Tabitha Ch 02

Five Months Earlier:

Tabitha Riley gripped the steering wheel and yanked her gray Toyota Camry into a parking spot. She checked the dashboard clock before pulling the key from the ignition. Dion was cutting it really close. Her sister had called while she was en route to Middleton Academy, her nephew's private school that was practically in the next town over. That's why it was named after the city west of Hillsdale. Kids from both towns went there, Hillsdale had two public schools and Middleton only had one. Only a select few families from either town could afford to send their children to The Academy. If she didn't get the mouthpiece her sister said Patrick needed for the recital in less than ten minutes and get back on the road, she was going to be late.

Luckily, she remembered seeing a music store two doors down from her gym: Life Sounds. She'd never been in there, but she had her fingers crossed that she could get what she needed and get out without incident.

She was so grateful that even though it was after five, the store was still open. Once inside, she glanced around at the floor displays; drum sets, half-a dozen pianos, tops open—of course, and guitars of all shapes and sizes. The entire front wall was windows, so the lighting was great, but there were still soft lights recessed into the ceiling above every instrument on display.

Behind a gleaming white counter in the middle of the store was a tall guy. His clothes automatically reminded her of someone that worked at Best Buy, but she shook off that impression. His pale blue button-up shirt wasn't the same shade as the uniforms at the other store. He also wore dark khaki pants, and black loafers. Initially, the outfit as a whole seemed geeky, but then he came out from behind the counter and approached her. She noticed the three-inch-thick black leather wrist bands with silver studs on each wrist, they way his black hair was combed, but still messy, falling into his eyes just a bit. He got closer and she noticed two skull earrings in each ear, and peeking out from the rolled up sleeve on his left arm was a bit of blue and black ink.

"Can I help you?" he asked and she finally focused on his face. His eyes were liquid gold, framed with long, ink-black lashes. His jaw was square, his cheekbones were high, and his nose was a blade. He was all-together gorgeous. He was white, but his features were so unique she couldn't help but stare. Usually she found herself attracted to guys with darker skin and eyes, closer to her own honey-brown complexion and darker. This guy was making her reconsider exactly what her type was, though. Especially the way his full lips turned up at the corners when he smiled.

Tabitha glanced around. He was speaking to her and he was smiling at her. She took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. Why was she here again? Oh—yeah, Patrick's recital.

"Uh—hi," she stammered.

"Hi," he said, smile getting wider.

"I need a piece." No, that wasn't right.

One of his black eyebrows lifted.

"To blow," she amended.

Both eyebrows went up.

Tabitha shook her head hard, causing her brown and bronze curls to bounce. "What I mean is; I need a mouthpiece for a trumpet." She held out her hand. The guy took the Target receipt she'd used to jot down the model number while driving and on the phone with Dion. Hopefully it was somewhat legible.

He laughed. "Okay, let's see what I can do."

Tabitha was pretty sure her face was just as red as the dress she was wearing.

"Could you hurry, please? The recital is in a half hour and I still have to get across town."

"Sure thing," he said with a dazzling smile, that she tried not to notice.

She decided to wait for him to return by the cash register to speed things along. When he came back with a small white box in his hand she let out a sigh of relief.

"Fifteen seventy-five," he said.

Tabitha pulled her bank card from her wallet and handed it to him. He studied the card for a second before he swiped it and handed it back. She scrawled something of a signature on the receipt, grabbed the bag from his hand, and hurried toward the door.

"Thanks for your business!" he called behind her.

She stopped her retreat and turned back to face him. "Thanks, you really helped me out today."

He nodded and waved. "Don't be late!"

She smiled and momentarily wished she had the time to at least flirt with him. She really did hate to be rude. Her phone began to ring in her purse. Just the ring was enough to remind her that she was in a hurry, but her sister reminded her of it as she.

***

Tabitha didn't find his card until the next morning.

