I jump up and down before following him inside, quickly unbuckling my backpack. “The second surprise.”
Appreciation glints his crocodiles as I present a lantern. Pushing its small button, light chases shadows away.
He takes it for a closer look. “That’s a powerful one!”
“My cousin Ben gave it to us for outages.” I widen my eyes for comic emphasis, because I never feel helpless. “Because we’re three girls living alone.”
Gage walks the two steps to lock up, twisting a dead bolt that fights back. He pockets my keys for later. “Sounds like he’s protective of you.”
I roll my eyes, voice echoing, “I’ll say!”
“That’s a good thing, Cherry,” he says in all seriousness. “Your family should look after you.”
I blink at him, voice quieting, “I know.”
He stares off for a moment like his mind traveled elsewhere. “Speaking of looking after you,” he announces, strolling by me to check out the place. “I’m gonna make sure we’re alone here.”
“There are only two other doors beside this one. And one’s…like a garage. I don’t know how to describe it. The kind that rolls up.”
“I gotcha,” he nods, “Come with me.”
We explore the facility, pointing out to each other interesting things abandoned long ago — iron shelves with papers strewn about, none dated past 1959. We both love the twisting, ratty conveyer belt that’s off its hinges and metal file cabinets, desks, chairs and tables askew where once they probably lined the rooms in perfect symmetry.
Gage notes, “Not as much dust as I expected,” after we’re sure that we’re alone.
“Maybe because there’s so little traffic in the area to kick it up?”
He jogs his chin to the windows while laying our takeout bag on an old metal desk. “Strong seals. Back then they made things to last.”
Digging in my backpack I ask, “Want to use the hand towel I brought to wipe this down?”
“What else you got in there?”
“This.”
Gage’s eyebrows lift at the sight of my portable stereo cylinder. “Music?”
“Uh huh.”
He kisses me. “You thought of everything.”
I smile, not telling him I’ve wanted to do this for years but Brad wasn’t interested. He wasn’t the type of guy I could surprise, so I’d instead shared my idea about the warehouse. Brad shot it down. I didn’t argue. Where was the fun in convincing someone to have some?
Recyclable containers of seafood pasta and crispy, fluffy garlic bread with biodegradable utensils get spread between us as we talk about what this building might have been used for. When we’ve exhausted people industries back then, Gage asks, “Are you gonna tell me how you got the key? Your family own this place?”
Mischief bleeds into me. “Nope. We don’t own it.”
“We’re trespassing?”
“Uh huh!”
Gage grins, “I signed up,” and crunches garlic bread.
“You sure did.” I’m chewing happily while the hits-playlist changes songs to one I absolutely adore. “My dad produced this one! I visited the studio on the day this song finally found its groove. It was so cool, Gage!” Spreading my arms dramatically I describe how it went down, gesturing throughout the story. “I walked in and the air was tense. Nobody talked. Dad didn’t say hi to me. He’s got these light eyes that are so sharp when he’s focusing and unhappy. You feel it in your gut. I love it when he gets like that! I silently lowered myself to the sofa behind his mixing board, careful to blend in. You cannot disturb their focus when it gets like that in there. You’ll get your head bitten off! I learned that the hard way. So there I am, a dragonfly on the wall, observing the signs of imminent meltdown, when all of a sudden Dad says, ‘How about this?’ and drags his levers over the chorus.” I freeze and Gage stops chewing as the song echoes well known verses throughout the forgotten building. “There! That harmony? It brought depth to a voice that sounded shallow until he did that.”
Gage frowns, “That’s how most of the song is.”
“Right! But it wasn’t until Dad did that. They flipped out. The whole room came to life — disaster averted!”
“He welded his idea into the base structure?”
I blink at Gage’s question, and realize he’s putting it in terms he can understand since music isn’t his thing. A smile spreads and I nod, “Exactly. He welded it.”
We listen to the remainder of the song while eating, a new appreciation suspending our conversation.
When the outro fades, Gage locks eyes with me. “Nice.”
“What happened this week?”
His expression darkens as he considers whether or not to tell me. It’s been on my mind, and I didn’t mean for it to slip out just then. But now I can’t take it back.
It’s up to Gage.
I just shared some of my life. Will he do the same?
I don’t push him, but my patience softens me.
Gives him an in.
He chews.
Takes another bite.
Chews some more.
Swallows.
And finally says…
“You really want to know?”
Chapter Seventeen
GAGE
C herry’s looking at me with those bright green eyes of hers, “Of course I really want to know,” and all I can think is that I don’t want her smile gone.
It’s been a great night so far. An adventure I hadn’t expected when I’d gotten ready to pick her up. I was showering, shaving, getting dressed with no notion we’d be chowing down in some ancient structure whose echoes even echo.
I wipe my mouth with a paper napkin, and blink from the food to the virtually empty space, procrastinating.
Feels too big
For something so new.
I grumble, “I’ve never been the type of guy for chit chat anyway,” giving in.
“What do you mean?”
“I go deep.”
A smile flickers at the sexual joke she wants to make. It makes me grin for a second, but we lose the smiles.
I hold her patient gaze. “We forgot the beers, Cherry.”
“Oh!” She digs them out of the bag, hands me one bottle
