She stopped, frowned down at her wine. “That was a lot.”
“A microcosm,” he countered, pleased she’d forgotten her reserve, distrust, whatever it was, long enough to tell the story. “It tells me you’ve got guts and spine, but I already knew that. You do album covers?”
“I have. Nobody major. Unless you’ve heard of Rocket Science.”
“Retro-funk.”
“You surprise me.”
“I haven’t even started. The band’s working on another CD.”
“Another?”
“We did one a couple years ago. Mostly for tourists, or when we do a wedding, that kind of thing. How about it?”
“You’re looking for a photographer?”
“Jenny’s cousin’s friend did the last one. It wasn’t bad. I figure you’d do better.”
“Maybe. Let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll see. How long have you been playing?”
“With the band or at all?”
“Both.”
“With these guys, about four years. Altogether, since I was around twelve. Kevin and I started a band—Lelo on bass, just like now.”
Obviously surprised, she lowered her wineglass. “Kevin?”
“Do not ask him to play his Pearl Jam tribute. Trust me.”
“Does he play the guitar?”
“You can’t really call it playing.”
“That’s mean,” she said with a laugh.
“It’s truth. Let’s eat.” He took her hand again, this time tugging her inside. “We did some local gigs—school dances, parties. After high school, we lost our drummer to the Marines, Kevin did the college thing, Lelo stayed stoned.”
“And you?”
He pulled the takeout from the oven, where he’d kept it warm. “I hit trade school, worked here, picked up some gigs. Some with Lelo when he realized he wasn’t going to get the girls, and couldn’t play worth crap when he was stoned.”
She thought of the wall of books, looked over at it again. “No college for you?”
“Hated school. Trade school, that was different. But regular school. They tell you what to learn, what to read, so I opted out, learned from Hobart, learned from trade school, took some business classes.”
“Business classes.”
“If you’re going to have your own, you have to know how to run a business.”
He divided the salad from the takeout box in the fridge into two bowls, transferred the eggplant parm to plates, and added the breadsticks the pizzeria was locally famous for.
“This actually looks great.” She sat, and smiled when Xander pulled a rawhide bone out of a cupboard. “Smart.”
“It’ll keep him busy. What was your first picture? You had to have a first.”
“We had a long weekend in the Hamptons—friends of my uncles. I’d never seen the ocean, and oh God, it was so amazing. Just amazing. Seth let me use his little point-and-shoot Canon, and I took rolls and rolls of film. And that was that. What was the first song you learned to play? You had to have a first.”
“It’s embarrassing. ‘I’m a Believer.’ The Monkees,” he added.
“Oh, sure. Really? It’s catchy, but doesn’t seem your style.”
“I liked the riff, you know . . .” He diddled it out. “I wanted to figure out how to play it. Kevin’s mom used to play old records all the time, and that one kept circling around. His dad had an old acoustic guitar, and I worked on it until I could more or less play it. Saved up, bought a secondhand Gibson.”
“The one in the bedroom?”
“Yeah. I keep it handy. I figured out, by the time I was fifteen, that if you had a guitar and could even pretend to play it, you got the girls. How’s the parm?”
“You were right. It’s really good. So you got the girls, being as you can more than pretend to play, but none of them stuck?”
“Jenny might have.”
“Jenny?” She set down her fork. “Jenny-Jenny?”
“Jenny Walker back then, and I saw her first. New girl in school, just moved up from Olympia, and pretty as a butterscotch sundae. I asked her out before Kevin. Kissed her first, too.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s Keaton/Banner history. I was about half in love with her, but he was all the way in love with her.”
“And there’s bros before hos.”
Grinning, he picked up a breadstick. “You said it, I didn’t. I ended up playing Cyrano to his Christian, finally got his guts up to ask her out. And that, as we’ve said, is that. I’m still half in love with her.”
“Me, too. And the package along with it. They’re like central casting called for a great-looking, all-American family, dog included. If you’re waiting for another Jenny, you’re going to be out of luck. I’m pretty sure she’s one of a kind.”
“I’ve got my eye on a tall, complicated blonde.”
She knew it, wished hearing it didn’t set off those flutters low in the belly. “It’s not smart to aim for the complicated.”
“Simple’s usually surface anyway, and wears off. Then the complications are annoying instead of interesting. You’ve got my interest, Naomi.”
“I’m aware.” She watched him as she ate. “Nine times out of ten I’d rather be alone than with anyone.”
“You’re here now.”
“I’m twenty-nine, and I’ve managed to evade, avoid, and slip around any sort of serious relationship.”
“Me, too. Except I’ve got three years on you.”
“Since I left New York six years ago, I haven’t stayed in any one place over three months.”
“You’ve got me there. I’ve lived here all my life. But I have to repeat myself, you’re here now.”
“And right now, this feels like my place. Things start up with you, screw up with you, it affects that.”
“I don’t know how you manage life with that sunny, optimistic nature of yours.”
She smiled. “It’s a burden.”
Knowing the risk, he pushed a bit deeper. “Ordinarily I’d assume you had some crappy relationship or marriage behind you. But that’s not it. You’ve got a solid family under you, and that’s foundation.”
She nudged her plate away. “Think of it as internal wiring.”
“No. I’m good with wiring. You’ve got enough self-confidence and sense of self-worth to punch an asshole, to head off on your own to go after what you wanted. You’re complicated, Naomi, and that’s interesting. But you’re not wired wrong.”
She rose, took both their plates to the counter. “There was a boy who loved me—or thought he did the way you can at twenty. I slept with him, and studied with him, worked with him. When he told me he loved me, asked me to live with him, I broke it off. Right then and there. It was hard for us both to get through the rest of college. Easier for me, no doubt, because I didn’t have those feelings for him. So I could just walk away.”
“But you remember him.”
“I hurt him. I didn’t have to.”
Maybe, Xander thought, but he doubted anybody got through the labyrinth of life without hurting someone, whether or not they had to.
“I guess you’re counting on me falling in love with you and asking you to live with me.”
“I’m pointing out the problems with relationships when they go south and people live and work in close proximity.”
“Maybe you’ll fall in love with me, ask me to live with you in that big house on the bluff.”
“I don’t fall in love, and I like living alone.”
Xander glanced at Tag and decided not to point out that she’d fallen for the mutt and lived with him.
“Then I know that going in—unlike the college boy. I’ll get those. I know how it works. Want more wine?”
She turned away from the sink. “Better not. Water’s better since I have to drive.”
“It’s a nice night. Once I clean this up we can take a walk, work off dinner. Let the dog stretch his legs.”
“He could probably use it.” She took the water he offered, wandered back toward the wall of books. “I really do want to take some shots here. Is there any time that works for you?”
“Why don’t you come over Friday—anytime. The door’s open if I’m working down below. But if you came later in the day, you could go over to Loo’s after. We could grab some dinner before we play.”
“You’re playing Friday?”
“Nine to midnight. Ish. Kevin and Jenny can probably come, if you want.”