Chapter 9
nine
T he next day, in the mid-morning sunshine, I climbed out of a black Toyota Camry, wearing a red t-shirt with a psychedelic graphic on the chest that I’d picked up at a gig in Chicago. I found it fitting for the day. “Thanks.” I waved at the Uber driver, shut the door, and strolled to the sidewalk.
Micah, in an uncharacteristically green t-shirt, waited with a smile on his perfect porcelain face. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand.
My gaze caught a blue and white sign, reading Pier 39. Ahead of me lay buildings of various sizes and shapes built right on top of each other. People wandered by all around us. A set of stairs led up to a second level of shops, restaurants, and museums. “This place is much bigger than I expected.”
“It’s quite a thing.” He tightened his hold on my hand and led me into the shops, strolling past the windows offering anything from ice cream to t-shirts.
“Taking the train in worked out pretty well.” I glanced in a window, perusing a few university t-shirts. The train here wasn’t too different from the ones I took on the East Coast, back when I was doing bar gigs and trying to get noticed.
“I always take BART when I come into the city. Parking around here is a mess.” He swung our hands between us. “You getting hungry for lunch yet?”
“Not yet. Maybe after some walking, I will be.” This was nice, like an actual date. I flashed a smile at him.
A cell phone rang out.
He stopped in the shade of a shop and slipped his phone from the pocket of his shorts, then frowned.
“Who is it?” I stepped closer to him and peeked at the screen on the phone. “Your Mom?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I should take this.” He sucked in a breath and started the call, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hi, Mom.” He stole a glimpse at me. “I’m fine.” He twisted around and took a few steps away.
I pretended to look interested in the items in the shop window, the baseball caps and a teddy bear, but I listened.
“No, I don’t need to see him. I told you, I’m fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. A tinge of anger laced his voice. “I don’t care what he told Dad. I’m not going to any more of those sessions.” He paced back and forth behind me. “I don’t need to come home. I’m...” He glanced at me. “I’m doing better. What I’m doing is working.” He chewed his lower lip. “I’m out at Pier Thirty-Nine right now.” He huffed. “No, I’m not alone.”
I turned around to watch him. Would he tell his mother about us? Was he out to his family?
“No, I’m not with Joey.” He focused on me. A shy smile curled his lips. “I’m with a neighbor. A guy who lives in the apartment next to me.”
My heart sank. Guess it was too soon for him to tell his mother about us, even if he was out. I turned to the store window, watching his reflection in the glass.
“Sure, I’ll call more often,” he said. “Love you, too. Bye.” He ended the call and slipped the cell phone into his pocket, then stepped to me and grabbed my hand.
“What are you looking at? See anything you want? I’ll buy it for you.” He beamed at me, his stunning face lighting up.
I squeezed his hand. “No, there’s nothing I want in here. I was just looking.” It was sweet, him wanting to buy me something. But what about the phone call? I turned to face him, lowering my brows. “Sounds like you’re supposed to still be seeing your therapist.”
He scowled. “We talked about this. I’m not doing that anymore. I don’t need it.”
“Fine.” I’d give in for now. “Well then, who is Joey?” I cocked my head.
He smirked. “Why, jealous?”
My heart pinched. “That depends on your answer.” I’d never even considered him having anyone else in his life. I took his other hand in mine.
He released a quick chuckle. “Joey is a friend of mine.” He shook our hands. “Just a friend I work with at Tesla. He’s straight. Nothing to be worried about.” He leaned in and kissed my lips.
“Good.” Him having friends felt odd, since all I’d ever known of him was his brief, solitary life in Pacifica. I let go of one of his hands, and we stepped through the shops. “You ever been to one of these museums?”
“Sure. I don’t find them all that exciting.” He swung our hands. “But if you want to go in one, we can.”
“No, that’s okay.”
We took a set of stairs, then walked across wood planks on the upper level. The noonday sun shone all around us, lighting up half-barrels filled with colorful flowers resting against the railing. Sea lions barked out in the distance.
“Okay, so, now I’m hungry.” As I strolled, I surveyed the restaurants. “Where do you suggest we eat?”
