“I’ve always been into astrology. You just never noticed. Typical Virgo.” He shook his head, and she chuckled. The highway was lined with trees. Only the ones closest to the road were visible, the rest hidden in darkness. “What about your family?” Zach went on. “What’s your wound?”
And even though Darlene never talked about this, she didn’t hesitate in telling Zach the truth. “Expressing love.”
“Really?”
She gazed ahead at the darkened road. It felt safe, not facing each other, in the new, open space they’d created over the course of the night. “Dad’s just not good at it. We can talk about work and politics and culture and stuff.” She smiled, recalling their many debates at the dinner table. “And I know he’s proud of me. The one time I saw him cry was when I got into Princeton. But we’ve never been, like, touchy-feely.”
Zach checked the speedometer. They were under the speed limit. “Your mom passed away, right?”
Darlene nodded. “Car accident. When I was twelve. The other driver ran a red light.”
“How horrendous. I’m so sorry.”
She remembered that night in shards—two cops at the door, her father thinking that at first they’d come for him, then breaking down. Having to make her own dinner for the very first time. The night she stopped being a child. “Thanks. She was pretty great. Mom was touchy-feely.”
“How so?”
“My mom was the heart of my family. She was the kind of person who had an open-door policy, so there were always people dropping by for dinner, always something in the oven. She could sing, too. Not professionally, just around the house, but I get that from her. And she gave great hugs. All the time. Big on hugs.” Darlene wrapped her arms around herself, remembering the earthy-sweet-acidic smell of her mom’s Luster’s Pink hair oil. The way it felt to be small and safe in her arms. “After she was gone, my dad didn’t know what to do. How to replace all that. So, he didn’t. He worked, all the time. He was a good provider—I wasn’t missing anything, like, superficially—but we were never close close.” She paused, thinking. “I actually can’t even remember the last time he said I love you.”
Zach looked moved. “Oh, Dee.”
Darlene had never shared this with a guy. Somehow, Zach made it easy. “Maybe that’s why it’s hard for me to talk about my feelings.” She sighed. “Music’s where I express my emotions, I guess.”
“I don’t know how anyone couldn’t express emotion around you.” He gave her a heartfelt smile. “You’re very expressible.”
She rolled her eyes, secretly pleased. It was quiet in the car. Darlene felt surprisingly happy, even unburdened, as they drove in comfortable silence.
Zach turned up the car’s heat a little. “Speaking of music, have you written anything new for your album?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s hear it.” Then, as she hesitated, “C’mon. I promise not to bite. Unless you want me to.”
“There’s something about it that’s not quite right.” She sang the chorus for him. “He’s my dark secret; she thinks he’s a keeper. She likes to run, but he makes her stand still.”
“I like it.” He hummed the bars, casually harmonizing. “What’s not working for you?”
“I don’t know. It’s not…” She inhaled, thinking. Sometimes talking about music was like dancing about money: square peg, round hole. “Raw enough, or something.”
Zach sang the lines a few more times, playing with the rhythm and pitch. “What’s it about?”
You and me. “Zia and Clay.”
Zach had met Clay; he knew of the secret romance. “Right, of course.” He changed lanes to overtake a lumbering truck. He was a better driver than Darlene remembered. “What if you switch the pronoun to I?” He sang to demonstrate. “He’s my dark secret; I think he’s a keeper. I like to run, but he makes me stand still.”
The lyrics fell around her like Tetris pieces falling into place. Because it was about her and Zach: he was her secret; he was a keeper. She kept her voice as neutral as possible. “Yes. That actually works.”
“You’re actually welcome.” Zach grinned at her. “What other lyrics have you got?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Let’s write it together.”
The prospect was equally scary and intriguing. “We’ve never written a song together.”
“So let’s give it a go. We have got another two hours to kill.”
Darlene wiped her palms in her dress, suddenly nervous. “Okay.”
“So, it’s about Zia and Clay, right? What’s your hot take on their relationship?”
“They’re lucky,” Darlene thought aloud. “To have found someone special. But it’s hard for them. Who he is, and everything. He’s greater than the sum of his parts.”
“Oooh, I like that.” Zach tapped out a beat on the steering wheel, singing. “He’s greater than the sum of his parts, which doesn’t make it easy on my heart.”
“He’s not a player, he’s a stayer, but he keeps himself farther from me than…”
“Australia,” Zach finished, and they both laughed.
Goofing around was fun. But they probably could write a decent song together. Zach was as relaxed and open as she was careful and cerebral. The thrill of creation flowed into her like adrenaline. They had only two hours! She twisted to face him. “Let’s do it for real.”
* * *
The street was empty when Zach pulled up outside Darlene’s building. They’d pretty much finished “Dark Secret”: most of the lyrics and harmony and nailed down the hook. It sounded good. She couldn’t wait to start cutting a demo.
Zach turned off the engine. “Thanks again for coming. You were brilliant tonight.”
“You’re welcome. It was very… illuminating.”
“For me too.” He gave her a smile that was sweet… but also sad. “You know you’re way too good for me, right?”
“Don’t say that.” Darlene touched his hand. She wanted to raise it to her mouth and kiss each fingertip. “You deserve the best, Zach. I mean that.”
He waited till she’d unlocked the building’s front door to call through the driver’s side window. “Hey, Dee? I… fake… kind of… really like you.”
Darlene knew he was flirting—that the words were more true than false—and it was so radically impossible that this was the same Zach she’d known for two years. But the smell of the city soured the perfection of the car ride just a little, reminding her that she had to be sensible. Careful. No one changed overnight. The only thing certain about this entire situation was the $25,000 she was making. “Good night, Zach.”
42
While she’d typically come by ’Shwick Chick when it was busy, Savannah waited until Honey was just about to lock up. It was after midnight when they sat at what Savannah had come to think of as her table, a bottle of bourbon between them like a lifeline.