street lined with houses that had older model cars parked out front.
“How long have you been with the school?” he asked. By the look she gave him it was obviously not the question she’d been anticipating.
“Almost two years.”
“Not the question you were expecting?”
“No.”
“Good. Keeping you off balance is probably my best shot.”
“And why is that?” she asked, glad he wasn’t finding this easy.
“Because you’re different.”
“Used to women falling all over you, are you?”
“Something like that.”
“There’ll be no falling here.”
“Figuring that out.”
They didn’t need to look at each other to know they were both smiling.
He asked, “Do you enjoy being at the school?”
“I do. I’m hoping to finish my degree in Music so I can work there full-time.”
Another surprise. “How close are you?”
“Eight more credits. I had to withdraw when I lost my job at the hotel desk. Housekeeping pays a whole lot less.”
“Money from recording could help.”
“True, but I’m not interested.”
In spite of their not seeing eye to eye, walking beside her made Jamal feel like a kid in high school walking a honey home, although this honey was like no other. “Are you making this hard on purpose?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“So you’ll give up and go away, of course.”
He threw up his hands.
She laughed.
Jamal couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying her. “Woman, you are something.”
“I’m just a chick from the east side of Detroit.”
They’d stopped walking and were standing under a streetlight. She was looking up at him from beneath that knit hat, and he swore she had mischief in her eyes; there was a seriousness in them, too, as if she were trying to figure out who he really was. He told her softly, “I’ve never been turned down, and you’re not going to be the first.”
“Don’t be so sure,” came her softer reply.
In the drawn-out silence the urge to kiss her rose up in Jamal so fast and strong, it almost blazed past his defenses. Dragging his eyes away from the tempting curve of her lips, he stuck his hands in his pockets. “How much farther?”
“Just a little ways,” she told him. “You might want to use the buttons on that coat before you freeze to death. This is Michigan, not a photo shoot.” The front of his coat was open, revealing the black wool turtleneck, black sport coat and slacks beneath.
Shivering, he quipped, “Already there. Only thing missing is the undertaker.”
While she looked on, he attempted to do up the buttons with fumbling frozen fingers.
“Where are your gloves?”
“Don’t have any.”
She shook her head. “Pitiful.”
He chuckled and finally got the last button closed. In an instant, it made such a difference, he wished he’d done it earlier. “I’m new at this cold stuff. We never get this kind of weather in L.A.”
“Here, it’s as common as breathing.”
“So I’ve noticed. How much farther?” he whined mockingly.
“Lord.” She laughed in reply. “Come on. Almost there.” She walked off.
In spite of her misgivings, Reggie decided she could probably like him if she let herself do so. He appeared to be on the up-and-up, and he had a sense of humor, but she had her life already planned out and it didn’t include recording studios or a man who probably had women coming out of his ears.
“Trina said you two are best friends.”
They were in stride once again.
“From the day we met at her mama’s beauty shop. We even share a birthday. March 18.”
“She thinks the world of you, and your voice.”
Reggie went silent for a few moments. “I think the world of her, too. She thinks I’m wasting my gift.”
“Please don’t punch me, but I agree with her.”
“That’s because you don’t know how much money I lost the last time I said yes to someone like you.”
Even though Jamal was so cold he could no longer feel his ears, he stopped again and stared. “Trina never said anything about another producer.”
“Good for her.” And she struck out ahead of him.
Once again, he had to hurry to catch up, all the while wishing he was riding in the warm interior of the hired town car that was slowly trailing them. “When was this?”
“Ten years ago.”
“Who was the producer?”
“Man named Wes Piper, or at least that was the name he used. One day he was there, the next night he was gone.”
Jamal knew hundreds of people in the business but had never heard that name before. “How much did you lose?”
“Almost four grand. Most of which belonged to my grandmother.”
He didn’t know what to say, so for a while they walked on silently. “What if I offer to cover all expenses for demos and studio time?”
“No, thank you. I’m going to teach music.”
“But—”
She stopped in front of a small brick house. Its bright porch light illuminated the front door, showing three small panes and the old-fashioned sitting porch. A beat-up green Escort was parked in the driveway. “This is where I live. Thanks for the company.”
And, to his dismay, she slowly headed up the stairs. As she pulled open the outer storm door, he said, “Hey, wait.”
She turned back.
“You didn’t let me make much of a pitch.” He watched her study him for a moment and again wished he knew what she was thinking.
When