“Do you like crab?” He glanced at me.
“Sure.”
“Then let’s go to the Crab House.” He switched direction.
We walked to a building made of white planks with a sign in black. Portal windows from a ship hung on the side of the building. A black-and-white striped awning covered the front door.
He opened one of a set of copper doors and stepped aside. “After you.”
He’s being so charming on our little date. It’s adorable. I tried to hide the smirk growing on my face, strolled inside, and looked around at the white subway tiles with black accents on the walls. Under our feet lay white marble tiles with black accents, sitting under round-backed wooden chairs and marble tabletops.
He strolled to the hostess stand.
A short woman in black glanced at him. “Table for two?”
He hooked his fingers on the stand. “Yes. Can we get a table with a window?”
As she pulled two menus from a pile, she peeked at the stand. “Sure, one just opened up.” She waved her hand. “Follow me.”
We went to a table next to a window, looking over docks and boats. Micah sat down, and I took the seat across from him.
The hostess set our menus in front of us. “Your waitress will be here shortly.”
“Thanks.” I gazed out the window at the far-off mountains across the bay and seabirds fluttering around, then down at the menu. “So, I guess the crab is good here?” I chuckled, finding myself quite funny since the whole place was all about crab.
“The best.” He didn’t seem to catch the joke and just gazed at me with his chin resting on his hands, elbows on the table. “How about we get the crab feast and share it?”
“Okay. I think I may get a cocktail, too.” This day was so perfect, like neither of us had a care in the world. I grinned at him.
He shifted in his chair. “Well, if you’re going for the hard stuff, then so will I.”
The waitress approached, a young woman with dark hair. She did a double take when she saw me. “Oh...” She flickered a smile, giving me the once-over. “Sorry, you look like someone.”
Micah bent forward. In a sarcastic voice, he said, “He is. He’s Ash Oakley.”
“Really? I love your music.” Her smile widened.
“Thanks.” The day had just gotten even better. I glanced at Micah.
“So, ah, what can I get you?” She held an electronic tablet in her hand.
“We’ll share the crab feast, and you can bring me a Moscow mule.” A knowing grin curled Micah’s lips.
“I’ll have a margarita.” I handed her my menu.
“Sure thing.” She took my menu, batted her eyes at me, then grabbed Micah’s menu.
As she walked off, Micah leaned toward me. “I think she likes you.”
“Be quiet.” I couldn’t help but smile.
He focused on me, his grin fading. “We never finished our conversation about how you wanted to handle things in public. You know, if we’re seen together enough times, would it matter?”
My attention drifted out the window to the water lapping at the poles of the dock. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s something I should talk to Jeff about.” I turned back to him. “Jeff is our manager. I’ll call him later.” Maybe the perfect day had hit a snag. I sighed. “I suppose while we’re here, we should keep it covered up, since we’re in such a public place.”
His gaze fell to the table, and he rubbed an index finger over it. “Okay. No more holding hands, I guess.”
“Or kissing.” I pursed my lips.
The waitress stopped by and set our drinks down. “Here you go. Food should be out shortly.”
“Thanks.” I picked up my drink and sipped at the rim of the margarita. My mind returned to the earlier phone call. “Hey. Are you out to your parents?”
“Yes. I came out to them when I was in high school.” He drank from a copper mug.
I nodded. That figured, given he lived in such a liberal place and didn’t seem to have any issues with his parents.
“Are you?” He eyed me.
It was always a tricky game with my parents, never letting on what Wells and I did. “No, well, I don’t know. It’s more of a they never ask, and I never tell thing. With the band situation, it’s not like they expect me to bring anyone home to meet them.” I paused, thinking. “My brother knew. He didn’t care.” My gaze met his.
“Sounds like your whole life has revolved around music.” He frowned. “You really have never been in a serious relationship since high school?”
The waitress set a plate of steaming crabs on a skillet in front of us. “Enjoy.”
I stared at the food and toyed with the hoop earring in my left ear. I’d never even considered this before. What was Wells to me? I thought I loved him at one time, but since we were never monogamous, it probably didn’t count. “I guess not.”
