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Jimmy head-butted Rainy, who returned the affection. She took the big dog’s face in her hands and came to life, smiling and baby talking to him.
“Yeah, no,” she said. “Robert Plant would be all wrong. He would have to be like a greyhound or something sleek.”
Kris’s chest rumbled with laughter. He had to agree with her. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have the time; your band is waiting for you.” Her voice was soft and sweet. “Just walk me to the gate.”
Five
Rainy
Instead of walking around the way they came, Kris led Rainy through his house. He held her hand and she let him. After the intimacy of the jam, it felt right. She noted that the guy who made her hand her plate through the fence had a surprisingly squared away living space.
The home was furnished with a mishmash of attractive pieces, neither overly expensive nor recently store bought. Definitely not a Crate and Barrel guy, but there wasn’t anything strange or weird like the clown statue in his backyard.
It seemed very comfortable with an obvious coastal influence. Contrasted to Baltimore where everything was early American or Queen Anne hand-me-downs, Kris’s house had a lot of Shaker stuff. Rainy was intrigued because it seemed all him. There was no woman’s touch.
“Night,” she bid the other band members who were milling at the bar and in the kitchen, all of which was open and flowing into the floor plan of the home. They seemed done with the session too.
Kris stood tall behind her. In a weird way, his fame sort of worked against the thing that seemed to be flaring between them. If he hadn’t been the front man for a super-successful band, he would simply be a really nice guy she hit it off with. It was hard not to be conscious of who he was. It sort of nagged her like the job she didn’t want. That was the way of the world though. You often couldn’t have what you wanted.
When they reached her front door, she didn’t think to invite him in.
“You know, I’ve been in this house a number of times,” he confessed as he eyeballed the space.
“Yeah?” She looked over her shoulder at her living room.
“I grew up in this neighborhood and I was friends with the kids who lived here in high school.”
“So, you were in a band in a neighborhood like me.” She wanted to kick herself for quitting. For giving up her dream to satisfy someone else’s.
“Yes.” He lingered.
“It’s been nice meeting you.” She felt like it was a first date, but that was ridiculous.
“You say that like we’re never going to meet again,” he laughed.
“Invite me over again.”
She had the strongest urge to kiss him. It was sudden, but she stopped herself. He sure was cute. He looked like all he needed was a cravat and a top hat and he could have stepped out of another time and place. His hair was straight and cut in a gentlemanly fashion. It framed his handsome face just so, especially as the light of her front porch spilled on it.
“’Night.” He leaned forward like he might kiss her and then rocked back and turned away.
She heard his shoes thud against the walkway as she stepped into the house.
The space was way too big for her and far too empty. She lay in bed, hearing the band play in the studio. It wasn’t as loud as the garage by a long shot, but it wasn’t completely soundproof either. She liked the level of noise where she could appreciate their sound without being bothered. Her head was filled with Kris as he sang her to sleep.
Despite the weather being spectacular, Rainy managed to complete the stack of paperwork required for her new job.
The Oregon sky was a beautiful blue and so vivid above the lushness of her back yard. It called to her constantly, making the drudgery of filling out the forms almost torturous. Her mind kept drifting to Kris, his band, his garage, his voice, his sexiness.
She half wanted to walk over to his place and knock on the door, but that would have been ridiculous. While he did give her an open
invitation, she was certain he was being neighborly. She put on her running shoes and decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood. She purposely walked past his home to catch a glimpse of him, but the curtains were drawn and the house looked vacant.
She walked a few blocks and came upon a cute restaurant called the Cricket Café. The fact that it was vegetarian made her smile. She flashed back to the place on Bank Street back in Baltimore where they made polish sausage—a far cry from the gluten-free and meat-free menu she perused now.
She bought a coffee and a side of pineapple juice. The combination seemed random but appealing nonetheless. She chilled, spending time at the restaurant, sending out group-texts to her band mates back in Baltimore. They thought she was pulling their leg when she told them she’d moved next door to one of the biggest names in the music industry.
