Player(18)

“Ooh, good word,” Amelia said.

Katherine still didn’t look convinced. “You’re not going to see it any other way, are you?”

“Nope. To be honest, I’m actually a little relieved. The performance anxiety might have sent me to an early grave. If I’m gonna have a heart attack, I’d prefer it to be much beyond twenty-six and triggered by a slab of bacon.”

Katherine assessed me for a long moment before releasing a resigned sigh. “All right.”

Amelia and I cheered.

“But only because I really, really want to go dancing again.”

I scooped her up in a hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you,” I said, accepting her support, along with everything else, for as good as I would get.





7





On Lock





Val

“Who knew you had all the moves, Val?”

The pit the next night was constant motion, the show over, my face in my case as I packed my horn away. When I looked up in surprise and confusion, I found Ian smiling down at me. That smile was anything but easy.

I made myself smile back. “Not me, that’s for sure. Sam did all the heavy lifting.”

“He does that. He was right—you look great in red.”

“Thanks,” I said, not knowing how else to respond. Was he hitting on me? Making fun of me? I was oblivious. Oblivious and instantaneously uncomfortable.

“You’re welcome. Have any friends who aren’t pretend lesbians? I’d love somebody to dance with who spins like you.”

The scent of spice and Sam invaded my senses as his heavy, warm arm came to rest on my shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing. My pulse spiked in a surge of awareness.

“I bet you would, Ian.”

He was smiling—I could hear it. He was too close to see. If I’d turned my head, I might have accidentally kissed him. For the duration of an inhale, I let myself imagine what that would feel like, and on the exhale, I let it go.

“Don’t let him hound you, Val. He’s relentless.”

“It’s true,” Ian admitted. “I never give something up once I set my sights on it.”

Something about the way he’d said it made me uneasy.

Sam picked up my trumpet case for me and steered me away from Ian. “Yeah, well, cheaters never win.”

“And good guys finish last,” Ian volleyed enigmatically. But he flashed his shark smile at me. “See you tomorrow night, Val.”

“Ah, okay. See you then.”

“Can I walk you to the subway?” Sam asked, his face turned to mine—I could feel his breath on my cheek. It smelled like mint and infatuation.

A surge of irrational frustration rose in me at the fact that he didn’t have a single flaw. Maybe he had disgustingly long toenails or bellybutton funk or smelly ears. Something. Anything.

“Sure,” I said lightly, waiting on him to release me.

He didn’t. Instead, he tucked me into his side as we strode out of the theater. I reminded myself that it didn’t mean anything. He’d told me without rejecting me exactly where the boundaries were. He was just affectionate, that was all. He did this with all the girls, friend and floozy alike.

“I really did have a great time last night,” he said when we stepped outside, turning for the Midtown station. “I thought about you all night. You’re a great dancer.”

I smiled down at my shoes. “Thanks. I mostly only dance in my kitchen. If it wasn’t for your lead, there’s no way I would have known what to do, so thank you for teaching me.”

He chuckled, hooking his arm around my neck and drawing me in for a hug. “You’re a model student.”

My arm wound around his waist, slipping under his coat. It was beautifully cut, as was everything he wore, henley to Levi’s to oxfords. The feeling of his hard torso shifting as we walked did something vital to my insides.

His arm slipped away, and when we parted, my cheeks were on fire.

I kept on topic. “I have to admit, I’m feeling a little obsessed with swing after last night. I’ve been listening to Caravan Palace all morning on repeat.”

“That’s one of my favorite bands. Genius, like if Daft Punk had a Lindy Hop baby. Have you heard of Parov Stelar?”

“No. Should I check him out?”

He smirked down at me. “Only if you feel like dancing.”

“I always feel like dancing.”

“You and me both.”

“Really, you might have ruined me for all other clubs.”

A shadow flickered in his eyes. “I’ll teach you everything you want to know, Val.” He looked to the subway entrance and jerked his chin at it. “Which way are you heading?”

“South. I live in the Village.”

“Me too. Washington and Barrow.”

I smiled. “Hudson and Charles.”

“Just around the corner from Smalls. You been there?”

I shook my head. “Is it a bar?”

That smirk tilted higher. “A jazz bar. It’s a great little spot. Small dance floor but always bopping. We should go sometime.”

“Sure,” I said, pressing down my excitement at the prospect as we trotted down the subway steps.