THE WEEK DRAGGED on uneventfully and Milo-less. It was the day of my next lesson and I was jittery as all hell about seeing him again. Being a girl, I had a thousand and one scenarios running through my head, and at least nine hundred ninety-nine of them were negative.
I’d come to the simple conclusion that if Milo wanted anything other than our smash-n-dash he would have contacted me. No, I never actually gave him my number, but it was on file at the music store and it was 2017. Social media was more effective than Sherlock Holmes for stalking someone, and everyone and their mother was aware of that. Knowing that my Facebook profile was public and that our neighborhood was tight, I marked it off to being another notch in the hot teacher’s belt. It was what it was. No tears or tantrums necessary. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t thought much about it until today, and that was only because I was about to come face to face with the sexy beast himself.
As I walked past Pumpernickel and neared Just Strummin’ It, I tried to curb my mental freak out. I’d been fine all week and now my nerves were getting the best of me. After my chat with Jane at Starbucks last week, I decided to put myself out there. On Saturday, I hopped a ride on the East River ferry to take part in Smorgasburg. The food festival was like nothing I’d ever seen before, attracting thousands of visitors on any given day. While chowing down on the best meatballs ever, I caught the attention of a fine young thing who later bought me a drink at a beer garden. Nothing came of it except some pleasant conversation and a boost to my confidence, but it was the push I needed to keep my heart light and my explorative mood in gear.
Sunday had me craving more culture, so I bought a ticket to an indie release at the Nitehawk Cinema. The movie was quirky and funny and the bartender at the Lo-Res bar downstairs from the theater was more of the same. Much like my encounter with the guy at the meatball stand, there was nothing to tell, but it was nice to know I had options—other than Charlie and Milo. There were plenty of fish in the East River. I’d be just fine.
But try as I might to convince myself that my possibilities were plentiful, my heart thundered with anticipation as I stepped into the store for my lesson.
The girl with the dreads who manned the front desk last week greeted me with a smile. “Hi, there. What time’s your lesson, hun?”
I stood tall and adjusted the strap of the guitar case that was sliding down my arm. “Six. With Milo.”
At the mention of my instructor her apologetic eyes met mine. “Oh crap, I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten to call a few of his students. He’s not in today, but there is someone covering for him if you’d like to go ahead with your lesson.”
An unexpected surge of heat traveled up to my ears, burning them from canal to earlobe.
I thought you had another lesson . . . I had someone cover for me.
He’d used the same line on me just seven days ago when he followed me to Flask & Folly and lured me to his apartment to teach me a few things. I shouldn’t have been disappointed. Disappointment was not part of the casual dating thing. Milo and I were nothing to each other. It was a no-strings-attached hookup, nothing more, nothing less. I guess that was his MO. Massage the anxiety out of a deprived and eager student, ditch the next lesson for a smash-n-dash . . . lather, rinse, repeat.
“Unreal,” I mumbled, but then gulped back the letdown. “That’ll be fine.”
Dread girl went about typing something into the computer and my eyes scanned the small storefront, taking in the wall-to-wall instruments, speakers, and sheet music. When my attention returned to the collection of colorful guitar picks decorating the front desk, the girl interrupted my wandering thoughts about how I was already failing at my attempt to philander.
“You know. This isn’t like him.”
“Like who?”
“Milo.” She smiled. “He takes his students very seriously.”
“Oh, I’m sure he does,” I blurted, unable to contain my cynical laughter.
Her dark eyes narrowed and her caramel colored lips glinted with amusement. “He’s in Long Island for the weekend.”
“The Hamptons? Wow. I totally read him wrong. I don’t see Milo as the yacht club type.”
“No,” she laughed. “You definitely won’t find Milo in a polo shirt and white shorts anytime soon. His parents live in Port Jefferson. He and his sister took a few days off to go spend time with his dad. He was in a car accident.”
“Oh, my God!” I suddenly felt terrible for casting judgment. “Is he okay?”
“Oh, yes. Nothing serious. Just a little shaken up. But Milo and Marley are really good kids. They’d drop anything for family.”
Shit! So, he was sweet. What else could I get out of her? “You seem to know a lot about him. You guys been working together long?”
She flashed a genuine grin. “Name’s Zoe, by the way. And yes, boss hired me on the spot the day he opened shop. I love working for Milo; he’s a great guy.”
I couldn’t help wondering how great a guy Zoe knew him to be, but she was so nice and informative I didn’t want to go down that road. I was more focused on the fact she called Milo her boss. “Milo owns this place?”
“Uh huh. Part owners with Frankie, who is more of a silent partner so you won’t see much of him around here. He’s not a fan of the . . . creatures.”
“Creatures?”
“That’s what he calls the hipsters. Frankie’s old school; not much into conforming. But they keep him in business and Milo draws in a lot of new customers, so Frankie stays happy.”
I could understand Frankie feeling left out and reluctant to adapt, even if I was a creature craver myself. Everything Zoe told me set my mind at ease but made me that much more eager for next week. I didn’t want her to know that—I already felt she had some kind of sixth sense and could read my feelings for Milo—so I nodded politely and said, “Works out for everyone, I guess.”
“Yup. And I’m sure Milo will make it up to you somehow at your next lesson. You’ll be in good hands with Renee, though.”
Thoughts of how well I would like him to make it up to me danced around my head but the tempo of my daydream was halted by Renee’s greeting. “Hey! You must be Emmy. Come on back. Let’s see how far you got with Milo.”
I bit my lip to stifle my laughter and when my eyes caught Zoe’s she winked. “Have fun,” she sang.
Either Milo had told her about us or she was just that good. I found myself hoping Zoe didn’t have a clairvoyant bone in her beautiful body.