Piano in the Dark (2 page)

I groaned as Bruce Springsteen’s “Glory Days” reverberated through the midtown pub for the second time in a row, finding fleeting solace instead in the bottom of my empty shot glass.

“Tell me again why we came here on karaoke night?” I asked my boy Jacobi as I raised my hand to request another round of Cuervo from the attractive waitress. As before, she held her smile a little longer for me. Lips curling to which mine reciprocated.

“Because the drinks are cheap. Duh.”

“Like you don’t have enough billable hours to afford a private room at Downing Street.”

“True enough,” he agreed, never one to let something like humility get in his way. The only time Jacobi used the word
humble
was when he dropped the
H
sound and referred to the town of Humble north up the East-ex Freeway. “But the pickings here are better. Even if they sing like scalded cats.”

“I’m not here for that, man,” I reminded him before he tried to get me in some sort of trouble. “I’ll leave the pussy-chasing to you.”

“Whose fault is that, idiot? You were my role model in law school.” The silent
now look at you
was almost palpable in the air, hovering like a big flashing neon sign over us whenever too many drinks were consumed. Especially when too many drinks were consumed.

Jacobi finished law school at TSU, Texas Southern University, while I simply unfinished…dropped out with a bunch of student loans and no shingle to show for it. Now I worked for Casey, Warner & Associates, the same law firm as him, but as his paralegal. But I was happy. Yeah. That’s it.

“I’m happy with my decisions, man,” I said, vocalizing my thoughts as if some sort of therapeutic exercise. “You wish you had a wife like mine.”

Before he could string together a remark, my iPhone rang in my jacket pocket. Speak of the devil. Thinking back to our argument before I came out here, I decided to ignore it. Disagreements were the currency in which we exchanged these days. The sounds of frolicking and cavorting in the background during a phone conversation with Dawn would only make things worse. I’d deal with her and my impending hangover when I got home.

“Speak of the devil?” Jacobi joked, reading my mind as any close friend could. He was also the best man in my wedding.

“Yeah. Too noisy in here, though. I’ll text her later.”

Another round of shots was delivered to us. Jacobi thanked our waitress, slipping her an early tip along with his business card. The same waitress who’d shown definite interest in me all night. I started to say something to Jacobi, but declined. This was his game, not mine. I was here to put my problems on hold, not to generate new ones—no matter how attractive.

Jacobi smiled. Teeth as impeccable as his attire. “Like you said, man. You’re happy with your decisions.”

Several bad songs later, it was closing time. Pathetic as it was, we were carrying on like this on a weekday. Boys afraid to grow up. Jacobi offered me to sleep it off at his place, a luxury condo on Binz Street near Hermann Park and Rice University, as he had his designated driver chosen. I declined, watching our waitress for the night as she maneuvered his Range Rover from the curb and left me to my own devices with a honk of the horn and thoughts of how differently things could’ve gone down. A lot could’ve gone down differently. I could be that high-priced hotshot lawyer on the cover of all the right magazines in Houston. But that wasn’t the choice for me.

I stood outside the pub on the ever quieting street, debating whether to head straight home or grab some coffee at a Waffle House and sober up first. Spring, to the north where I lived, was a haul in my current state.

I unlocked my Camry with the remote. Decided to rest against it and take in the sticky night air before driving off. The missed call from earlier still shown on my iPhone. In a typical instance of too little, too late on my part, I sent a text to Dawn.

Worked late on big case with J. Be home soon.

I was almost the sole refugee from closing time at this hour.

I took a few deep breaths, sampling the spent residue of a depleted midtown in an effort to clear my head. The intake reeked of big talk long over and alcohol-induced false promises. Soured by the atmosphere, I prepared to enter my car and leave.

Except I wasn’t alone.

What was strange was that I knew before I’d even turned to look. An awareness I’d never experienced before.

A woman in a simple black dress stood near the corner of Bagby and Webster. Under the streetlights, she appeared almost ethereal in nature. Lonely. As if, for that moment, she were the captive subject in a French painting or something with the city as her backdrop. Long ebony hair obscured her face, making me more than mildly curious. Rather than crossing the street and getting on with her purpose in life or whatnot, she just…stood.

