“Miss Greene, have you given any thought to what we discussed the other day? They need an answer soon,” the board president for the orchestra, Rose Brown, asked her after they’d finished rehearsal.

  “I have, but I don’t know yet,” she replied as she walked down the stairs that led to the back door of the performance hall and to the street. “It’s a lot to consider.”

  “It’s a great opportunity for you. It will open up some doors.” Rose walked behind her, and briskly at that, in an attempt to catch Greene before she could escape.

  “I didn’t even put myself up for it. How–”

  “Miss Greene, people ask about you all the time.” She held the door open as Greene made her way through it. Then, she followed her out to the street. “You are one of the finest violinists in a generation; no one understands why you’re not on your own tours or soloing in every performance.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said directly as they stood on the sidewalk and people walked around them.

  “But, the way you play – it’s inspiring. It’s so technical and yet so fluid. You’re like a ballet dancer with your instrument. It’s graceful and wonderful, and more people should hear you play and not just as a part of an orchestra.”

  “It’s a month,” Greene said of the job offer she’d received the other day.

  “Exactly. It’s only one month. Is that really all that long in the grand scheme of things?” Rose asked. “You’d be the featured soloist. People around the world would get to hear you play. You’ve not done that in your career, Miss Greene.”

  “Greene.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No, just Greene. You can drop the Miss part.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  “It’s only the one month? It won’t lead to another month or three more months?” Greene asked after a minute.

  “There are no plans for that at this time.”

  Greene squinted at her and replied, “And my contract with the orchestra remains intact?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Oh, I thought you–”

  “I have until next week to decide, right?”

  “Technically, yes. They would like to know earlier to get the preparations started.”

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I decide then.”

  “Can I ask what has you holding back?” Rose asked.

  ◆◆◆

  When she got home, Greene changed into her After Dark clothes: a V-neck shirt in a dark gray, a pair of jeans, and white tennis shoes. She grabbed her wallet, her phone, and some chapstick along with her keys, and shoved one thing in each of her four pockets. She made it to her front door and yanked it open, worrying about being late and getting chastised by Hillary for it. She saw Joanna standing there, just about to knock.

  “Hey,” Greene greeted her in surprise.

  “Hi.” Joanna dropped the hand that had been about to knock.

  “Did I know you were coming over?” she asked and continued to stand in her own doorway.

  “You invited me to After Dark,” Joanna stated.

  She looked great. She was wearing a sleeveless silk blouse in a royal blue, with a light black jacket over it that looked like leather but might have been fake. She hadn’t seen Joanna wear it before. She had on black slacks and black flats with gold buckles on top of them. She looked like a woman who was going out on the town.

  “I’m still invited, right?” she asked when Greene didn’t respond and stood staring.

  “Actually, I gave your ticket away,” she said.

  “Oh, do you have…” she faded out and turned her head to look down the hall, as if checking for someone who wasn’t there, “… a date?”

  Greene laughed at her and closed the door behind herself, locking it before she said anything.

  “I’m kidding.” She turned back to Joanna, who was glaring at her.

  “Very funny. You’re an ass.”

  “Sometimes,” Greene agreed. “You weren’t coming. What changed?” she asked, suddenly feeling much better than she had all day and much of last night.

  “I didn’t want to miss out after all. I’d have to wait until next month,” Joanna said. Greene made her way down the stairs rapidly, forcing Joanna to keep up with her. “Are we racing there?”

  “No, I just don’t want to be late. Hill always gives me such a hard time when I’m late. It used to be Keira, but Keira went and turned into an adult who met a girlfriend that always makes sure she shows up on time. Now, I’m the late one of the group.”

  “You’re never late,” Joanna replied as they made it to the door, and she moved past Greene to open it for her.

  “I’m sometimes late,” she said, and they made their way out to the street.

  “I’ve known you for a year now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be late for anything.”

  “Okay, so I’m not late.”

  “But you let them give you a hard time for it? So, when you’re hanging out with just them, do you show up five minutes late on purpose or something?”

  “What? No.”

  “Then, how are you the late person Hillary makes fun of?”

  “Why are we talking about this? You’re uninvited. I’m giving your ticket to the next person I see.” Greene smiled at her as they walked.

  “Don’t do that.” Joanna stopped walking.

  “Do what?” Greene stopped, too, and turned back to her.

  “What you always do: you deflect, you change the subject.”

  “I don’t understand why we’re talking about that subject,” Greene stated.

  “Why do you let your best friends think things about you that aren’t true?”

  “What are you talking about, Jo?” Greene’s voice was louder than she’d intended, and a few people walking past them stared.

  “You let Keira and Hillary, and now Emma, think you’re this person that you’re not.”

  “So?”

  “I want to know why.”

  “Now? You have to know this now?”

