Contradictions (14 page)

“We’re eating here? I’m not much into rats and bugs,” I quipped, climbing from the vehicle. I eyed the building with interest. I was definitely intrigued. I didn’t know of any raves in this area of town. I was doubtful it was anything like that considering it was Trent who had brought me here.

I mentally ran through a list of things that could possibly be hiding beyond the double doors he was leading me to, but my brain was blank. He pushed the door open for me, guiding me into a dark hallway. Maybe this was a haunted house. My friends and I had gone to one near here last year. It was strange there were no signs, but I prepared myself for someone to jump out at me at any moment. The hallway was dimly lit by industrial-looking outdoor lights like you might find on a construction site. They were attached to the walls with S hooks and connected by heavy-duty cords.

My haunted house theory went out the window when we’d walked the entire length of the hallway without a zombie, ax murderer, or mummy jumping out at us. I was a little disappointed since a haunted house would have been pretty awesome in this building.

We reached the end of the hall and turned right to face a large wooden door that had a small peep slot. Trent knocked on the door twice before the little window opened and a very round face with a nose that looked like a squished tomato peered out at us.

“Password?”

“Oh lord,” I muttered. This was going to be some nerd convention where they trade those idiotic cards that were so popular when we were thirteen.

“Very funny, Peewee,” Trent said, shooting me a look of reassurance.

This was what I got for caving and agreeing to a date with a nerd. Our tastes ran down totally different rivers. Finally, the burly guy behind the door swung it open.

He reached out a hand that was as plump as his face. “Dude, is this your girlfriend?” He eyed me appreciatively.

“That’s the plan,” Trent answered. I didn’t know where the authority in his voice came from, but it was a side I might like to see more of.

“He wishes,” I answered, holding out my hand. “I’m Tressa.”

“Trent and Tressa. The double Ts. That’s cool.” He chuckled at his reference. “I’m Peewee. Ironic, right? It’s okay. You can make fun of my physique. I do.”

A laugh tickled my throat. I liked this guy.

“Not cool, man,” Trent said, walking around him.

“Hey, don’t want to give the lady the wrong impression. You can head in. Your usual table is open.” Peewee sank back on a stool, waving as we walked away.

“What is this place?” I followed alongside Trent as he pushed open another door. I was floored by the space we had just entered. We were in some kind of restaurant/jazz club judging by the bearded saxophone player who had just stepped out onto the small stage. It looked to be a factory that had been converted to a club, but still maintained a very industrial vibe. Tables that looked like they had been rescued from thrift stores and garage sales were scattered around, and no two chairs were the same throughout the entire place. The cool thing about the tables was that they were covered in old ticket stubs, concert flyers, and papers with handwritten notes, and were lacquered over for protection.

The well-dressed patrons who took up most of the tables clashed with the club’s décor. By the looks of the place, I would have expected to see poor college kids who were too cheap to pay to get into one of the trendier places near campus.

Trent seemed at home as he weaved his way between the tightly packed tables before stopping near the front of the stage. The small round table was barely big enough for two people. I’d call it a little less than cozy, but definitely intimate. Our knees knocked together as I slid my chair under the table. He didn’t scoot his chair back like I might have expected him to. Instead, he spread his legs apart slightly so one of my knees slid between his.

It was a bold move and erotic as hell. Where had this debonair person come from? It was as if the building had morphed him into someone else. Maybe calling him Clark Kent was appropriate and this was where he’d turn into Superman. Or maybe I’d already spent too much time with Trent and I was the one morphing into someone else. Like the Geek Queen.

“What is this place?” I asked again, examining the relics underneath the clear hardened surface of the table.

“It’s called the Secret Club,” he answered, returning a nod from a couple sitting two tables from us.

“Seriously?” It was so hokey I figured he had to be messing with me.

“I’m serious. It’s one of the best-kept secrets on the East Coast.”

“And they couldn’t come up with a more obvious name than that?”