Stood kind of like the hairs on the back of my neck, telling me something was either very wrong or strangely right. The area was relatively safe for me at this time of night, but all that was needed was opportunity in the form of a lovely victim such as herself to make the headlines of the morning’s
Chronicle
.

“Ma’am,” I called out politely and in an as sober as possible fashion. “Are you waiting on a taxi or something? Because the bus isn’t running for several hours and it’s not safe for you.”

“I’m fine,” she said calmly. She was stone cold sober. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m okay. I live around here—”

I startled her. Had to come closer for some reason. Hit the remote to lock up the Camry again as I stepped back onto the sidewalk to join her. Was as if something was drawing me in despite my needing to be on my way. Something more sobering than Waffle House coffee.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” I offered as my tired, red eyes adjusted to the streetlights. She was beautiful—a basic, but apt description of her. She was little paler than what I was accustomed to, but with smooth, flawless skin, the sister appeared almost East Indian. Tall in her heels, she looked to be about five foot five with them off. Beneath her full eyebrows, her piercing brown eyes glistened; eyes that seemed almost alien and exotic under the light. Okay. The tequila shots had taken their toll on me. “Just wanted to make sure nothing was…wrong.”

As I spoke, those eyes of hers flared in recognition. It was as if a new energy manifested and suddenly erupted from her. It overcame me and rendered me speechless. “Oh my God. Chase,” she said, her voice wavering.

It wasn’t a guess or a question coming from an addled mind. She knew me. Somehow she knew me.

But I’d never seen her before in my life.

“Chase, is it you?” the stranger said, overcome with emotion for reasons unbeknownst to me. She came forward and embraced me in a hug stronger than which I would’ve thought her capable.

“Yes,” I answered, feeling embarrassed at the moment. “
Do I know you
?”

She didn’t answer at first, just clung to me. Left with no choice, I kind of enjoyed the moment. I smelled deeply of her hair as her head rested on my shoulder. The fresh coconut was pleasing to my nose. On instinct, I allowed my hands to touch her in return, lightly rubbing her back.

After another moment or so of our corner convergence, she let go and backed away. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, almost giddy as she stared at me. What was up with that? Perhaps I was wrong about her being sober. “I hadn’t seen you in…in a minute. It’s just nice to see a familiar face out here.”

“I’m sorry. Did we go to school together?” I asked, trying a different approach to cover for my poor recollection. Shame on me for not remembering someone who looked this fine.

“Yeah. Yeah,” she answered, either embarrassed by her actions or my reaction to them. “We met in college.”

“Oh. Before law school.” My mind kicked into over-drive, trying to peel back the years to that time in my life, when I was faster and more reckless with my partners.

“You’re a lawyer?”

“No…no. Didn’t quite work out,” I replied with a nervous chuckle. “I do work at a law firm, though. Casey, Warner and Associates.” Now I was volunteering information freely to a woman I still couldn’t remember. But why did I feel so at ease with her? It wasn’t the tequila shots and couldn’t be the pussy because I didn’t remember ever getting it.

“But that’s not your calling, is it?”

“Sure it is…I mean. I’m happy. Wait,” I said, pausing from my stammering.
“What is your name
?”

“Ava.”

“Well, pleased to meet you…again, Ava.”

She chuckled. “Likewise, Chase.” There she went again. Way too comfortable with speaking my name. The way she said it spoke of lazy afternoons and intimate dinners. Maybe something the future held if our “reunion” were to continue. And if I were a foolish man.

My iPhone buzzed. A text.

Thought you were on your way. Traffic can’t be that bad this time of night.

Dawn was still awake. My sobriety was complete. “My wife,” I offered to Ava with an awkward wave of my hand and inept smile. “I…I gotta go.”

She tried to mask the disappointment on her face, but it slipped through the cracks in her resolve. I could tell she had dozens of questions, but decided not to pursue them. “Good night,” is what she settled for.

The farther away from Ava that I walked, the more difficult it felt. I ignored the odd feelings, picking up my pace until I was once again at my car door.

No longer a captive of that painting, she’d begun crossing the intersection diagonally toward her secret, sexy cave wherever she dwelled. As she shuffled along with shoulders slumped, I wondered what magical things took place…or
could
take place in her midst.

“Ava?” I called out.