  “No, but I want to.” Joanna ran her hand along Greene’s forearm. “Macon, you’re not someone that shows up late. You’re not the girl that sleeps around, but your closest friends think–”

  “You’re my closest friend,” she interjected. “Jo, you’re my closest friend. Don’t you get that?” she asked and started walking again. “I love Keira and Hill, and I love Emma now, too. We’re all friends, but I don’t tell them stuff sometimes. I let them think things sometimes, too, because – I don’t know – I guess because I think it doesn’t really matter. I know who I am. I know who I am, Jo, and now you do, too. You know who I am.” She’d been staring at the sidewalk as they walked but turned her head to Joanna at that last part. “You’re the only person I care about knowing those things about me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay?” Greene asked.

  “Yeah, just okay.”

  Joanna smiled at her, and they walked on. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Exploratorium entrance to a waiting Keira, Hillary, and Emma.

  “Greene, showing up late again?” Hillary teased.

  “Actually, she’s right on time; as always,” Joanna tossed back.

  She held out her phone, which she’d apparently prepared in advance for this moment. It showed seven on the dot.

  “Oh, sorry,” Hillary returned, a little surprised.

  “We ready?” Emma asked.

  “Let’s go,” Keira replied and nodded in Greene’s direction.

  Greene nodded back. Things weren’t exactly okay between them, but she’d gotten some distance on the fight and could at least smile and nod tonight until they had a real chance to talk.

  “What’s the theme tonight?” Joanna asked.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Hillary looked at Greene.

  “Didn’t tell me what?”

  Greene held open the door for Joanna and followed her inside.

  “It’s music,” Greene returned.

  ◆◆◆

  After Dark had different themes each month. Joanna had seen the hot sauce theme, where there were different types of hot sauces people could taste and understand the composition of. She’d been when they’d done the theme of light and the absence of. And she’d been twice, accidentally, when they’d had the same theme, since they reoccurred sometimes. Fireworks was worth seeing twice, though. She’d been to that one on a date the first time with a guy named Keith. It had been a first and final date with Keith.

  The second time, though, had been with Macon and the gang. Emma and Keira had been dating for several months. Hillary had been there with a date that later went nowhere. Those two couples went off on their own for a part of the night, leaving her alone with Macon. They’d been hanging out fairly regularly by then, but there had been something about that night that had always stood out to Joanna. As they made their way around the exhibits tonight, she recalled it, and it suddenly made sense.

  That night had felt very much like a triple date. It might have just been the first of many of those nights, now that she thought about it. Nearly every night after that – when they’d gone out with Keira and Emma, or when Hillary had a date and they tagged along to a movie – it had felt oddly like a double date. That was weird, right? They weren’t dating. She dated men. Macon dated women.

  Macon was actually talking to one now. She shook herself out of her thoughts and realized that Macon wasn’t next to her. She was standing about ten feet away, talking to a woman that looked to be in her mid-thirties. The woman was leaning in, sharing a headphone Macon was listening to as a part of an exhibit. The woman couldn’t just wait her damn turn? Joanna felt her heart start to race, and she took a deep breath before approaching.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” she asked Macon with a hand on the small of her back.

  Macon turned around, removing the headphones and handing them to the woman.

  “Just listening to the exhibit.”

  “Who’s your friend?” the woman asked of Joanna.

  “Joanna,” she introduced herself and put out her hand for the woman to shake.

  “Brit.”

  “Brit?” Joanna checked.

  “We were just listening to the music in this one.”

  Macon sensed something, apparently, because she placed her hand on Joanna’s back and gave her a slight nudge toward a box that was playing a video of a baby laughing.

  “This is music?” Joanna questioned and looked at Macon.

  “This is a regular exhibit. It’s not a part of the music one,” Macon corrected. “It was nice to meet you, Brit. We’re going to go meet up with our friends though,” she said politely.

  “I didn’t realize...” Brit pointed back and forth between the two of them.

  Joanna knew what that meant. Macon had to have known what that meant. Neither of them bothered to correct her.

  “Nice to meet you.” Joanna gave her a nod and turned around.

  Macon turned around, too. Her hand moved from Joanna’s back to take Joanna’s hand instead. Joanna couldn’t breathe: Macon was holding her hand. Their fingers were intertwined as they walked away from Brit, and it felt different than the other times they’d held hands like this in passing.

  “Might as well sell it.” Macon leaned in. “Thanks for the save, by the way.”

  “What?” Joanna turned to her.

  “She just came out of nowhere, asked my name, and started flirting with me. I wanted to get rid of her–”

  “But you didn’t.” Joanna dropped Macon’s hand.

  “I’m sure she’s nice, but she goes by Brit. She’s at least thirty-six, thirty-seven.” Macon laughed and rubbed her hands together in front of her.

  “Right.”

  Joanna shouldn’t have been surprised that Macon didn’t send the woman away. She’d admitted to being polite to women when they hit on her. Joanna had no right to interrupt their exchange. She couldn’t tell that Macon needed a save by the way she was interacting with Brit. She’d gone over there strictly out of her own selfish need.

  “Come on.” Macon smiled at her. “I want to show you something.”

  “Okay.” Joanna followed.

  Macon led her to an octagonal room, where there was an electronic drum set. Three people were leaving the room when they arrived. Macon held open the door for her to walk in first.

  “What?” Joanna laughed. “You play the drums, too?”

  “Once you learn one instrument, the rest aren’t that hard,” Macon answered modestly. “Sit.” She motioned for Joanna to sit on the round stool in front of the drum set.

