I told Andrew to grab a table while I went to the bar, and while I waited, I noticed the stage. It was centred along the far wall, and on the stage was an old piano, a double bass stood in its stand, and a clarinet and trombone stood upright in their stands. It looked kind of sad and lonely, seeing these instruments without their musicians, but when I glanced over at Andrew, he was sitting at a table looking at the stage as well. And he was just beaming.
How on earth his ex had never taken him to a jazz bar, I’ll never know. I’d bring him to one every day of the week if I could, just to see him smile like that.
The barman interrupted my musings, so I ordered two beers and finally fell into a seat next to Andrew. I handed him the beer and pressed my knee and thigh against his. “Looks good,” I said, nodding toward the stage.
He agreed, still grinning. “Yeah.” He took a swig from his bottle. “So, Lance turned up like you thought he would. What did he have to say?”
I swallowed my mouthful of beer. “He said he just wants to see him. Everything he says, how he reacts, it’s either all genuine or he’s a very good actor.”
“What do you think?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what to make of it. Of him. I want to believe him, but there’s something about him I can’t put my finger on.”
Andrew sipped his beer and nodded. “Well, you know what they say about your sixth sense?”
“I see dead people?”
He laughed. “No. That you get that feeling for a reason. There’s a reason the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. That creepy feeling to warn you of danger, it’s a real thing.”
“You believe that?”
He looked me right in the eye. “Yes I do.”
“Do you believe in fate?”
His eyes flashed with something—amusement, daring, honesty?—and he took a second to answer. “I never used to. I’m more of a logical, scientific reasoning kind of guy.”
I sipped my beer to hide my smile. “You used past tense, so never used to, but you do now?”
“The jury’s still out. I’m undecided.”
“It’s not difficult. You either do or you don’t?”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You think it’s fate that things happen for a reason?”
“I think we choose our own paths, make our own decisions, but I think the people who come into your life do so for good reason.”
“So, your decision to come to America?”
“Completely my decision, but I was destined to be here.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” he argued. “You can’t have both.”
“Says who?”
He frowned, flustered. “Well, the rules of destiny.”
“The rules of destiny?”
He barked out a laugh. “Shut up.”
“Is that even a thing?”
“Well, yes! I just made it a thing.”
“So our lives, our entire existence, is like some cosmic board game, where our makers roll a dice and move our little markers all over the board?”
He laughed again. “Yep, exactly,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Like The Game of Life, but only for real.”
“Well, I’d personally like to sincerely thank my maker for rolling whatever number led you to me,” I told him. I never took my eyes off him as I had another drink of beer. “I certainly landed on Mayfair when I met you.”
“May, what?”
“Mayfair. You know, the dark blue, most expensive street on Monopoly?”
He laughed. “You mean Boardwalk. Anyway, which is totally not The Game of Life, but okay.”
Just then, some guys took to the stage and sat on stools at their chosen instruments. Any chance of conversation between us was lost because Andrew turned his full attention to them. Well, almost full. He turned his chair a little so he was facing them better and slid his hand onto my thigh under the table and looked as happy and intrigued as I’d seen him.
The band was good, and they played a bunch of songs Andrew was familiar with. He seemed genuinely impressed. Not that I was any expert, but I leaned in and whispered, my lips at his ear, “You can play the piano better than him.”
Andrew chuckled. “Uh, probably not.”
I leaned back in. “Uh, probably yes.”
He shook his head, dismissing me altogether. “I think you’re biased.”
“I think you’re sexy.”
He laughed, his warm breath rushed over my neck, and I was just about to pull back and kiss him when the music stopped. They announced a short break, and the room filled with chatter and recorded background music, which paled in comparison to what we’d just heard. “You should go play the piano while they’re having a break,” I told him.
“What?” he said, alarmed. “No way!”
“Yes way. Give these good people a lesson in music.”
He shook his head. “You don’t just play someone else’s instrument, Spencer.”
“Is that like some cardinal sin?”
“Absolutely.”
“What if you asked first?” I looked around to see if I could see the guy who’d been playing the piano, but he wasn’t anywhere I could see.
Andrew grabbed my arm. “No, no. Don’t even think about it.” He looked at his watch. “Come on, it’s getting late, and I have to work in the morning.”
“They still have to play another set,” I tried to reason, looking toward the stage, but Andrew stood up.