“Yes, Chase?” she replied, standing in the middle of the empty street. She straightened her shoulders and moved her hair out her eyes.

“Back in the day, what kind of person do you remember me as?”

“You were wonderful. Beyond belief.”

I smiled just as my iPhone buzzed again.

On the long drive back to Spring, I questioned what had just happened outside the pub. A nagging part of me wanted to remain back in midtown with the mysterious woman Ava. She intrigued me, made me feel appreciated, but I left without even as much as a phone number. Better that way, I suppose. Company like hers at such an hour could come with a price. A price beyond idle friendship. A price I was unwilling to pay, I reminded myself as I pulled into the driveway of my home. As I hit the garage door opener, I didn’t see any lights on in the house. Maybe my stalling tactics had paid off.

“Are you through avoiding me?” Dawn asked as I entered from the garage, throwing my keys on the kitchen counter. Rather than sleeping as I’d hoped, she was up watching television. The living room lights were dimmed and an empty wineglass sat on the coffee table in front of her. An episode of
Mad Men
was on AMC, harkening back to a simpler era, yet featuring a wife equally frustrated as she. Except I wasn’t Dawn’s Don Draper. He was successful in spite of his moral failings, things seeming to bounce in his favor, even. Don’t think he would’ve had a meltdown over a stupid bar exam. Of course, that exam would’ve been a firm commitment. A commitment to a direction I still was unsure about.

I’d never win challenging her. Not as long as I was Robin to Jacobi’s Batman. I’d always be stupid and foolish for being so comfortable in my standing. Every cell in my body said to go to our bedroom, take a shower, then go to bed. The path of least resistance and a soft pillow. But I was known for making stupid decisions. Just ask Dawn.

Instead, I sat in the wingback chair to her left, keeping some distance. Any closer and I might run the risk of being smacked. I removed my jacket and cautiously inhaled, looking to detect the sweet reminder of coconut amidst the tequila. Dawn wore a red silk nightgown over her slight, yet curvy frame. Crimson highlighting the sights along the highway that was her body. Her loveliness might’ve been rewarding if I’d brought my ass home earlier. “Something on your mind?” I asked, too frustrated by our current state to totally appreciate the view.

“Yes,” she replied. “Like why you’ve been hiding out behind that womanizer Jacobi rather than coming home.” She took the remote, pausing the nattily-clad sixties womanizers on the screen in mid-quip. The stilled television lights bathed her exposed mocha skin in an eerie Technicolor-ish glow as she swiveled to face me.

“I told you already. We had work to do. Gotta pay the bills, y’know. And I don’t feel like arguing, Dawn.”

“And from the way you act, you’d think I live for arguing. I just want to talk with my husband, but can’t if he keeps avoiding things.”

“Would it help if I apologize?” I said as I sighed. “I just want to go to bed.”

Dawn clenched her teeth, still determined in her gaze. “He’s about to make partner, isn’t he?”

“So. He deserves it. Jacobi’s put in a lot of time and hard work at the firm.”

“Hmph. On your shoulders,” she stated, waving her hands in the air. “Is that why you were out celebrating with him tonight? I know what’s going on when you don’t answer the phone, Chase. Drinking and whatever else.”

I stood up, ready for a shower more than ever. Like I said, I’d never win challenging her. “I have a long day ahead of me, babe,” I mumbled. Despite this disagreement, I loved Dawn. As I walked by, I leaned over and gently kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, girl,” I said in her ear. She reached up, placing her arm around my neck in a semi-hug.

“It should be you about to make partner, sweetheart. You know he’s only successful because you cover up for his mistakes. Then he takes credit for all your hard work. Y’know…one of these days, he’s going to stab you in the back.”

“Stop. Jacobi’s my friend, Dawn,” was all I could offer in response. Our argument was over for the night, but as sure as the day is long, we’d revisit it. As long as things stayed the way they were. Dawn wanted me to go back and finish law school and pass the bar. Questioning a man’s heart and the choices he made was always a sure way to generate conflict. You’d almost swear she was unfulfilled instead of me.

But Dawn wasn’t the only one to question me tonight. And I wasn’t thinking about Jacobi, either.

That woman had questioned my calling.

A stranger, as far as I was concerned.