“Platinum Media Records” was the largest tenant of a massive, steel tower on Fifth Avenue. Nevertheless, James had seen the imposing building many times in the past. Its sheer size and cold, wide corridors failed to intimidate him. . Once again, his employers wanted him to prove that composing and writing lyrics within a given time frame, that they set, was by no means an easy task. In his mind, both he and they only ended up wasting time.

Before joining them in the conference room in the penthouse, he made one request. James told Rick Olivia’s full name, and asked that he track her down for him. He was not going to reprimand her for leaving without saying “goodbye”. After all, he had a very good idea why she did such a thing. Instead, James wanted to give her the poem as a reminder of that night. It was a token of appreciation for what she had done for him; nothing more.

The meeting with his superiors went precisely as James predicted. Hours of arguing repeatedly over same thing; bitter comments from both sides, and most importantly, threats of termination. Familiar with their tactics, he gave them no credence. They could continue threatenign to their heart’s content; he would still not be terrorized. James was a smart man; he was well aware of his talent. Good writers were scarce; it would be most unwise of a record company as prestigious as “Platinum Media Records” to lay off one of their most important assets. Therefore, he stood by his argument: he would not write lyrics for anyone in a matter of a few days, just because his bosses wanted to make a quick buck. Eventually, the board had no choice but to back down on their demands. Howard Peterson, the record company CEO, gave him the address and phone number of a Laurel Thomas, a young, up and coming artist, asking him to do what he normally did: talk with her about her life experiences, especially events that had caused her the most pain.

It was already 7:30pm when the meeting ended and James was in no mood to speak. Incredibly, Rick was still in the waiting room, but, noticing the stiffness in James’ face, he preferred not to speak. In fact, neither of them did, until they left the building behind.

“Come on, man.” Rick urged his friend, walking alongside him, as the honking pierced their ears. “Tell me, how did it go?”

“Just as I thought it would.” James informed Rick; “I’m sick and tired of them.”

“You must be starving.” Rick said. “Want to grab a bite?”

“Actually, no,” James replied, as they approached “Jodie’s”, a retro music club. “I need to get some rest. Sorry about this morning, Rick. I lost it.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Rick said with a grin, stopping just outside the glass door of the club. “Anyway, I think we could both use a drink. What do you say?”

“Oh, no,” James whispered, running his hand through his hair. “It’s too loud for me.”

“This one is not.” Rick shook his head sideways. “I’ve been coming here for years.”

“Alright,” James said with a nod, “But just for a few minutes.”

Rick said nothing. He only gave James a broad grin, before pushing the door open. James soon discovered that he had been honest with him. Indeed, the music was not loud at all. Bob Dylan’s “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” flowed out from the speakers. Posters of famous artists, like Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, “The Eagles” and others lined the walls in “Jodie’s” club. Dozens of red, green and blue spotlights hung from the ceiling. Two women sat at the counter to the right. The young barista was looking for a bottle on the bar wall, with her back turned to them. Other than that, the place was almost empty.

“What’s your poison?” Rick inquired, hopping on the stool.

“I’ll have a soda.” James’ response made his eyes glint with amusement. Rick bit his lower lip, in an obvious attempt to not laugh, as he sat next to him.

“Ok, tell her.” Rick said, casting a rapt glance at the barista. Then, leaning over he whispered in James’ ear: “You kids have fun. I hear she’s a nice girl.”

Rick had just finished his sentence, when the young brunette turned around. It was Olivia. James’ jaw dropped to the floor. An empty glass slipped through her fingers.

“James!” She said, in a voice filled with surprise, barely noticing when the glass shattered. “What are you doing here?”

Shocked to his core, he could not force another word out of his throat. He opened his eyes wide, as his face loosened in utter disbelief. Looking right and left, he sought Rick, but he was already making his way towards the door.

“Don’t tell me.” Olivia added. “You needed a taste of civilization. Am I right?”

“Not really.” He claimed, feeling his heart ready to explode. “I take it you work here.”

“What gave me away?” She gave him a sweet smile, raising a bottle of vodka in the air. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing,” James said, pulling a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. “This is for you.”

“A letter?” Olivia wondered, taking it in her hands.

“Not quite; just something to remember last night by.” His voice quivered as he spoke; he then hopped off his stool, saying “Goodnight, Olivia. Thanks again.”

“Wait!” She cried, as he started towards the door. Yet, her words passed by him unheard. James had made up his mind. He had lingered there too long. The only thing he could think of was finding a place to spend the night. But, he soon realized, Olivia was not going to let him leave so easily. Just before he reached the door, he felt a tight grip on his forearms. She pushed him back first and then to the left, towards the table closest to the door.

“What the…”

“You’re not going anywhere until I read this.” Her commanding tone completely rubbed him the wrong way.

“Leave me alone!” He yelled, pulling his arms out of her hold.

“Sit down, James.” Olivia commanded, locking her gaze on his.

“Ok, I’ll wait.” He said. “But, I’m not sitting down.”

James slipped his hands into his pockets, as she unfolded the piece of paper. Too embarrassed to even look at her, he dropped his gaze to the floor, impatiently tapping his foot on it. Still, her shaking hands drew his attention, only seconds afterwards. Olivia slowly brought her gaze up to his and eased the poem down onto the table.

“You…” She spoke, her voice a soft, almost inaudible whisper. “You wrote this? For me?”

A simple nod served as her answer. A blissful smile lit up her face, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Tilting her head up, Olivia closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his mouth. A gasp of surprise escaped him, but, the sensation of her warm kiss felt too good to resist. A split second afterwards, he entwined his long arms around her back and embraced her, as she pressed herself into him. A gentle caress on the back of his neck made him tingle, as he stroked her back. Olivia’s passionate, fiery kiss left him breathless. By now, he was enjoying it so much that he made no attempt to stop. She trapped his lower lip between hers one last time and gently pulled back. Opening her big, sparkling eyes, she fixed her gaze on his.

“I’m the devil in disguise?” She asked, her voice sweet and playful, as she smiled up at him.

“Among other things,” He affirmed in his baritone, returning the smile.

“Who are you, James?” she whispered. “What are you? A poet? A hermit?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” James put a little force in his voice.

“Try me.” She encouraged, sliding her hand up his neck.

“I can’t.” A long, heavy sigh left his lips.

“Can’t or won’t?” Olivia’s tone was not sweet anymore. On the contrary, she sounded skeptical and her smile fled as she addressed him.

“I can’t.” He insisted, his voice dropping down an octave.

“Alright,” she let one more whisper leave her lips, as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ll come back to that cabin of yours. And I’m going to keep coming, until you tell me just what it is that you do.”

Tension tightened the back of James’ neck. Her steady tone and her eye contact were clear signs that she meant it. Also, judging by her brash behavior the night before, she was not going to back down, until she got what she wanted. At any rate, James was too emotional to reveal anything to her. More than that, a club, even as fancy as that, was no place to share his life’s story with his newfound inspiration.

“What time do you get off?” He inquired.

“Eight o’clock.” Her response was sharp.

“I’m going to tell you, on one condition.” James took his right arm off of her and raised his index in the air. “That you don’t tell anyone. I’m warning you, though. It’s a really long story.”

“Thank you.” His words brought a big smile to her face. “I can’t wait to hear it. Do you want that drink now?”

“I’d prefer it if we did this somewhere more…” He paused. “Private.”

“Ok.” She chirped. “My apartment’s just down the street. You can tell me there.”