He picked up a crab leg, examined it, then set it back down. “I suppose I’ll be your first, then.”
At some point, we really needed to have a conversation about Wells. I focused on him. “Yeah, guess so.” I dug into the crab.
* * *
A little while later, I followed Micah and hopped off the cable car at Beach Street. I glanced back at the old, wooden, red vehicle with its square windows glowing in the late afternoon sun and combed my fingers through my hair, flipping it to one side. “Hey, Lombard Street was a trip.”
He strolled toward a crosswalk and turned to me. “I told you. Most curvy street in the world.”
“How do people live there with all those tourists taking pictures every day?” I followed him across the street.
“No idea. I’m sure the houses are worth a mint, though.” He stepped to the curb and stopped below an old, three-story Victorian building with apartments on top and a bar down below. Cream paint covered the apartments, accented with beige and maroon, with the bar level painted a darker beige.
I met him at a set of wooden doors. This time, I would be the charming one. I opened one and motioned for him to go inside. “The Buena Vista, huh?”
“Yep. Home of the Irish Coffee.” He strolled through a section of round tables on the right, large windows looking over the street. To the left was a long, old, wooden bar with black vinyl barstools lined up beneath it. He stopped at an open stool at the bar and sat down.
I slid into the seat next to him and gazed at a bartender in a white shirt and vest with a black tie, lining up short stemware glasses on the drink rail behind the bar.
Micah caught the bartender’s attention. “Two Irish coffees, please.”
“Sure thing.” The bartender went to work pouring coffee, whiskey, sugar, and cream into the stemware before setting the drink in front of us.
Micah slid his wallet out of his pocket, handed the bartender his debit card, and paid.
Shit, Micah had been paying for me all day. This really was a date. The first date I could ever remember, at least one that felt like this. Sure, Wells and I had done things together, but it never felt the same, like someone was actually taking care of me. I liked it.
Blowing over the hot drink, I took a sip. The mixture was sweet, but not too much, and the whiskey packed a punch. “Wow, that’s good.”
He tasted his and nodded. “So, we’ll go down to Haight-Ashbury next. Maybe grab some dinner. There are some pretty cool restaurants down there.”
“Good. All this walking around is making me hungry again.” My gaze wandered to the back of the bar, taking in the rows of glasses and bottles of liquor arranged on shelves, and then further up to ornate carvings in the dark wood.
“So, what have you liked best so far?” He leaned closer to me.
I lifted one side of my mouth. “Seeing you so happy.” And charming, and adorable, and…taking someone like me on a date.
His lips parted, and he smiled. “It felt fantastic getting out and being human again.” His gaze shifted to the large windows. “Seems like it might’ve been just what I needed.” He set his hand on my forearm.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I leaned back and pulled it out. The name across the top of the screen read Justin . “Hey, I should take this. I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
Micah nodded.
I tapped the green button to answer the call. “Hey, Justin. How’s it going?”
“Great, man. LA is awesome. A lot of hot women down here,” Justin said with a snicker.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You should have come. There were some wild parties, too.”
I glanced at Micah, who was sipping his drink. “Well, too late now.” I had something so much better to do than go to some parties. I took another sip of my coffee. “How are things otherwise? Is the studio all set and ready to go?”
“Yeah, everything’s taken care of. Jeff, Dilan, and I should be out there next week.”
“Good. Anything else I should know about?” My gaze wandered back to the bar.
“Not really. Just wanted to touch base. How’s the surfing?” He laughed.
“It’s fine. I actually got up on the board a few times,” I said.
“Write any more music we can use?”
I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t written as much as I thought I would since meeting Micah, but we had enough material from the tour. “Some.”
“Good, ‘cause I haven’t written shit,” he said, laughing again.
Figures. I exhaled. “Maybe you should quit partying for a few days and work on some stuff.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll all come together when we get in the studio. It always does.”
“Hey, I’m actually not at home right now, so I should go.” My gaze drifted to Micah, who was staring out the windows. The afternoon sun framed his head like a backlit halo.
