“I’m glad you came in tonight,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah, me too. To be honest, after the service, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I rode around for a while then realized I wanted to see you. You really helped me take my mind off things last night. And I just liked being around you.”
“I’m glad because I liked being around you too,” I reply with a smile. “Now, before you bolt out of here, about that nightcap—”
“I’d love to.”
We both smiled at each other, and I couldn’t help but feel the like a thousand butterflies had been let loose inside of me.
Chapter Ten
Volt
I follow her outside, and she leads me to a wrought iron staircase that goes up to a second floor. She unlocks the door and I walk in, shutting it behind us. We then walk down a long dimly lit hallway and stop about halfway down. She gives me a warm smile as she slips the key into the lock on the door and the twinkle in her eye stirs something deep inside of me.
“Home sweet home,” she says.
“That’s a hell of a commute.”
“Isn’t it though? Rush hour can be brutal.”
She turns the key then pulls the heavy metal barndoor-style door aside, opening up her loft-style apartment that sits above the bar. She ushers me in and closes the door behind us, throwing several locks. Fallon tosses her keys into a bowl that sits on an antique wooden table on the wall next to the door and drops her bag there as well.
“Wow, this is a really nice place,” I say.
“Thanks. It was supposed to be a graduation gift from my folks.”
“Supposed to be?”
I see a flash of grief pass through her features. “Yeah my folks, they… they passed away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
I turn and take the place in. It’s large and has an open floor plan. After walking through the door, I find myself in the main room. There’s a large multicolored rug on the floor and on it sits a couch and a love seat, perpendicular to each other with a round wooden coffee table before the sofa. A wall unit sits against the wall to my right. It’s filled with books, framed photos, and a few kitschy knickknacks. There’s also a large plasma television there as well.
To my left is a raised platform. Three stairs take you up to the platform, but there is a wall of nearly sheer curtains that separate it from the rest of the loft. I imagine that’s her bedroom. To the right is a kitchen area that’s home to appliances that are probably about ten years old and a round table sits in a nook in the corner made up of windows.
Directly in front of me though is a separate room entirely. A black twenty-pane window frame is set into the wall next to an open doorway. It houses what looks like a studio inside as I can see a canvas set up on an easel as well as some other canvases spread around the room, lined up against the walls, some blank and some not. The smell of paint is thick in the air around us.
“You’re an artist,” I say.
She nodded. “Working on it. I took some classes at the San Francisco Art Institute.”
“I’ve heard of that school. I understand it’s pretty prestigious.”
She frowns, and I see a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “It is. And I learned a lot there,” she says. “The trouble is prestigious means expensive, and I didn’t have the money to finish out my degree.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs. “I keep telling myself that I’ll eventually have the money to go back and do it,” she says. “One of these days, I will. Anyway, we’re not here to talk about my failed attempt at art school. We’re here for a drink. What can I get you?”
“Whatever you’re having,” I say.
“Great, that makes it easy. Beer it is,” she says.
I laugh. “Sounds great.”