She was getting in her car, preparing to drive home from her sister's house where she'd spent the night. After the concert had finished, they'd had dinner out, a rare treat for her nephews and nieces. Not that they suffered from having to eat home-cooked meals on a regular basis. The family employed a wonderful chef. Her two-year old niece, Lily, was so distracted by the passing strangers that she barely ate a thing. Rose and Patrick, seven and ten respectively, ate the sloppiest burgers Tabitha had ever seen. Dion, her sister, was once again pregnant and could barely stomach the sight of her two older children devouring their meaty, messy meals. She picked at a green salad, but mostly consumed dry crackers. Meanwhile, her brother-in-law, Rick, spent most of the meal trying to coach Lily into eating "just one more bite" and laughing when she pressed her pink lips together and shook her head.

Tabitha loved her family and hoped that one day, she would be as lucky as Dion. They had come from the humblest of beginnings, but had both grown to be educated, successful women. Dion was a financial genius. She may have looked like just another PTA mom, but in reality she held dual degrees—Business and Accounting—and was just as much a force behind her husband's financial success as he...not that Rick Solomon wasn't already wealthy before he'd met or married Dion. He was from old British money, after all.

Tabitha had her own room in their eight bedroom house on The Hill. She was a constant visitor, a more-than-willing babysitter, and never more than a phone call away. The family split their time between their home in Hillsdale and a multitude of other houses in which they lived or vacationed.

It was after ten when Tabitha decided to leave the comfort of a house full of warmth and noise. Her sister would be leaving soon. Her pregnancy was getting far along and she had to make the flight back to England before it would be medically unsound to do so. Tabitha was sort of weaning herself, getting used to spending more time alone so when her family went back to England she would be used to the solitude again.

The small plastic bag that the salesman had given her the night before was in the driver's seat. She picked it up and tossed it to the passenger's seat and the small white card slipped out. It landed face down, but there was something scrawled on the back in blue ink. She picked it up and smiled when she read it.

This is my job, but music is my life. Call me anytime. Wes

Underneath was a phone number. She automatically reached for her cell, but reconsidered. Sure, this Wes guy was cute, but how much could they possibly have in common? Besides, he probably just wanted to offer her some kind of music lessons or something. She certainly didn't have time for that...and even if he was offering something else...like a date...she didn't have time for that either!

Tabitha crumpled the card and shoved it back into the plastic bag. She couldn't imagine any instance that would bring her back in contact with Wes...or the store in which he worked.

***

Wes spotted the gray Camry with the Coexist bumper sticker and the psychedelic peace frog and stopped. He recognized it immediately since he'd watched her get in it and then drive off like a bat out of hell only three days before. Maybe the girl in the red dress had come back to the store for something! Tabitha, he remembered the name on her bank card. Since she hadn't taken the subtle hint of his cell phone number on the back of the business card, this would be the perfect opportunity to ask her out.

He jogged through the parking lot and into the store. The bells on the door jingled loudly when he used a bit too much force to pull it open.

His boss, Mr. Dennis looked up and smiled when Wes entered. He shoved aside the paperwork he'd been going through and walked toward Wes. "Come to pick up your paycheck or work for free, Wesley?"

"Just the paycheck," Wes said glancing around the store. No customers...and definitely no Tabitha.

Mr. Dennis laughed and clapped Wes on the back. "Go ahead and get it...on my desk in the back office."

Wes nodded and smiled. Mr. Dennis was such a nice guy. It had been his dream to open a music store, teach lessons and record in the back, but lately it seemed no one was interested in buying pianos or taking voice lessons. Why bother when everything was mixed and synthesized to death anyway? Even the yowl of an alley cat could be made to sound decent with the right mixing technology.

Once back in the tiny office, Wes glanced over the small pine desk. His paycheck was on top of a pile of blank sheet music. Wes picked up the white envelope with his name scrawled across it and something peeking out from beneath the lined papers caught his eye. He pulled out the red envelope and frowned. It was from a bank. Red envelopes from a bank meant one thing: the store was not in the black.