  “Why?”

  “Just do it, come on.” Macon laughed.

  “Okay, but I don’t have rhythm. I can’t even play the tambourine.” She sat, and Macon placed headphones over her ears.

  “It’s going to guide you through it.” She pointed to a screen about the size of a laptop that had music options. “Pick one.”

  “What’s the easiest?” Joanna asked.

  “Try blues.” Macon’s smirk indicated that none of them were easy but that she might have a shot with blues.

  Joanna pressed the icon on the screen indicating blues music. The screen changed to show an identical drum set to the one she was sitting in front of. Macon handed her white c she had no idea how to hold. The music started in her headphones. It was slow, like most blues songs, and the lyrics along with musical notes scrawled along the bottom as the drums on the screen lit up in different colors. She guessed that she was supposed to hit each drum at the same time, almost like a video game. She struck one drum that sounded low and reverberated inside her headphones.

  “Oh,” she exclaimed.

  “Fun, huh?” Macon asked.

  “I don’t even know how to hold these.” She referenced the drumsticks she held for a second like oversized chopsticks and then quickly used both of them to hit the drum that lit up in red because she’d already missed so many beats.

  “Here.” Macon moved behind her, and her arms appeared on either side of Joanna. “Your thumb should be opposite your index finger on the stick with about two inches of the butt-end extending from the back. Pinching like this is called a fulcrum. Now, turn your hands to a forty-five-degree angle: you can use both of your wrists more freely and still have power and control,” she said all of this as she formed Joanna’s hands in the path she’d described. “Try now.” She was leaning down right behind her; her breasts were actually touching Joanna’s back, and Joanna felt them there. She realized how close they were in that moment; that Macon’s hands were on top of her hands. She was demonstrating how to use the drumsticks properly. “There. Cool, huh?” she asked and stood up, leaving Joanna to try to play on her own.

  Joanna gave it the old college try for another few beats before she stood and relinquished the sticks to Macon.

  “You show me how it’s done.” She pulled off the headphones and held them out.

  “That’s it?” Macon asked.

  “I’m no musician, and I am in the company of a good one. So, teach me.”

  “Okay.” Macon sat on the stool, selected a rock song, left off the headphones, and played the song perfectly.

  Joanna’s jaw nearly dropped at the freedom expressed in Macon’s face as she hit the black drum pads sometimes gently and, more times, with the force appropriate for a rock song. Macon’s hair shook as she gave in and played, and played, until the last note reverberated.

  “Jesus,” Joanna said, and Macon turned to face her, setting the drumsticks into their holder. “How many instruments can you play?” Joanna asked.

  “What?” She laughed. “There’s a line. We–”

  “You’re not getting out of this room until you answer my question.” Joanna stood back in front of the door.

  “Oh, really?” Macon laughed and took a step toward her, testing her.

  “Yes, really.”

  “I moved you the other day. I can move you again.” Macon laughed more.

  “Try me.” Joanna lifted an eyebrow in challenging response.

  Macon took the two more steps until she was standing right in front of her. Joanna could feel her breath. She could smell her scent, and she could sense something palpable she couldn’t define. Macon stared at her before placing her hands on Joanna’s hips as she’d done the other day in her kitchen. Joanna prepared for her to slide her over in the same manner, and she smiled at Macon to indicate that it would be okay. But Macon turned her head to look through the clear plastic wall. Joanna’s eyes followed and noticed Keira and Emma standing just outside the room. Keira’s eyes were on Macon’s, and then on Joanna’s. They seemed to say two things at once: this was interesting and, also, this shouldn’t be happening. Macon took a step back and looked at Joanna. Her hands were no longer on her hips, and her mood had instantly changed.

  “A lot.”

  “What?” Joanna asked, trying to figure out again what had just happened.

  “I can play a lot of instruments, like a lot of professional musicians. I can leave the room now, right?”

  “Oh, sure.” Joanna took a step sideways and allowed her to pass.

  Macon pulled open the door to the room, allowing four twenty-somethings to have their turn on the skins. Joanna followed her out, turning in time to see Keira’s eyes on her and scowling at the woman while following Macon, who seemed to be on a mission.

  CHAPTER 9

  Greene moved briskly through the crowd without caring if anyone followed or even knew where she was. She ended up in the bathroom, where she leaned over the sink, gripping the countertop. She thought about splashing cold water over her face, but she knew that wouldn’t help her calm down. She had two very specific emotions, and both needed to lower in intensity before she could go back out to the museum. She was angry. That one was clear and definable. She was angry at Keira for that face she’d just made, and for making her realize her feelings for Joanna. She was also angry with herself for having those feelings. She should know better.

  Her other emotion wasn’t so much an actual emotion; she would call it a physical reaction. She hadn’t intended on teaching Joanna how to hold drumsticks or challenging her at the door like that, but she had. Her body had reacted in a normally welcomed way. But, in Joanna’s case, she wanted the pulsing between her legs to cease and the pounding in her chest to stop. She stared at herself in the mirror, straightened her already straightened shirt, and headed back out to the museum.