Something tightens in the pit of my stomach. I have to work with these guys for the next two months. Things can’t get weird. I don’t think I would have let myself come if I knew it was just him. “Maybe this isn’t a great idea.”
He grasps my elbow as I turn, not hard enough to stop me, but just enough to convey that he wants to. “Listen, Shiloh, I’m not some pervert or whatever. I was just hoping we could hang out a little. That’s it.”
I take a deep breath. “So, what were you thinking?”
“Haven’t spent much time in New York, so all I know are the touristy things: Empire State Building, Central Park.” He points toward the door. “Times Square is right there, and I’m pretty sure we can get anywhere we want on the subway.”
I’ve never spent any time in the city. If this is my only chance to see it, I don’t want to miss it. Plus, after the morning rain, the sun is out and I haven’t spent much time outdoors in months. “Let’s start with Central Park and see how that goes.”
He grins and guides me to the doors. We spill onto the busy sidewalk and his smile fades when he looks up and down the street. “You know where it is?”
My face scrunches as I follow his gaze. There are people everywhere, and they all look like they know where they’re going. “I don’t even know where we are.”
He scratches his head then lifts his arm at a passing cab.
“I thought we were taking the subway,” I say as one pulls up in front of us.
He shakes his head. “That would entail knowing what we’re doing. This is easy.”
We climb in the back and he tells the driver where we’re going. It’s not till we pull away that I realize I have no money.
“I forgot to grab cash,” I say with a cringe.
He flips a wrist dismissively. “I’ve got it.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” I say, seriously wishing I’d remembered money. I don’t want him thinking this is a date.
“So, tell me about Shiloh Luck,” he says as we weave into the slow-moving traffic. “I only know what everyone else knows. You’re an orphan who, despite all odds, somehow managed to win The Voice.”
I shrug. “There’s not much more to tell.”
He looks at me a long moment, his black eyes seeming to darken in the shadows of the backseat. “Somehow I doubt that.”
I turn and watch the city pass by outside my window. “This is what I’ve always wanted, ever since I was little and my best friend’s grandma taught us to play guitar.”
“How little?”
I think about the first time Lilah’s grandmother took us away from the city to her place in Mendocino for the summer. My foster family had three other foster kids plus two of their own, so they were happy to pack me a bag and send me out the door. “Seven, I think. She gave Lilah her guitar the summer we were ten. When we got home, we took it to the bus stop near her house and sat on that bench playing “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” by Bob Dylan all afternoon, because that was the song her grandma had taught us that summer.” I smile with the memory. “We made maybe five bucks.”
“So, you’re doing a little better in the income department now,” he says with a grin.
I roll my eyes in self-disgust. “And making you pay.”
He shrugs. “No biggie. You can get the next one.”
The next one. Great.
“What about you?” I ask. “How long have you been playing bass?”
“Ever since I can remember.” He settles deeper into the seat. “I come from a rock and roll family. My dad played bass for Metallica and Suicidal Tendencies.”
“Have you had any gigs before this?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve done a lot of studio work, but no touring.”
“So I’m your first.” The second it’s out of my mouth, I wish I could hit delete. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m sending signals.
But when I see his smile, a blend of coy and hopeful, I know I fucked up. “I saved myself for you.”
I turn and look out the window again, trying to think of how to save this. “What about the other guys?” I ask, trying to move the conversation into something less personal.
“Chipper’s the only one who’s been on the road with a major act. He’s toured with Bigfoot and Gangrene.”
“How’s the bus working out for you guys?”
“It’s pretty descent. There’s an empty bunk for you.” His eyebrows rise as he grins. “Just sayin’.”
I turn back to the window. “Yeah…I think Billie’s made us other arrangements.”
The driver slams on the brakes and honks at a horse drawn carriage. Max watches it go by and grins. “Totally that.”
“You want to go on a horse?” I ask as we pull to the curb.
“After I get one of those,” he says, pointing to the hot dog cart the driver pulls up next to.
We get out and he pays the cabbie, then orders two Cokes and four hot dogs from the vendor.
“I can’t eat two,” I protest as he pays.
“Oh, shit!” His eyes go wide in feigned surprise. “You wanted one too?”
I cut him my best glare as the vendor hands a foil-wrapped hot dog to me.
“I’m starving,” he says, taking the other three in one hand.