but eventually it only served to highlight what was missing in her life, so she rarely brought it out. She played it often now, on the deck when she was writing in her journal and sipping wine. But the urge to play electric had been building, especially now that the basement studio was almost ready.
“Is there something I can help you find?” a voice to her left asked. The man was tall and had short, spiky blond hair and an earring. He looked to be in his early forties, although Layla wasn’t sure. The earring made him seem younger. “I’m Brian.”
“Layla,” she said. “I’m looking for a new electric guitar.” She ran her hand along the neck of the beer-can-blue Fender on the wall in front of them. So shiny. So magnetic.
He tilted his head and studied her briefly. Glanced at her fingers, which were callus-free.
For now.
“Awesome. Just learning or have you been playing awhile?”
“I know how to play. I’ve just taken a rather long break. Too long.”
“Okay. Tell me what you’re looking for.”
* * *
At home, Layla brought her new purchases—the gleaming Fender and the forty-five-watt amp—down to her studio. There were now a stool and two floor lamps to illuminate the space. A microphone in a stand, ready and waiting for her to sing into until her voice was raw. But that would come a little later. Right now, it was the guitar strings that beckoned the most.
She removed the guitar from its case, tuned it a bit. When she was satisfied that it was ready, she plugged it into the amp. The acoustics weren’t great, but the room was fairly soundproof with its concrete walls and the one small egress window. Layla wanted to play with abandon, without regard for noise ordinances or neighbors who might not share her penchant for fast, loud, wall-shaking riffs.
She wanted to shred.
And for the next hour, that’s exactly what she did.
chapter 10
Josh
Josh stopped to talk to Layla on the way back to the parking lot after he walked Sasha into the building.
“Did Sasha ask you to watch our dog?” Sasha had mortifyingly informed him that morning that she was no longer worried about Norton going to the kennel because Miss Layla was going to watch him instead. Apparently, Sasha had asked her music teacher if she liked dogs, and Layla had said yes. He wasn’t sure exactly what had transpired after that.
“She did. She mentioned in class the other day that she was very worried about Norton going to the dog babysitter.”
“I’m sorry. I certainly don’t expect you to do that.”
“It’s no trouble,” Layla said. “The family I bought the house from had two big dogs, so I have a fenced-in yard and there’s even a dog door.”
“If you’re sure about this, that would be great. He really likes it when people are around. The wedding is next weekend. I’m taking Sasha out of school early on Friday afternoon so we can get there in time for the rehearsal. I can bring him over on Thursday night after you get home from school if that’s okay. What’s your phone number? I’ll text you the details and get your address.”
She gave him her number, and he saved it and slid his phone back into his pocket. She really had seemed like she didn’t mind, and that was one less thing he had to worry about.
* * *
Josh’s thoughts kept returning to Layla on his way to work. Sasha had decided she loved being walked into school by Josh every day, even on the days she was with Kimmy, so he’d pick her up at Kimmy’s condo shortly before eight and drive her. Kimmy appreciated it, because it allowed her to get to work on time, and Josh truly didn’t mind.
Layla was never there in the afternoon, but she was always standing at the curb in the morning and he’d started to scan for her as soon as he was close enough to make out the faces of the teachers. It reminded him a little of meeting Kimmy for the first time and how he’d thought he wouldn’t see her again and then suddenly she seemed to be everywhere that Josh was.
* * *
It was like noticing something for the first time, like a particular make of car or an advertisement for a product that kept appearing. But in this case, it was someone. Josh caught glimpses of Kimmy in the commons before school. He was parking his car three rows over when she got out of the passenger seat of another girl’s car. He was in the office one morning when he ducked in to pick up a pass because he’d overslept, and she was there doing what seemed to be the same thing.
He’d done a little checking one night, in his bedroom with the door locked as he looked her up in his old yearbooks. He’d scanned the rows of alphabetical listings until he spotted her face: Kimberly Keller. There was only one picture each year. No candid shot of her in a basketball or cheerleading uniform. No singing in show choir or arguing a case on behalf of the debate team.
Nothing.
Same as him.
It didn’t appear that she participated in any extracurricular activities at all.
Same as him.
She didn’t seem the type to run with the stoners or the nerds either, which made her hard to figure out. There were people who’d said Josh was hard to figure out, too, because he didn’t fit neatly into any one category.
Later, in marriage counseling, when asked to say what she liked most about him, Kimmy had said, “Josh is a caring, salt-of-the-earth individual. Reliable, trustworthy. Loyal. He’s a hard worker as long as he’s allowed to do what he loves.” When asked for his opinion of that assessment, he’d agreed that that was pretty much him in a nutshell.
The next time he spoke to Kimmy, Josh literally bumped into her in the hallway, because he wasn’t watching where he was going and they collided. Later, they would have whispered conversations about fate and destiny while lying intertwined and naked in each other’s arms. When he thought back on those early days with Kimmy, Josh wanted to punch himself for being so whipped and blinded, and for making ninety-nine percent of his decisions with his dick instead of his brain.
“Oh, hey. Are you okay?” Josh asked, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “It’s Kimmy, right?”
She had blushed. “Yeah.” Then she had smiled up at him and it was less mischievous, a little more curious.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want a ride home?”
“I don’t actually have detention today, so yeah. That’d be great.”
“I just need to swing by my locker,” he said.
She followed him to his locker, which wasn’t that far from hers although it was around the corner in a hallway she said she rarely used. “You’re really tucked away back here,” she said.
“I like it. It’s close to most of my classes, so I can mess around and still make it to my seat on time.”
Josh threw his books into his locker and slammed it shut. As they walked down the hallway toward the exit that led to the parking lot, they passed signs reading WOOD SHOP, METALWORKING, CONSTRUCTION.
Josh’s thing wasn’t sports, or show choir, or debate, either.