“I know, but you wouldn’t believe some of the talented musicians, poets, and even writers who got their start here. The place is only open on Fridays and Saturdays. Saturday is for musicians and Fridays are for poets and writers. I’ll bring you back for that sometime. It’s a different crowd than this—more serious and very scholarly.”

“They should have called it Club Irony. A secret club called the Secret Club with a big guy named Peewee watching the door, and now you want to bring
me
back to hang out with a bunch of scholars. It’s almost too funny.”

“Kudos for the observation, other than the last part about you. You need to give yourself more credit,” he said, watching the saxophone player onstage.

Not fair. I was trying to find reasons why Trent and I wouldn’t work, and he was not helping by giving me the best compliment any guy had ever given me.

“How come I’ve never heard of this place?”

He leaned in close since the music was too loud for real conversation. “As funny as the name is, they really do manage to keep it a secret. This is the sort of place you can’t just show up to and hope to get in. Peewee’s mom, Shirley, started this place back in the sixties. It’s rumored she was friends with some of the greats in rock music. You name some of the legends and chances are they sat at these tables. It was supposed to be a kind of safe haven for them. They knew if they came here, fans wouldn’t mob them and the press would never find out. To even perform here you have to sign a confidentiality statement. To get in you have to either know Shirley directly or have friends with connections.”

“So how did someone like you find out about this place?” The question came out harsher than I’d intended. “I mean, what’s your connection?”

He didn’t look insulted by my question. “One of my professors last year is Shirley’s brother. That’s how some of his lit majors find out about the Friday performances.”

“You’re not a lit major,” I said, still confused.

“No, Shirley needed my help with something else. I refused to accept money, so she told me to consider this place my second home.”

“What kind of help did she need?”

“Computer issues. Hackers had gotten into her personal and business accounts. I set her up with firewalls and made sure she had virus protection,” he said as a waitress approached the table carrying a tray with two plates loaded with burgers and fries and two glasses of water.

I looked slightly confused at the plates after she plunked them on our table. She smiled at Trent and shot me a territorial look before walking away.

“The kitchen only serves burgers and fries. Shirley always says that’s what she likes to eat, so that’s all she’ll serve. I can get you something other than water if you want.” He picked up his burger and took a big bite.

I eyed the food warily. I was as hungry as a rhino, but it was a little unsettling not knowing where it came from.

“You don’t like burgers?”

“Is it safe?”

“Really? You eat Wendy’s.”

He had a point. I lifted the bun of my burger to get a better look. It looked good. I sniffed it before I took a tentative bite. It tasted as good as it looked. I hadn’t eaten all day, so I scarfed the food down quicker than normal. I would have liked the water to be a beer, but I didn’t want to ask if he wasn’t having one.

“Told you it was good,” Trent teased once our plates were carried away. The conversation during our meal was surprisingly smooth. Maybe it was because we’d been together so much during tutoring. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t as awkward as I’d imagined it would be. First dates were usually so hit-or-miss. Most times, the guy was a total freak show or an egomaniac. I could already tell Trent was different. He was smart, but didn’t make me feel like an idiot. And the stuff he was into was harmless. It didn’t make him a freak. I couldn’t believe I was sitting here defending Trent to myself.

“So, you’re telling me what you did for this Shirley woman was worth getting an all-access pass to all of this?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. The live music throughout our meal had changed genres multiple times. The sax player was replaced by a country singer whose guitar twanged as he sang about beer, horses, and no-good, cheating women. My favorite performer of the evening was an a cappella singer. I’d never heard anyone hit a high note like this guy. His performance had all the diners pausing midbite.

Trent shrugged modestly at my words. “A computer nerd who likes live music. I guess that makes you more cultured than me,” I teased.

He retaliated by gently squeezing my knee between his. He leaned in close. “Face it, Tressa, you’re beginning to find me pretty irresistible. You’re kicking yourself for not giving me a chance before.”

“Oh, I’m going to kick something. It just won’t be me,” I said, hitting him on the side of the leg with my free foot.

“Come on, why fight it? Can you honestly say tonight hasn’t been fun?”

“It’s been okay.”

