Dreamland(31)

“What’s on your agenda tomorrow?”

“Nothing definite. I’m sure we’ll rehearse in the morning, and we’ll probably spend part of the day at the pool, but Holly also mentioned that she might want to go shopping or visit the Dalí.” Then, as if suddenly realizing who she was talking to, she went on. “It’s a museum in St. Petersburg devoted to the works of Salvador Dalí. He’s a surrealist painter.”

“My sister mentioned something about it,” I said.

She must have heard something in my tone. “You’re not interested?”

“I don’t know enough about art to be either interested or uninterested.”

She laughed that rumbling, deep laugh again. “At least you cop to it. How about you?”

“I haven’t decided. I’ll probably go for a run, but after that, who knows?”

“Will you write another song?”

“If something comes to me.”

“I wish that happened to me. That songs just came to me. I have to struggle with it.”

“I’d love to hear anything you’ve written. Especially now that I’ve seen you dance.”

“Yeah,” she said, “about that. Maria’s really proud of our routines.”

“She should be. You’re all great. Had I known about you, I would have followed you like the other gazillion people.”

Just then, a flash of headlights appeared, signaling the arrival of the girls’ Uber. I saw Holly glancing at her phone and the car’s license plate, confirming the match as they headed toward the car even before it came to a stop.

“If you’d like, I can give you a ride back to the hotel.”

“I’m going to ride with my friends, but thanks.” Then, after a beat, “I’m glad you had a chance to get to know them.”

“For sure.”

She stood there for a second more, apparently reluctant to leave. “I should probably go.”

“Probably.”

“We might come to your next show.”

“I’d like that.”

“And if you write another song, I want to be the first to hear it.”

“I can do that.” I had the sense we were both stalling. The next words came almost automatically. “Have you ever been kayaking?”

“Excuse me?”

“My friend Ray told me about this place where you can rent kayaks and paddle through the mangroves. He said it was a pretty cool thing to do.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go with me. Tomorrow, since you don’t have anything officially planned, I mean.”

It wasn’t the smoothest way to ask a girl out, but in that moment it was all I could muster.

She put her hands on her hips. “What time are you thinking?”

“Nine or so? That way you can be back in time for the Dalí or the pool or whatever.”

“Can you make it ten? Because of rehearsal?”

“Sure. How about we meet in the lobby?”

She touched my arm again, her gaze meeting mine. “I can’t wait.”





If anyone had told me before I came here that I’d go on a date when I was in St. Pete Beach, I would have laughed. But as I watched Morgan leave, I couldn’t help feeling pleased, even as I wondered what I was getting myself into.

There was something…charismatic about her. The word popped into my head as they drove away, and the more I thought about it, the more apt the description became. While much of what I’d learned about her amplified the differences between us, it struck me that I was the only one who seemed concerned about it. Somehow the fact that we both loved music was common ground enough for her. For now, anyway. Or at least enough for a first date.

But where was it leading? That was the part I couldn’t figure out. Was it a serious first step, or were we moving toward a simple fling? I’m sure a lot of guys would have been happy with the latter, and with anyone else, I might have been. But I was drawn to Morgan in ways that felt deeper than that.

I liked her, I thought, then suddenly shook my head, knowing that wasn’t quite right.

I liked her a lot.





I don’t think it was nerves, but whatever the reason, I woke at dawn and couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, I went for an early-morning run, then tidied up the condo. After my shower, I swung by the grocery store to replenish the snacks and drinks in my cooler.

Assuming I’d get wet, I threw shorts on over a bathing suit, grabbed a spare T-shirt, and wiggled into my flip-flops. By then it was half past nine and I started for the hotel.

The lobby of the hotel was as grand as the rest of the pink palace, bustling in the morning sunlight. Checking my phone, I noted a text from Ray informing me that I’d be starting at four tomorrow instead of five, which meant I’d be playing an extra hour—no big deal; I responded that I’d be there on time. When Morgan finally appeared, she was dressed casually, a turquoise bikini peeking out beneath a white halter and faded denim shorts. She had a Gucci beach tote slung over her shoulder and a pair of expensive sunglasses perched in her hair.

“Hey there,” she said. “Sorry I’m a little late, but I wasn’t sure what to wear.”