6 #3
A grimace wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, I remember that."
She couldn't help but laugh at his expression. "You look like you enjoyed yourself almost as much as I did. I still can't believe Mel and Lilith thought that kind of place would be up my alley at all. They had fun, but I didn't."
"That's not my kind of scene, either," Rhys said.
"The only reason I was there that night is because Trinity, the girl I was dating at the time, was into that.
You know, clubbing every night, being seen, that sort of thing.
The only reason I went out that night was so she'd stop pestering me about it.
Didn't work, though. She wanted to go back the next night, so I told her to go, and take her belongings with her. And that was the end of that."
Of course the silicone-enhanced blonde Rhett had seen him with would be named something like Trinity. Rhett barely refrained from rolling her eyes and tried to put it out of her mind.
"So, if you don't like clubbing and things like that, what do you like to do?"
"Hm, let's see. I like going to listen to music, but not in clubs.
Bands in small bars are more my speed, and they're always better than that electronic dance shit.
And I don't even like doing that very often.
" He shrugged. "I don't know. I've done all the clubs and the parties and going somewhere trendy every night.
It was fun then, but I guess I've moved past that.
I like quieter things now where I can actually talk to someone and have them hear me, and we can get to know each other. Like we're doing now."
"That's more my speed, too." She laughed a little. "My sister, however, is the party animal. She swears I'm not cramping her style by staying with her, but I think she's just being nice."
"Are you going to stay at the condos? I know there are a few available."
"No." Rhett gathered up the empty wrappers and piled them on the plastic tray. "Mel's place is nice, but if it's shown me anything it's that I don't want to live in a high-rise, or an apartment of any kind."
"Really? Why not?" Rhys shook the ice in his cup, peered through the clear plastic top, and put it with the trash on the tray.
"There's too much missing from a high-rise," Rhett explained. "Like a yard. I miss walking in the grass and planting flowers. And birds singing. You can't hear them where we are, and you can't go out in the evening and listen to the crickets sing. And rain."
Rhys leaned his chin in his hand. "Rain? What about it?"
Feeling a little foolish, she shrugged one shoulder.
"It's just that I wanted to go outside the other day when those showers moved through and listen to the rain fall.
I've always thought it sounded soothing.
But when I went out on Mel's balcony, I found out the one above it overhangs right to the edge of hers and it was bone dry.
I couldn't hear the rain falling at all. I miss that."
"I never thought of that. I've lived in a high-rise in Chicago since my last divorce, and that was sixteen years ago.
And when I've not been there it's been hotel rooms or flats.
But you're right, you can't hear birds or rain.
" His gaze seemed to turn inward. "I remember when I was young, I was supposed to be inside once the crickets started singing.
If I wasn't, my mum would go spare. She always thought I'd been kidnapped, even if I was just in the front garden.
" He fell silent, his expression wistful.
Rhett grew still. She didn't want to disturb what were obviously good memories.
It also gave her the chance to look at him without the fear he'd think she was ogling him or something.
To be honest, she probably was ogling him, but she didn't seem to be able to tear her gaze away from him.
There wasn't anything else she wanted to look at, not when he was around.
That's why she didn't notice the man approach their table until he spoke.
"Uh, excuse me."
Both Rhys and Rhett turned in surprise at the hesitant voice. A nervous-looking man of about thirty stood there, shifting from foot to foot.
"I don't mean to bother you or anything, but aren't you Rhys James from Illicit?"
In an instant Rhys went from the wistful man remembering his childhood to the internationally famous rock singer Rhett recalled from the posters on her bedroom wall when she was a teenager.
He appeared friendly enough, but there was detachment in his manner along with a touch of cockiness.
Not enough to be annoying, but something that had been absent when he was alone with Rhett.
"Yeah, I am." He smiled at the poor guy, and it seemed to put the man more at ease. "And you are?"
"Oh, Kenny. I'm Kenny Kirby. I, uh, I just wanted to tell you how much I've always liked your music."
"Thanks." Rhys's smile widened a bit. "That means a lot."
"Uh, I was wondering if I could maybe take a picture." Kenny held out his cell phone like an offering. "If that would be okay, that is."
"Sure," Rhys said. "I don't mind."
"Kenny?" Rhett spoke up. "If you want to go stand next to Rhys, I'll take a picture of both of you."
Kenny's eyes widened in gratitude. "That'd be great. Thanks." He handed the phone to Rhett and leaned over next to Rhys.
"Okay, y'all." Rhett moved the phone around until both men were framed in the screen.
She was just about to tell them to say "cheese" when the title of one of Illicit's early hits popped into her head.
The song was absolutely filthy, but since the lyrics were couched in double-entendres it made it past the radio's censors.
Everyone in Rhett's high school had loved it and relished being able to sing an explicit song about kinky sex without getting into trouble.
She grinned at the image on the phone's screen. "Say 'Fill 'Er Up.'"