“Yeah,I guess … well, anyway, Trent has been laying it on so thick since we got hereyesterday. I mean, massages and a fancy dinner, and …” Her voice dropped a fewdecibels as she said, “And last night, I had three orgasms—three,Kylie—before he got off.”
“Well,itisyour birthday weekend,” I offered.
“No,I’ve had birthdays before and he’s never done all this. Something is definitelyup.”
Ibit back the secret I had been keeping for weeks, remembering the picture ofthe ring on Trent’s phone. “I think you’re looking too into it,” I said gently.
“Idon’t know, Ky … three orgasms? I mean, Trent’s not a selfish guy by any means,but that was a little out there, even for him.”
Igiggled, pulling myself back to the night before. The alleyway. The slow andsensual way he made love to me against the bricks without worry of beingcaught. “Yeah, Dev’s been full of surprises too,” I said with a longing sigh,wishing he was there.
“Ooh,I bet. He must be riding such a crazy high right now,” and with that comment, Iwas reminded of Robbie.
“Idon’t want to talk about highs,” I quipped bitterly, sitting up in bed.
“OhGod, I’m sorry. I—”
“No,not about that,” I hastily added. “It’s not that. Robbie is just such adisgusting pig.”
Ialready told her about Robbie, after meeting him for thefirsttimeweeks ago, and again after the first show. About his comments,about his behavior. About Devin, continuing to find something impressive abouthim.
“Ishe on something?” Brooke asked.
Iwiped a hand over my face. “Absolutely. I don’t know what, but …” My voicetrailed off as my stomach knotted nervously. “Brooke, I feel so stupid, but itmakes me worried for Devin.”
“Devin’sa big boy, honey, and he knows how you feel about that type of shit. I mean,obviously.”
Iknew that. Of course, I did. But, I also knew that, sometimes, it doesn’tmatter how strongly someonefeelsabout something. No matter how muchlove is there—sometimes the pressure wins.
“Yeah,you’re probably right,” I reluctantly conceded, and with a quick glance at theclock, I noticed how late it already was and the thought of seeing Devinbrought my lips to curl into an easy smile. “Hey, Brooke, I hate to ditch youso soon, but Dev and I are going to the Philadelphia Magic Gardens with Richardbefore he’sgottaplay tonight.”
“Noproblem, hon. Trent’s waiting for me anyway. I love you. Tell Devin to break aleg for us tonight.”
“Iwill, and Trent I said hi,” I said. “Love you too, and hey, happy birthday.”
?
Thesun peeked through the colorful archways of Philadelphia’s Magic Gardens,glinting rays of joy over the chips of mosaic. It was a wonderland, somethingstraight out of artistic dreams, and if I had an artistic bone in my body, Iwould have felt the desire to contribute a piece of myself. Instead, I juststopped every couple of feet and stared in awe at the creativity of the worldaroundme, andwatched as others simply walked bywithout taking a second to appreciate the gifts of mankind.
“Whatiswrongwith people?” I quietly asked Devin as he came to stand at myside.
“That’sa long list, baby.”
“Ijust don’t understand how they can just walk through without stopping to lookat all of this,” I said, tipping my head back to admire a repurposed bicyclewheel.
Heshrugged, allowing his gaze to follow mine. “People appreciate stuffdifferently.”
“Howwise of you,” I chided with a shake of my head, and I grabbed his hand, turningto walk further down the path, beautifully littered with glass and stone.
“It’slike the way people listen to songs differently, right?”
Iturned up to look at him questioningly, and he shrugged again.
“Well,okay, so you and Ilistento songs. We open our hearts to the lyrics, weanalyze them and find their hidden meanings. Hell, we even create ourownmeanings. It’s how we appreciate them. But then, you get some other people whodon’t pay much attention to the lyrics at all. They listen to a song and enjoyit, simply because the music evokes an emotion, or hell, maybe it just makes themwant to get up and dance. Could be a song about death and rotting corpses, butthey don’t give a shit what the lyrics are saying, as long as it makes themwant to move.”
Hetook in the sight of an archway decorated with bottles, a tire and other recycledgems. “All art works like that. We look at that and think, ‘Wow, it’sincredible that someone could visualize something beautiful in a shitty oldtire.’ Other people though … they just walk through hereas away tomake their Saturday a little more pleasant, because it’s a morecolorful view than walking over a grimy street. And they’re not wrong.”
Myheart pounded and skipped a couple beats in between, listening to him talk andstare at the archway. I imagined he was writing a song somewhere in that mindof his, lacing together words about seeing the beauty in everything.