“Yeah, sure, man. See you next week.”
“See you.” I ended the call and set my phone on the bar. “Fucking Justin.”
Micah turned to face me. “So, who’s Justin?”
I’d flip his earlier joke back on him. I gave him a sly grin. “Why, you jealous?”
He scoffed. “No.”
With a smile, I leaned in close, dropping my voice. “Yes, you are.” Then I pulled back, still grinning. “Justin’s our lead guitar player. He’s a bit too into partying and the scene, if you ask me.” I shook my head. Justin had let the recent burst of notoriety go straight to his head. There was always that one guy who partied too much, stayed out too late, and hooked up with everyone in sight. For our band, that guy was Justin.
“Yeah, I got that,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Now that mine had cooled, I took a gulp, feeling the warmth of it settle in my chest. I couldn’t wait to see Haight-Ashbury, the birthplace of the legends of the 1960s hippy movement. “How about we finish these and head into Haight-Ashbury?”
He arched a brow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “In a hurry?”
“Maybe...” I laughed softly. “I’m just really excited to see it. That whole hippy era is one reason I came out here.” My gaze searched his face. I hoped he didn’t think I wasn’t enjoying the other things about this city, especially the parts he loved. I took another drink, savoring it.
“That’s why I saved it for last.”
* * *
I stepped out of a Honda Odyssey minivan and onto the curb, with Micah just behind me. “Thanks,” I called out, waving at the Uber driver as they pulled away. “So, where is it?”
Micah walked up beside me, his hands in his pockets, and nodded toward the street sign. “You’re here.”
I chased his gaze and read the sign. One side said Haight, and the other said Ashbury. A smile spread across my face. “Oh, very cool.” I looked around, taking in the three-story Victorian buildings painted in every shade imaginable, their ground floors packed with shops and restaurants. Across the street, I spotted a familiar logo and pointed. “How fitting. A Ben & Jerry’s.” I laughed.
“Want some ice cream?” He moved as though he was about to take my hand, but stopped short.
The hesitation? It twisted something in my chest. I snatched his hand and clenched it. I couldn’t stand this, the constant second-guessing, this stupid dance of hiding who we were. I needed to feel his hand in mine right now. “This is ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re in San Francisco, and you don’t even feel you can hold my hand.”
His brows furrowed, and he frowned. “I don’t want to wreck anything for you.”
“You won’t.” My voice was firmer than I expected it to be, but I meant every word. I glanced at the quiet street. “There aren’t even that many people around. I doubt anyone will notice us.”
This place meant something to me. Haight-Ashbury was a symbol of freedom, of people being themselves without apology. Fuck hiding. If there was fallout, Jeff could deal with it. I squeezed his hand tighter and my gaze found his. “Let’s not worry about it.”
“Okay. I’ll leave it up to you.” He focused toward the street.
“So, tell me what’s around here? Where’s the Grateful Dead House?” My pulse picked up as I searched the area.
“Down here, about a block.” He led me down Ashbury Street.
As I followed him, I took in the quaint Victorian homes built right next to each other, my gaze roaming over the bright colors and whimsical architecture.
He stopped in front of a taupe, three-story home with accents in gold and maroon.
I looked at the house. A black iron gate stood in front of the steps leading to ornate double doors with stained glass windows. A large tree covered part of the home.
Holding out his hand, he said, “This is it.”
“Wow.” I let go of him to run my fingers over the iron gate. “To think those guys touched this gate.”
“You’re really looking like a fanboy right now.” He smirked.
“For things like this, I am.” I widened my eyes and gazed at the house, imagining famous 1960s rock stars coming and going up and down the steps. “I love all those old hippy artists from around here. You know, Jefferson Airplane, Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin...”
“I never would have guessed, based on those t-shirts you wear.” With a chuckle, he crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s a music store over on Haight called Amoeba Music. Do you want to go there, too?”
I faced him. There was no way I’d go unnoticed at an indie music store, judging by what had already happened. “No. Unless you want to see a crowd of people ask me for my autograph.” A sharp laugh escaped me.