“Bullshit, you’ve had fun.”

“Fine, I had fun. It’s probably a fluke.”

“Go out with me again and I’ll prove it to you,” he persisted.

I weighed his words before answering. It would be so easy to shoot him down and keep insisting we were too different for each other, but hell, my denial was even beginning to get on my nerves. What harm would it do to cave? If it didn’t work, we could walk away. No harm, no foul. It’s not like I was looking for some permanent thing.

“Fine,” I finally answered. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing as he did a fist pump. You could dress up the geek, but you couldn’t take the dork out of him.

“Halloween festival next week?” he asked, not missing a beat.

Holy hell. I’d decided to go out with him, but I wasn’t ready to go all balls-to-the-wall, batshit crazy and show up in Woodfalls like we were a couple.

“Come on, you know we’ll have fun. I’ll go as Han Solo.” His words brought a mental image to mind that took fantasy to a whole new level.

“What makes you think I’d like you to dress up as Han Solo? He was pretty buff and all,” I teased.

“Trust me, I think you’ll like the uniform.”

“Are you telling me you already have the costume?” I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or be horrified.

His look said it all. Oh lord. Was I really agreeing to go out with someone who liked to play dress-up? I couldn’t even imagine what Cameo would say if she heard this little tidbit considering we’d totally mocked the loser who wanted to role-play with her in the bedroom. The funny thing was my disgust alarm wasn’t going off. Truthfully, I found it a little cute. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone. Least of all to Trent.

“Fine.” I couldn’t believe I had agreed, but it would satisfy my curiosity to see if he could really fill out the costume. Besides, agreeing to a second date would quiet my friends for good. They would never get to say that I didn’t at least give Trent plenty of chances.

We stopped talking when an elderly woman stepped between the red velvet curtains on the small stage. She was dressed in jeans that looked like they’d been washed just enough times to make them fit exactly right. She wore a black rock band T-shirt advertising a tour that ended like thirty years ago. Her forearms were covered in tattoos, and her hair hung to the middle of her back in a curtain of gray. She had to be close to sixty I would think, but she was a classic definition of the old saying that age is only a number. She looked totally badass. She was definitely someone I could hang with.

“Shirley, I guess?” I asked Trent.

“That’s her.”

Her eyes scanned the crowd as she nodded or waved to those she knew, which seemed to be pretty much everyone. When her eyes landed on our table, they swept over me. I felt I must have passed her examination when she winked at Trent before speaking into the microphone.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming out for another Saturday jam fest. The last group tonight is one we’ve all come to love. It’s a bittersweet moment to have them on our stage one last time before they start their tour with their brand-new record label.” She beamed with pride before continuing. “Put your hands together to welcome Die Hard to the stage one last time.” The other patrons erupted into cheers.

Trent leaned in close so I could hear him. “Die Hard got their start performing here. They all go to MSC and were discovered by one of the big record labels.”

I nodded my head. “That’s awesome.” I loved music and was pretty psyched to be watching a live show of a band that might hit it big. I thought it had to be a joke, though, when they walked out onstage. They were a group of five who looked like they had just time traveled from the nineteen twenties. There were three guys wearing button-up shirts with bow ties and baggy wide-legged trousers. The pants had no belt loops, so they wore suspenders, and they each wore matching oxford shoes. Two girls wore calf-length dresses that swished around when they moved, with old-fashioned boots that laced up to their ankles. Thick stockings peeked out in the small amount of space between where the dresses ended and the tops of their boots began.

I looked at Trent, wondering if their act was a parody or something to that effect. He merely grinned at me.

The group did a quick bow at the applause of greeting before picking up their instruments. All my doubts evaporated as they began playing. Their sound was alternative and sharp. The voices of the two lead singers were hypnotic. They melded together in a harmonious duet that made your heart clench with ache and indescribable wanting. The set shifted seamlessly from a ballad to hard-core rock that had all of us clapping and surging to our feet as one. My inner party girl roared to life as I moved to the music. I had missed this. Music had always been a big part of my life. It greeted me like an old friend.