Frowning, Wes slipped the mail back into its hiding place. Mr. Dennis would be hurt if he knew that Wes was aware of any financial difficulties. He was nice and all, but he was also proud.

Wes walked quickly out of the store, just waving to his boss.

Distracted, he started back toward his car, but caught sight of the gray car again and frowned in frustration. Where was she?

He glanced to the right, there was nothing that way but a Fantastic Sam's and a Chinese takeout place. She definitely didn't look like the type of girl that got her hair done at a chain store and if she'd been having Chinese for lunch, she'd have already left. He turned in the other direction. There was a gym two doors down from Life Sounds. He headed that way, glancing in the window of the travel agency just in case. It wasn't even open. When he reached the gym, he saw multitudes of skinny women on treadmills. They took up all the machines close to the window. He wondered if they wanted to be ogled like they were in a fish bowl. That was the feeling he got as he stood there glancing from one face to another. He frowned at the bulky men toward the back of the building heaving weights while they watched the women on their treadmills. Maybe he should be in there putting some tone in his arm muscles. He was about to give up when a woman on one of the machines closest to the window hopped off. The hole she left gave him a chance to see the machines further down that same row. He saw a flash of curly brown hair and without thinking, rushed inside.

The receptionist, a slender blonde dressed in a sky blue sports bra and Capri pants that fit like second skin, stood when he entered. He blinked at her. The huge smile she wore stretched her face a little too much. He was reminded of the music video for Black Hole Sun where everyone had those creepy, unnatural smiles.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked in a voice that was much too bubbly and squeaky.

"Uh...yeah...I was thinking about switching gyms and I figured since I work next door, this place would be really convenient. Can I get some information?"

She smiled even harder and he fought the urge to wince. Her face had to hurt by the end of the day. "Sure!"

That wasn't going to get him anywhere close to Tabitha, not when the receptionist was reaching beside her for the application, already on a clipboard. "Oh, and a list of classes and any available trainers."

Her smile slipped a little. "I'll have to look for the trainers schedules."

Wes nodded. "Take your time...mind if I have a look around?"

"Go right ahead."

Wes made a beeline for the only piece of gym equipment that held anything of interest to him. She was so fluid and graceful as she jogged. Only her ponytail was out of sync. While her arms and legs went back and forth, her hair went side to side, locks of it clung to the damp skin on her neck, shoulders, and back.

"Hi, Tabitha, right?" Wes said when he got around to the front of the machine.

She smiled. "Hi! Music store guy, right?" She painted with her thumb in the direction of Life Sounds.

"Yeah...Wes...so is this your gym?" Lame question, dumb-ass!

"Yup. I keep coming here but no matter how much I run these things..." She slapped her palms against the outside of her thighs. "...don't go anywhere."

Wes's gaze went to the vision that was her thighs in a pair of gray yoga pants. Nice.

She kept talking in his silence. "I've got what you call: child-bearing hips. So does my sister and that's probably why she's pregnant with her fourth kid right now." She chuckled and he noticed that even though she was jogging at a pretty good clip, her voice was even and not at all winded.

He spotted the little blonde in Lycra coming his way from the corner of his eye. That extra large smile was back. Crap. He was so not in the mood to be a customer...semi-stalker, yes...customer, no.

"You never called me," he said, deciding to get straight to the point. "I guess you lost my card or something."

Tabitha shrugged. "I don't play anything but CDs."

"Call me anyway," he said sticking a card in the circular space meant for water bottles. "We can hang out."

She smiled at him again. "Okay."

Wes rushed to meet the receptionist. "You know I should really look over the early cancellation clause at my current gym and get back to you." He pulled the blue folder from her hands.

The creepy smile went away and was replaced by a look of stunned confusion.

"Thanks, later!" He hurried back out the front door and into his car. He really hoped that Tabitha called him this time...otherwise he might just have to join the gym. He looked down at the blue folder he'd snatched from the receptionist. Could he really work out at a place called Body Dynamic? Just the thought of it kind of made him want to throw up.