“It’s really been that long since you’ve talked to Nate? Even though…you know…”

Jan still can’t believe it that I actually slept with Nate. Definitely jealous…but also seems shocked that such a lonely bitter hag like me has a sex life! Jesus, people really feel that sorry for me? I do sort of have a sex life I guess I just don’t like talking about it to everyone I meet.

“Yeah. I guess it was just…you know, a crush. I don’t think we have a future.”

“Well no, I didn’t think you had a future,” Jan laughs. I just figured you’d get a little more mileage out of such a rich, famous and handsome guy. You know…buy you a boat and a new car kind of a relationship?”

I cringe at the thought. “I’m not going to use him like a sugar daddy. Man…I can’t believe how cynical people are today.”

“Oh come on,” Jan says, helping me with my latest patient—a damaged guitar once owned by Prince, and now owned by one of his biggest fans. I guess I should feel honored…and yet I feel nothing. I usually enjoy my work. Maybe the “date” I had with Nate bothered me more than I let on.

“No, really. I don’t believe in using guys for whatever I can get out of them.”

"Yeah, rich guys get something out of it too. Admit it. Guys like trading sex for favors. It's in their nature."

“Not mine,” I say proudly. Maybe I don’t have much to be proud of in this life of but at least it’s a start.

“Amanda?” My dad Blake says. “Someone calling for you.”

“I’m not here,” I say coldly.

Dad smiles awkwardly and takes back the phone. “Ummm she just stepped out. Can I take a message?” A pause. “Look, I don’t honestly know if she’s avoiding you. But I can’t really do anything else but take a message, can I?”

Blake shakes his head and hangs up the phone. He turns to me and shakes his head.

“What? Dad?” I furl my brow and suffer at the thought that I owe Nate something. I don’t owe him anything!

"You have to talk to him," Dad says nothing else, at least until after a loooong pause. Always a man of few but decisive words. I listen in subdued admiration…his gray but balding hair and mustache always a symbol of love and fatherly affection.

“He doesn’t deserve you. But he deserves an explanation.”

Hard to argue with that, I think, but I don’t reply. All I really feel like doing is working. Creating something beautiful from something horribly disfigured like this guitar right in front of me.

God…I wonder if Prince intentionally bashed this guitar on a drug binge or something? The body is still rough even after all that sanding. I’m going to have to use the buffer again.

Heading home. After a long day of work, my feet are sore…my arms are dead. My brain is overwhelmed. I head to my car in the darkest of night, even after dad pleaded with me to come home hours ago. For some reason, I find solace in the night. It's only scary if you have something to lose. But I have nothing to lose. Nothing to gain. Just minutes…hours…days of quiet.

I suddenly shift my head backward, having heard something. I finish locking the door to the store and stand vigilant. If someone's actually out here late at night, they're definitely not a paying customer. Could be a criminal, a serial killer or…

Just some fool who doesn’t know just how unsafe it is to be wandering out at night.

“What do you want?” I ask to the silent presence lurking behind the southern wall.

“I’m sorry I had to come this way,” Nate says, holding his hands behind his back. He’s dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, trying to look bad ass. But he’s not fooling anybody. “But you’re not returning my phone calls or texts.”

"Yeah?" I wait for his answer. Even though I'm not afraid of him, I do still find it annoying that he feels entitled to stalk me, and of all places, at night.

“I just want to talk to you,” he says, looking like a sad little boy. “I know, believe me, I know. Sex is no big thing. But…I just gotta know, did I do something wrong? I mean, I don’t expect much but a text saying, “Hey sexy” wouldn’t be out of the question.”

I eye him in warning and sigh. “I don’t appreciate you coming around here. I work here. And I don’t like guys approaching me at night when I feel threatened.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I just…like the nighttime, you know? It’s quiet.”

"Well, I don't like it. And I just want to be left alone."

“I got it. But can you answer my question?”

“What?”

“What did we feel? I mean, you know it wasn’t just a play. I went after you. I asked you out. I could have had any woman I wanted, but I wanted you.”

“And didn’t you like it?” I say with a sexy tumble of my hair.

“Yes,” he says with a smile.

“Then there you go,” I say straight-faced. “You got what you wanted. Now I want you to leave me alone. I want you to leave my father alone. Don’t contact me anymore. If I hear from you again, I’ll file a restraining order against you. Are we clear?”

Nate laughs in disbelief. “So if you hate me so much why did you sleep with me?”

“I didn’t sleep with you.”

“Why’d we fuck in the locker room then? I mean I’m no gentleman, I’m not a smart guy. Okay? I’m not as classy as you. But is there something I’m not getting? Did I force you, did I insult you?”

“I gave you what you wanted. Now get the fuck out of my life, Nate.”

“So you basically bribed me with pussy and then toss me out like yesterday’s shit.”

“Yes,” I say quickly, emphasizing the point. This conversation is over. If he doesn’t know how to accept THAT, then the man is really a caveman.

“My dear God,” Nate says, shaking his head. “You are the hardest and coldest woman I’ve ever met!”

“Yes,” I say, a little bit softer. “I am. Now please leave.”

“Fine, you won’t hear another word from me. I’m out.”

“Good.”

“Not another word, not a fucking syllable.”

I sigh in annoyance. Kind of amazed that even though Nate agreed never to say another word to me, he’s still rambling on like a teenager. It’s like he doesn’t even understand how he sounds to other people.

“I’m gone. I’m out. For real.”

I shake my head and continue walking towards my car, ignoring Nate who keeps turning around, wondering if I’m going to chase after him.

The truth is…I’m still thinking about that guitar. I think I know what needs to be done to smooth out the body. Maybe a fret rocker.

I hear Nate’s voice chattering just a few yards away. But I ignore it, as irrelevant to my life as the crickets chirping in the background. My life is here.