“Oh, I didn’t think of that.” He glanced down the street, pressing a finger to his lips. “So, there are a bunch of shops on Haight, mostly vintage clothing stores. Are you into that?”
“You sure know a lot about this area.” The way he doted on me grabbed at my heart. I stepped to him and stole a kiss.
He beamed. “I’ve lived in the Bay Area my whole life.”
“Let’s walk down Haight and check out some of the clothing. Maybe I can get something cool I can wear at a gig.” I led him back down Ashbury, toward Haight.
“Like another psychedelic shirt?” He snickered.
“Be quiet.” I squeezed his hand.
* * *
I strolled down Haight Street, one hand entwined in Micah’s and a clothing store bag in the other. “I’d say it’s time for some dinner. How about you?”
“Sure. What sort of food are you thinking? There’s Thai, sushi, Indian, Middle Eastern?—”
“How about sushi?” I took in the stores surrounding us in the early evening shadows.
“Right up ahead.” He lifted his chin and led me to a gray building with a black awning, hanging over a pair of windows, then stepped inside. “Bar?”
“Sure.” I followed him through a dark, narrow restaurant with tables against one wall and a service and bar area on the other. Rice paper and bamboo lanterns hung from the ceiling. At the end of the service area was a short bar in light wood, underneath a refrigerated display with an assortment of slabs of fish. He sat at the bar and I took the seat beside him, placing my bag on the floor next to me.
“That black leather vest looked great on you.” As he picked up a sushi menu left on the bar, he bit his lower lip.
“Thanks. I really like it.” What I really liked, though, was the way he had looked at me and squirmed when I put it on with no shirt underneath. I could have sworn his shorts grew tighter as well. With a smirk, I picked up the menu.
A waitress dressed in all black with an apron approached us and we both ordered big Japanese beers.
“What are you thinking? Get a few rolls and maybe some sashimi?” He perused the menu.
“Sounds good.” I’d let him take care of me, as he had all day. I set my menu down. “Just pick some things. I’ll eat just about anything. Well, except for sea urchin.” I chuckled.
The waitress returned with our beers, and Micah ordered a few sushi rolls and some sashimi.
He poured his beer. “So, tell me more about your band. I’m guessing they wouldn’t be too shocked to find out about us?”
I thought about it. “I don’t think so. They’d be shocked I’m actually dating someone, though.” I laughed.
“Is anyone else in your band, you know, not completely straight?” He studied me.
Wells. Maybe now was the time to bring that up? I took a deep inhale. Maybe not. Maybe just a test... “One is about the same as me.” I watched his response.
“Let me guess, this Wells?” As he sipped his beer, he flashed his eyes at me.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. He’d nailed it. The tone wasn’t good. I couldn’t look him in the eye. How was this going to play out, especially when Wells got here in a few days? I could probably talk to Wells and make sure he didn’t say anything. It was probably easier that way. No need for explanations then.
“So, you and Wells...” He wrinkled his nose.
“We’re good friends. We grew up together.” As I turned away from him, I winced.
“Why do you have that picture of him on your phone, then?” He eyed me.
My breath caught. “Oh, that was just, uh, it was a joke. He hates that picture, so of course it’s what comes up on my phone when he calls me.” Was he buying all of this? I really felt like an asshole. But what else could I do? I didn’t want to spoil the date we were having, and it definitely felt like that discussion would ruin it.
He huffed. “Okay.”
The waitress stopped by with black, square, and rectangular dishes of colorful rolls and raw fish. “Enjoy.”
I unwrapped my chopsticks and pulled them apart, then poured soy sauce into a small bowl and mixed some wasabi in. I wanted the charming, adorable, doting Micah back. “Micah, you’re the one I want to be with.” I stopped mixing and snuck a glance at him.
“Okay.” He mixed his soy sauce with wasabi.
I bent to the side and kissed his cheek. “I’m serious.”
He gazed at me. “I know.” With a warm smile, he placed his hand on my thigh and squeezed.
I let out a long breath. Seems I’d negotiated a potential landmine.