Page 26 of Lost Love on 6th Street

“Hate to break it to you, Jolene, but they do. He’s helping me figure out the story behind that photo I found on my first day. You know, the one of the woman outside The Lone Star.”

Jolene’s eyes widen. “Damn, seriously?”

“Seriously,” I say and fish my bag off the ground to start packing up my stuff.

She edges up to the front of my table. “But how did you meet him?”

“On 6th Street. Accident. We quite literally bumped into each other,” I say, smiling fondly as I remember the tumble of gummies onto the ground, the excitement of that Friday night around us.

Jolene slaps her hand against her forehead. “And you’re telling me you two are just friends? That’s a meet cute if ever heard one.”

She’s not wrong. But it’s already been determined. We are working on a project together. Nothing more. And that’s fine. Even after last night, sharing drinks and listening to jazz. It’s fine that we’re just friends. I’m totally fine with it.

Okay, I’m not fine with it, my insides are mush when I think about Luke. However, I don’t need that complication. I’ve moved to a new city, started a new job, and taken on a passion project.

Not to mention, he’d be much more interested in someone like Jolene.

“I can introduce you if you like,” I say.

Jolene’s head jolts back. “You’re insane. If I were friends with a man like that, I’d never let my friends get a hold of him.”

My insides warm at the idea Jolene considers me a friend. Southern hospitality is a very real thing. “Well, fine. Your loss I guess.”

“Where are you going then?” she asks as I step away, following at my heels down the bank of binders. “For your research project.”

“We’re going to the house of a local musician. Bobby Sutton. Heard of him?”

Jolene snorts. “Of course I’ve heard of Bobby Sutton.”

“Yeah, well, he ran The Lone Star at the time of the photo, and he might have some documentation to give us information on who the woman in the photo is. If she was a musician or . . .” I trail off as Jolene’s smile grows. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jolene looks away like she’s been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “I was just thinking that your story would be really neat to share during the next exhibition.”

I frown. “The ‘90s exhibition? I thought that was trying to emphasize the grunge and punk scenes.”

“It’s about the ‘90s. Sure, they’re trying to capitalize on Gen Z’s new appreciation of Nirvana, but you know, they have to paint the whole picture. And besides, maybe she was in a grunge band and is just on the softer side,” Jolene says.

I chuckle. “That would be surprising, to say the least.” The woman in the photograph gives more Joni Mitchell than Kim Deal.

“I’m just saying because, I know your tenure here is supposed to be temporary, but who knows? If you’re able to offer more than your contract stipulated, people upstairs might be able to find you a more permanent position here.”

My stomach flips at the notion, which is surprising. When I accepted this job, it was comforting to know that I wouldn’t be stuck here forever. A short tenure at a small museum in a big city, then onto the next.

However, in just the two short weeks I’ve been here, there’s something exciting about the idea of having a reason to stay.

Maybe it’s the mystery, the richness of a new and strange city. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been welcomed here. By Jolene, by Luke . . .

“Then I don’t have to train someone new,” Jolene adds, folding over her middle and rolling her eyes as far back as they’ll go. “God, you have no idea how annoying it is to train someone.”

I laugh. “Well, I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, Jolene.” I open the door to the stairwell.

“Hey, have fun. That’s the most important thing. I mean, with a guy like that—"

“Bye, Jolene!” I call out over my shoulder, laughing to myself as I head up the stairs and out into the main lobby where Luke is standing against the far wall, waiting. When he hears the door open, he raises his eyes to mine and the stillness of his expression breaks with a warm smile. He kicks himself upright and strides over to meet me in the middle of the lobby.

“You’re early,” I say.

“Trying to make up for my previous lateness,” he says.

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