Damon cleared his throat. “Mum?”
The woman swiveled around on the seat, and the boy stopped playing.
“Damon! Perfect timing.” She turned back to the boy. “No, don’t stop playing, Joseph. Keep going.”
The boy sighed heavily and started up on the piano again. Damon’s mom hopped up from her seat.
“Mum, this is the girl I’ve been telling you about,” Damon said.
“Hi. So nice to meet you,” Trihn said, extending her hand.
“Don’t mind me. I’m more of a hugger,” his mom said. She pulled Trihn into a quick embrace. “Trihn, right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Trihn said.
She was surprised that Damon had spoken about her. She wasn’t that close to her family, and with them so far away, she hadn’t discussed anything like her dating life with them. They didn’t even know she and Neal had broken up.
“I’m Melanie, but feel free to call me Mel. Everyone does.”
“You have a beautiful home, Mel.”
Mel snorted. “It’s a disaster.” She tugged at a loose lock of dark hair. “Don’t judge me for it. It’s the curse of a creative type. Projects everywhere!”
Trihn laughed. “I like it. Feels very homey.”
“Probably for the better. If I haven’t changed by now, I’m not changing anytime soon,” she said with a smile. “Now, Damon, come take over my lesson with Joseph.”
“Mum! Do you only invite me over, so I will teach your lessons for you?” he asked, his British accent thickening around his family.
“Free labor, kid,” she said with a wink.
Damon huffed but sat down at the piano. Joseph looked up at him with hero worship. They must have done this before. Damon started helping Joseph with the piece he had been botching.
“My son, the prodigy musician, wasting his talents on a soundboard in nightclubs,” Mel said, shaking her head.
“Not wasted,” Damon called over his shoulder.
With a smile, Trihn admired the easy flow of him playing the piano as he and his mom teased each other. There was a quality to his music here that resembled his DJ work. It wasn’t so much that he just mixed music, but he made masterpieces from existing songs.
“He’s so good at that, too,” Trihn said.
“She doesn’t think it’s wasted talent either,” Damon said.
“He’s right. I wouldn’t have spent years in small productions in London if I didn’t love it. I know he’ll do what he loves, too.”
“I think he already is,” Trihn mused.
Mel nodded. “Play your girlfriend something cheerful.”
Trihn opened her mouth to protest that she wasn’t in fact his girlfriend but quickly shut it when Damon hadn’t said anything. Instead, he started playing an upbeat tempo.
“Good,” Mel said. “Now, while he’s distracted, let’s slip out. I need to start making dinner.”
Trihn laughed as Mel pulled her toward the exit. Damon must have heard their retreat because he switched from his cheery song to Darth Vader’s theme song “The Imperial March.”
Trihn followed Mel into the kitchen, and her nerves set in all over again. Mel seemed nice and chill, but that didn’t mean that Trihn wanted to be alone with her.
What if Mel wanted to get me alone so that she could ask me a bunch of questions about myself?
Trihn had a good family background, excluding the fact that her stupid sister was engaged to her ex-boyfriend.
“So,” Mel said, “what do you think we should make?”
“Um…I’m not sure.”
“Anything in particular you like? Any allergies?”
Trihn shook her head. “Nope. I’m allergic to penicillin, but I don’t think that counts.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if you get strep throat,” Mel said with a smile. “I’m thinking roasted chicken and potatoes with corn on the cob.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“Great!” Mel pulled a wine-colored apron over her head with lettering in white that said, I cook with wine. Sometimes, I even add it to the food.
She started pulling pots and pans out of the cupboards when Trihn’s phone began buzzing. Trihn grabbed it out of her bag and silenced it. She winced when she saw that she had already missed two additional texts from her mom.
“Do you need to get that?” Mel asked.
“No,” Trihn answered immediately. “It’s not important.”
She sulked over to Mel, the weight of her mother’s phone call resting on her shoulders. She needed to forget about it.
“So, you’re a fashion designer, is that right?” Mel asked as she reached into the refrigerator and started removing ingredients.
“Yes. Well, a design major.”
“I love that. Fashion designers are artists, like musicians, actors, painters, sculptors. You assess what best drapes the human form. It’s fitting since you look like you could be a model.”
“I was,” Trihn admitted. “While in high school, I modeled some.”
Mel raised her eyebrows. “Oh, wow. That’s incredible. Fashion design and modeling. Damon mentioned you’re a dancer as well.”
Trihn nodded. “I was in a ballet company in New York.”